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My First Novel: Chapter Four
Thanks, folks. Having reached 70 “likes” — I now present Chapter Four of my serialized first novel. You can read all four chapters at once by going to “Landmarks” on the right side of the blog and clicking on “My Novel.” When we get to 90 “likes”, I’ll post Chapter Five.
Chapter Four
Mike found the nearest phone booth and called The Los Angeles Times. He tracked down the reporter who wrote the article on the Murphy’s Ranch bust. Luckily, Burt Abernathy was still on staff and thrilled to get Mike’s call. It was one of the oddest stories he’d ever covered, and he hadn’t spoken to anyone about it for nearly a decade.
“Why the sudden interest in Murphy’s Ranch?”
Mike was slow to answer. How could he tell this newspaper hack about seeing a message light up on the screen of a weird, glass and metal device straight out of science fiction?
“My dad was in the landscaping business in Malibu. He knew some guys that did gardening at this compound deep in Rustic Canyon. He said they were always tight-lipped about it.” Mike was lying, of course, but it was a plausible lie. “I was at the library today and I came across your article. I thought, maybe this could be the same Murphy’s Ranch my dad told me about.”
“Sounds like it,” said Burt. “That little Nazi cabal loved their gardening – both for raising food and for the aesthetics. They built raised gardens, planted fruit trees, and hired guys like your dad’s buddies to do the work. Winona and Norman Stephens were very wealthy. I’ve seen the blueprints for the huge mansion they were planning to build there.”
“The Stephens were convinced by a Nazi buddy named Herr Schmidt that when Hitler’s Germany conquered Europe, America would descend into anarchy. So, the Nazi true believers needed a hideout from which to plot the ultimate Nazi takeover of America. Sounds crazy, right? But so did a Japanese surprise attack on Hawaii.”
Mike thanked Burt for the info and got the site’s precise address on Sullivan Ridge Road in the Palisades. Hanging up, he glanced at his watch. He now had about seven and a half hours before 8:00 pm. It crossed his mind to ask his few remaining pals on the police force for some help. But help with what? Given how nuts this whole thing was, Mike knew he had to go it alone. At least for the time being. But first, he headed to Zack’s for lunch — and a date with his romantic destiny.
The ring he’d just bought was burning a hole in Mike’s pocket and his heart was racing as he walked into Zack’s. Gloria was right where he hoped she’d be, behind the bar, keeping things tidy. There was an open barstool right next to where she was working. Mike took it as a good omen.
“They’re finally gonna give it to Bogie!”
“They should give it to Fredric March. Bogie should’ve gotten it for Casablanca.”
Abe and Iggy were also where they belonged, their ongoing argument now focused on the Academy Award nominations.
Mike was glad Bogie might finally win Best Actor. He didn’t see many movies, but he never missed one with Humphrey Bogart. It wasn’t just a private eye thing. Bogie was great with women. He played the kind of bold, confident lover Mike wished he could be. Bogie would’ve asked Gloria out a long time ago. He’d walk right up to her, give her the ring, and pop the question without a lot of hemming and hawing.
Taking his stool, Mike felt for the small box in his pocket and found it. Finding his courage was another matter. Gloria smiled warmly as she leaned in to take his order.
“Some lunch today, Mike?”
“Yes. Anything special today?”
“Well, you’re kind of special.”
Mike’s heart leapt. Did his goddess just call him special? Was this the moment to pull out the ring? Should he wait a beat? Maybe eat first — then propose?
Gloria let him off the hook. “Take your time, honey,” she said, walking away. “By now, you know the menu better than I do.”
What followed was the longest ninety minutes of Mike’s life. He ordered a burger and ate it without tasting anything. Gloria had just flirted with him, so why couldn’t he follow up with some playful remark of his own? His mind was on the ring in his pocket, all the things he hadn’t told Gloria, and everything he wanted to say now. He ached for her. Was he moving too fast? Maybe. But is there ever a perfect time to declare your love? He was truly bad at romance. Where’s Bogie when you need him?
