Don Blair speaks about Redlands High, Russ Tutterow, and not doing anything on stage.

Don Blair (Ted in 16th Street's upcoming The Last Barbecue, pictured left with Ann James as Jan) sent me this below as his biography for the program. But it's too good to wait for. So take a walk with Don down memory lane. Come on.... he won't bite.

"The Blair", as he is known to the two or three hundred of his closest friends, was born in Redlands, California during the last Ice Age. He graduated from Redlands High in 1961 with a 3.71 grade average. That's a lie. Who remembers? Our mascot would have been a Terrier, if we'd had an actual one, because the University of Redlands' was a Bulldog. I firmly believe that John Lennon wrote "Hey Bulldog" about us. Everybody gets to believe what they want.

The last time I Googled “Redlands”, the High School I went to was now the Jr. High School. And the elementary school I went to was now a park - or perhaps just a verdure of some kind - bordering a huge parking lot. The trees were still there, but the building not so much. It was on the corner of Cajon and Cypress. Check it out.

The Blair came to Chicago in 1982 and didn't work for seven years. As an actor. Too many guys in front of me in the line. Then I met Russ Tutterow, and my life was enriched. People started calling, The Blair started working. The frustration gave way to unmitigated joy. Well, perhaps slightly mitigated. We never get everything we want, do we?

Along about this time, I was called to audition for Descent - A Darwinian Comedy by Tom Patrick (I quote from the poster which sits in the foyer of my palatial one bedroom apartment in Edgewater.) The Director was a shy, slightly awkward teenager from my home state ( California ) who'd been a dance major. A Dance Major. From Northern Cal. A blond. I knew I'd get the part because God hates me. I did, and it was a great experience. But wait, it gets better!

So, some time later, this same pink-cheeked schoolgirl asked me to read a role in a play she was considering for the upcoming season at her theater – The Aardvark - for potential backers. I read the script and I was horrified. This guy was the meanest son of a bitch on the planet. I had no idea how to play him, but I'd already said yes to the reading. So I was in a cold sweat when it came time to do the thing. As we walked from the lobby into the rehearsal room where the reading was to take place, I was panicking - any emotion, any inflection in my interpretation of this character would turn him into a monster. So, being the cautious individual that I am, I decided not to do anything. What the hell, it’s only a reading. They'll hold auditions if they decide to do the play. So I didn't inflect, I didn't act, I tried to be as neutral as a stone. And then Ann started laughing. You should be so lucky in your life as to hear this woman laugh. And then I began to understand what Brett Neveu, the playwright, was saying. And now here we are.

Hope you like The Last Barbecue. But, as one woman who saw a production of The Marriage of Bette ' n Boo I was in at Apple Tree said: " I don't need to come to the Theater to see this, I can get this at home."

You and The Me, Mom & Dad Show!

Have you seen Martie Sanders' The Me, Mom & Dad Show!? If so, and if the angle from where Charlie Sanders took the picture is just right, you may be able to find yourself sitting in the audience enjoying the show......
Now you are a part of his memory. Thanks for coming. Just 2 more shows left. Spread the word!

The first picture is from Sat April 18 at 8pm. 2nd pic from Friday April 17 at 7:30 PM, and the third from the Free Senior Preview Wed April 14 at 4:00 PM.

Best Emerging Theater - wow!

Best Emerging Theater Company

The Reader’s Choice: 16th Street Theater

"Most Chicago theater companies get started because like-minded artists decide they want to do the work they love best the way they want to do it—finding a space and an audience comes later in the process. Ann Filmer took a different approach. When she moved out to Berwyn a few years ago, she found there was a nifty little black-box theater in the Berwyn Cultural Center, but no professional company to use it. So with the help of the North Berwyn Park District, the longtime director started 16th Street Theater, and got busy producing work that would speak to the western suburb’s ethnically diverse, working-class audience base..."

Read the rest of story here.

Thanks Chicago Reader and Kerry Reid!

Anna Deavere Smith at Columbia College

The cast and crew of FIRES in the MIRROR with playwright Rohina at reception for Anna Deavere Smith at Columbia College.

Overwhelmed from hearing Ms. Smith speak and seeing her perform last night. It was unforgettable.

"The stories that we express--and that we don't--determine our survival."

---Anna Deavere Smith, 1/27/09

ON THE ROAD with Anna Deavere Smith, MLK and Obama

(Warning: This post is as jumbled as my thoughts. It is clear why I am not a writer. But as Anna says: It is all about the struggle to articulate. That is where character lives. Therefore I struggle and struggle...)

Been getting lots of inspiration from these three exceptional human beings.

And then in speaking to a fellow artist today, a playwright, the two of us (as unexceptional yet full human beings), were debating the issue of THE STRUGGLE. In his case, is it worth it to continue rewriting and working on his play if there is no guarantee he will ever see his play produced on stage?

So the question is: Does satisfaction and reward only come through a sense of accomplishment? And if one does NOT accomplish the goal, is it worth the effort? OR as in yoga, is it not about successfully completing each and every pose, but about the practice? The struggle. Action.

So our conversation has me go back to the posting from Jan 19 (see below), MLK's speech on race relations: That the extreme optimist and the extreme pessimist have one thing in common. Neither will do anything about race relations. The extememe optimist because there is nothing to do since we have come so far. And the extreme pessimist because it is futile since we have so far to go.

Do we not put any effort into this goal, or any other goal, unless we are ABSOLUTELY sure there will be a clear and positive outcome and reward?

