Before Laramie

1979

This coming October will mark the 15th anniversary of Matthew Shepard's beating at the hands of two troglodytes in Laramie, Wyoming. But this past December marked the 25th anniversary of the murder of my friend and high school classmate Anthony Milano at the hands of two monsters who have yet to pay for their crimes. 

That's Tony on the far-right of the top row, right next to Uncle P (in the white shirt and over-sized aviators) in a photo from our high school senior year in 1979. The future looked so bright for all of us. 

Tony was quiet and shy but very smart and creative and subversively funny. A talented graphic artist with a skewed sense of humor, we spent three years together (with the rest of the good folks in this photo) in our High School Humanities program, led by a teacher who would go on to be the most celebrated High School Theatre Teacher in the country (and the first adult to tell me it was okay to be gay), Lou Volpe. 

About a year or so after this photo was taken, Tony and I ran into each other in a gay bar in Philadelphia (where we were both too young to be, legally), though neither of us was yet willing to admit even to each other that we were gay. He offered to drive me home to my apartment in Northeast Philly (I had taken the train into Center City) and we parted without saying a word about where we'd met. It was a very different time. 

Over the years since then, we'd meet in various places and situations, never once mentioning that encounter. The last time I saw him, I was working a retail job while trying to establish an acting career. It was early December and I was just too busy to take time out to have a meaningful conversation with him. I promised I would keep in touch and brushed him off, too concerned with whatever it was I was doing to worry about hurting his feelings. A week later, Tony was dead and I was wracked with guilt at having dismissed him.

On December 14th, 1987, Tony stopped for a sandwich and a beer at a local bar, where he ran into Frank Chester and Richard Laird, who goaded him into ostensibly giving them a ride home. Chester and Laird were both relatively attractive men. Did Tony think he was going to have sex with one or both of them? Was he too afraid to refuse their request for a ride? Did they ply him with the promise of more alcohol or drugs? Did they intimate they were willing to have sex with him? We'll never know. What we do know is that they led him to remote, wooded area and murdered him in very cold blood. It's still not clear who did what, though it is certain that one of them held Tony down while the other one slashed his throat with a box-cutter (so brutally that flesh was found in the surrounding trees). They then set his car on fire and left him for dead. Chester and Laird were eventually found guilty and sentenced to death, though both of them remain alive and well in Bucks County Prison, filing appeal after appeal.

I remember attending Tony's viewing and seeing his obviously sedated parents; the undertaker's less-than-successful attempt at hiding the damage to his throat in his surprisingly open casket and the dozens of my weeping classmates. It was surreal, to say the least. Tony's mother never recovered and passed away a few years later. His father, a mild-mannered barber, passed away in 2012. His sister, Annamarie, is the last member of the family to survive. She rarely gives interviews or comments on the events surrounding her brother's death. Chester and Laird are still incarcerated, even though Laird was re-tried in 2007 with the same outcome. 

As a whole, the LGBT community has made great strides in the last 25 years. Just this week saw two  historic Equality issues argued before the Supreme Court. Still, I can't help but wonder what Tony might have accomplished in those years, had his life not been cut short by two ignorant, homophobic creeps. Worse still... There are plenty of ignorant, fearful and violent people who wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing to a naive young gay, lesbian or trans person, given the chance.

As children, we're told there are no such things as monsters. Sadly, as adults, we learn that's just not true. Personally, I am usually against the Death Sentence. In this case, I am happy to make an exception. 

Sorry if this post was a bummer but I think things need to be brought into perspective every now and then. As much as we may want to celebrate the eminent demise of DOMA and Prop 8, I think we need to take a moment to remember all that has led up to it. Hate crimes against LGBTQ people are still reported on a daily basis. So many young LGBTQ people are still rejected by their families, bullied by their peers and ostracized by the churches in which they grew up. Suicide among LGBTQ youth remains at an all-time high. It's up to all of us to stop the madness and embrace the idea that we are all human, no matter who or how we love.

More, anon.
Prospero

Sally Starr's Dilemma

Our Gal, Sal!

