Tales from the Ville: Tule Flats-Happy Trails

The Final Chapter of the Tule Flats Saga

Preparation for the 30 hour marathon weekend, the grand finale of the first season of the Tule Flats Ghost Town, were well on their way. We didn't add much more than we already had entertainment-wise, and, in retrospect, we should have done a lot more. Live music should have been an option and since it was Halloween, we could have had some sort of haunted attraction. But we had the rides, such as they were, movies in the hotel and of course, we had the gunfights scheduled to going we into the night. The thought of an after-midnight show really appealed to those of us who would have been partying heartily ourselves.  

For the last street shows of the year, I came up with a couple of newbies, the first written specifically for Grant-Lee Phillips as the Russian gunfighter character Two Gun Boris. ("I am Two Gun Boris"  "You on have one gun."  "Ha! Joke is on Boris!") It was a perfect showcase for Grant and I knew he would run with it. (I used this same character in my melodrama Song of the Lone Prairie, now Song of the Canyon Kid) The other was called The Return of the Gunfighter, a Halloween themed piece that had a pair of bullies picking on some town folk including a little kid whose father was a gunfighter who had been shot down a year before. When the kid cried, "You wouldn't do this if my pa was here!", that dead pa in question rises from the grave and shoots the two bullies down. He kisses his daughter goodbye and exits into the night. Now we needed a spectacular special effect for his entrance and subsequent exit, so Bill Humphreys came up with an idea that involved a line of gunpowder on a pair of 2x4s on either end of Main Street. When ignited, the first looked like a curtain and the zombie gunfighter (Jim Cusick dressed all in black as always) stepped through the smoke. When he left, the pyro went off after him, closing the curtain behind him. Awesome. Perfect for an evening performance. The main problem was that there wasn't a completed script because, given the time constraints, I ran out of time and felt the show could be an improv since one of our regular shows, The Boss, started that very same way. After a couple of rehearsals, I was confident enough that it would work. 

Another factor in this marathon weekend was the acquisition of a temporary license to sell beer in the town. It seemed like good idea at the time and certainly those of us that enjoyed a brew or several had no qualms about it. But when you're dealing with the general public, hoo boy. Watch this space.

That Saturday, the gates opened and we were well on our way. Attendance was way up and things went smoothly right up until about sundown. The debut of The Return of the Gunfighter went off with a lot of hitches. I was dealing with a pair of non actors in the roles of the bullies, one of which had a snoot on from dipping into the beer supply, a right he believed he had since he was one of the town's partners. As a result, the both of them had no clue what to do, jumped in far too early and basically made it a confusing mess, a major error on my part. The only things that saved it at all were those bloody special effects which got a rousing cheer from the large crowd but wasn't enough to appease my anger, mostly at myself for not being better prepared. 

Kid Blurry and Sheriff Max after hours (honest!)

As the night wore on, the brewski on tap was taking its toll on the patrons as they swiftly grew a little too rowdy and overbearing for us to wrangle.  When we staged our 10pm gunfight, the streets were packed with suds swillers left, right, over and above. We had to yell our lines at the top of our lungs to be heard, not by the audience but each other. Once that debacle was blissfully over, the decision was made to break up these boozehounds and even close to town at midnight, ending the 30 hour marathon concept. Most fols left peacefully, but the saloon was packed with inebriated owl hoots and had to be cleared.  This meant all hands on deck, so every cowboy available was ready to rustle this herd out the front gate, easier said than done. Ed Thorpe, now wearing Sheriff John's badge, thought it best to get everyone's attention by firing his pistol inside the building. Well, it sure brought everything to a halt alright until someone made an announcement along the lines of "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. It's closing time!" But once Ed holstered his weapon, a drunken yahoo behind him confiscated it. Cocking it, he waved the six-gun at everyone grinning like the goon that he was and backed out of the saloon onto Main Street, many of the cowboys stalking him, particularly Ed who seemed like he was ready to pistol whip this hombre once he retrieved his weapon. I had slid out behind this dipsy desperado, realizing like everyone else that this was spinning out of control fast. I have no idea what got into me but once he stepped out of the saloon and onto the street, I jumped onto his back pinning his arms to his side. He flung me back and forth, trying to throw me off but I held fast. Yee=ha! Ride 'em cowboy! This gave the other gunfighters enough time to finally snatch the gun away once and for all and said varmint was escorted off the premises along with the rest of his boozy compadres. The gates were locked for the night we went into lockdown until the regular opening time of High Noon for Day 2. 

A good steady flow of (blissfully sober) customers entered through the front gates of Tule Flats that last day of 1979. All went swimmingly after the near-boondoggle of the night before. The street shows in particular were going beautifully, especially the one (and only, for some reason) performance of Two Gun Boris. The success of that gunfight more than made up for the mess of the other new show the night before. That one may have had some spectacular fireworks to make up for its lack of anything else, but Two Gun Boris had Grant-Lee Phillips in the title role, the best special effect of all.