Mike glanced at the clock above the bar. It was getting close to 3:00. This late in the year, the sun would be setting by 5:00. It was already an orange orb hovering just above the horizon, getting ready to sink below the Pacific Ocean. It would be hard enough to find Murphy’s Ranch in the light of day, let alone in the dark. Mike had to get moving if he was gonna be there on time. On time for what? Who knew?
When Gloria came to pick up the check, Mike did the most impulsive thing he’d ever done in his life outside of a battlefield. Taking hold of Gloria’s hand, he looked her square in the eye.
“Hang on a minute, gorgeous.”
He took out the ring box and placed it on the check. “This isn’t a tip. It’s just a little something I want you to have.”
Gloria’s eyes widened. Mike wasn’t sure she fully grasped the meaning of the moment, but rather than say anything more, he waited for what she’d do or say next.
“Oh, Mike. Is that what it looks like?”
Mike blushed like a schoolboy giving his first Valentine. “Open it and see.”
Gloria opened the box, saw the ring, and – to Mike’s joy – her eyes sparkled like the gems she beheld. “Mike! It’s beautiful. I…I don’t know what to say…”
Mike hung on her next words, but they didn’t come. Was it his turn to speak? Of course it was. There was a question he needed to ask. He spoke in what he thought was a hush – but he might have been broadcasting to the entire bar.
“Gloria, darling. You must know I love you…”
“What’s going on over there?” Iggy wanted to know. Abe told him to pipe down.
“Mike’s got some business with Gloria. It doesn’t concern you.”
“I wondered when he’d grow some balls,” said Iggy. “Looks like tonight’s the night!”
Abe slugged Iggy in the arm.
It was just background noise to Mike and Gloria. They looked at each other with months of unspoken thoughts and feelings — pent up and ready to flow. Mike still hadn’t asked the big question. The Marines had been a cakewalk compared to this. Then he said it.
“Gloria. Will you marry me?”
She didn’t seem surprised by the question. She held his gaze. “Oh, Mike. You’re a darling. And I’m flattered. I truly am. But shouldn’t we go on a few dates first? My mom’s been saying you like me, but you’ve never really made a move. And now this…”
Mike’s embarrassment was growing — and Gloria must have known it. She put her hand to his face, gently brushing the hair out of his eyes. “I really like you a lot, Mike. A whole lot. But let’s do this like normal people, okay? You’re not going off to war. I’m not going anywhere, either. We have time.”
Then she leaned over the bar and kissed him. Not on the cheek, but square on the lips. Tenderly. With no hesitation. It was like an electric charge. Mike’s heart nearly sprang from his chest.
“Keep the ring, baby,” he managed to say.
“I’ll give it to my mom for safe keeping,” Gloria replied with a smile, blushing and more beautiful than ever. “Until I’m sure I’m as crazy about you as I think I am.”
With his heart in his throat, Mike managed to ask. “Want to go to a movie tomorrow night?”
“That’d be a good start,” Gloria said, beaming. “A totally normal date.”
“Is there anything you want to see?”
“Gene Kelly’s in An American in Paris at the Aero in Santa Monica. I hear it’s really good.”
“That’s a musical, right?”
“It’s Gene Kelly, silly. Of course, it’s a musical. Honestly, Mike, you’re so damned cute. You’re my mystery man. I’ve still got a lot to learn about you.”
Mike didn’t know how to respond to that. Gloria had just said a lot of stuff at once. It all sounded encouraging. Maybe. It was his turn to say something, but Gloria let him off the hook.
“I get off work at 6:00.”
“I’ll see you then, doll.”
Mike wanted to seal the deal with a kiss – but not with Abe and Iggy watching. He thought of channeling his best Bogart and saying, “Here’s looking at you, kid” — but that would’ve made a mockery of this sacred moment. Instead, he smiled at his intended like the cat that ate the canary, tipped his hat to Gloria, turned on his heel with what he hoped was the grace of Gene Kelly, and sailed out the door to Abe and Iggy’s applause.
