Tales from the VIlle-Life is a Cabaret (Kinda, Sorta) Conclusion

Wrapping this sad saga up with either a pretty bow or a hangman's noose, here is the blissfully final installment of my Palace Showboat directorial debut.

After the final dress rehearsal and less than 24 hours to go, it was coming right down to the wire. Set pieces we're still being constructed and painted that would hopefully be dry and nailed/glued/stapled/duct taped together by the time the curtain rose om opening night. That didn't stop the reception of another kick to my groin. In finale, set in a heavenly nightclub called Pair O' Dice, I envisioned tables with paper mache' fronts on either side stage painted to resemble clouds, Maxfield Parrish puffballs. My tortured heart sank to anew low when I saw the end result: two giant ice cubes that just tore a hole in the hull of the Titanic. What a metaphor. Too late to redo them, my final directorial decision was that to shit-can them both and keep them as boring cocktail tables. Blah, humbug.

For me, the opening weekend of LEGEND OF THE ROGUE/LIFE IS A CABARET was an absolute blur. Apparently, all was well, for the most part. The melo went swimmingly, a triumph I wasn't able to enjoy with the Sword of Damocles vaudeville hanging over my head. But CABARET, lumbering mess that it was, plodded along without a hitch with the exception that it was so bloody long. The entire show didn't let out until close to midnight, 30 to 45 minutes over.  

DW Landingham. Naturally.

In the following week, damage control was put into place without my participation. In effect, Goldie, in her venerable role as producer, basically took my show away from me, an act of mercy perhaps that should have happened weeks before opening. Instead of being led behind the barn with a bullet put to my head, I chose to suffer the consequences, namely staying with the show as a cast member only. (My director credit remained on the program.) More numbers were sliced, diced and tossed in the trash bin, replaced by a couple of old favorites from the Ville catalog, more irony for me to chew on. The great D.W. Landingham came in to save the day, becoming a special guest star cast member as the top banana in the DR. CURE-ALL sketch and THE HECKLER. Naturally, he excelled, guaranteeing his spot on the Pollardville Mt. Rushmore. This is how it went down for the entire run which continued without major incident or my input. By the show's end at the end of the summer, I was relieved for it to be over and put behind me.

But was it? Here I am over forty years later. dragging myself over the coals, though I'm doing so to gain some perspective and complete this apology tour. In retrospect, LIFE IS A CABARET had its moments, a very adequate second half,  though I know goddamn well that it is nobody's favorite. (In case you haven't guessed, I count myself in the mix) The musical numbers were all fine, throwing a tap number into the finale and a solo spot for our superb drummer Joel Warren playing the conga and singing Kenny Rogers' "The Hoodooin' of Miss Fanny DeBerry". However, there was a big gaping hole I didn't fill and that was COMEDY.  The one thing I had built my reputation upon had been sorely lacking. Two bits I conceived had been given the heave-ho and I had zippity doo dah to replace them. Thank Buddha for D.W. and some classic material at our disposal.

Quite frankly, as if I haven't been, the whole premise of the show was flimsy at best and, under scrutiny, fell apart at the seams. The only word to describe it all would be disappointing. It's like that phrase parents use to cut kids to the quick, "I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed." Among those I let down were Goldie, who gave me this shot, Bill, who I treated poorly as both a friend and never a collaborator, the cast, who always gave their best and elevated the material each and every performance and even the Ville itself for taking my back on its legacy because I wanted to put my own spin on things I knew nothing about. The previous show, GOODBYE TV, HELLO BURLESQUE, was a big step forward while mine barely made it own of the starting gate before tripping over its own feet. 

Mercifully, it wasn't a complete boondoggle. The melodrama did maintain the spirit of excellence that SEVEN WIVES FOR DRACULA (GOODBYE TV's companion) set forth, both on stage and behind the scenes. For that I was grateful enough to keep my head above water. While the cast excelled throughout, I have to award the Most Valuable Player Award to Ed Thorpe for going above and beyond with his contributions to the whole show. Cast as Rhett, one of two henchman of the villain and the smallest role in THE ROGUE, he created a demonic Tasmanian Devil-like character that blew the roof off the joint. I had created a character for him in the second half, a hick stand-up comic named Jim Bob Cornhusker, that he brought to brilliant light but was unfortunately short-lived. To make up for it, he received an important role in DOCTOR CURE-ALL where he once again exploded onto that stage like the seasoned Pollardville pro he was and always would be.

What I have come to realize in reliving this episode of my Ville life is that prior to accepting the role of vaudeville director, things were too damn easy for me and when it became hard, I floundered like a tuna on the deck of a fishing boat. My inherent immaturity overrode my talent. What I failed to recognize is the plain truth (or life cliche', if you must) that it is the hard that makes it good. If putting a show together was so easy, everyone could do it. It isn't, they can't and at that pivotal moment, neither could I. But, hey, wasn't I supposed to be Orson Welles? Uh-uh. Neither was he at first. Orson didn't suddenly appear out of the blue with CITIZEN KANE in his hot little hands. He had years of training and stage experience under his belt before his career took off, albeit at an early age. Me, I'm self-taught at just about everything, which served me well initially, but the arrogance of youth, my own, exposed my shortcomings and damn near did me in for good.