The last gunfight of the day and season was to be Saddle Drop, a gunfight that had been performed since day one of the original Ghost Town. I thought it was time to give this show a decent burial, a chestnut that had pretty much worn out its welcome as far as I was concerned, no matter what we added to it over time. For example, we added a bit when the sheriff gives his adversary a fighting chance by allowing him three free shots, knowing full well that he would miss which, of course, he does. The gags were usually a bell ringing for shot number one, a rubber chicken falling into the middle of the street for number two and a cowboy falling off the hotel onto a rigged wagon behind the bad guy for shot number three. But for the final shot that afternoon, bodies fell everywhere, the rest of the cowboys who weren't in the show and a few spare Ghost Town employees as well, one end of the street to the other all the way down to the hotel where, of course, somebody fell off the balcony one last time. Then everyone, the entire cast and then some, gathered together in the middle of the street in a circle, arms around each other and sang the great Roy Rogers classic "Happy Trails" for the audience, for ourselves and for the Ghost Town itself. 

And with that, Tule Flats Ghost Town rode off into the sunset after season numero uno. And while it reopened the next year, several changes had come down the pike. The four partners basically split up and a few key cast members had moved on, so the magic of 1979 had worn off, settling back into the way things used to be once again. Eventually, the town reverted back to the ownership of Neil Pollard, changing the name back to the original Pollardville Ghost Town as it remained until finally closing down altogether in 2007.  

The inaugural season of Tule Flats was actually a coda of my Freshman year at Pollardville University. So much of what I learned on the dusty streets of that town gave me the necessary tools to move on to the next chapter of my "academic" life including crowd work, comedic timing, character building, not to mention Writing and Directing 101. If it wasn't for the Ghost Town, I wouldn't have been able to accomplish what I did going forward. I still have my hat, holster and six-gun stashed away to remind me of who I was and always will be, a weekend cowboy through and through.

Happy trails to you until we meet again in the Ghost Town of my memory

The first five chapters of the Tule Flats saga, as well as other Pollardville stories from the Ghost Town and Palace Showboat can be found at:

TALES FROM THE VILLE

or individually:

THE BEGINNING

IN THE SUMMERTIME

THE ELECTION

I SHOT THE SHERIFF

OH, BLACK WATER

Tales from the Ville: Tule Flats-The Election

The Fourth of July in 1979 fell on a Wednesday, but Tule Flats Ghost Town would be open for
business even though it was normally a weekends only operation. Therefore, we had something extra special planned for this holiday extravaganza.

I haven't a clue who came up with the idea, but it was decided that we would have an election that day to name the Mayor of Tule Flats. The field for candidates was wide open-anybody and everybody could run if they so desired, provided they run for this prestigious office in character. We all had been given free rein to create a town character for ourselves. Bill Humphreys became Humphrey Williams (clever boy), the town banker. Ed Thorpe was Ned Tate who ran on the Law and Order ticket. I had a couple of different characters, one of them being Al Jennings, a real-life western train robber who later became an attorney. (look it up) But in the gunfight known as "Poker Chip", I played the Storekeeper role as a Swede named Sven Bjorn Bjorg Gunther and he is who I chose to throw my hat into the ring with. 

So those became the main three vying for town mayor. We were to run our campaigns throughout the day on the Fourth, culminating in some fancy speechifyin' in the gazebo out before our potential voters. Grant-Lee Phillips wrote Bill's-or Humphey's, rather-campaign song that he sang as they paraded down throughout the town.

Humphrey Williams

He's our man

Best darn throughout the land

Humphrey Williams

Rah Rah Rah

And best of all he wears no bra!

In a nutshell, meaning his amazingly creative head, that was our Grant-Lee.

As we all stood on the gazebo, ready for our campaign speeches, a dark horse candidate entered the picture. Accompanied by a bevy of bombastic beauties all dressed to the nines in hotsy-totsy saloon girl costumes, here came Goldie Pollard, all decked out in full regalia as though starring in a Mae West one-woman show. She took the stage by force of her sheer personality and announced to the crowd that she indeed was running as a write-in candidate for mayor. Her campaign promises included no restrictions on gambling, the sale of alcohol and...wait for it...open prostitution. 

Goldie won by a landslide.

There was no way any of us would attempt to contest the results because I think we all voted for her ourselves. Maybe some of the townsfolk and one of the business partners took issue with the "open prostitution" line, but that's politics.

Later that night, we all celebrated Goldie's win and it was the first time the ghost town and the Palace Showboat merged together as one. It wouldn't be long before some of us would take up residence there, but right then, we were two separate entities that found common ground and that is due to the one person who brought us all together, the one (and only) duly elected Mayor of Tule Flats Ghost Town, the Honorable Goldie Pollard. 

As we partied long into the night in the saloon that night, one person joined us who never had before, our very own Sheriff John. In, all the years I had known him up to that point, he had always kept to himself, the lonesome cowpoke he had always bee. Here he was though, drinking, laughing and celebrating with the rest of us. In fact, at one point, we spouted lines from our gunfights, adding a plethora of swear words to not only spice things up, but to crack ourselves up until the cows came home.

Sheriff! Sheriff! Have you seen the sheriff?

What the fuck do you want, you little asshole?

High comedy indeed and a perfect end to the holiday, or any other day for that matter.

That Fourth of July, we didn't need fireworks. We made our own.