If we only attempt to achieve what we know we can accomplish, where does greatness live? Where does creativity live? Imagination lives in the unknown, rather than what is clearly known. If we knew all, we would not need imagination.

And I realize that Obama ran for President of the United States even though there was no guarantee that it would be worth it. In fact most of us thought we would never see the day. Yet people were moved to action. Without guarantee. And that action did result in the reward. At least for this moment.

But of course as Obama said in his inaugural speech, the struggle continues. It is in each and every one of us. It takes the effort of us all, even though we do not know what the result will be. Yet we move to action. Take on the struggle

So I will try to be, as MLK asks of all of us, to be the extreme realist. To struggle for the outcome, to live in action, even though I do not know where this will all end up.

Interesting to note that my friend's play is about death. Inevitable death. Why do we continue to fight to live even though the outcome is clear: That we all someday will die.

Sorry to be so grim! I am hoping this knowledge is liberating as opposed to paralyzing.

So I say to him and to me: the day we give up the struggle... isn't that the day we truly cease to continue living?

Here's to the struggle.

Martin Luther King on Race Relations

Today was an emotional day for me. Working deep on FIRES in the MIRROR. When insecurity takes over, I feel overwhelmed by the emotions within this piece. The strong and sharp words. Today I took the opportunity to read the words of MLK for inspiration and guidance. And tonight in rehearsal I read this excerpt from Martin Luther King Jr.'s speech A Realistic Look at the Question of Progress in the Area of Race Relations

"...There are three basic attitudes that one can take toward the question of progress in the area of race relations. And the first attitude that can be taken is that of extreme optimism. Now the extreme optimist would argue that we have come a long, long way in the area of race relations. He would point proudly to the marvelous strides that have been made in the area of civil rights over the last few decades. From this he would conclude that the problem is just about solved, and that we can sit comfortably by the wayside and wait on the coming of the inevitable.

The second attitude that one can take toward the question of progress in the area of race relations is that of extreme pessimism. The extreme pessimist would argue that we have made only minor strides in the area of race relations. He would argue that the rhythmic beat of the deep rumblings of discontent that we hear from the Southland today is indicative of the fact that we have created more problems than we have solved. He would say that we are retrogressing instead of progressing. He might even turn to the realms of an orthodox theology and argue that hovering over every man is the tragic taint of original sin and that at bottom human nature can not be changed. He might even turn to the realms of modern psychology and seek to show the determinative effects of habit structures and the inflexibility of certain attitudes that once become molded in one's being. (Yes) From all of this he would conclude that there can be no progress in the area of race relations. (Alright, Alright)

Now you will notice that the extreme optimist and the extreme pessimist have at least one thing in common: they both agree that we must sit down and do nothing in the area of race relations. (Yes) The extreme optimist says do nothing because integration is inevitable. The extreme pessimist says do nothing because integration is impossible. But there is a third position that is another attitude that can be taken, and it is what I would like to call the realistic position. The realist in the area of race relations seeks to reconcile the truths of two opposites while avoiding the extremes of both. (Yeah) So the realist would agree with the optimist that we have come a long, long way. But, he would go on to balance that by agreeing with the pessimist that we have a long, long way to go. (Amen) [applause] And it is this basic theme that I would like to set forth this evening. We have come a long, long way (Yes) but we have a long, long way to go. (Amen) [applause]..."

So I am thinking that "long, long way to go" starts with dialogue. It starts with hearing each other. I must believe it can begin within the sacredness of a communal place, like a theater. Where we sit in the dark, side by side, in order to see it clearly.

Walking in San Francisco

Spending the end of 2008 rejuvenating and getting inspired for the New Year in my home state of California. The Bay Area. Full of different emotions for me. So much has happened here. It is my past, it was my home. I had to leave in order to see it.

As I prepare for Anna Deavere Smith's FIRES IN THE MIRROR I am devouring Smith's TALK TO ME about her travels through media and politics. Smith studied and lived in San Francisco and as I walk those familiar hills, the energy charges through me. But then I also look around to try to find those who do not look like me. I am surprised by the lack of color. I see mostly a sea of White among the Asian population. My old friend Chris tells me we are in the Western Addition. "Yeah the blacks were pushed out, once again." I read up on it and find the Fillmore District after WWII indeed was a cultural center for San Fran's African-American community. But then read about the changing demographic. And the "return of the middle class." I wonder why "urban renewal" means more whites and less people of color. I think about economics and code words like "bad neighborhood." I think of Oakland and turf wars. It's complex and unsettling. I look to myself to see where I fall in this.

It's scary to look. Afraid of what I may find. I am nervous about diving into FIRES IN THE MIRROR and those strong, uncomfortable words. To put that out there: our complicated relationship with race, with class, and with difference. Our American identity. The melting pot that has yet to melt. The melting pot that seems only to continue to separate.

I remember something. I open up the intro to FIRES IN THE MIRROR and read Ms. Smith's words: "I think there is a gap between those who are heard and those who speak. Those who really speak in their own communities, to their own people, are not heard as frequently as those who speak on a regular basis with authority. The media most often goes to experts to speak about difference. My sense is that American character lives not in one place or the other, but in the gaps between the places, and in our struggle to be together in our differences. It lives not in what has been fully articulated, not in the smooth-sounding words, but in the very moment that the smooth-sounding words fail us. It is alive right now. We might not like what we see, but in order to change it, we have to see it clearly."

I keep walking. I keep listening. I keep looking.