In Memoriam: Lloyd Shockley

Posted by Bruce Miller
Today, I'm afraid, is not turning out to be a good day. Within a couple of hours of hearing of the passing of Elizabeth Prevatt (see the post that follows), I’m saddened again to report the death of a key figure among Barksdale’s legendary actors, Lloyd Shockley. Tom McGranahan called our office this morning with the bad news. Apparently Lloyd's obituary appeared in the newspaper over the weekend but I missed it. We had heard that Lloyd was suffering from cancer and that the prognosis was not good. But no one expected things to progress so quickly.

Lloyd first appeared on the Barksdale Hanover Tavern stage in 1973 as the handsome new actor who starred as Jonathan Harker in Dracula and Paul Bratter in Barefoot in the Park, back to back. He performed in those early years under the name Lloyd Wayne. In ‘75 he joined Barksdale's all-star cast of That Championship Season, followed immediately by the comedy thriller, Catch Me if You Can. In ’76 he appeared in one of the funniest plays I’ve ever seen at Barksdale, My Fat Friend, and in ’77 he channeled John Barrymore in The Royal Family (see both photos).

His most famous role at Barksdale was as McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest in 1979. I use the word "famous" because: a) Lloyd was terrific in the part (I saw him Opening Night and was blown away), and b) early in the run he broke his leg and had to be replaced with no notice by John Tayloe, a talented young actor who had recently appeared in the same role at TheatreVCU. Lloyd’s last role at Barksdale may have been the 1981 world premiere of Bad Day at Black Rock.

Since then, Lloyd has been focusing on his very successful career in marketing, representing clients from around the country, including, I’m told, Walt Disney World.

Lloyd had an edgy energy that drove audiences wild—it was a Jack Nicholson sort of thing. The last couple times I saw him, we talked about his return to the stage. He may have been humoring me, but he always seemed at least somewhat interested. It was like acting was something he looked forward to revisiting sometime after he retired.

After initially posting this memorial, I was reminded by colleagues that Lloyd's last acting gig may have been Theatre IV's production of Hamlet in the Little Theatre, sometime in the early to mid-90s. Hamlet was directed by Gary Hopper (one of Lloyd's co-stars in Bad Day at Black Rock), and starred David Bridgewater. One of the funniest Hamlet stories (and we all know what a laugh riot Hamlet can be) involves Lloyd, so I'll retell it now.

Any of you who have ever been involved in a production with either Gary Hopper or Dave Bridgewater know that these guys relish quirky creativity. Put them together and it's time to sing Katie, Bar the Door.

Lloyd was playing Claudius to Dave's Hamlet. During the rehearsal process, Dave was flipping channels one night and happened upon The Godfather Part II on TV. Dave saw the amazing scene where Al Pacino as Michael goes up to John Cazale as Fredo (Michael's brother) and delivers the "kiss of death," indicating to the world that Fredo must be killed for betraying his family. "Il bacio della morte." You can find the scene at http://www.boxxet.com/Al_Pacino/video:the-godfather-the-kiss-of-death/.

Dave thought this would be a GREAT inspiration for the scene where Hamlet kills Claudius. When he shared the idea with Gary, Gary agreed. So the two of them sat down with Lloyd. They explained to Lloyd their idea: Hamlet (Dave) would stab Claudius (Lloyd), then take the poisoned wine. Hamlet would toast the fallen (but not dead yet) Claudius, take a big swig of the wine (Hamlet knows by this time that he's been poisoned, so what's he got to lose), and then give Claudius the "kiss of death."

From all accounts, Lloyd, who was a pretty straight-forward actor, listened to their idea with this twisted, skeptical smile growing on his face, eyebrows rising higher and higher as the details emerged. The look on his face has been described to me as "priceless." Then, just as everyone thought Lloyd was going to laugh them out of the room, he snorted and said, "Well, all right. But no tongue!"

They wound up playing the scene with the "kiss of death" every night, and it never failed to elicit a gasp from the audience. Thanks to Dave for reminding me of this story.

Good ole' Lloyd. He was only in his mid-60s. He left us far too soon and will be greatly missed. May "flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

In keeping with our tradition, we will dedicate our holiday production of A Sanders Family Christmas at Hanover Tavern to his memory. And we will always honor his on-stage talent and his off-stage friendship.

Note: Both photos come from Barksdale's 1977 production of The Royal Family. The women in the top photo are Rebecca Barrows as Della and Nancy Kilgore as Julie Cavendish. Lloyd played Anthony Cavendish.

--Bruce Miller

Reacquainting Myself w/ Frankie's Meatloaf

Posted by Bruce Miller
About 15 years ago I was privileged to direct Terrence McNally’s lovely two-hander Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune in the Little Theatre at Theatre IV. It starred Irene Ziegler and John Moon, and boy were they great.