Next up: Chapter Four-I SHOT THE SHERIFF

MORE TULE FLATS AND POLLARDVILLE STORIES AT:

TALES FROM THE VILLE

The Hollywood Max Museum

From left to right-Max and Max

The following is an excerpt from my first book, IN THE DARK: A LIFE AND TIMES IN A MOVIE THEATER.  I devoted  an entire chapter to my best friend and brother, Ed Thorpe who left this earth this past November. I re-print this truncated version here on the occasion of his birthday and because I miss him. Plain and simple.

My best friend calls me Max. I, in turn, call him Max. I’m Max. He’s Max. We’re both Max.

Our phone conversations always begin with the same greeting.

“Max-x-x…”

“Max!”

All correspondence, electronic or print, is addressed to Max. Any gifts we exchange have the same gift card.

    

“To: Max

  

From: Max”

We don’t find this confusing in the least. In fact, if we called each other by our real names, we’d be mighty suspicious, as in “Who died?” It been over twenty-five years that I’ve been Scott and he’s been Ed, specifically since the release of ANNIE HALL back in 1977.

In that film, Tony Roberts addresses Woody Allen as Max even though his character’s name is Alvy.

“Why do you keep calling me Max?” Alvy asks his friend.

“You look like a Max,” he replies.

Right back at him, Alvy calls his pal Max also, knowing full well that Tony Roberts’ name in the film is Rob.

Back when the two actors were performing PLAY IT AGAIN, SAM on Broadway, they adopted the mutual persona of Max when they would go out in public. Apparently, they thought they could move about New York City anonymously if they led anyone to believe that they weren’t who they appeared to be.

“Why, that looks just like Woody Allen. But, it couldn’t be. His friend keeps calling him Max.”

How effective was this ploy is anybody’s guess, not to mention how serious Allen and Roberts might have been about the whole matter. Was anybody really fooled by their little charade? And, seriously, back in 1969, who in the hell knew Tony Roberts?

Whatever their dubious rationale, we stole this little quirk and theirs and made it our own. It’s not that we had allusions to be the West Coast edition of Allen and Roberts. However, we felt it was a tribute to a great movie and to each other-the very best of friends.

I’ve known Ed Thorpe since 1967, nearly ¾ of my life. That’s the longest single relationship I’ve ever had with anybody outside of my immediate family. Through almost four decades we’ve hit highs, lows and everything in between. We’ve shared laughter, tears, bottles, joints, the stage, writing credits and, even at one point, the same girl. We acted out our own version of JULES AND JIM, only instead of Francois Trauffaut, ours would have been directed by Jack Smight. Eventually, he won the girl, which resulted in their eminent marriage. After I drifted away for a while, I soon returned to the fold and we resumed our friendship. Eventually, their marriage ended but the friendship continued.

One of the constants we can always depend upon is our mutual love of film. In Max, I have a true peer, someone whose knowledge is as extensive as my very own and whose opinion I value over all others. There is nobody I would rather have that post-movie discussion with than Max when we can sit down and critique, analyze or, sometimes tear a new asshole out of any movie we had just finished viewing. For another, he “gets the references”, another quote from ANNIE HALL that is pretty self-explanatory.  Since we speak in that Secret Language of Friends, our conversations are peppered with quotes from movies and TV shows both popular and esoteric as well as recalling the people, places and things we’ve experienced in the time we’ve passed together. Often nobody can keep up with us once we get started nor can they break our code. Of course, we make each other laugh harder than anyone else we’ve ever known, which, admittedly, can be over the most childish and gloriously immature thing possible. Can you say monkeys and fart jokes?

In our late teens, we challenged one another to a movie trivia contest, which lasted almost five excruciating hours. It would have ended earlier had we set our alarm properly, which, for his sake would have been merciful since I totally decimated him. We played some kind of honor system trivia where we’d ask each other questions. Every correct answer scored a point and every wrong answer was a point for whoever asked the question.  I played the Hitchcock card and beat him into bloody submission with a series of questions he had hope of surviving. This is how a geek talks trash. Hey, I had to win something from this guy, for crying out loud. The sonuvabitch stole my girlfriend! Wait a second. It just occurred to me that the trivia contest came first. Oops. That certainly explains a few things.

Over the years, our mutual admiration society produced something more than just good times and some actual collaborations, including a comedy melodramatic play (LA RUE’S RETURN or HOW’S A BAYOU?), a screenplay (CITIZEN PLAIN) and our very own cable access TV program entitled TWEAK! The show was a twisted version of ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT with me as me hosting as kind of an extension of my SIGHTS AND SOUNDS radio format. Though we produced only a few, we finally hit our stride on the last episode, filmed partially at the location of COOL HAND LUKE, the best movie ever shot in Stockton on a list that includes John Huston’s FAT CITY and Robert Rossen’s ALL THE KING’S MEN. Now known as Dentoni Park, the work farm in LUKE had sat on that very spot we were shooting and that connection to a classic somehow made TWEAK! truly work for the first time, which, unfortunately, had also been the last. Ironically enough, Dentoni Park was only a couple of blocks from where my wife lived before we got together and she didn’t even realize she had been that close to Paul Newman, even though it was years before she lived there. Okay fine. It’s important to me. Move along here.