Following THE ROGUE/CABARET came Bob Gossett's melodrama PIRATES OF THE GOLDEN SEA  (or KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY CHEST) and Ed's VOYAGE TO PARADISE. I wasn't about to jump into the frying pan again, so I stayed off the stage for quite a stretch. Goldie, bless her lil' pea-pickin' heart, played into my strengths again and allowed me to pen a couple of sketches and gags for it as I did for the next production as well. I kept my feet in the water, but I wasn't ready to go back into the deep end again. Not yet anyway. 

That's a story for another time. Just not this one. 

SEE ALSO;

LIFE IS CABARET PART ONE

and PART TWO

AND THE REST OF THE POLLARDVILLE STORY ALL ONE PAGE ENTITLED

TALES FROM THE VILLE

Tales from the Ville-Life is a Cabaret (Kinda, Sorta) Part Two

The continuing misadventures of my directorial debut at the Palace Showboat Theater at Pollardville. Pardon me as I purge.

Time has never been my friend. In fact, I would venture to say it was my arch-nemesis. This indisputable fact came into play as I scrambled to put my show LIFE IS A CABARET together. By the time auditions rolled around, I had perhaps 2/3 glued together. (Maybe 3/4 if I was being generous, which I'm not) The pressure was definitely on, but my finger hadn't hit the panic button. Yet. 

Tryouts were, unfortunately, rather turbulent. We had a decent turn-out of past Showboat players, many of which were highly complimentary of my melodrama script (LEGEND OF THE ROGUE) which gave me a necessary boost. But egos came to the forefront when one actor we wanted as the villain of the piece gave us (producer Goldie Pollard, melo director Bill Humphreys and yours truly) a set of demands that included being excluded from any cast numbers in the second half of the show as well as a solo specialty number. Since it was my vaudeville, I put the nixed these suggestions and he went on his merry way, a pity since I always liked this guy as a performer and he would have been perfect for the villain. Another actor who really wanted the lead got a supporting role, became butt-hurt in the process and also decided to set his own terms. Goldie met them all because this actor was always an asset, despite being a royal pain in the ass when things didn't go his way. What he walked away with was trivial beyond measure, but he felt victorious, though the chip remained on his shoulder throughout. 

 One bright note was a hearing impaired actor who absolutely crushed his audition and had been cast in a supporting role in the melo. I saw him as a potential breakout star. He had dramatically interpreted a song that I don't recall utilizing ASL (American sign language) and I felt this would make a great number for my show. Unfortunately, he reconsidered and dropped out before the first rehearsal. Goldie  insisted I take over the role which I reluctantly accepted. There's nothing I love more than being on stage, but I needed to focus on the second half and saw this as an unnecessary distraction. And I wrote the goddamn thing! As a result, the decision for the cast was set in stone and turned out to be all heavy hitters, as good a bunch as to ever set foot on the stage, a winning combination of the past, present and future.

Even though he was already directing THE ROGUE, I chose Bill to act as my assistant AD because I needed a safety net, even though my insecurity began to take hold, causing me to keep him at arm's length and pretty much in the dark. His experience was far greater than mine and I thought he'd take over. Was I being a control freak or merely a neurotic fool? You make the call! On a rare positive note, I had a musical director in my corner who interpreted everything I heard in my head. I couldn't read music, but I could point to what I wanted. He validated my instincts enough to show I had been on what I considered to be heading in the right direction. Unfortunately, he disappeared, POOF!, never to be heard from again. I have no idea what occurred only rumors that have never proven to be true. All I knew was he was gone and replaced by another musical director whose second guessed just about absolutely everything in my original arrangement. On top of that, I had to provide the new guy a dreaded solo number that had to be jerry-rigged into the show. My choreographer also wasn't too keen on my concepts either and attempted outlandish ideas that went nowhere, especially the girls performing their number on roller skates. My ode to female sexuality became a slapstick roller derby number. Mother of Mercy, was this the end of Cherney?. The roller skates mercifully went bye-bye in short shrift since it was a ridiculous notion and, you know, potential injuries, lawsuits and the like. The can-can number and my slapstick 10 Tango were both scrapped, the latter right after I cast myself as a bumbling waiter, but not before I took a fall off-stage smacked the back of my noggin with a curtain weight. A couple of other pieces dropped by the wayside as well including my ode to English music halls and a salute to Marlene Dietrich's rendition of "Lilli Marlene". 2/3 of a show line-up had become 1/2. The word dire became part of my vocabulary.

Creatively, I had hit a brick wall hit head first and came to a screeching halt. Confronted by people who still considered me as their friend for some unknown reason, I was taken to task for my inability to deliver the goods and keeping my cards close to my chest because I knew damn well I had nothing in my hand.  This was indeed an intervention. It was the moment that many people in the creative arts, be they actors, writers, directors, artists, what have you, dread most in their lives: when you have been exposed as a fraud. Your ego had been writing checks that your meager talent and lack of experience couldn't cash. I found myself breaking down and tearfully confessed to Goldie that I was in over my head. Without mollycoddling me, she talked me off the ledge with straight talk and cold-hard facts. What I had was enough to put on some kind of a show because, as it turned out, I actually had too much material. It was unwieldly and a frickin' mess, but a show nonetheless. 

Hell Week of rehearsals lived up to its name in more ways than one. The melodrama played quite well and, not surprisingly, Bill did a bang-up job along with the excellent cast and a spectacular set design by the brilliant Karen Van Dine. On the other hand, the vaudeville was a shambles. The cast had less faith in me as each passing rehearsal. Two of my former collaborators had completely turned against me and began working on their own show, but the worst was yet to come. Four days before opening, my father had a major stroke. While it didn't kill him, it was enough to change the remaining years of his life to their very worst. Understandably, I missed a couple of rehearsals and returned with two days to spare, a shell of my former self. My heart wasn't in it as it was and this only served to confirm that horrible reality. It didn't matter. For better, for worse or both, opening night was happening no matter what. 