Growing up in the Philly suburbs in the 50's and 60's, there were more than a few Philly-centric local celebrities who hosted kids' afternoon programming, among them: Pixanne; Wee Willy Weber; Chief Halftown and Gene London. But there was only one gal for this l'il dogie -- Sally Starr, who hosted the Philadelphia market's highest rated children's program, "Popeye Theatre" on WPVI Channel 6 from the 50's until 1971, showing Popeye cartoons (the Max Fleischer ones were my favorites) and Three Stooges shorts. She made many personal appearances and retired from her last job as a C/W DJ in Vineland, NJ in 2006. Her career got its start from her 1958 single "Our Gal Sal," with Bill Haley and the Comets. I wish I could find a recording of it... but I did find this insane 1957 blatant attempt to cash in on Gene Autry's massive Christmas hit, an Easter ditty called "Rocky the Rockin' Rabbit" (I crap you not):

And here's a clip of Sal hosting "Western Theatre" for a local South Jersey channel in the 80's (sorry about the quality):

Sally made lots of personal appearances at local events and church carnivals, so when it was announced that Sal was coming to a church fair right in my own town when I was maybe 7 or 8, I begged my parents to take me. And when I say 'begged,' I literally mean down on my knees; hands clasped; eyes cast down begging like a condemned man pleading for his life. So, off we went to Our Lady of Perpetual Hope, a Greek Orthodox church very close by. The exact events of that amazing summer night are hazy lo these many years later, but I do remember the excitement as my father (back when he was my hero), pushed his way through the crowd to the edge of the stage with me on his shoulders and Sally reached down, patted and rubbed my head and said "Here ya go, darlin'" handing me a signed 8x10 which stayed in my room for many years after. My mother, who couldn't have been prouder, still thinks Sally secretly hated kids, but made an exception by rubbing my head. I say my mother is a little nutty, sometimes -- yes, I know. It does run in the family.

Our Gal Sal passed away yesterday, just 2 days after her 90th birthday and many Philadelphia-area boomers are very sad, right now.

All of that having been said, let's get to Sally's dilemma, shall we?

Of course, that requires a little more setup. At Saturday Night Fever High, we had two teachers named Jones. One was a burly bull-dog with a thick, coarse buzz-cut of white hair and a jet black unibrow that always made him look as if he was scowling. He taught chemistry, didn't understand creative people at all, and hated me. His was the only class in which I ever received an F. The other Mr. Jones... well, antithesis isn't quite the word. And because the mean Jones' first name started with a C, he was only listed as 'Jones' on your schedule. The fun Jones' first name was Lloyd, and he appeared on you class schedule as 'JonesL,' which led every student in the building call the beloved Lloyd Jones, 'Jonesal.' JonesL taught 10th Grade Social Studies. He claimed to be color-blind and that he let his dog pick out his clothes (which I suspect were purposely awful); introduced his students to ideas like free-thought, parody and political satire; taught with passion and humor and was probably only 10 years older than we were. So, as part of a lesson on ethics and freedom of choice, Jonesl told every class the tale of "Sally Starr's Dilemma." I have no idea where Lloyd Jones is these days. I have no idea if anyone has ever shared this story on the Internet. I give him full credit. If you are he, reading this, please contact me. If you are a classmate or contemporary and know anything about Mr. Jones, please let me know. *

Anyway, without further ado, "Sally Starr's Dilemma:"

JonesL and his cousin went to a local fair to see Sally Starr. They were so excited, they got there early and went on lots of rides and ate lots and lots of greasy, sugary, generally bad for you fair food. They almost forgot why they had come to the fair, when an announcement came over the P.A.: Our Gal Sal was taking the stage! JonesL and his cousin ran, but couldn't get close enough. That's when JonesL's cousin suggested they get on the Ferris Wheel next to the stage, where they could get a really good look at her. Needless to say, they got on, went around once and then stopped high over the stage. JonesL looked over and whether it was the swaying of the gondola, the height, the food or a combination of all three, let loose a spray of vomit right over the stage. And just as he did, he saw Sal look up at the sound of his wretching. So, her dilemma? Does Sal stay where she was and hope it misses her, or duck out of the way hope she avoids it? JonesL never told us what Sally actually did that day. He would only say that when she appeared on "Popeye Theatre" that afternoon, she wasn't wearing her hat. The moral of the story: no matter where you go, how you move or what you choose, you might get puked on from a kid on the Ferris Wheel. And if you get puked on, get over it and move on. There are seriously worse things in life.