Max and I always had a dream project that will probably never see the light of Day. The Hollywood Max Museum. Inside would be tributes to such famous Maxs as Max Von Sydow, Erich Von Stroheim as Max in SUNSET BOULEVARD, Max Schreck, Willem Dafoe as Max Schreck in SHADOW OF THE VAMPIRE, MAD MAX, Zero Mostel as Max Bialystock in THE PRODUCERS, the list is endless. Naturally, there would have to be a statue of Woody Allen and Tony Roberts, the initial inspirations for our namesakes.

But, greeting the visitors to the museum and performing shtick in a cheesy tuxedo would have to be my very best friend in all the world, Max. He is my partner, my collaborator, my brother. He keeps me grounded when things seem to be spinning out of control. He’s always there to listen. He’s always there to give his opinion. He’s always there to make me laugh. He’s always there. When that day inevitably comes when he’s gone, he’s still going to be there. That’s the kinda guy he is. And standing next to him at the entrance of the Hollywood Max Museum, wearing an equally cheesy tux will be his 

best friend Max and that would be me. 

You can’t split us up. We come as a set.

Copyright 2004 by Scott Cherney

That was then. This is now. There's a void in my life since Max left this world, but it's filled with the memories we had and the impact he had on me that I feel each and every day.

Happy birthday, Max. Love ya. Miss ya.

See also: LOVE YA, MAX

This production of LA RUE'S RETURN is available on DVD or streaming and is dedicated to my friend.

Here Comes La Rue Again!

We may not have reached the fabled light at the end of the tunnel just yet, but it is looming. The portal
itself has cracks in it and beams of illumination are shining through, thanks to the efforts of those who want us to bask in the sunshine once again.

Of those, I want to single out the Actors Studio, Inc. in Baker City, Oregon. One year ago when the world came crashing to a halt, they were forced to shut down production of my interactive murder mystery MURDER: THE FINAL FRONTIER literally days before their opening night. A heart-breaking video announcing its cancellation was posted on their Facebook page and they went into lock-down. At Christmastime, they hit upon the idea of filming their planned holiday offering SCROOGELESS and selling the DVDs as fundraiser for CASA  (Court Appointed Special Advocates).

They approached me to do a similar project for the one and only melodrama collaboration by Edward Thorpe and myself, LA RUE'S RETURN or HOW'S A BAYOU?  Of course I said yes. What am I-a monster? I agreed wholeheartedly with one stipulation: Dedicate this to the memory of my best friend Ed who passed away at the end of November. 

Actors Studio dove right in, shooting taking place throughout the Spring in locations around Baker City. Production has now been completed and LA RUE'S RETURN -THE MOVIE is all set to go with a release date of May 4, 2021. And once again, this is a charity fundraiser with proceeds going to Baker City Kiwanis and Kiwanis Doernbechers Childrens Hospital. Formats available are DVDs and streaming. Plus they have commemorative t-shirts for sale as well.

LA RUE'S RETURN-THE MOVIE ON SALE FROM ACTORS STUDIO, INC.

Another one of the great things about this is that coincides with Ed's upcoming birthday later this month, just another way to celebrate my friend. I've written about LA RUE'S RETURN in the past and what it meant to the two of us (see blog post: THE RETURN OF LA RUE'S RETURN ) It all stemmed from the head of Ed and he brought me along for the ride. The fact that it is still being produced after all these years (44 of them, pilgrim) is mind-blowing as if LA RUE was powered by Energizer. It keeps going and going...

Cast of Actors Studio, Inc.'s LA RUE'S RETURN

So head on over to Actor's Studio Inc. website, support their worthy charities and salute my brother,  Mr. Edward Thorpe. They all deserve it.

From the bottom of my world weary, yet fully vaccinated heart (shut up, I'm on a roll), I want to thank Leeanne Hinkel and ACTORS STUDIO, INC. for their warmth and sunshine, helping us lead the way out of the darkness and back into the light once again.

And as I always say, LAISSEZ LES BON TEMPS ROULER!

LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL!

LA RUE'S RETURN is available in paperback and download at SCOTT CHERNEY'S STORE and, surprise, surprise, performance right are available. Contact moi at: writtenbysc@gmail.com or visit my website: WRITTEN BY SCOTT CHERNEY

Love Ya, Max

I'm procrastinating. I don't want to do this. I'd rather call my best friend Max and and catch up as we always do on the weekend. Even if there was nothing new to discuss, we'd always have something to talk about-the past, the present, the future and everything in between. Whether it be trivial nonsense, deep philosophical ruminations or, more often than not, silly ass jokes at each other's expense or better yet, someone's else's, we'd fill up that time, have a laugh or two or several, maybe share a lump in the throat and always conclude that call with the words "love ya".

But I can't do that. You see, Ed Thorpe died last week. My best friend of fifty three years. My brother. 

Gone. Just like that. 

We've known each other since the sixth grade at Grover Cleveland Elementary in Stockton, CA. I believe he arrived mid-year after his dad schlepped he and his older brother up from Los Angeles. We were both in the same grade but different classes. I became aware of Ed almost immediately since he got into a fight on his first day of school. It wasn't long before we hung out together during recess, not interacting with each other too very much until one day, I wanted to make points with my comedic skills. I would sneak out of bed and catch the first half-hour of The Tonight Show. If Johnny Carson was performing his Carnac the Magnificent bit, I would write down the best jokes and repeat them to my pals during recess. Carnac was the great seer, soothsayer and sage who would mentally give answers to questions sealed inside an envelope. Typical joke: Siss, boom, bah. (opens envelope) Describe the sound made when a sheep explodes. When I read the previous night's bit the next day, I'd give the answer Carson-style when suddenly it was repeated, just like Ed McMahon did for Johnny. Surprised, I turned to see, not McMahon, but Ed Thorpe joining in. The other guys in the group didn't do it because, basically, they couldn't. But Ed did. He got it. Therefore, he got me and vice versa. From that moment on, we were off and running. 

