Happy Birthday, Roger!

Roger turns 43 today. He has been my friend since 1987 (okay, that jerked me sideways - I've been friends with Roger for almost twenty years? Jesus.) when he began the MFA Directing program at O.U. I was a sophomore, and during the next three years we would do a number of shows together.

photo: Sarah & Nick in Bad Epitaph's production of Wendy MacLeod's Sin.

He spent a brief period living in Cleveland, directing shows for mostly Dobama or Beck Center, before returning to his native Chicago. We got to spend a lovely afternoon with him last month when he showed us around his neighborhood, Andersonville. I regret he was one of the last people we informed that we are not moving to Chicago, a fact he got to confront me with in typical Roger fashion when he came into town to see Night Bloomers last weekend.

photo: Ali, Diane and me in Bad Epitaph's production of Caryl Churchill's Cloud 9.

I got to work with Roger on three shows while he was living here, two were both Bad Epitaph shows; Sin and Cloud 9. He's simply amazing to work with, and he gets such great performances out of people. I credit Roger with turning Nick into an actor. As a result of his performance in T.I.D.Y. last holiday season at the Beck Center, Nick has now officially tied me as the actor Roger has worked with the most. Rather than attempt to break that record, I would be content to work with both of them again on the same show, and just keep the tie going.

For his thesis production in 1990, Roger directed Michael Frayn's Wild Honey adapted from an unfinished work by Anton Chekhov. Man, it feels like the whole school was in that show, the cast was quite large. Peter was in it, he performs regularly for Actors' Summit now, and our dear friend Carol. Dawn is a director in Chicago who has been working with my friend Christine on various productions. Ryan, a former classmate of Sarah's, was the only good thing in GLTF's recent production of Romeo & Juliet. Ben, even Julie - God, almost everyone from O.U. who is important to me was in that show.

All these seriously talented people, and at the helm was Roger. Aggressively sensitive, delightfully neurotic Roger.

photo: Nick, Al and me in Beck Center's The Compleat Wks of Wllm Shkspr (abridged), also directed by Roger.

We had two dress previews before the opening night. That means we have a paying audience, but we haven't "opened," we haven't declared the work "finished" which mostly means there's no party yet and the critics aren't allowed to come.

The first preview went off fine. But then, just before the second dress preview was about the begin there was a problem. We were ready for curtain, I was playing the old man (I played a lot of old men in college, and I still had hair) in a linen suit and with ridiculous mutton-chop sideburns pasted to my face. The stage manager said we would be holding the house, and then again, the house would be held.

Actors began to talk. One of our members couldn't go on. The doctor, the love-struck doctor (it was, after all, Chekhov, there had to be a love-struck doctor) was having a difficult time sorting out the difference between his own life, which apparently a mess right then, and his character's, whose life he was preferring. As this was Chekhov, you can imagine how messed up that meant his actual life really was.

The performance was cancelled. I expected to see Roger in tears, or going through some kind of breakdown of his own. He wasn't. He was calm, he told us all to go home. One of the other actors, Steve W., who had just completed a run of Tooth of Crime was brought in to play the doctor. We'd be called for blocking rehearsals on and off the following day and open on-time Friday night.

Steve was amazing. He stayed up all night memorizing lines. Currently sporting a closely cropped scalp for his role in Shepard's rock n' roll nightmare of a play, he put on a rather unflattering wig and pasted on a mustache for this play, set in turn-of-the-century Russia. And he did the job. His lines were only a little sloppy at first - until he tore off his poorly attached mustache in the middle of one of the first scenes and then he was word-perfect - though he famously slaughtered my character's name. It's bad enough memorizing a large part in less than 24 hours, without having to learn a dozen or so Russian names.

The house opening night, largely theater students, was very generous with their applause when the show was through.

Roger has heard me tell this story too many times, but it remains a favorite of mine. After the emergency had passed (and the troubled actor who had caused this crisis had been sent safely home) I told Roger honestly that I had expected him to fall apart, and That I was stunned at his confident, commanding demeanor in the face of a very difficult situation. We'd spent weeks creating a beautiful, delicate piece of theater, and then we suddenly had to slap together this new production.

He told me you can't help but get entirely obsessed with the details, you can fret yourself sick over getting every little thing just right. In fact, you should. But when big things happen to you that you simply cannot control, you have to just say, "Well. I didn't expect that." And then deal with them as best you can. It's one of the best lessons I have ever learned in my entire life.

Funny I should remember that story today.