The show must go on, don'tcha know?

TO BE CONCLUDED

SEE ALSO:

PART ONE OF LIFE IS A CABARET (KINDA, SORTA) 

 THE REST OF THE POLLARDVILLE STORY, ALL ON ONE PAGE TALES FROM THE VILLE

Tales from the Ville-Life is a Cabaret (Kinda, Sorta) Part One

As I continue to chronicle my time at the Palace Showboat Theatre at Pollardville, I have to be as true to myself as I possibly can and admit to my own failures, this one in particular. These next few posts are pretty much of a purge, but necessary to my story.  

Because I was (am) a moony eyed dreamer, one of the early heroes I claimed in my creative development was Orson Welles. Using CITIZEN KANE as a benchmark, I aspired to achieve what he had with that classic film, that is, write, produce and star, by the tender age of 25. The title of wunderkind had appealed to me as well. Little did I fathom that I couldn't claim that for myself, but to have it bestowed upon by others. (There's a parallel here with the first appearance of a delusional Wile E. Coyote in a Bugs Bunny cartoon referring to himself as a "super genius".) This wasn't the only misconception I had about either myself or Mr. Welles at this point in time. To paraphrase Junior Soprano, what I didn't know could fill a book...or at least a couple of blog posts. 

Following my stage debut at the Ville, I unwisely opted out of auditioning for the next show, SEVEN BRIDES FOR DRACULA/ GOODBYE TV, HELLO BURLESQUE for a couple of fairly valid reasons. The first was my commitment as Entertainment Director for a second year at then titled Tule Flats Ghost Town. The second, I wanted to create my own show for the Palace Showboat stage. Though Ed Thorpe and I wrote LA RUE'S RETURN, I wanted to go off and thus my first solo melodrama, THE LEGEND OF THE ROGUE, was chosen for the next show, another feather in my cap of growing plumage. But that wasn't all, as I soon found out. Producer extraordinaire Goldie Pollard granted me the honor of directing the vaudeville portion of that same show. Therefore, the next production was to be a Scott Cherney joint from top to bottom. This incredible leap of faith on Goldie's part was insurmountable. Destiny itself had blown its majestic trumpet as I had been given the keys to the kingdom...at the age of 25. Orson who?

Over the moon and back again, I dove in head first. Following the current show would be a daunting effort to say the least. DRACULA/GOODBYE TV had pretty much changed the landscape of what was possible on that stage, ushering in a new era. I felt up to the challenge and set out to do it all by myself. After all, I wrote THE ROGUE in a week's time, so how hard could it be? 

Reality check, please! 

#1: This would be my directorial debut. On stage. I was a babe in the woods. I had staged a few gunfights in the ghost town the summer before, but what else? Zippity-doo-dah. 

#2: I wanted to re-invent the wheel...again, namely the concept of a Pollardville vaudeville show. Bill Humphreys had done this with GOODBYE TV and I chose to follow in his footsteps until I headed down my own path.  My arrogance (and ignorance) prompted me to turn my nose up to what I considered to be the cornball Pollardville formula. After all, I knew better, didn't I? 

#3 My theater experience overall was pretty slight, especially in terms of music and choreography. What the hell did I know? I had been a bit player in a high school production of DAMN YANKEES and struggled through the singing and dancing portions of  UNDER THE BIG TOP. I certainly couldn't read music and as for dancing, my closet was full of left shoes. 

Yup. The odd were against me, but what did I care? I'd show 'em. I'd show 'em all.  But first, I had to pass GO, with or without $200.

All summer long, I delved into the research and development of my show . In those pre internet days, my best friend was the public library for the wealth of information at my disposal. Initially I considered to go with a vaudeville centered around my favorite subject-the movies. I had no idea why I decided against it, probably because it was too easy. I went in to deep dive of material and soon, my concept became thus: A show that celebrated the elements of a Palace Showboat vaudeville from various venues around the world such as British music halls, Paris' Folies Bergere, American nightclubs, Germany's cabarets and so on, and so forth. Following that last piece of the puzzle came the title LIFE IS A CABARET. 

Despite this rather vague, unformed concept, my creative juices began overflowing with ideas. As a fan of THE MUPPET SHOW, I wanted puppets to serve as a background chorus for a voodoo number. A can-can dance was a necessity. I conceived a slapstick tango number to go to the tune of Ravel's Bolero. (Blake Edwards' 10, was a major film at that time). The guys' number was another rock and roller ala "Hot Patootie" from the current show. I wanted Spencer Davis Group' "Gimme Some Lovin'",  featuring Chicago gangsters for some reason I don't recall. I wanted the girls' number to be the absolute epitome of hot, a combination of  "Fever" and "Steam Heat". The opening of course had to be John Kander of Fred Ebb's "Cabaret". The finale I actually derived from a very racist Warner Brothers cartoon called GOIN' TO HEAVEN ON A MULE. In it, a lazy worker drinks a jug of hooch, passes out  and dreams he lands in heaven, which turns out to be a nightclub called Pair O' Dice. I kept that same setting with the addition of the numbers "This Joint is Jumpin'" and "It Don't Mean a Thing". Sounds horrible in a 21st century context, doesn't it?  I justified it all in the belief that whitewashing we'd apply would make all that nasty racism go away. In retrospect, I didn't have a fucking clue. However, no one else called me on this either. Not many years before, the Ville staged their own Caucasian minstrel show, so my ignorance ran concurrent with past productions. Unintentionally offensive is still offensive, but that was then, this is now. Can't change the past, but I sure can own up to it.