That was the beginning of decades of in-jokes, obscure references and esoterica that formed the groundwork of our relationship, shorthand, if you will, almost a secret language in our own private club, a problem for many an outsider who felt left out of the conversation, but, hey, them's the breaks.  Keep up or keep out cuz when we were on a roll, we weren't gonna put on the brakes until we damn well felt like it.

A long-lasting friendship such as ours weathers many ups, downs and storms a'plenty. Even this year, we had a knockdown drag-out fight about this goddamn pandemic. I was fretting, as usual, over the state of things, trying to vent my frustration and fear over all this crap when he told me, flat out, there was nothing I could do about it. Me, being Mr. Irrational, took this as a dismissal of my feelings and state of mind. He felt I was doing the same to him and the shouting commenced ending with a hang-up that still resonates. The problem is, you can't disconnect a smart phone by slamming down the receiver.  The end result was a stalemate between two grumpy old men on the same page, but different paragraphs. 

Eventually, we kissed and made up and got over it like always. But his words stuck with me, especially now. 

He's dead and there's nothing I can do about it. There's a piece missing from my heart, a big hole or vacant lot where a mighty building once stood. Sorry. That's prime real estate. I have to refill it and I will try to do so with the memories we shared after fifty odd years and channel them into that empty space for as long as my brain will allow. Believe me, there's enough there for sustainability. And it isn't just the reminiscences, but their implications and significance as well, be they good, bad or ugly. In the end, it all came down to complete brotherly love. Unfortunately, it's all recyclable material and a poor substitute for the real thing. 

I will feel forever in debt to Ed for all that he's brought to my life, leading me on paths I never knew existed. Had it not been for him, I never would have ended up at Pollardville. It was he who became my Sherpa into that Shangri-La between Stockton and Lodi, leading me through the open gates of the Ghost Town and onto the magical deck of the Palace Showboat. He had such a (literally) undying passion for that place that culminated in the last reunion show back in 2007 right before the House that Pollard Built closed up shop for good. The final production on that stage was such a labor love for him and it showed from beginning until the very bittersweet, touch grand finale. It was Ed's magnum opus, an accomplishment that he was unabashedly proud.

He was so much more in his life and times. While serving in the United States Navy, he traveled the world and became a skilled and accomplished respiratory therapist. His work with AA allowed him to overcome his addictions and help so many others over the years, saving several lives in the process. He was a true force of good in this often cynical world. A little over ten years ago, he reunited with his daughter, Justine. I was so glad he was able to experience something that I myself cherish-the joy of grandpahood when he was blessed with a grandson named James. As such, the legend continues.

Through all his trials and tribulations, certainly with his health problems in the last few years, Ed knew that life was worth living. He had so many obstacles that he had to endure and through it all, he recognized himself as a survivor. "Bring it on," he once told me.

And brought upon him it was, one last time on Monday, November 30, 2020. 

Should you, whoever's reading this, have someone in your life as I have had with Ed, whether it be a friend, a sibling, mother, father or any sort of relative, a lover, husband or wife, whoever occupies a space in your heart, mind and soul, it will enrich and reward you until the day you too will pass from this earth.  You will be a better person for it just as I have been for knowing Edward Alan Thorpe.

Now I have to wrap up and I don't want to do that either. I can't say goodbye because, frankly, I don't wanna. So I will merely sign off as we always did.

I will talk to youse later.

Love ya, Max

 

New Year's Hat Trick

Starting off 2020 with a bang, not a whimper (for a change) because three gosh-darn-it-to-heck swell things have made this the best start to a new year since, oh hell, I don't know. How about ever?

First up, my tropical adventure comedy melodrama (blimey, what a mouthful) entitled ROXANNE OF THE ISLANDS or THEY'RE PLAYING OUR SARONG  is about to be published by Off the Wall Plays. No, not self-published for a change like everything else o' mine, but a real honest to Buddha publishing house.

Ever since I started this leg of my Cherney Journey way back in the 20th century, I've sent out multiple submissions to various play publishers only to see my hopes dashed. Even in the past five years with shows with proven track records, I couldn't seem to break into the field, causing me to do the whole damn thing myself. Yes, it has reaped many benefits over time, but I still felt somehow illegitimate. With my inherent insecurity, I needed some additional validation. (What did I say about no whimpering?) Well, now that I have it, I can tell the stupid voices in my head to shut up already. (Some of them anyway, The others don't work weekends)

I'll post more info when it drops on the Off the Wall website.

Next, from the DIY division, the first play I wrote with Edward Thorpe, the New Orleans based melodrama LA RUE'S RETURN or HOW'S A BAYOU? will have its first full production of the new decade at the Graham Regional Theatre in Graham, Texas beginning January 31 and running until February 9. This production makes LA RUE the most popular show in my toolbox, a damn Energizer bunny that keeps going and going...

