Saturday mornings at CCM

 

It is Saturday morning here at KA and I just got back from the gym (isn’t it always more pleasurable to say that in the past tense?!). After I post this I may venture over to the Dining Hall and see what’s for brunch. Today I must finish writing the advisory reports for my advisees and then in the afternoon I will proctor my monthly AP Art History test.

All of that is pretty mundane stuff. But on this Saturday morning, I am thinking back decades ago to other Saturday mornings, when I would go up to the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music at the University of Cincinnati and take drama classes. I hadn’t thought about those drama classes or those halcyon Saturday mornings for a while, but through the miracle of Facebook (yes, my sister hates it when I designate Facebook as such!) I have thought about it again this week.

Last weekend I had a ‘friend request’ on Facebook, and the name of Catherine Cajkjdjfjjdjksjksjkaa (some Italian name) didn’t mean anything to me;  I noticed that we had no mutual friends, so I was just about to hit the “ignore” button when I decided for a moment I would go to this person’s page. As I clicked her name, a photo came up that I instantly recognized (the photo above, so I don’t keep you in suspense or make you wonder what salacious thing might have been recognized!) and I also noted that she was from Cincinnati, my hometown.

So I looked at the photo, looked back at the name, and saw that before the long Italian name, was the name ‘Frank.’ Wait…as my mind reeled back the decades, I looked at the photo of the Showboat Majestic, moored proudly at the port of Cincinnati, and for decades and decades the home of home-grown theater. I looked at the name and thought, “Hmmm…this must be Cathy Frank of the Showboat days!” I didn’t hit the ‘ignore’ button and instead sent a quick message to this person and asked if she was indeed that Cathy Frank with whom I had gone to drama class and performed with in shows on that Showboat…was she the Cathy Frank who had portrayed  Mrs. Gloop so mightily in 1978 in our production of  Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ?????  A day later I had a response, and I could practically hear the laughter from thousands of miles away, that she was indeed the same person, and “how on earth did anyone remember that role???”

I haven’t asked yet, but I am curious how and why she found me, but what a wonderful opportunity to traipse back down memory lane and think of the days at CCM and the summer days at the Showboat. So I was speaking to my father on the phone, telling him about Cathy (I suppose she is Catherine in her professional life as a dramturg and Drama professor) and said, “You know I should look up Kay King [the drama director and teacher at CCM and Showboat] and see what happened to her.” (We both knew Mrs. King had moved from Cincinnati when she retired from teaching and moved to sunny California to be near her son. Over the years I had half-heartedly thought I must contact her and thank her for her deep significance in my life.) As I am talking to my father, I google Kay King and find in a couple of seconds that only six months ago she passed away at the age of 89.

So I was too late to find her and write her a whole-hearted thank you for her efforts and work on behalf of drama and adolescents. She was brilliant. And just six months ago! But it has been lovely thinking back on Kay King and how she shaped generations of young people and their interest in drama.

I met Kay King when I was 13. She was the daughter of a lovely dowager in my family’s church, and my mother had known of her work with Cincinnati teens and drama.  Since I was now a teen, and loved drama through and through, my mother thought it was time I meet Mrs. King and join her troupe. 13! Much time has passed, certainly, but what a profound moment for me to meet this woman and enjoy the influence on my life. I was probably a little unlike most of the wealthy, east-side kids who populated her drama classes (not really because of the geography in Cincinnati or socioeconomic level, actually) since I was complicated, at least in one way. I loved drama, couldn’t get enough of thinking about it, wondering about it, doing it in school—however, I also had a stutter that plagued me. When I met Mrs. King at her home, I shared how excited I would be to join her drama classes at CCM and then do a play on the Showboat Majestic. But I confessed that as much as I loved drama, the stutter made me nervous—what if  I couldn’t control it in a play??? She put me at ease immediately, and said, “We don’t do plays in drama class. We do what are called, ‘theater games’ and you won’t have to follow any set lines in these exercises. You will learn improvisation and you will be totally in control.”  How she knew exactly what worried me, I have no idea, but from the get-go, this woman put me at ease, watched out for me, and listened to my ideas. She sensed that I had no stage fright, but I feared what the stutter would do in terms of my control. In that moment she had quelled that fear.

Soon I was involved in her annual children’s show on the Showboat, Really Rosie, in that summer of 1977. Again, I was perhaps the oddest child in that company because of my summer schedule. In the mornings I rode down with Mrs. King to rehearse on the Showboat (a haven of super-duper air conditioning during the scorching Cincinnati summer!!!) and then in the afternoons I took the bus up to the University of Cincinnati for an intensive seminar/workshop on how to manage stuttering. Talk about a little strange—in the morning I worked with the most extroverted kids imaginable, and then in the afternoon I spent time with some of the most introverted kids imaginable…a strange combination! By the end of the summer the stuttering hadn’t been cured, but the sessions had helped me manage the stress of it much better, and by the end of the summer, watching Mrs. King, I knew I would love to direct plays!

