Finding The Way

Did I ever tell you, little sweetheart, that when I was still doing theatre there were a handful of experiences that had been most meaningful to me? As a playwright I think the London productions of District of Columbia, Seven Pages Unsigned and Detail  - at RADA, The Finborough and The Gielgud - were all especially fulfilling. And as an actor (aside from TV and film work, just theater now I’m mentioning), I think playing the lead in John Byrne’s Slab Boys Trilogy in its US premiere in DC and my very first job (at 18!) playing Jesus in Godspell in summer stock were the most important. 

Even if theaters and especially acting wasn’t something I wanted to do to the end of my days, all of these experiences helped me become an artist by giving me a vessel that I could pour truthful expression into. I think a life in the arts, if truthfully pursued (not nakedly ambitious), leads one to to a purer and purer distillation of one’s artistic expression, little sweetheart. Without rejecting the past, we can see how it helped us continue to refine and evolve and increasingly make art that is truly one’s own deepest expression. 

Everything I do is for you, little sweetheart. That’s what guides me. That’s why I say you are my conscience. So writing and composing and recording, releasing albums and publishing works has a purity of mission. Do you know? I know you do. 

A year or two ago, it struck me how much Godspell had meant to me, coming so early in my life, and yesterday, on Easter Monday, little sweetheart, I watched the film adaptation (1973). Much of the cast is from the original off-Broadway production at The Cherry Lane, with a few notable members from the very famous Toronto production. 

One of the actors, also from New York but not in the original production is the late Lynne Thigpen. She’s absolutely wonderful (they all are) and I can’t help thinking about her because I got to meet her once, little sweetheart, and she was incredibly kind to me. 

My friend, the late Curt Dempster, who founded the Ensemble Studio Theatre had asked me to speak on behalf of the company at a luncheon for the American Theater Wing - kind of New York’s main theatre institution, they give charitable grants to artists and are mostly known for being behind the Tony Awards. I wrote and gave a speech very much about creativity and the importance of being allowed to fail. It was something I believed EST was committed to - giving artists a home where they could attempt things and grow without commercial pressure. EST was part of the non-commercial side of New York theater. Off-Broadway was originally a response to the commerciality of Broadway itself. 

Needless to say, The Theatre Wing wasn’t all non-commercial. So, the speech was somewhat coolly received. Except by Lynne who had introduced me before and shook my hand after looking me in the eye intently and empathetically. It was the year District of Columbia was first produced in New York, that’s why Curt asked me to speak and that production was also rather coolly received until year’s end when TimeOut famously called it "overlooked" and first Boston’s Huntington and then London’s RADA staged productions. 

Tragically, Lynne died just three years later. I never got to see her again to thank her. 

All this must seem very rambling, little sweetheart, but I wanted to tell you. It’s all on my mind tonight, at the end of Holy Week, and thinking so very much of you. With all my love.