This also represents the culmination of a lot of hard work, getting this and my other plays out there to theaters hither and yon, then playing the nerve-wracking waiting game to get either a "Yay" or a "Nay" concerning their prospects for any upcoming theatrical seasons. When it pays off, it is always a sweet victory and, with LA RUE'S RETURN, I can share with my best friend Ed who got me started in this wacky business to begin with.

PREVIOUS POST: THE RETURN OF LA RUE'S RETURN

Finally, that waiting game is about to pay off for Michael K. Young's THE CASE OF THE MYSTERIOUS CRAVAT, the interactive murder mystery I've been shepherding for the past six months, has finally gotten a thumbs up from the Rogue Theatre in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin that has previously produced DEAD TUESDAY for me last year. I'm being vague about the theater company in question until we get the full confirmation. Fingers crossed that's it the first of many more to come. I'm happy for Mike because I know the feeling. The first production is like a dream come true, but the second is true validation. Bravo, sir.

For more information about Mike's script, contact me at: writtenbysc@gmail.com

It would behoove me to not believe in jinxes because I want this to be the year it all comes together. Since I am a hot neurotic mess, I always walk on thin ice, so a victory lap can be kind of dicey. However, I can honestly say for me in the year 2020, so far so good.

Tales from the Ville: Tule Flats- The Beginning

The past can sometimes catch up with you. As time passes, it can make a clean getaway all together. This is somewhere in the middle. If I get some of the facts wrong, blame my aged brain. After all, this happened 40 years ago.

The Pollardville Ghost Town wasn't always such. For a brief period of time, it went under the name Tule Flats.

Back in 1979, four business partners, consisting of Greg Dart, Jim Cusick, Steve Wright and Dave Black, approached Neil Pollard with the idea of running the Ghost Town as a separate entity. They would revitalize the town with improvements, new attractions and more gunslingers than you can shake a stick at. Along with this came a re-branding and a name change. Thus, Tule Flats Ghost Town was born...or re-born as the case may be. What the other names these guys came up with before they settled on Tule Flats, well, ya got me. How about Feral Cat Junction?

As I said, they hired a whole crew of gunfighters for the re-launch. I had been asked to join, but I was reluctant. At the age of 24, I felt I had move past the Ghost Town, having spent much of my teenage years out there. I stayed until I was 19 when all that remained was Sheriff John, Fast Fester and myself.  When I left, I tried to make it as an actor in San Francisco with mixed results and actually returned to Stockton a year later to enroll in Delta College. (Yeah. Go big or go home. Guess what I did?) In the years that followed, I found myself in a very bad state of mind, a bout of crushing depression that I stupidly kept to myself. I had nothing going on in my life at that time, a chip on my shoulder because of it and a head full of dreams that were beginning to make me light headed. After much soul-searching, which I did with a metal detector, I acquiesced and headed back to the mean streets of the Ghost Town.

I figured, "Hey, I'm a veteran cowpoke. I know these bits inside and out. As I soon as I walk onto Main Street, I'll be back in the saddle again in no time." Not so fast there, Slim Jim.

The gunfights and fighters therein were being directed by the one and only Dennis Landingham aka D.W. He had brought in Jimmy Walsh, Bob Gossett, Terry Ross and some kid named Grant Phillips as well a couple of other day players. Some of this group had come over from the Palace Showboat, though Dennis and Bob had previous Ghost Town experience when I wasn't around. I think Dennis knew who I was as well, though we never met until the day I arrived. Naturally, the man who got me involved with the entire Pollardville experience in the first place, my best friend, Edward Thorpe had also joined the group, a major comeback for him  after his stint in the Navy. Last and never least, Sheriff John still held down the fort, even if that fort had been taken over by somebody new. I sure was glad to see him again and he, in his own ornery cuss way, might have felt the same way....without saying it, of course. He didn't say much of anything and sometimes that spoke volumes.

So there I was, watching Dennis put together some of the gunfights, bringing back some that hadn't been performed in ages because they required bigger casts. But some of the "classics", such as they were, were on the docket as well like "Poker Chip" and the ever popular "Saddle Drop". His style lent a little more on the action side. The wagon below the balcony of the hotel had new padding, perfect for a fall from above.  Naturally more stunt fights were added, though one took me aback with what considered to be an out-of-place, though well executed, judo flip. Hey, what did I know? I was just a hired hand and boy, did I begin to feel it.

D.W. Landingham

Then D.W. began to cast the roles and...uh...what do you mean I have one line and I die first? Or I don't have any lines and I still die first? Or I don't have any lines but I don't die first cuz I ain't in the damn thing at all? Whut? Hey, wasn't this my stomping grounds? My turf? My town? It was as though my years of experience meant diddly squat and another thing, I had done a play in San Fran-goddamn-cisco, okay? Yeah, that was fours ago, but...shut up! Who asked you? I didn't need this....

Bitch. Moan. Gripe. Repeat.

