Good Night Sweet Peter and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

He knew us all as individuals when we ourselves struggled
to be a who, that had a why and sought a path to our where.
We were microscopic balls of id and ego
fighting for our place in and out of the spotlight
the spotlight he shone for us full of pink & blue.
He snatched us from our heroic young roles across the country
and had us feed together from the belly of comedy and tragedy.
The mission, a place in the pantheon of theatrical greatness
or maybe a chance to find our way without the rigor of a mold.
We were to be our own person, finding our who, what, where, when, yes and, why.

His direction, the slightest touch at the helm,
should not have made a difference in this great sea before us but it did.
Such a subtle shift in our art that you had no idea what was happening
never a lecture took place, not a lesson on a page, nor a chapter in a book.
He attached us to our greatness, knowing our weakness
but never letting us weaken ourselves.
We said we knew it all, that our situation was different, yes but,
every story was a repeat musical phrase to his ears.
Yet, he never dismissed us, he listened and watched us work it out.
He poked the bear of curiosity and made us find our own truth
be our own professor to build our own lectern.
Grow and not turn back…

One person is missing and I’m turned upside down
I can no longer connect the dots, my dots are missing
they are now millions of stars that fade in and out, too fast to identify.
One who I could rely on is missing from my greater landscape,
it’s now a fallow field missing the nutrients of my history and my present.

He was snatched away leaving our hearts struggling.
We thousands have no claim, do we?
He was a man who staked a claim,
yet he made no claim to our greatness.
His greatness was in the great amount of joy
he found as we all satisfied our curiosity.
A curiosity he understood long before we examined it.

Peter Sargent was a man who helped define me as a theatrical professional. He continued to be the man that I wanted to make proud. I wanted to give back to him, with my career, what he gave to me as a constant in my professional journey. He is gone now, unbelievably taken by death so quickly it still seems unreal.  I feel the loss more every day, there are no texts or e-mails or phone calls. No sitting side by side during Webster’s yearly pilgrimage to NYC where he deftly tells me about most of the seniors no matter their discipline. No more annual dinners where I could laugh with him, share my life with him on and off stage. I suppose if I were more evolved I could continue to make his “memory” proud as I continue my career, but honestly, I selfishly want to make him proud in person. He is not a memory to me, he is a man alive and well who help shaped me into who I am today and I miss him dearly.

http://news.webster.edu/employee/2019/peter_sargent_remembered.html

 

That Time I got to work with Marin Mazzie: an open fan letter

November 6, 16

Dear Marin.

If you knew me you would quickly find out that I suffer from a reality of not knowing “who someone is” and “why they are that person”, but you don’t know me, we’ve just met.

I’m just this person who is working with you,
who knows this person that knows you,
and has worked with you.

I’m the person who captured glimpses of strength
and the beauty of hope for today that you hold so dear
on the odd trip in a cab to the Emergency Room.

I’m the person who is having a hard time believing
that your station and talent isn’t making your life easy
in fact you are fighting an entirely different fight to stay on top.

I’m the person who is in a master class in perseverance
structured by a syllabus filled with matter-of-fact
as you go about your process and impress all.

I’m the person who has a talent crush seeing you perform at 15 paces
in awe of the comedy and heart that you offer in a single song
and the honesty you manage to deliver in every word.

I guess I am writing you this fan letter because you, unlike the many very talented people I get to work with, have an active story that you are sharing with whatever part of the world that will listen. A story that says we need to help fight this ass hat of a disease. You don’t want to be a martyr; you want to be a victor. You want to be a victor who sees other women able to seek treatment before their reality is the same as your reality.

I want to thank you for letting the world know that Ovarian Cancer is indiscriminate and can seriously mess up your conversations. Instead of regaling the room with an amazing life on the stage and trips to and fro you are informing people of the reality of ports and bowel activity. While treats fill the room you sip away at some broth. That cocktail conversation is about chemo not cosmos.