So since Cathy’s out-of-the-blue friend request, I have loved thinking about those Saturdays at CCM. I spent Saturdays throughout the school year at CCM in drama classes for about five years, junior high and high school. The theater games that Mrs. King had described were exciting, thrilling, funny, dramatic, always energy-charged and original. Mrs. King had been part of a wave of new drama teachers in the late 1950s and early 1960s that pioneered these games as a means to tap into, and release a child’s creativity and imagination. Some were mere games, some spawned scenes, but they all dealt with theatrical invention and authenticity. Nothing else I have ever done has come close to what we did in that classroom.

Not to drop names, but one of the other participants in these drama classes was a goofy girl my age named Sarah Jessica Parker, whose father worked at the local ABC affiliate. Pretty soon, this same Sarah Jessica would be whisked to New York to perform in the Broadway show, Annie. For years after stardom touched her, SJ would credit Kay King in interviews for her strong preparation in drama. However, sometime in the 1990s, SJ then amended her biography and began to describe her childhood as poverty-stricken. Oh, please! Your dad worked at a TV station, and your mom was a kooky, bohemian, stay-at-home mom! Oh well, I am grateful because when SJ hit it big, she did help pay scholarships for some of us in the drama classes, so I am thankful for that. I also kept doing things with her siblings, a boy choir with her brother, and more drama with her sister. Anyway, I digress…

But Mrs. King was always more than a leader of theater games. There were some important moments being in her orbit that have shaped me profoundly. First of all, as we drove downtown to the riverfront home of the Showboat, she often asked me about the play, and I offered some “tips” in how we might sharpen the production. She didn’t bristle and remind me of her decades of experience, or the many awards she had won as a drama educator, she listened, she often shared my “notes,” and she certainly made me supremely interested in the craft of directing. I wish I could thank her in person for the excellent model she provided and let her know I went on to direct 67 shows!

In junior high I also enjoyed writing radio shows for competitions. Mrs. King was often called upon to judge those competitions. After I had placed second in one such competition, Mrs. King spoke to me after drama class one day, and said something wise. She said, “You did a fine job on that radio show, but the material wasn’t really original. Do something that is about you, your story—be more daring to be original and tell your own story.” I took her advice to heart, and next year I wrote and performed  a radio show about a kid who yearned to be an actor, but a speech impediment proved a scary obstacle. I won first place that year, and the judge’s glowing comments have always meant even more than the first place finish. I had dared to tell my story, and the writing and producing of the show remains an exciting moment from my youth.

In high school I went to CCM on Saturdays with my dear friend Doris. We had a hilarious time attending class, creating scenes and characters and moments of dramatic fun. Once in awhile, shhhhhh, Doris and I actually skipped drama class and walked around Clifton and the UC campus pretending to be college kids. Doris picked up the love of the CCM classes and the performances on the ‘boat.

Oh the Showboat…the ancient, creaking floors, the tiniest of dressing rooms on the planet, the days when some barge went by and all of a sudden your balance became an issue on the stage! The Showboat was a chrysalis for many a young performer, and from time to time I have gone back to see shows there, most recently this summer to see Big River. A childhood friend of mine and her husband have run the Showboat for 23 years, but just this fall, they have announced that their time has come to an end with the Showboat…I hope someone picks up the lease on the historic space and continues making dramatic magic on that postage-stamp size stage.

But one last lesson from Mrs. King…in our senior year, Doris and I had become estranged. As President of Studio Choir, it fell to me that when our leader, the beloved Mrs. Schneider, needed surgery, I had to teach the Christmas music to our ensemble. As can happen in such situations, a couple of my best friends kind of resented my “elevation” and the friendship fractured. It was obvious on those Saturday mornings at CCM that something had come between us. Mrs. King decided that we should act it out, figure it out, and solve the rift right there. We complied and in the end, tears and hugs. But Mrs. King also reminded each one of us in the class the importance of finding ways to mend broken relationships.

Oh, just a couple more quick stories about the CCM days!  In high school Mrs. King cast me in the one romantic lead of my life! She was doing a show of “Fractured Fairy Tales” and she cast me as the Prince. It wasn’t comic, I swear! I had a big ballad, “You’re the One,” and this has been the one big ballad-y, serious, romantic part of my life! In that play I also met a new drama student, Jill, one those fairy-tale teen-age romances that everyone should get to have. The luminous Jill, she of the ballet stage and ingénue parts, was my prom date my junior year.

Hey, I haven’t heard from Jill in 30 years! Maybe, I could be as intrepid as Cathy and look her up! I would be quite happy to continue remembering those wonderful Saturdays at CCM!