I'd watch the others with an overly-critical eye. I had quibbles to be sure. Bob and Jimmy were all fine and dandy to be sure. So was Dennis, who cast himself in everything because, well, he could. He threw himself into everything and I quite honestly was impressed. Inwardly, anyway. I couldn't quite figure out Terry. Something was...I just didn't know. Kept trying to direct me or how to take a fall, suggestions I readily ignored. As for Grant, I had more scrutiny. He was all over the place,really manic and seemed to be trying too hard. The truth of the matter was he was what I wanted to be again. I wasn't much different when I first came out there and now this kid had taken my spot. Observing him with my jealous eye, my insecurity wasn't about to give him a break. That is, until he made me laugh. More than once. Then I realized he wasn't me at that age. He was better. Damn it.

Tule Flats Ghost Town opened to a decent, but not especially crowded group of patrons, not as many as anticipated but a helluva lot more than in recent years. The place certainly looked better with a major clean-up and paint job on certain buildings as well as some new additions like an ice cream stand near the front entrance. The train was up and running, definitely spit and polished with a tune-up thrown in for good measure. Naturally, the gunfighters were the main attraction and the shows frankly didn't disappoint.

Me back then. Nice hat.

While I still had some issues with this new regime, I had invited Bill Humphreys to come out and join the crew. I had only recently met Bill through a mutual friend but we found a common ground almost immediately. He had been off in the world of Big Time Showbiz working in television in Oregon and Hooray for Hollywood. I'm not sure why he decided to hang out with us at the Ville. Maybe he was attracted to the same thing we all were.

But as for me, relegated to minor roles of one line or none, not to mention dying first on the far side of town away from the action, the frustration escalated. This continued over the next couple of weekends, making me doubt my extra added value to these proceedings. But I did get an interesting perspective on things from this vantage point, particularly on Easter Sunday. The patrons were better dressed than usual after church services and lunch at the Chicken Kitchen, but they did dwindle to only a few in the mid-afternoon. The skies clouded over indicating there might be a storm on the way.

We were performing a gunfight called "Wanted: Dead or Alive". D.W. had cast himself as the villain who found himself locked up in jail in the early moments. When his crew busted him out, the wind started to pick up, blowing a sizable cloud of dust down Main Street. Dennis exited the jail at this point ready for the final gunfight between he and the Sheriff. Lightning flashed overhead followed by a rumble of thunder as the two faced off to the inevitable conclusion. The audience and various on-lookers erupted in cheers, making up for their small size. The gunfighters rose from the dirt and, realizing some kind of Divine Intervention had just occurred. It was either that or the entire Tule Flats special effects budget for the entire year was blown in one fell swoop. All I know is that a sudden kinship between this new wild bunch was beginning to form from that moment on. Even Sheriff John had to smile. At least, I think it was a smile. Hard to tell.

I'm not saying this Miracle on Main Street is what caused me to re-evaluate myself and stop acting like a petulant child in the first days of Tule Flats, but it sure didn't hurt. In the following weeks, I moved into some better roles and the rest is Ghost Town history. (stories forthcoming) Starting over again wasn't a consideration when I decided to to go back, but it was necessary. I had to hit the re-set button and when my twenty four year old pride wouldn't allow it, my ego got a most deserved good kick in the huevos. Such is the arrogance of youth. This youth, anyway. It took a long time to accept the cold hard truth about the Ville in my life.

In order to move forward, I first had to step back.

Next up: Chapter Two-IN THE SUMMERTIME

MORE TULE FLATS AND POLLARDVILLE STORIES AT:

TALES FROM THE VILLE

Tales from the Ville: It's All True, La Rue

On this Cherney Journey I've been on the last few years, hawking my plays to and fro across the country, I have to remember where and how it all began and who was responsible. In my case, it all starts with the one and only LA RUE'S RETURN or HOW'S A BAYOU.

I've chronicles the origin of this melodrama written by my best friend Edward Thorpe and myself that was originally produced at the Palace Showboad Dinner Theater at Pollardville in a previous post entitled
THE RETURN OF LA RUE'S RETURN

Therefore, I'm not going to rehash that here. After its most recent production with the Mt.Vernon Community Theatre in Mt. Vernon, Missouri, LA RUE has become the most popular show in my catalog (yes, I have a freaking catalog, thank you very much) and I'm am pleased as punch about it.

The second go-around of LA RUE'S RETURN at the Palace Showboat, I was asked to direct which gave me an opportunity to heal some wounds. First order of business, Ed and I did a revamp of the script, adding a flashback scene that we believed fleshed it out a bit. A few other tweaks here and there and voila! Now we had LA RUE v.2.

I can't honestly say that my version of LA RUE'S RETURN was any better than the first as directed by Ray Rustigian, but I was able to put my signature on it which suited me just fine. The brilliant cast, consisting of Wayne Head, Elaine Slatore, Shawn O'Neal, Greg Pollard, Nicole Eddy, Robert Redmond and Elizabeth Schaefer made me proud each and every single performance. I even got a chance to appear in the show as Ike for the first month before Greg took over the role. I admit I had an "in" with the director.

Did it heal all wounds? No. In fact, it created a few new ones along the way. There was a regime change that changed the face of the Ville until it finally closed up shop. None of that backstage bullshit affected the show which, of course, had to go on and it did in the grand tradition of show biz. The bottom line (aka At the end of the day) was that our melodrama had the honor of playing that stage one mo' time and for that, I am grateful.

However, here is one story I would like to relate to you about the second coming of LA RUE.