Let the cancellations commence. 

To Be Continued

See also: GOODBYE TV, HELLO BURLESQUE TALES FROM THE VILLE-HI YO, SILVER! 

                THE LEGEND OF THE ROGUE THE LEGEND CONTINUES

                 THE REST OF THE STORY, ALL ON ONE PAGE TALES FROM THE VILLE

Tales from the Ville: Under the Big Top-Be a Clown

Something else that made 1979 my favorite year was my debut on the Palace Showboat stage soon after the ghost town closed for the season, joined by my fellow desperados in arms, Bill Humphreys and Grant-Lee Phillips. I've already recounted the melodrama part of the story, that being DOWNFALL OF THE UPRISING or WHO DO THE VOODOO,  so let's take a deep dive into the second half of that double bill, so break out your pool noodles, gang, and float along. 

WHO DO THE VOODOO?

Since the shows at the Ville were traditionally two parters (melodrama AND vaudeville, the peanut butter and chocolate of show biz), the second half of this particular show debuting at the end of 1979 was to be entitled UNDER THE BIG TOP as directed by Mr. Phil DeAngelo. At first glance, conventional thinking would at least assume these might be a circus themed olio. Well, yes and no. At our first rehearsal, Phil laid out his plans for the show. Yes, there would be circus acts, basically recycled bits from shows past. However, he wanted to expand on the concept and rattled off his ideas like clues on The $100,000 Pyramid.  The finale was to be gospel-themed along the lines of a tent revival. Midway there would be a big production number featuring the entire cast ala Broadway or, more accurately, in the manner of Music Circus. "Things found under the big top, Phil!" Grant-Lee Phillips added "How about mass camping expeditions?" As for that production number, we'll bookmark  that for now.

Being full of youthful piss and vinegar combined with the chutzpah I felt I earned from my year in the Ghost Town and working on the melodrama with Bob Gossett, I desired to creatively contribute to the olios as well. I wrote a few bits, mostly duds, but one made it through, a two-piece blackout I called it "Tex McKenna and His Dancing Bear". When introduced, cowboy Tex would draw his pistol and make his bear dance by shooting at his feet. For the payoff, the roles were reversed with the bear holding the gun, shooting at Tex to make him dance. Blackout. I played Tex with the one and only Goldie Pollard as the bear. As director, Phil changed the name of the cowboy to Wild Willy for some reason, but didn't alter it any further. For its inclusion to UNDER THE BIG TOP, I have to thank Goldie for going to bat for me. From this point on, I realized I had found a theater angel or, better yet, she found me. Because of her shining the light, I had an in-road into the theater that lasted for the next decade an. as I always said, allowed me to do everything I've ever wanted to do in show business, amazingly under one roof or big top, as it were. One stop shopping.

Joining the vaudeville cast were Lisa DeAngelo, Vincent Warren (despite what the program says, which is Joel's middle name) and Neil Pollard himself, pulling double duty managing the Chicken Kitchen and schlepping across the parking lot for a few choice moments in the spotlight. More about him later. As for Lisa and Vince, it should definitely be noted that this was where and when their relationship began, resulting in a marriage that has lasted after all these years. That's probably because they didn't get married on the Palace Showboat stage. Take it from one who knows.

UNDER THE BIG TOP began with Lisa's solo rendition of the Sondheim classic "Send in the Clowns", transitioning into "Be a Clown" with most of the cast in full costume and makeup. Over the standard six month run of the show, the clown facial paint had its variations. For example, someone (maybe me?) once drew a tic tac toe on their face. Another time, three of us-Grant (his suggestion), Cory Troxclair and myself-made up our faces as the members of KISS. Kids. Whudda ya gonna do?

Following the opening were the various circus "acts", per se, called for us to don tights (hello, dance belt!) and perform parodies of three ring performances. One of them was Grant in the role of Jugglini, a rather one note bit that he ended up transforming into comedy gold. He gathered up a bunch of whatever he could find backstage, studied them and came up with gags that were spot on hilarious, prop comedy at the speed of light. To see that teenage mind at work was awe-inspiring. He still worked in the juggling gag, lame as it was, as his "big" finish or finale (He would tell the audience in broken Italian accent, "I know that it you say. Finale.") His best gag involved the can of mixed nuts with the spring snake inside and announce that he would now recreate a scene from the movie ALIEN. He'd hold the can up to his chest and say "I can't eat no salad", then open the can to release the "chestburster" within. Absolute freaking genius. 

NEXT UP-WORKING WITH NEIL POLLARD

MORE TALES FROM THE VILLE

 

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

Tales from the Ville: Bohemian Rap City

The recent release of the Queen biopic BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY reminded me that once upon a

time, we at the Palace Showboat damn near beat them to the punch. Well, sort of.

Being that we had some many creative folks in and around the Ville at any given time, we had certain side projects that utilized not only members of our artistic community but the magical little play land we found ourselves in. many a video had been shot there in one form or another such as Bob Gossett's CITIZEN KANE parody CITIZEN PLAIN and several more by Tom Amo such as BACKSTAGE PASS, both projects that I not only collaborated on but appeared in as well.