*A high school classmate informed me today (Tuesday) that JonesL passed away last year. I was sad to hear that, too,


More, anon.
Prospero

Living Historically.

Larry Duncan and Randy Shepherd

Yes, this picture has gone viral and it will no doubt take it's place among the most iconic images of modern history. As Larry and Randy raise their hands in the first oath of their impending marriage, I say: "Congratulations, guys! Oh - and thank you for furthering the smashing of stereotypes! Seriously though - where are you registered?"

One of my favorite, sappy gay romcom's is 2000's Big Eden, starring Ayre Gross; Tim Dekay (the third biggest star with whom I've had a personal conversation); the always wonderful Louise Fletcher and Eric Schweig (best known for Ron Howard's dark Western The Missing). Set in the most progressive small town in the world (when the local matchmaker realizes her mistake, she immediately arranges a boys-only party to introduce the prodigal protagonist to potential partners*), Big Eden works so well because of the actors' commitment the story. Everyone in Big Eden knows with whom Henry (Gross) belongs, even if Henry doesn't. A sort of sideways Cinderfella story filled with quirky characters; absurdest situations and the creakiest of creaky old rom-com endings, it makes this sentimental old fool cry every time I see it.

*Say that three times, fast.

Damn! I've been living in the wrong part of the country this whole time! My Post-Bohemian friend Stephen has lived (and has loved living in) the Pacific Northwest for quite some time. He and 'The Husband' have the kind eclectic and comfortable home towards which I aspire. I can't say I'm surprised by the legalization of personal recreational marijuana and marriage equality in Washington. I'm glad to be alive to see it, though.

I used to be surprised to think about all the things my grandmother saw over the course of her life and how different things must have been for her after 80+ years. Now, of course, I think about all the things I've seen over the course of my life and how different things are for me. I was alive but too young to appreciate the assassinations of JFK, MLK and RFK, but I saw Vietnam; Woodstock; the Moon Landing; the Manson Family murders; Stonewall; the opening of China; the resignation of Nixon; the Iran Hostage Crisis; the assassination attempts on both Ford and Reagan; the Challenger explosion; the fall of the Berlin Wall; the introduction of the VCR, compact disc, home computer (I'm on my 7th? since the 90's) and DVR; both the building of the World Trade Center and it's destruction at the hands of fanatical madmen; the rise and fall of dictators; fads, crazes and wacky fashion; the creation of the Internet, Email, Facebook and Twitter; the cell phone, Blackberry & Smart phone; the South Asian Tsunami; laptops, Katrina; tablets & touch screens; rebellions in the Middle East & Northern Africa; Sandy and the two-term election of our first African-American POTUS -- who just so also happens to be the first sitting POTUS to openly support Marriage Equality. 

I know I'm missing some important events over the last (REDACTED) years. I'm just happy that I have a way to record my personal experience during my visit through history. Will any of it matter, 20 or 30,000 years from now? I doubt it. But I am enjoying myself while here. I feel bad for the folks who came before and both jealous of and sad for those who will come after. If we get our shit together, the future of humanity is limitless. I truly hope we get our shit together. I'd like for all of us to around to witness a whole lot more history.