In the parking lot, Mike struggled to focus on what he was going to do next. “Murphy’s Ranch. 8:00”. He got into his car and caught one more glimpse of Gloria, talking to her mom, showing her the ring.
Mike was on the verge of being the luckiest guy in the world. He hadn’t felt this good since before the war. But now, he was headed to a meeting that might not even happen. A meeting to which he wasn’t invited. In a place he’d never been before. A secret Nazi hideout at that.
He felt for the strange metallic object in his pocket. Should he just forget about the whole thing? Just go home and plan for his first date with Gloria?
Conflicting thoughts banged around Mike’s head as he drove out of Zack’s parking lot onto PCH — and headed up into the Palisades toward the ruins of Murphy’s Ranch.
Filed under Art, Beauty, Classic Film, History, literature, Novel, Politics, Truth, Uncategorized
My Life in Sketch Comedy: Part Two
Produced, written, and performed by students, The Mee-Ow Show was established at Northwestern University in 1974, two years before my arrival on campus. In those two years, Mee-Ow underwent a swift transition from a wide-ranging, multi-media variety show to a sketch comedy show in The Second City tradition.
I went to McCormick Auditorium at Norris Center in the fall of my sophomore year to see the 1977 Mee-Ow Highlights Show: a collection of the best sketches from the previous two years’ worth of Mee-Ow revues, Spirit My
Ass and North by Northwestern. Among the cast were Stew Figa, Jeff Lupetin, Betsy Fink, Suzie Plakson, Tom Virtue, Kyle Hefner, and Dana Olsen. It was the coolest, funniest live performance I’d seen since I hit campus.
The buzz at Norris Center’s McCormick Auditorium that night was electric — and response to the highlights show was wildly 
enthusiastic. Mee-Ow was the hippest scene on campus – fast-eclipsing the popularity of The Waa-Mu Show: the traditional Northwestern student musical comedy revue first staged in 1929. Waa-Mu seemed crafted to entertain an older audience – something your parents could comfortably enjoy. But Mee-Ow felt more edgy, more subversive, made by-and-for the student body. It struck a resounding chord in me.
Maybe the popularity of The Mee-Ow Show had something to do with the fact that it shared the fresh, irreverent spontaneity of NBC’s new late-night hit Saturday Night Live (then known as NBC’s Saturday Night) – which premiered in 1975, just a year after Mee-Ow made its debut. But I didn’t make that connection at the time because I wasn’t watching much TV. And I had yet to see a show at Second City.
All I knew was that these people, these fellow Northwestern students, were very funny. And polished. And cool. And I was wanted to be a part of that scene. So, I auditioned for the 1978 Mee-Ow Show, directed by North by Northwestern cast member, Kyle Heffner.
I arrived for the audition at the Norris Center student union and met an incoming sophomore, Rush Pearson. Rush, for some reason lost to memory, was walking with a cane — but we vibed right away. He was damned funny. Kinetic. Offbeat. And short like me. We were both full of what our parents would have called “piss and vinegar.” We didn’t know it then, but after the auditions were over and the cast was announced, Rush and I and a taller guy from the Chicago suburbs with one year of Mee-Ow under his belt, Dana Olsen, would form the core of the next three Mee-Ow Shows.
The 1978 Mee-Ow Show: “In Search of the Ungnome.”
L to R: Jerry Franklin (hidden), Jane Muller, Dana Olsen, Shelly Goldstein, Bill Wronski, Ken Marks, Tina Rosenberg, Rush Pearson (obscured) & the author.
Directed by Kyle Heffner, the 1978 Mee-Ow Show was the very best thing about my sophomore year – and established the template for much of what I would do for the next decade – and beyond. Kyle set the standard for how an improvisational sketch revue should be created. We’d brainstorm comic premises, then improvise scenes based on those premises, record those improvisations – and then script our sketches based on what we recorded.
There was total freedom as we brainstormed the premises. No idea — no matter how absurd or esoteric or tasteless — was rejected
out of hand. Then, Kyle would send us out of the room in groups for a few minutes to work out a rudimentary idea of how to structure a scene from one of these premises.