But it was Bill Humphreys and Grant-Lee Phillips who joined forces to come up a short film based upon Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody". Music videos were in the infant stage and I don't think MTV debuted yet, so they were ahead of the curve in the USA by a smidge. (Queen filmed their own video of the song that aired on Britain's "Top of the Pops" TV show)  Even better, the project was to be actually shot on 16mm film, borrowing a camera of Neil Pollard's that hadn't seen the sight of day in many a moon. (Yes, you read that right.)

As I recall the basic premise, Grant was to play a young soldier getting sent off to war. It was all bits and pieces, much like a regular video scenario that we're all familiar with now, but back then it seemed innovative as hell. Script-wise I was able to put my two cents in, which was about what my contribution was worth. During the Galileo (Galileo) section, I thought several shots of  the famous astronomer should be included, finishing with a single shot of Figaro the cat from PINOCCHIO. Like I said, two cents worth. Other than this and a too-complicated 360 degree shot (summarily shot down), that was about it for my input. Mostly it was a Humphreys/Phillips joint.

A fantasy sequence was created featuring soldiers from different eras and since we had access to costumes from the theater, it looked quite promising. We found  a perfect location way in the back of the Ghost Town, an area we called the Back 40. There had been a crane on the property that Neil had been using for one thing or another. That Pollard guy was always up to something. Since it had a basket, Bill thought he could utilize this for the video...with Neil's permission, of course. So during a night shoot, we had what John Candy's legendary Johnny LaRue character from SCTV always dreamed of...a crane shot! When Bill went up in the crane basket with the camera, I could see why Jphnny coveted this. The rest of the shoot went well into the night without incident with the exception of John Himle, dressed as a Revolutionary War solider, simultaneously splitting and losing his pants.

Another scene filmed on stage at Stagg High School auditorium featured Goldie Pollard as Grant's anguished mother, sending her boy into battle. I wasn't present for that shoot, but according to Bill filled me in. He set up an extreme close-up of Goldie staring straight into the camera with a solitary tear falling down her cheek,  a heart-breaking image that positively nailed.

That was a wrap and unfortunately, that was that. We had no budget with the exception of what was spent on film, a totally rookie mistake for a bunch of broke-ass artists that didn't realize that someone had to pay to not only develop the raw footage we shot but also to put the bloody thing together in an editing room. While it was a sweet novelty for this to be shot on film, this wouldn't have been an issue had we used video. Unfortunately for everyone concerned, the Pollardville production of BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY was in limbo. The last I heard, Grant ended up with the footage when he moved to Los Angeles and somehow was misplaced over time

So this became a lost project of ours. It would have terrific if it had been completed. Now it would a real piece of nostalgia, a time capsule from that period of time. It didn't, but so what? The fact that a group of us wanted to stretch our artistic muscles and try something different was everything that we were all about back then. The effort itself, even if it came to naught, proved our mettle  and the memories remain even if the film does not.

Like the song says, "Any way the wind blows..."

CLICK HERE FOR MORE TALES FROM THE VILLE 

The Legend Continues

Rising from the ashes...or emerging from a pile of papers...is THE LEGEND OF THE ROGUE, yet another western comedy melodrama in the grand tradition of SONG OF THE LONE PRAIRIE.

Grand tradition, my Aunt Petunia's pooting patootie. Boy, two productions of the same script in one year and all of a sudden, it's OUR TOWN. Never mind that it took 27 years for even a second show to get off the ground...

SHUT  UP, YOU! Ignore that snarky naysayer in my head. How the hell did he find his way into this blog?

THE LEGEND OF THE ROGUE was my first solo effort as a melodrama playwright after Ed Thorpe and I wrote LA RUE'S RETURN for the Palace Showboat Theater stage at Pollardville. This is my homage to the masked western hero sub-genre which includes The Lone Ranger, Zorro and Marvel Comics' Two Gun Kid. Coincidentally enough, I had penned a Lone Ranger sketch for the previous show at the Palace, GOODBYE TV, HELLO BURLESQUE.

The Rogue had been a character I created out in the Pollardville Ghost Town but never got the chance to bring him to life on those mean streets, so I featured the character in another script called THE WRATH OF THE ROGUE or WHO IS THIS GUY ZORRO ANYWAY? It landed with a thud after I unsuccessfully submitted the script to Goldie Pollard, the producer and Mother of Us All at the Ville. The Rogue was more of a Zorro type complete with cape, mask and sword that glowed in the dark. It wasn't much, except for this exchange between the hero Brian Ryan and the heroine Georgia Washington after she discovers his secret identity. These were meant to be asides to audience.

BRIAN: If only she knew.
GEORGIA: If only he knew
BRIAN: If only she knew that I know that she knows.

Eat your heart out, David Mamet.

But I gave it another go a few months later, turning the new script into an origin story instead and a plot similar to a movie from my youth: THE LONE RANGER AND THE LOST CITY OF GOLD. However, I needed a major element that THE WRATH sorely lacked: A good villain. What's an evil trait not seen in most melodrama bad guys. Well, I hear racism's pretty bad. How about a good old fashioned bigot? Alright, but what kind? Hey, it's the Old West, what say we have an ex-Confederate officer, a Foghorn Leghorn type, who wants to fight another Civil War and set things right again? And he can oppress the Indians at the same time? But what to call him? A name hit me from the deep recesses of my demented creative soul...Randolph Hitlear. Of course! A Kentucky Fried version of the worst villain of all time!