Of course, life has a way of humbling. I pride myself on being an alum of the #1 High School Theatre program in the U.S. The soon to retire Louis Volpe is one of the most influential teachers I've ever had. He was invited to create the High School versions of Les Miserables and was the first adult to tell a 17 year-old Uncle P that being gay wasn't the end of the world. The humbling is embedded below, as the cast of a high school production of Les Miz equates itself with this year's most annoyingly intrusive pop song:

More, anon.
Prospero

A Late (Or Is it Early?) Ramble About My Sister

By now, regular readers know that Uncle P's sister is a baker. She has a side business making custom cakes, cookies and cupcakes for weddings, birthdays and various celebrations that require baked sweets as part of their rituals. She's gotten quite good, though even she will admit she's no Buddy Valastro. Still, she makes some delightful desserts for special occasions and her clients and co-workers love what she does.

Cakes and cookies non-withstanding, Uncle P's sister is also his best friend and one of the very few (if not the only) people who actually 'gets' him. Growing up, even though we were six years apart, we actually shared a "language" which to this day, no one else understands. It's no secret that one of us can utter a word, phrase or a series of nonsense syllables that will have the other writhing in hysterics to the dismay and utter consternation of those around us. Her husband and our mother still roll their eyes at one another when we get going.

Many years ago, my sister and her husband moved to western Florida. Since then, I've tried to visit at least once a year. We take day trips to Disney or Universal (my personal favorite theme park); loll about in the Gulf Coast sun; hit the outlet malls or dine at unusual places and generally act like the kids we never grew out of being when together. Occasionally, my sister will venture north, though she loathes the weather here and would rather our mother and I come South. Last year, due to any number if circumstances (including the extensive renovations required on Uncle P's house), I didn't make my annual visit.

This week, my sister is making a rare northern excursion to attend her 25th High School Reunion, While I am thrilled that she and I will get to spend some time together, I am also secretly hoping that she will get to experience the surreal kind of event that Uncle P had last year at his 30th.

Needless to say, I doubt her experience will be anything like this:

My sister is actually a successful executive at a major corporation, so there! Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah! While I don't personally care what happens at the reunion, I'm just happy to be able to spend some time with my baby sister (and perhaps confound some folks with our unique relationship).

More, anon.

Prospero

P.S. Tonight, I actually realized how weird it is to refer to myself in the third person. I feel like a "Seinfeld" character... Is that a bad thing? Oh, and if you're wondering if she'll take offense at the pictures I've linked to my sister's references, I can assure you she'll say they just weren't weird enough....

P

"Glee" Goes Meta

I am usually at least a day behind on my TV watching, and this week is no exception. And of course, regular readers know my theatrical origins lie in musical theatre and high school chorus, which explains my love of Fox's hit show "Glee."

Here in the East (and in the late 70's), chorus wasn't the spectacle that Mid-Western Show Choirs are today. We simply wore gold sweaters with black dickies and performed standards, classical works and show tunes on risers, grouped by vocal range. I started as a freshman tenor, but by the end of my sophomore year, was singing baritone. It wasn't until college (and a wonderful acting professor), that I developed into a full basso profundo. But that's really neither here nor there.

I've watched "Glee" from the beginning, and while it is often uneven in its story-telling, it is more often glorious in its production numbers. Yes, Jane Lynch is amazing as the evil Sue Sylvester and Lea Michele and Amber Riley are often astonishing in their vocals, but this week's episode, entitled "Dream On," featuring a hilarious guest spot by Neil Patrick Harris, totally belonged to Kevin McHale as Artie.

For those unfamiliar, the character of Artie is confined to wheelchair, due to an accident which left him with a crippling spinal cord injury. Artie's fondest dream is to dance, expressed earlier this season by McHale's jazzy interpretation of Billy idol's "Dancing With Myself." This week, encouraged by his girlfriend Tina (Jenna Ushkowitz), Artie had himself a fantasy sequence in which he danced in a mall flash-mob to Men Without Hats' 80's hit "Safety Dance." Choreographer Zachary Woodlee pulled out all the stops and created a number that was not only amazing to watch, but referenced the numerous "Glee" flashmobs which have been cropping up all over YouTube. How meta is that? I've embedded a rather clumsy video below, but you can see a very clear and wonderful version here.