I want to write you a fan letter to let you know that when I am not lost in your talent, which is every time you are working, I am lost in thought of how your journey is helping to put my journey into perspective. A perspective that says, manage each moment in the here and now.

Always,
Julia xo

For those of you who read this blog and do not know Marin Mazzie’s recent story this is a blog that her husband has written.

http://jasondanieley.com/blog/?p=198

For those of you who have not yet seen Marin perform… I’m very sorry for you.

 

A stage Manager with a touch of “style”

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I have, very recently, had the opportunity to address what “style” I am as a stage manager. It has taken me the better part of my twenty-seven years as a professional stage manager to realize it, but these truths I hold to be self-evident that all situations require a different hand and are by no means created equally. I am wholly imperfect and wholly accepting of it, so the rest of this writing is not going to be an attempt to sway you that I have come up with the stage manager silver bullet!

You may or may not wonder why it took me so long to figure this out? I think it’s because my career, which has been incredibly rich, has also been so incredibly varied. I have been hired as everything from the big picture technical assistant stage manager to a production stage manager for interesting niche projects. Okay, never so niche… but small and personality-driven, thank you, Everett Quinton, for that distinction. I have had no major preference for one type of project over the other, although I love a snappy tune for the long runs.

You see, in just the last two years I have worked on the very tempestuous but successful Motown The Musical, The star-powered laugh-a-lot hit Fish In The Dark and the sellout theatrical event Little Shop Of Horrors. Sorry, this is not going to be a tell-all-blog about Jake Gyllenhaal & Larry David; sadly for the gossip world, I found both of them to be incredibly talented men who took their jobs to heart in very different ways. Each of the shows I have mentioned were wildly different. I am constantly learning; I learn about myself, I learn about the business, I learn about stage-managing and I learn about humanity with every new challenge. So discovering a style in all that change is tricky because “my style” is not only dictated by the demands of the production it is also dictated by the people that surround me. I think this is why I am often a cleanup hitter in most job interviews. An example of this is a job interview I had for a big musical after Motown closed. I was very excited about the project and the prospect of being involved. There were so many great people working on the show. In the interview when the director asked about how I would deal with a particular group of the actors, let’s say kids (just for conversation sake), I responded that I would handle the kids however best suited his (the director) & the production’s needs. I didn’t have a magic formula for how I dealt with children in shows, although I had had a good handful of experience. I believe that my response to his question may have cost me the job since the director, whom I had a great interview with, went with a person who had a very specific experience with show kids. I don’t regret my answer; although I was pretty bummed I didn’t get the gig, I really do believe in my response. Fast forward to Little Shop Of Horrors, a job that I was given because of my previous work with Dick Scanlan, the show’s director. I had not worked with Dick as a director before; he was Motown’s script consultant, having had undeniable success as a book writer for Thoroughly Modern Millie. Dick and I met for brunch to discuss the show and touch base on each other. It was a great exchange of information and at the end, I asked Dick what he was looking for from me during the process, I mentioned that I try to stay adaptable to the needs and the tone of the director. Dick very simply and clearly said he wanted me to control the flow of the room so he could invest in the creative process without being a detail man (these are my words, trust me when I say Dick’s words were far more elegant), and we went our separate ways. I proceeded as planned and hired stage managers to work with who would be the nuts and bolts. It was a sublime experience and went just according to plan between Dick and I. In fact, it was Dick’s delight in the process that made me realize that the power of adaptability is my “style”. Look, it is not for everyone, in fact, many a day I look back on Stage Managers I’ve admired and had the pleasure of working for like: Beverly Randolph, Steven Zweigbaum and Clifford Schwartz, to name a few, who had their checklists, swagger & duties down to a tee. I have often wished my style could be as clearly defined as theirs, but it’s just not. Please, do not confuse “personality” with style… I certainly have a very specific personality and have my entire adult life! But when it comes to my work I’ll keep changing colors based on the room that the Production Stage Manager or the Director would like me to keep. I will continue to find my way through every day with the knowledge and faith that I am servicing the production the best I can.