In our groups, we’d hastily assign characters, devise a basic framework for the scene — and maybe even come up with a button to end it (which was rare). Then, we’d come back into the rehearsal room after ten minutes or so to improvise our scene for the rest of the cast and production crew. Those semi-structured improvisations were recorded and formed the basis for the first-draft scripts of each sketch – which would go through several revisions as we refined each sketch throughout the rehearsal process.
Sketches were living things: always growing, always progressing, getting tighter, more focused in their intent, more streamlined, leading up to a punchier, more trenchant, laughter/shock/surprise-inducing ending.
If a sketch doesn’t end well, then the next sketch starts from a deficit. It must win back the audience after an awkward moment — and that can kill a running order. That’s why, from those days forward, The Practical Theatre Company has never rested until we’ve done our best to satisfactorily “button” a sketch. (Alas, we don’t always succeed.)
But let’s get back to 1978.
Improvisation is where it starts. And where it ends. But there’s lots of disciplined work between the beginning and end.
We’d commit our scripts to memory, so we had the confidence to overcome mistakes. In fact, reacting to mistakes was always an
opportunity for a moment of unexpected, improvised fun with the audience. Confident in the through-line of the sketch and the final button, we could have some improvisational fun when the moment called for it.
Kyle also had his Golden Rules. Knowing that too many improvisations ended with a knee-jerk reliance on violence and death, he declared that violence had to happen offstage. That edict, alone, would set our work apart from so many improv groups that would follow. Death and violence were no quick and easy way out.
Kyle also encouraged us to seek laughs above the belt – and not play to the lowest common denominator. Cursing and vulgarity were employed at a minimum. These were lessons I took to heart. And have tried to observe ever since.
That year, we were also blessed to have a genuine musical genius in our cast: piano virtuoso, Larry Schanker. Larry was just a freshman – but his talent was otherworldly. When Rush and I knocked out some chords and lyrics – Larry turned them into a Broadway anthem. And his pre-show overtures were worth the price of admission. Okay, so tickets were only two bucks. Larry’s talent made the show a hit before the cast came onstage. And he’s still doing it today.
Rush and I shocked the crowd with a sketch called “Biafran Restaurant”. It was a moment in time. We were clad in our underwear, performing a sketch that juxtaposed a terrible African famine with a middle class American dining experience: balancing precariously on the comedic edge as we reminded the audience of an ongoing tragedy. These weren’t easy laughs. And it was glorious. We felt like we were pushing the envelope. And maybe we were. We were college sophomores – just starting to explore our comedic horizons.
I loved everything about the Mee-Ow Show process: the music, the comedy, the late nights scripting sketches at Rush or Dana’s apartments after rehearsals. And when we performed the shows and the packed crowds laughed every night, I was hooked. I was home.
I wanted more. And luckily, I got it.
Filed under Art, Beauty, Comedy, History, Improvisation, Music, rock & roll, Truth, Uncategorized
The Practical Theatre Presents a 2025 Year-End Revue: Classic Comedy, Music & Cocktails
The Practical Theatre Company Presents its Annual Year-End Revue at Studio5 in Evanston, Shows December 26, 27, 28 and January 1, 2, 3
The Practical Theater, the Evanston-based sketch comedy group that launched the careers of “Saturday Night Live” veterans Julia Louis Dreyfus, Paul Barrosse, Brad Hall, and Gary Kroeger in the 1980’s, is still hard at work in the Chicago comedy vineyards. This holiday season, The PTC will be staging their latest comedy revue in their inimitable style at Studio5 for 6 shows only: Dec. 26, 27, 28 and January 1, 2, 3.
Their new revue, entitled “Quick! Before We’re Cancelled” satirizes a wild and volatile 2025 with razor-sharp sketch comedy ripped from today’s headlines, as well as a fun-filled, satiric look at various aspects of contemporary life, love, and the pursuit of happiness in an increasingly crazy world. Their new revue is infused with an improvisational spirit and backed by a stellar combo of talented musicians who support cast members Paul Barrosse, Victoria Zielinski, and Dana Olsen for a night of smart laughs — and a cocktail or two. (Did we mention there’s acres of free parking?) Tickets range from $40 to $55.