Here's the poor quality version:

And here's my favorite "Glee" flashmob event in Rome, last December:

"Dream On" also revealed that rival Glee Club mentor Shelby Corcoran (the incomparable Idina Menzel) is actually the birth-mother of Rachel (Michele). Their duet on "I Dreamed a Dream" was nothing less than heartbreaking. Of course, the physical similarities between Menzel and Michele made this a foregone conclusion, as soon as Menzel made her first appearance on the show. Still, it was nice to see that all of the speculation was right.

To be honest, given my personal High School history, it may be difficult for me to be completely objective about "Glee," though I will be the first to admit that its plots are often far-fetched. But with guest stars like NPH; Molly Shannon; the always amazing Kristin Chenowith; Menzel; Josh Groban and Olivia Newton-John; along with some of the best arrangements of popular music (both new and old), the show's creators have managed to produce TV's first successful episodic musical. Previously, shows like "Cop Rock" "Eli Stone" and "Viva Laughlin" failed miserably, mostly because they were just plain silly. By setting their musical in a high school glee club and casting some amazingly talented (and attractive) performers, creators Ryan Murphy, Brad Fulchuk and Ian Brennan have tapped into the angsts and joys of high school life, something all of us can relate to.

Next week's episode, like the Madonna-centric episode a few weeks ago, celebrates the music of Pop's latest sensation, Lady Gaga. I, for one, can't wait.

More, anon.
Prospero

School Daze

Tonight, Uncle Prospero had one of the strangest, most surreal* and thoroughly enjoyable experiences of his life. Yes, I attended my 30th High School Reunion.

"Holy crap!" you might be saying. "Prospero is that old?" Yes, I am that old. Still, more people recognized me than I recognized, so I guess I'm doing okay.

I went to Woodrow Wilson High School, which has since been re-named Harry Truman High School, after the closure of my district's other high school in the 80's. I moved around a bit and lost touch with almost everyone from Wilson. But, with the advent of Facebook and similar social networking sites, I suddenly find myself reconnected to folks I haven't seen in 30 years. And it's wonderful.

I was, I will admit, a bit apprehensive about attending. I hadn't been to (nor was even aware of) any previous reunions, for any number of reasons. But thanks to Facebook, I was able to attend this one - and it was just terrific.

So much of who we are today is based on the relationships and experiences of our past. It was honestly wonderful to see so many friends from the past (and sad to not see those who couldn't attend). I recognized some folks immediately (my friends Nina and Holly virtually unchanged) and a few others after squinting at their name tag under the banquet hall's dim lights. One friend surprised me with what she thought was shocking news, while others surprised me with their rather unexceptional lives. And more than a few were absolutely unrecognizable, but out of a class of 400+, that's understandable.

Kudos to Debbie L and Suzanne B for organizing an outstanding evening.

Remember - there will be no Saturday post this week. Instead, read me on The Zombie Zone.

More, anon.
Prospero

*By the way, this is a link to my favorite painting of all time, by Salvador Dali. I have no idea why it means so much to me -- it just does. Dali is my favorite artist and The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus speaks to me in a way few paintings can, even if I don't understand why. I hope you've experienced the same phenomenon, yourself.

P

A Geek's Response to "Glee"

I'll be the first to admit it - I love "Glee," Fox's surprise musical series about a high school glee club. As a high-school Chorus and Drama Club Award recipient, how could I not? Of course, none of the numbers we performed in Woodrow Wilson's Chorus were nearly as slick (or current) as those on "Glee." And unlike the members of the uber-talented Glee Club on the show who know all the notes and lyrics with barely a glance at the sheet music, we took months to prepare our selections. As for choreography and costuming... well, that was left to the annual musical.

I appeared in all of the musicals presented in my four years at Woodrow Wilson High School: "Bye-Bye Birdie;" "Godspell;" "The Wizard of Oz" and "South Pacific," moving up the ranks until I was cast as Emil in my senior year (the less we talk about my role as the Cowardly Lion, the better).