Once I had my villain, I was off and running. I knocked out a first draft in four days time. Within another week, I handed it off to Goldie and, saints be praised, it green-lit as the next production. I didn't have a sub-title at the time and reluctantly settled for GOOD GUYS WEAR BLACK, also the name of a Chuck Norris film, one that my mom once mispronounced as BLACK GUYS WEAR GOOD, another concept entirely.  

(The saga of this particular production where I was chosen as the writer/director of the vaudeville section as well, is a tumultuous tale to be told another time. Let's just say in the most cliched of terms, "Be careful what you wish for.")

However, I will say that THE LEGEND OF THE ROGUE, directed by Bill Humphreys, had its one and only run at the Palace Showboat for the first six months of 1981. I never got a chance to see it because I was in the cast. It has not seen the light of day since.

The personal triumph of SONG OF THE LONE PRAIRIE this past summer has given me the initiative to revisit this story that I had felt was beyond help. But a fresh perspective works wonders and I realized that I hadn't given the material enough credit. There was enough here for salvation and development, so I went ahead and expanded the story and characters to make more it more of a well-rounded story instead of an elongated sketch. Hence, THE LEGEND OF THE ROGUE lives again and this time with a different sub-title: MASK ME NO QUESTIONS. I'm still only half-sold on this, but I have a feeling Chuck Norris might come after me for copyright infringement. Sure, he might pull a ham-string kicking me in the face at his age, but then again, I didn't need my face rearranged into a Picasso either.

Here's the story and yes, it's full of very obvious spoilers:

Hard times have fallen on the Clayfoot Indian tribe with the arrival of Randolph Hitlear, an ex-Confederate general obsessed with idea of starting a second Civil War under his leadership. To finance this effort, Hitlear searches for the Clayfoot's mountain treasure, the Tomb of Gold. With the help of his dastardly henchmen, Ashley and Rhett, Hitlear forces the tribe into slavery to dig for the gold including the Clayfoot leader, Chief Boyardee. His daughter, Fawn, is a mystic who has the ability to speak to the Great Spirits. From them she learns of a prophecy that states that "the dark cloud of evil shall ride a warrior of good who shall become a savior". With that thought in mind, Fawn seeks the help of Brian Ryan in nearby Parched Throat, Arizona, a handsome young lawyer who moonlights as sheriff of this one lizard town. Brian falls in love with Fawn at first glance, raising the ire of saloon singer Sugar De Spice who wants to put her claws into the novice lawman herself. When the sheriff agrees to help, a jealous Sugar, along with the weasely corrupt Indian agent Percival P. Pestt, inform Hitlear. Laying in wait for the sheriff, Hitlear gets the upper hand upon Brian's arrival and in the fracas, Fawn is killed. When Brian is left for dead himself in the desert, Sugar has a change of heart and rescues him. Back in town, Fawn's spirit comes to him in his delirium and empowers Brian with special abilities given to him by the Great Spirits since he is indeed the warrior of good in the prophecy. Brian dons a mask and adopts the persona of the masked avenger known as The Rogue. He catches up to Hitlear just as he enters the fabled Tomb of Gold and thwarts his plans once and for all, saving the Clayfoot tribe and the nation from this vicious war criminal. And the rest is legendary... 

Now THE LEGEND OF THE ROGUE has been published by Off the Wall Plays. Performance rights are available.

CLICK HERE FOR A FREE PREVIEW OF LEGEND OF THE ROGUE AND TO INQUIRE ABOUT PERFORMANCE RIGHTS

Like the title says, the legend continues...

The Canyon Kid Comes Home

The Footlight Theatre Co. production of SONG OF THE LONE PRAIRIE opens August 29 in Jamestown,

CA, not far from whence it first reared its white Stetson way back in 1987 at the Palace Showboat Dinner Theater at Pollardville. This is as close to home as the show's been for 27 years.

And after all, that's the real theme of this show: Going home. I had put melodramas in my rear-view mirror a long time ago and yet, I returned to my favorite, LONE PRAIRIE, and wrote a novelization of it as a lark. It turned out to be the project that rekindled my love for writing, comedy and yep, melodrama. An e-mail out of the blue from the Great American Melodrama and Vaudeville in Oceano got my show produced for the first time in the 21st century. So I sent out to few other companies and lo and behold, here's the Footlight Theatre Co. ready for the second production of this script this summer.

Now I've got a total of three scripts ready for the big time, LONE PRAIRIE, LA RUE'S RETURN, my first co-written with Edward Thorpe and a punched up version of my first solo show, THE LEGEND OF THE ROGUE or MASK ME NO QUESTIONS. (New sub-title. It used to be GOOD GUYS WEAR BLACK, but I don't want my ass kicked by Chuck Norris. I don't care how old he is. He can still rip my lower intestines out with his bare hands and make me play jump rope with them)

Whatever goes around, comes around and I'm enjoying the ride.


This is the front of the Palace Showboat program.
Obviously, I didn't design this. The title isn't very prominently displayed. Neither is my name.  Goldie's name is. Hmm...
It also calls the play "A Western Fairy Tale". That's about as accurate as calling SAW a slapstick romp that's fun for the whole family.
And what in the name of Sam Peckinpah is up with that cowboy? Who is he supposed to be? Give him a golden earring and a head scarf underneath that hat and it could be Two Gun Boris...or Charlene Atlas before a good scubbin' and waxin'
I'm not sure what that stain on the program is. It could be from Pollardville fried chicken.
Yeah I can say all this now, but I treasure this like a Picasso.
 But that was then...