“Quick! Before We’re Cancelled” is a merry mix of sketches and original songs touching on everything from wacko conspiracy theories, the bittersweet romance of Don & Elon, artificial intelligence, Tarzan & Jane, the new Chicago-born Pope, ICE raiders, and a musical salute to the late, great Tom Lehrer.
Multi-instrumentalist Steve Rashid leads the Studio5 All-Stars, featuring guest keyboard virtuoso and PTC veteran Larry Schanker and the popular Chicago jazz vocalist Paul Marinaro, who will put his own soulful spin on some holiday classics while also serving as the show’s announcer.
“We’re all in need of some good laughs after this crazy, maddening year,” says PTC co-founder and Artistic Director Paul Barrosse. “Going through a year like this, we’ve got a lot to work with comedically. Reality itself feels like satire. It’s also great to have Paul Marinaro and Larry Schanker back onstage with us. They added so much last year. And Steve Rashid and the band make every revue we do as much a great jazz concert as a comedy show.”
The Studio5 All-Stars include the great Jim Cox on bass and passionate Robert Rashid on drums.
Alcoholic beverages are available for purchase at all shows.
The Practical Theatre Company was founded in 1979 while its founders were students at Northwestern University. Three years later, after producing a string of new plays and comedy revues in their 42-seat storefront theatre on Howard Street in Evanston, they joined with Second City owner Bernie Sahlins to open The Piper’s Alley Theatre (now The Second City E.T.C. space) — where the entire cast of their first comedy revue in that venue, “The Golden 50th Anniversary Jubilee” was hired by “Saturday Night Live.”
In the years that followed, The PTC followed up with the long-running “Megafun” at the Piper’s Alley Theatre and their longest-running show, “Art, Ruth & Trudy” at the Briar Street and Vic Theatres — which teamed Barrosse and Zielinski for the first time. Four years later, Paul and Victoria were married.
After a two-decade hiatus from the stage while Barrosse and Zielinski produced television, and a family, in Los Angeles, The PTC was revived in 2010 when Vic and Paul joined with fellow Northwestern alum Steve Rashid to stage comedy revues in Los Angeles, Cleveland, and Chicago. The trio then joined in 2015 with veteran PTC drummer Ronny Crawford and comedian Dana Olsen, a Northwestern pal, fellow Mee-Ow Show veteran, and screenwriter known for writing comedy films like “The Burbs,” “George of the Jungle,” and the current hit Nickelodeon series, “Henry Danger.”
EVENT DETAILS
Friday, Dec. 26 at 7:30 p.m.
Saturday, Dec. 27 at 7:30 p.m.
Sunday, Dec. 28 at 7:30 p.m.
Thursday, Jan. 1 at 7:30 p.m.
Friday, Jan. 2 at 7:30 p.m.
Saturday, Jan. 3 at 7:30 p.m.
Where: Studio5, 1934 Dempster St., Evanston, IL 60202
Info: http://studio5.dance/calendar
Tickets: $40 for theatre seating, $55 for cabaret table seating
Filed under Art, Comedy, History, Improvisation, Music, Politics, rock & roll, Truth, Uncategorized
My Life in Sketch Comedy
When I wrote a brief history of The Practical Theatre Company for this blog some time ago, I finished by saying, “The Practical Theatre in Chicago in the 1980’s — that was Brigadoon: a magical place that existed for a brief time and vanished. And I got the girl.”
That was true. I did get the girl.
And because I emerged from that life-changing experience with Victoria Zielinski as my wife and collaborator, the Practical Theatre was ultimately due for a renaissance.
But, alas, the PTC revival would take more than two decades.
The PTC had to wait as Victoria and I tended to our three wonderful daughters. But by 2010, the year of our 20th wedding anniversary, with the girls old enough to spare their parents for a few hours a day, Vic and I began to wonder if we were still comedians with something to say.