As we were putting together pre-show publicity, someone...who shall remain nameless, because, well, I say so...had put together a mail-out flyer for the Ville's new production, artwork and all. Right away, I noticed that something was off, WAY off, namely the title of the show. It read: THE RETURN OF VICTOR LA RUE. As the coauthor and director of the show in apparent question, I attempted to correct the flyer artiste.

"First of all, the show is called LA RUE'S RETURN," I said as calmly as I could. "Second of all, his name is Jacques La Rue, not Victor."

"Oh," I was told, then very matter-of-factly, "I like Victor better."

Steam shot out my nose, ears and probably elsewhere on my body as I explained that it wasn't this person's call to make.

Argh.

Level heads prevailed, I guess and the flyer was, I imagine, reluctantly changed to the original title, No blood was spilled, but hatchi-mama...

(I should note that I never had any problems at all with this person before or even after this occurred. This minor incident has barely a hint of conflict, but I still left this person anonymous out of respect.)

CUT TO:
A FEW WEEKS AGO

As I do so periodically,  I enter LA RUE'S RETURN as well as all my other titles into a search engine as well placing them in Google Alerts, to see if anyone is staging any of my shows without consent. It's happened before and they've been caught with their hands in my bag.

On this recent search, I found RETURNS-LA RUE TACTICAL. Looks like assault rifles and accessories to me. Hmm. Then there's the RETURN POLICY for the KIKI LA RUE BOUTQUE, some actress named Eva La Rue returning to ALL MY CHILDREN and finally, an episode of  Chuck Norris' CBS show WALKER, TEXAS RANGER from 1996 called "The Return of La Rue".  Okay, now you've got my interest.

When the Gaslighter Theater in Campbell, CA produced LA RUE without either author's consent, we went after them and made them pay up or else. We discovered that they had torn the title page off the script I initially sent them years before. It contained both Ed's name and mine along with all of our contact material. At the top of the next page was the title they wrote across the top: THE RETURN OF LA RUE.

So this WALKER episode required further investigation. I looked it up on IMDB quicken'n a wink. Ah, looks La Rue was a recurring character and a villain, no less. Very good. Then I got a patented Chuck Norris sidekick straight to my nether region.

The character's full name?

Victor La Rue.

Hatchi-mama....

For more info about LA RUE'S RETURN or any other scripts o' mine please visit my website:
WRITTEN BY SCOTT CHERNEY

Oh, and performance rights are available. Contact me at writtenbysc@gmail.com for more info.

Double Boot Weekend

Happy Anniversary to me!

For the last five years, I have had the great fortune to have scripts that I have written, those in the genre of melodrama and interactive murder mystery, produced with the theater companies across the great US of A.
This year is no exception (hence the 5 year anniversary-DUH) with two separate shows playing on the very same weekend.

First up (because they were first in line and had dibs) is the Rio Linda Elverta Community Theater in Rio Linda, California is presenting the *CALIFORNIA PREMIERE* of MURDER: THE FINAL FRONTIER on June 22 and 23 as a dinner theater presentation just as it first began. This is also the fifth production of this show, formerly known as STAR TRUCK: THE WRATH OF COMIC-CON. (see previous blog post:  BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY)


Next up, Mt. Vernon Community Theatre in Mt. Vernon, Missouri will produce the one and only melodrama LA RUE'S RETURN or HOW'S A BAYOU?, written by Edward Thorpe and myself, on June 22, 23, and 24 as, get this, kids, a *READER'S THEATER* presentation,  a first for this here melo. (I'm getting a little wonky wit these asterisks, eh?) This is also the second production out of California AND the second in Missouri.. We're apparently hot stuff in the Show Me state. (More about LA RUE, see previous post: THE RETURN OF LA RUE'S RETURN)

The significance of the boots filled with beer is a tradition I started five years back when my step-daughter Tracey bought me a souvenir boot mug when she and my granddaughter Kardena saw my show SONG OF THE CANYON KID at the Great American Melodrama Theater in Oceano, CA where my five year run began in 2014. Since then, whenever a show of mine goes on the boards, I fill the mug with a delicious, frothy and special selection beer of choice and toast the theater in question on their opening night. This time around, I'll toast RLECT on Friday night, Mt. Vernon CT on Saturday. A two-fer.

I am humbled and extremely grateful to each and every one of the fine theater companies and groups that have produced my work over the past half decade. If this it, then it's been a great ride. If not, then the boot gets re-filled and I shall drink a toast the next theater once again.

CHEERS!
And to Rio Linda Elverta Community Theater and Mt. Vernon Community Theatre...
THANK YOU
and most of all...
BREAK A LEG!

Perfromance rights are available for LA RUE'S RETURN and MURDER: THE FINAL FRONTIER.
For more information or to read excerpts from either scripts or any other o' mine for that matter, visit my website WRITTEN BY SCOTT CHERNEY 
You can also contact me directly (unless you are an Ethiopian prince) at:
writtensc@gmail.com

The Return of La Rue's Return

First production of LA RUE'S RETURN at Pollardville

Evil always returns...
only this time, it has a bad French accent!

Oh, he's back alright. Jacques La Rue, that is. He's the villain in the very first theatrical venture show written by Edward Thorpe and myself. a little melodrama called LA RUE'S RETURN or HOW'S A BAYOU?.