People remember it as a Theatre Gym production, but it wasn’t. It was back in the days when Theatre IV staged full fledged adult seasons of its own in the Little Theatre. Frankie and Johnny was a part of these seasons, as were our productions remembered with equal fondness: Crimes of the Heart, A Shayna Maidel, our first Shirley Valentine, Gary Hopper's Hamlet, and Stand Up Tragedy.

One of the many fun aspects of Frankie and Johnny is the cooking that happens onstage. Just as in Shirley Valentine, every night the actress playing Frankie makes a Western omelet, and the actor playing Johnny makes a meatloaf sandwich. One of my jobs was to make the meatloaf that emerged each night from the fridge and was sliced for the sandwich and devoured on-stage.

I relied on the old tried and true meatloaf recipe that my dad gave me when I went off to college. It’s quick and easy to make, it’s relatively cheap, it freezes well so you can make a large batch and save some for later, and it tastes wonderful.

Roy Proctor apparently had a Pavlovian response while watching John Moon slice the meatloaf, slather it with ketchup, slap it between two slabs of bread, and then slowly slide it down his gullet. With saliva flowing, Roy asked me for the recipe. He later ran it in the T-D using the name my father gave the entree when he first presented me with the recipe card. My father had passed several years earlier, so I let the slightly embarrassing name stand in his memory.

Miller’s Mighty Meatloaf

2.25 lbs ground beef—as lean as you can get
4 slices whole-grain bread
1 large sweet onion, minced
1 green pepper, minced
2 medium carrots, minced
2 stalks celery, minced
1 egg
½ cup 2% milk
1 can condensed tomato soup
2 tsp salt
½ tsp oregano or Italian Seasoning
¼ tsp pepper
2 cloves garlic, minced

Cube the bread slices (the older the bread the better) and dry them for about 10 minutes in a warm oven (100°). Mince the onion, pepper, carrots and celery. Remove the bread and preheat the oven to 350°. Crush the dried bread cubes into crumbs. Mince the cloves of garlic. In a medium-large mixing bowl, combine all ingredients and kneed them until they are thoroughly mixed. Lightly coat the interiors of two 5” x 9” glass loaf pans with vegetable oil spray. Press the mixed ingredients into the two pans. Bake for 1 hour 15 minutes. Remove from oven. Insert a knife between the sides of each loaf and the pan. Allow to cool for 5 minutes. Remove each loaf using two pancake turners, and place the loaves on paper towels to drain. Each loaf serves 4 hearty appetites, and can be cut in half and frozen if desired.

Now that times are lean again and Barksdale is facing some significant recession-driven cutbacks (including my salary), I pulled out the old recipe card today and whipped up a pair of meatloaves for the two omnivores in my family. At least it made me feel like I was being proactive. We're eating half a loaf tonight and freezing the other three halves for later. At a cost of about $1.25 per hearty serving, it’s still a great deal.

And now when I cook it and eat it, I remember not only my dad but also that delicious production of Frankie and Johnny. Meatloaf by the light of the moon. What could be better?

--Bruce Miller

Language - Part I: From Potter to Shakespeare to Jesus and Beyond

Posted by Bruce Miller
Writing about “offensive language” has the potential to be both dangerous and constructive. I vote for the latter. Some of you are more liberal than I, and may find this post to be prissy and/or quaint. Some of you are more conservative, and may be upset by what you’re likely to view as rationalization or misrepresentation. To one and all, I say this: I’ve written this carefully, intending all due respect to others who hold opinions different from mine. Every word was selected thoughtfully and is meant to be sincere. I’m not trying to rationalize, criticize, or look down upon anyone else’s beliefs. I hope not to have the last word, and welcome your comments.

Following that preamble, I will now begin to ramble.

To many if not most theatre artists, the subject of “offensive language” is simple. We don’t believe there is such a thing. No word, we believe, can be inherently offensive. Language is our medium. Find me the painter who is offended by a particular color. We celebrate and revere language, in all its variety, beauty, coarseness and power.

We are like Harry Potter. Let the rest of the wizarding community cower in the Dark Lord’s shadow, referring to him euphemistically as “you know who” or “he who must not be named.” We refuse to give darkness that power. We shout the name “Voldemort” out loud. And just like Harry, we sometimes get in trouble for it.

We may not believe that language is inherently offensive, but, unless we are fools, we are well aware that there are audience members who are offended by certain language. If we are pure artists—I am not one but I ask God to bless those who are—we relish this knowledge. Offend is a very useful instrument in our tool box, laying right there alongside amuse, titillate, anger, sadden, inspire, thrill, scare, energize and delight. Our job is to connect with audience members using every tool at our disposal. Why on earth would we be afraid to pick up offend? When an awl is called for, a carpenter reaches for his awl.