We decided it was time to write and perform sketch comedy again — and bring back The Practical Theatre Co.
Thus, was born The Vic & Paul Show.
But that was a rebirth built on a comedic foundation 35 years in the making…
Note: The following autobiographical material is offered to those for whom it may be of interest. But even if you’ve just stumbled upon it — and don’t know anyone involved – you might learn, within this narrative, something about the art of improvisational comedy and the sketch revue format.
Or not.
I was born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio. A lot of funny folks came from there. My father always said that the reason “Cleveland” was so often a punch line in TV and film was because a lot of comedy writers moved to Hollywood from Cleveland. (I eventually proved Dad’s explanation true by doing that very thing.)
I owe my love of comedy and music to my father, who was born and raised in New Orleans. Dad was a jazz and vaudeville fan. He loved old movies, too – especially the comedies. He’d tell me all about how Bob Hope, Red Skelton, Jack Benny, and other comics worked in vaudeville before the movies started talking — and stage stars gravitated to Hollywood.
Dad also explained how some of the biggest comics in early TV were vaudeville stars: headliners like Milton Berle, George Burns, and Gracie Allen.
Dad was a big Sid Caesar fan and spoke with reverence about Your Show of Shows and Sid’s writers, among them Mel Brooks and a young Woody Allen.
Note: Victoria saw Sid and Imogene Coca (pictured left) perform in 1990 at the Briar Street Theatre in Chicago. 68-year old Sid was still doing his sketch comedy thing. Imogene Coca was 82. She wore a bow in her hair that she tossed to Victoria. I like to think Imogene was passing the comedic torch.
Later, when dad worked the night shift at Reliable Springs, my mom would stay up to write down all the best jokes on That Was The Week That Was so she could fill him in after work. I was only 5 or 6 at the time, but something about that show thrilled me: the sketches, the funny songs, the topical satire – most of which flew right over my head. I was lucky my mom let me stay up late to watch it. A few years later, Laugh In had the same effect on me. Only this time, I understood more of the jokes.
I owe my love of theatre to my mom. An elementary school teacher, she made sure her family were regulars at The Cleveland Playhouse, one of the oldest repertory theatres in America, founded in 1915.
She also made sure I saw my cousin star as Helen Keller in her high school production of The Miracle Worker, and my big brother play leads in our high school’s productions of Oliver! and Anastasia. Mom had a teaching colleague who made a keen impression on me as a leading man in summer playhouse productions of Man of La Mancha and The Fantasticks.
For me, live theatre was magical. And live comedy was even better. The give and take with the audience, the emotion, the surprise, the laughter. The stage was calling me – and I answered as best I could.
But my first sketch comedy revue was not a high school production.
Juggling high school football, wrestling, and the stage, I played roles in classic musicals like Finian’s Rainbow, Li’l Abner, The Music Man, and George M!
In the summer of my Junior year, I was lucky to have my drama teacher and our Li’l Abner musical director cast me in Good Times! — a cabaret comedy revue with original songs and sketches staged in a space at a local Catholic church as a benefit. Good Times! was my first sketch revue — with music! I would embrace that format for the rest of my life
Note: There I am, first row right, wearing the white tux jacket I’ll wear in comedy revues for the next five decades. (Though I can’t really button it now.)
I was the only teenager in a cast of talented and experienced adults. They were pros and I was honored to be among them: rehearsing, performing – and enjoying the laughs. It was an eye-opening experience. I loved it. It was the greatest experience of my life up to that moment.
But I didn’t yet see sketch comedy as my future. My plan was to be a serious actor on the regional theatre stage. To paraphrase John Lennon, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
Like many theatre hopefuls before me, I headed to Northwestern University to hone my acting chops. In my freshman year, I was fortunate to be cast in a musical, 110 In the Shade, a comedy, Catch-22 (pictured as Doc Daneeka, with Stew Figa as Yossarian), and a dramedy, Moonchildren.