 
And this is now.
This is the latest incarnation of this show, quite different than the first in many ways. Read this from the Footlight Theatre Co. press release.

Hurst Ranch and Footlight Theatre Company have teamed up to meritoriously bring to life the world of Wild West Melodrama!  Set at the striking Hurst Ranch  with its beautiful vintage grounds, audiences are sure to have an outrageous, side-splitting laughter filled evening full of all sorts of knee-slappin, toe-tappin old timey fun!

Every performance begins with a train ride into the "town" of Dirt Clod on the Hurst Ranch Railroad, where guests can arrive in town and belly up to the bar at The Dirt Clod Saloon.

An 1890s style musical vaudeville shows begin at 5:45, featuring performances by  local old timey bands including Faux Renwah, The Lava Cats and more.

At 6:00 pm, with the ringing of the dinner bell, a 3 course gourmet Western BBQ is served up by The Historic National Hotel of Jamestown.

Romp-stomping action and non-stop hilarity ensue after dinner around 7:00 pm, just as the sun begins to set over the beautiful "Dirt Clod Lagoon"!!  In classic melodrama fashion audiences will get to boo and hiss the villains, sigh and swoon for the sweet heroine and cheer the brave hero!! 

And the next generation of actors portraying those wackadoodles I wrote many moons ago include:

Michelle Tennant as Charlene Atlas

Alexis St Onge as D and Richard Carr as The Canyon Kid

Valerie Smusz as Nastassia and Aaron Bennett as Two Gun Boris

Susan Chapman as Honey Darling

Rounding out the cast (those MOP-Mit Out Photos) are Art Delgado as Basil Kadaver, Anthony De Page as Dalton Doolin and Don Pierazzi as Mayor Darling.

So that's the story, glory.
Song of the Lone Prairie or Poem on the Range
Aug. 29-Sept, 20 in Jamestown, CA
And it was written by...
Hang on a second. Let me look at the poster again.
"By Scott Cherney."
WHY IS MY NAME STILL SO SMALL?
Sigh...
Everything old is new again.

Dedications

Writing a book dedication is like a final punctuation, a kiss goodbye to send your tome on its merry way. But more importantly, it's a big piece of your heart that you've given to certain individuals that is forever embedded in your work.

My first book, IN THE DARK, was dedicated to my wife.
To Laurie, my honey
Wanna see a movie?
She was my constant movie companion and one of the few people on this earth I can stand to sit next to in a cinema. Laurie's not gone by any stretch of the imagination. She just stopped going to movies.

The recipients of of book numero dos, RED ASPHALT, were Don Geronimo and Mike O'Meara.
To Don and Mike
Radio Gods
Thanks for the laughs when I needed them the most.
Um, what? Yes, I chose to salute a couple of guys on the radio. RED ASPHALT was a personal book about a guy who flips out while driving for a living, a job near and dear to my butt cheeks. Back in the 90s, my psyche had going through some rough terrain while on the road every stinking day. Fortunately, I had these two jamokes to listen to and laugh my way toward sanity, then writing a book to vent my frustrations at the world.. For that, they got a much deserved thank you.

In the introduction of NOW THAT'S FUNNY, my collection of comedy sketches, I was all over the map.

I hereby dedicate this collection to Rob Petrie, King Kong, Pollardville itself, that motley crew of talented performers and excellent people known as the Palace Showboat Players and to the patron saint of comedy itself, the chicken.

What a load. The chicken didn't even call.

PLEASE HOLD THUMBS, all about my adventures in South Africa, turned out to be a story about family, therefore transforming it into something more than "What I Did on My Summer Vacation".

To my family

Past, present and future

So now we're up to date with my latest, SONG OF THE CANYON KID. I've dedicated this book to my friend, Goldie Pollard.  

I had been a cowboy in the Pollardville Ghost Town as an actor, sorta stuntman and writer and director. During that time, my friend Edward Thorpe and I wrote a melodrama for the Palace Showboat Theater called LARUE'S RETURN. I had yet to appear on that particular stage myself. When I finally did, I had helped Bob Gossett write new material for my first show DOWNFALL OF THE UPRISING. Since I was pretty hungry to add even more material to the show's vaudeville section, Goldie, as one of the producers, helped to champion my cause. The next show she co-directed with Bill Humphreys, GOODBYE TV, HELLO BURLESQUE, the two of them both asked me to write some sketches. I had written the next melodrama solo, LEGEND OF THE ROGUE, and Goldie gave me the highest honor possible. Not only would I have my name on the melodrama, but I would write and direct the olios section as well. Don't think this didn't go to my head. I was Orson fucking Welles, baby!
 
The problem was...I was in so far over my head I didn't realize I was drowning until it was too late. I was too young, too ill-prepared and too arrogant to ask for help. The show was virtually taken away from me and deservedly so.

A couple of years passed and I returned to the Palace Showboat stage, thanks to both D.W. Landingham and Ray Rustigian. I was ready to give it another shot and Goldie gave it to me. I wrote and directed three vaudeville shows in a row, a revival of LA RUE'S RETURN and a brand spanking new melodrama called SONG OF THE LONE PRAIRIE.

If it wasn't for Goldie's initial encouragement and her ability to grant me a second chance, I don't know what direction my life would have taken. I loved this woman. We lost contact after I left the Stockton area in 1999, but I am so grateful that we were able to have one last reunion at the Palace Showboat when that place closed once and for all. At that event, she addressed the crowd to say:

You all came here as actors, dancers, singers, dressers, writers and you ended up as entertainers. And you know what you are today? You are all my stars and I love you all.