In Act III, Scene 2, Shakespeare famously has Hamlet deliver this advice to the players: “Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature: for any thing so o'erdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature: to show virtue her feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.”

In other words, the life we create on stage should accurately reflect the life we find in our world. The language featured in an on-stage scene reflecting the life of a ladies luncheon should sound one way; the language found in a theatrical portrayal of a fight in a soldier’s barracks should sound another. Were we to apply a filter that made the language in the barracks sound just the same as the language in the church parlor, we would be holding the mirror up not to nature, but to priggishness.

But let’s step back into that church parlor for a while. I love the peace, comfort and fellowship I find in my church’s parlor. I am a Christian—a quiet, introspective, “religious left” Presbyterian—a Christian nonetheless. I’m slightly ashamed to say that I’m not confident enough in my faith—my pride would prefer me to say not arrogant enough regarding my confidence—to proselytize. So I’m speaking personally, for whatever that’s worth.

Here’s what my Bible tells me about language:

from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, chapters 4 and 5 – “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. … Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving;”

from Paul and Timothy’s letter to the Colossians, chapter 3 – “But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips;”

from James’ letter to the twelve tribes, chapter 3 – “Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell. With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be;” and

from the second letter of Simon Peter, chapter 2 – “For they mouth empty, boastful words and, by appealing to the lustful desires of sinful human nature, they entice people who are just escaping from those who live in error. They promise them freedom, while they themselves are slaves of depravity—for a man is a slave to whatever has mastered him.”

Also, of course, there’s the Ten Commandments, but most Biblical scholars agree that “You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God” refers more to false oaths than to profanity.

I accept all of these Biblical lessons and value their guidance as it relates to the way in which I personally speak to those around me. When I speak to others, I try mightily (not always successfully) to speak graciously and not to offend. But I do not believe these lessons relate directly to my calling as a theatre artist or as artistic director of Barksdale Theatre. My responsibilities in that realm, I believe, are to create theatrical productions that impact our community positively. And often the best way to have a positive impact is to honestly examine human behavior.

Consider the great variety of human behavior, and language, detailed in the Bible itself. As only one of scores of examples, no lesser light than the Apostle Paul uses scatalogical profanity when he’s trying to make a point. In Philippians 3: 7 through 9, Paul recounts and disavows his former prosperous life as a Pharisee (more about them momentarily).

“But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.”

Please note in the above quote that itilicized word, rubbish. The word Paul actually wrote is skubala, which in Greek was the lowest, most coarse word for animal excrement, a word that appears frequently in the ancient graffiti found in archeological digs, a word more accurately translated as shit. All the profit and respect I gained as a righteous Pharisee, Paul states, doesn’t mean shit compared to the peace and strength I find in my Christian faith.

One of my favorite readings in the New Testament is found in Mark 7: 1-20. I recommend it to you. It is a complex passage which is near and dear to my heart. I will now, humbly, summarize it, inadequately I’m sure.

Jesus and his disciples (pictured in the Ottonian vellum panel to the right) were carrying out their mission of healing the sick and ministering to the poor. The Pharisees (one of the most influential, zealous and traditional religious parties operating during and after Jesus’s lifetime—see the reference to Paul above) saw the disciples eating with unwashed hands, in noncompliance with Jewish tradition. “So the Pharisees and teachers of the law asked Jesus, ‘Why don’t your disciples live according to the tradition of the elders instead of eating their food with unclean hands?’”

Jesus replied, “Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you hypocrites; as it is written: ‘These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are but rules taught by men.’ You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to the traditions of men.”

Jesus then gives specific examples of how religious fundamentalists can, by demanding strict compliance with established religious laws and traditions, inadvertently “nullify the word of God.” He adds, “Listen to me, everyone, and understand this. Nothing outside a man can make him ‘unclean’ by going into him. Rather, it is what comes out of a man that makes him ‘unclean.’ … For from within, out of men’s hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and make a man ‘unclean.’”

A contemporary corollary comes from a Baptist preacher whom I admire, although I don’t always agree with him. Tony Campolo (pictured to the left) began his famous sermon entitled The Positive Prophet with this: “I have three things I'd like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don't give a shit. What's worse is that you're more upset with the fact that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night."

Whatever language is said from our stage, I'm confident that the purpose that comes from our hearts is free of “evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and ...” All right, I confess to “folly.” The language on stage will not always be in compliance with religious law and tradition, because I believe that such compliance would cause us to “let go of the commands of God.” Here’s what I believe: whatever “uncleanliness” is perceived comes from the heart of the hearer, not from the heartfelt intentions of our humble, respectful company of fools.

Coming soon, Language – Part II (maybe even III), in which we shall discuss copyright law, the history of censorship, specific complaints we’ve received at Barksdale and Theatre IV, and other funny theatre stories.

--Bruce Miller