That summer, buoyed by semi-success in my first year of college, I summoned the nerve (ignorance and/or naïveté) as a 19-year-old to audition at the Cleveland Playhouse. For some reason, the artistic director honored me with his presence at my tryout. At the time, I took it for granted. In retrospect, I’m shocked. Was it because I was a hometown boy?
I never considered how few parts there were for 19-year-olds in a Cleveland Playhouse season. Or how many 20-something actors fresh from Yale, Juilliard and The Actor’s Studio were up for those few roles. I knew nothing – and ignorance was my strength. I did my best and the Playhouse director let me down gently with a practiced, professional promise that my theatrical future was ahead of me.
But, within a year, I would find that my theatrical future was not as a “serious” dramatic actor. The comedy muse would soon be calling me.
In my sophomore year at Northwestern, I auditioned for the campus improvisational sketch comedy revue, The Mee-Ow Show. And serious regional theatre’s loss would be improvisational comedy’s gain.
How could The Cleveland Playhouse possibly compete with free beer and a one-hour slot on Thursday nights at Sylvester’s Comedy Club?
H.W.A.T (Humorous Weapons and Tactics). L to R: Jeff Lupetin, Me, Rush Pearson, Dana Olsen, Bill Wronski and Shelly Goldstein. Free beer and funny business in the early 1980’s Chicago comedy club scene.
To be continued…
And, in the meantime, skipping 5 decades ahead…
Filed under Art, Comedy, History, Improvisation, Truth, Uncategorized
We’re Back.
Tickets on sale now. https://buytickets.at/practicaltheatre
Filed under Art, Beauty, Comedy, Improvisation, Music, Politics, Truth, Uncategorized
Masterful Music & Mirth. Classic Silent Film Comedy at Studio5 in Evanston, hosted by The Practical Theatre Co.
If you live in Chicago.
If you live, more specifically, on the North Side of Chicago.
And if you live, to be exact, on the North Shore – and you have any appreciation for great musicianship, classic film comedy, and an adult cocktail — then there is only one place to be with your loved one this weekend.
On Sunday at 6:00 PM, you must be at Studio5 in Evanston to hear Maestro Larry Schanker play live scores to 3 film shorts by the great silent comedians Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd.
For tickets, go to:
Filed under Art, Beauty, Classic Film, Comedy, Improvisation, Music, Truth, Uncategorized
Larry Schanker to Make Musical Magic at Studio5 in Evanston for The Practical Theatre Company’s Silent Film Night!
Larry Schanker, the pianist for every “Mee-Ow Show” I performed in at Northwestern University in the late 1970s — and The Practical Theatre Company’s first musical director — is back in Evanston on April 30th. Larry’s an even better improvisational musician than he was back in the day.
And folks, back then, he was the best.
For Silent Comedy Night, Larry harkens back to the time before films had their own soundtracks, as Maestro Schanker will play Studio5’s 1927 Steinway grand piano LIVE to accompany three silent shorts by the great silent film comedians, Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd.
Larry Schanker has received multiple Jefferson Award nominations for a variety of Chicago theatrical productions, including A Christmas Carol at The Goodman Theatre. Studio5 audiences will remember his work accompanying Tom Mula at Studio5 in Jacob Marley’s Christmas Carol.
I’ll be joined by my fellow Practical Theatre ensemble members Dana Olsen and Victoria Zielinski as hosts for the evening. We’ll tell you some things about these three legendary silent films stars — and our brilliant friend Larry — that you may not know.
The music, and the fun, will be worth the trip to Evanston!
For tickets, go to: www.tickettailor.com/events/practicaltheatre
Filed under Art, Beauty, Classic Film, Comedy, History, Improvisation, Music, Truth, Uncategorized
“Practical Radio Theatre on The Air” Onstage at Studio5 April 8 & 9!
Here’s what legendary Chicago Tribune writer Rick Kogan (a man of excellent taste and refinement) has to say about the PTC’s residency @ Studio5…
Filed under Art, Beauty, Comedy, Improvisation, Music, Truth, Uncategorized
Paul's Voyage of Discovery & Etc. 