No one shone brighter than she did. She was our beacon, our guiding light. For this, I have dedicated SONG OF THE CANYON KID to her.

To Goldie Pollard

For giving me my first chance, then believing in me enough to give me a second

This book is all about second chances and this is my last to say once more to my friend,

I love you, Doris June. And thank you from the bottom of my heart now and forever, 

Tales from the Ville: Hi Yo, Silver!

Nostalgia’s a funny thing. It usually puts a warm golden light on our memories to conveniently make our past a lot more significant than it really was. That really doesn’t apply in this case. It’s hard not to look back at Goodbye TV, Hello Burlesque as a pivotal moment in time for everyone and everything involved with the Palace Showboat at that point. GTV, HB, the vaudeville The Lone Ranger Rides Again was written for, set the standard for just about every show that followed it. For one thing, it represented a definite changing of the guard at the theater. Many of those who had been responsible for the development of the standard Pollardville formula decided it was time to move on. That’s when the new kids on the block moved in and with them (or us, as the case may be), a new sensibility. As a result, the bar was raised for on what this theater was capable of with just a little bit of imagination and throwing off some of the shackles of the past.

There should 3 more around here somewhere.

   
Bill Humphreys, who conceived and directed this show with Goldie Pollard, brought some of his professional experience in stage and television production to the Ville and turned the olios into a full multi-media experience combining both film and video elements with live-action for the very first time on that stage. Like moths to a flame, this show, as well as the melodrama that preceded it, Seven Wives for Dracula, a better than usual script by Tim Kelly and directed by D.W. Landingham, attracted pretty much what I would call an artists’ collective of actors, writers, musicians and, well, artists. We all congregated in a harmonious convergence in what I unashamedly refer to this as our “Renaissance period”. (Whew!) Okay, maybe some of that is nostalgia speaking again, but the truth of the matter, or the proof in the pudding, was what ended up on that stage and that end result was sensational. We all went to the next level. The music was better. The choreography was better. The makeup, the costumes, the sets-painted by an actual artist, Karen Van Dine…all better than they ever were before. And the cast matched them every step of the way. On top of all that, it was the first show to not only utilize original material but also actually encouraged the creation of such material. That’s where I came in. It all stemmed from the previous production when I helped Bob Gossett punch up the melodrama The Downfall of the Uprising or Who Do the Voodoo? with a bunch of new gags. I tried to do the same with the vaudeville, but, with one exception, was shot down every time. When GTV, HB came along, I was welcome with open arms by both Bill and Goldie, the rest being history.

Goodbye TV, Hello Burlesque traced the world of entertainment back in time from the television age through radio and ending up in the burlesque era. The Lone Ranger Rides Again obviously fit into this middle section. As far as the origin of this sketch, I honestly do not remember. It’s the only one that I’m a little hazy about how it actually began. Perhaps it had been the result of just another idea jam session. I don’t know. But, a few years ago, I caught a rerun of an old Dean Martin Show on TV Land or something. On this episode, Dean and Orson Welles were recreating a radio show. Orson read the script leaving Dean with all the sound effects. Now this must have stuck in my head because I remembered seeing this sketch as a kid. In case you’re wondering, the only thing I retained was a variation of the stairs gag, so I didn’t really steal anything.

 
Everything clicked on this sketch and it evolved into something even more wonderful than what existed on the page. It began with a kid listening to the radio and changing the channel as a medley of radio show themes and commercials played. When it ended up on “The William Tell Overture” (AKA The Lone Ranger Theme), the audience went nuts every single time. Then the curtain opened on that great set of a radio soundstage from the 1940s and that superb cast took my words and spun their own magic for the next ten minutes. I can say without hesitation that this was the best sketch I had written and certainly the best produced.

The cast-Bob Gossett as The Lone Ranger, Ed Thorpe as Tonto, Cory Troxclair as McGuirk, Lisa Smith as Annabelle, Paul Stolberg as Zorro (who originally came out of the bathroom in the end, a gag I never liked which is why I changed it) and Bill Humphreys as the Director all contributed to its great success each and every performance. Of course, I would be remiss if I failed to mention the real star of this bit. Jim Walsh became an absolute superstar in my eyes as the Sound Effects Engineer. His timing was immaculate and his energy non-stop. When he got to the aforementioned stair gag, he ran in place, counting down with each finger. The biggest laugh of the night. This was Jimmy’s best show all around from his performance as Renfield earlier in the Dracula melodrama to singing “Hot Patootie” (from The Rocky Horror Show and the very first rock ‘n roll number at the Ville) to just about everything he contributed to this production-on and off the stage. Small wonder why we used to call Jimmy “The Hardest Working Man in Show Business”. Never mind no James Brown.

Without a doubt in my mind, Goodbye TV, Hello Burlesque remains one of the best experiences I’ve ever encountered in this business we call show. More than that, it solidified for me that Pollardville was more than just a theater, but a way of life. It became a surrogate family not only for me, but pretty much for all of us who stayed there throughout the years: One big nurturing, often dysfunctional but ultimately supportive family.

How could we not? After all, we had a place to call Home.
And that ain’t nostalgia talkin’ neither.

Post Script: In my infinite wisdom, I didn't audition for this show, but I did fill in for my friend Tom Amo one weekend so I was able to touch the stars on stage with this fine production for a fleeting moment.