Still, what I wouldn't have given to be a part of Mr. Schuester's amazing ensemble of singers/dancers. Of course, the singers/dancers on "Glee" are all seasoned veterans well beyond the age of most actual high-schoolers, but that hardly matters.

What does matter, is the heart and soul behind the characters in the show. There's Rachel (Lea Michelle), the girl who knows she is destined for theatrical greatness; Finn (Cory Monteith), the Football jock who nevers feels so good as when he is singing; Quinn (Dianna Agron), Finn's cheerleader girlfriend, pregnant by his best friend and sent to Glee Club as a spy by the evil Ms. Sylvester (the always amazing Jane Lynch) and the rest of losers and jocks who are are inspired by Spanish teacher Will Schuester (Miss Saigon's Matthew Morrison), himself a past member of the school's formerly championship Glee Club, now surpassed by Sylvester's championship "Cherrioes" squad. Of course there's the adorably giant-eyed Jayma Mays (Red Eye; "Heroes") as the school counselor in love with Will, but betrothed to the awkward gym coach, Ken (Patrick Gallagher) and the hilarious Iqbal Theba as the clueless Principal Figgins, who seems to take delight in pitting Schuester and Sylvester against one another. And don't get me started on Will's wife, Terri ("Nip/Tuck" alum Jessalyn Gilsig), who is pretending to be pregnant in order to hold onto the man she doesn't deserve. And then there's the gay kid, Kurt (Chris Colfer), whose coming out to his dad made me cry and the adorably hot best friend, Puck (Mark "Please Lose the Lame Mohawk" Salling) who not only knocked up Quinn, but hooked up with Rachel because his mother wants him to date a "nice Jewish girl." Talk about ensemble casting! And I've barely scratched the surface, here.

Say what you may about Fox's deplorable and ridiculously right-skewed news division; their entertainment division has done something no other network has been able to do. They've created the first ever successful musical TV series. Anyone remember "Cop Rock?" If you do, I'm sorry. Hilarious, topical, sexy and fun "Glee" is probably the best non-Sci-Fi series to hit the airwaves in a very long time.

I say it's about time that Musical Theatre Geeks got our own TV show and I proudly stand among them shouting "Thank you!" to the show's creators, writers and cast. I just have to ask, where the hell were you when I was 16, and really could have used you?

If you haven't seen "Glee," do yourself a favor and watch it. And here are a few clips to whet your appetite:

You go, Girl!



That song's never going away, is it? So, which character do you think I identify most with? No cheating!

More, anon.
Prospero

The Times, They Are Changin'

Can you find your Uncle Prospero in this picture? The year was (yikes!) 1977. The show was Godspell at Woodrow Wilson High School in Levittown, PA. I was a a 15 year-old sophomore and already knew that the Theatre was going to be a permanent part of the rest of my life. The director was the brilliant Louis Volpe (the first adult to tell me upon graduation that being gay wasn't such a terrible thing). My then best friend, Todd Hartman, can be seen at the top of the pyramid, wearing the beret and pink shirt.

Thanks to Facebook, I've recently begun to reconnect with friends from those days. To be honest, most of the folks who've remained true friends were those I met in college and after - my darling Janet; my rock, K and my Dear D. A few others. Some of my high school classmates are long gone (the fellow in the yellow hardhat was gunned down in a senseless bar fight not too long after this picture was taken). Others were taken wherever the fates took them. I think of them more and more these days, especially now that my 30th HS reunion is coming up (yikes again!).

I'm not exactly sure what I intended to say with this post. I think time has been kind to me. I certainly like myself a lot more now, than I did then. And I certainly appreciate the difference that life experience has made in my artistic sensibilities. I've travelled the country since then, living in many places and doing theatre for many companies. I've acted, directed and designed for more shows than I care to remember (including a production of Godspell in which I played Jesus about fifteen years later). But there is something about this particular production that will always occupy a special place in my heart. Hell - maybe I'm just getting old.

By the way - In case you haven't guessed, I'm the one in the straw hat, all the way in the right corner of the photo. Damn, I was cute!

Moe, anon.

Prospero