A Kind of Magic

A Kind of Magic

By the end of my senior year at Aberdeen Central High, I was not only involved in some technical aspect, but I had acted in every possibly show that had occurred my three years of being there. From two big-name musicals to forgotten straight plays, all the way to terrible one-acts, I had done them all. Now when I mention ‘all’ I should probably stipulate that this was a minor taste of theatre with a grand total of eight shows going into the spring of 2004. The capstone of my work onstage came in the form of the comedy by Mary Chase, Harvey. The story about a delightful man (Elwood) whose best friend was a six and a half foot rabbit named Harvey. My audition came and went as most of them did with me burbling out enough words for me to get a role, however this time I surpassed my own expectations and got the lead role of Elwood P. Dowd. I was honored that the last time I would be taking to the Stage, my second home for the two preceding years, in such a role. The cast was set at eight players and with the size of the school and those involved in theatre, we all knew each other going into rehearsals which I foresaw giving me the same feeling as removing a band-aid with a good firm tug, stings each time, but the pain subsides. However, I was very surprised of what came to be. There was a bittersweet quality that made them feel like family. Whether it be the small cast size or the warm-hearted nature of the play, I don’t know but we remarkably gathered our talents, set aside personal vendettas and worked together to make something wonderful. Given, nothing came easy and it took many hours of hard work though we had the companionship and laughter with others to give us the support we needed.

Going into this production, Aberdeen had recently lost one its treasured members, Mr. Tom Kelly. He was an educator of theatre, speech and English for thirty years. He was the man who introduced me to the notion that there was a ‘magic’ in theatre. That winter we were having trouble with our one-act play so I turned for personal advice for my performance. I asked the man what I could do to make it a better performance and to do my best. He turned to me with a knowing grin and then gave me very valuable advice that ended up earning me an award at the state contest. “Randy, you have to make it big.” However insignificant that may have sounded to anyone else was of no consequence to me because I understood him. It wasn’t intended to be taken literally but something that had a deeper meaning, something that still lives with me today. What he was telling me was that as an actor, you have to truly ‘be’ that something, that state, quality, whatever you are trying to do, and you must fully encapsulate it. Then and only then will you ‘be’ it. Opening night came upon us without a hitch and it was before I knew it that I looked up to the heavens of the stage and asked, “Well Mr. Kelly, shall we make it big?” To this day, right before my first entrance, I ask him if we would like to join me on stage and ‘make it big’.

That was my first experience in the theatre where I felt like I was part of an ensemble. For once we weren’t competing, but being equally valued members of a team, and for those six weeks we were more than a team, we were family. Of course, years later I would find that the deeply-rooted theatrical connection necessary for a successful ensemble wasn’t even there, but that’s beside the point. What mattered was the warmth of the play and how it affected everyone like no other way that life presents. That is the magic of theatre. I realized that was what Mr. Kelly was talking about all along. That spirit of camaraderie and imagination that buzzes in the air during a good rehearsal to the pre-show jitters. The man’s words echoed in my mind as I realized their significance.

As I thought more and more about it, I realized one of the greatest parts of theatre is the relationships you form. It brings people from different walks of life together to unify their efforts on one common project with one vision. The beauty of collaboration is something I wouldn’t really learn about for a few years as my director didn’t collaborate the best with designers, or the actors at times for that matter. There is a very serious side to theatre, and very fun side to theatre. The great news is that if done professionally they can go hand in hand. Inside jokes have made my world go round for years and this show was no exception to the rule. For example, this buddy of mine, Dirk, was also in the show and played the naysayer orderly by the name of Wilson. To put it bluntly, it was his job to throw people around and given that Dirk was a football player, the role was perfect for him. He had been one of my good friends since the third grade so we went way back. Unlike any other of my theatre comrades, Dirk was the only one whom I had done a variety of sports with. I think it was that appreciation and eclecticism that we shared that wound a bond that lasts to this day. We had this joke about ‘Naked Tuesdays”. We, as in the guys in the cast, would do this ‘zipper dance’. I can’t remember where we got it from, but when all of the sudden four guys starting walking around playing with their zippers at a fast rate, it’s bound to get some laughs. There was one time, on a Naked Tuesday, when we were hanging out backstage where there was big box of winter clothes that were being discarded from the costume shop. So as we dug through the box that reeked of mothballs Dirk slowly tried different coats and hats on, then removing the previous hat for a new and even more absurd one. When we were done, he emerged with his favorite combo of a red flannel hat with a down parka, no doubt both items were at least thirty years old, and the sheer absurdity of his image was priceless. The only thing we could think of to make it even better was to have him go onstage with it. Little did we know he was going to one-up us all. We never for the life of us thought for one second that Dirk was going to do it, but then the unimaginable happened, he went onstage with no pants, sporting a goofy winter hat and coat. At that moment in time I feel to knees laughing so hard, I may or may not have soiled myself. The man’s completely nonchalant, perfectly deadpan delivery of his lines the moment he hit the stage was hysterical.

Now, betwixt the moments of hyperactivity of rushing to get a set piece painted in time for rehearsal or cramming lines, there were calmer moments when whoever was backstage with me would just hang out, chit chat and relax. As we sat backstage during rehearsals for Harvey talking about our plans we had no idea of where we would actually be four years from now. We sat back there and shared that common threat that the world might just get the best of us and all we could do was to try our best to make the most of it. But in the comfort of sour Stage we knew that we would get through it. I looked down for a moment at the chipped and paint-splotched Stage and I saw the beauty of the oak and I could imagine its shine thirty years before, glowing under the lights. I imagined how many people have tread its boards and their experiences. I think of the memory of the Stage, being witness and mother to years and years of friendship, theatre and magic.