Mark Collins, a feature writer for the Boulder Daily Camera, called a couple of days ago to conduct a phone interview for the paper. I'm somewhat surprised myself how vivid my memories are of my first summer in Boulder, in 1966; it doesn't hurt that I recently rediscovered a journal I kept the first few weeks of that summer (in tiny, crabbed handwriting-- how insecure I must have been!) and had reread the wide-eyed, self-obsessed musings of the 19-year-old baby actor I was. The company in those days was all non-Equity and had no roles precast-- all three shows were cast in a three-day, almost round-the-clock, very intense series of auditions and callbacks, and by the third day I was a wreck. I'd come with a very inflated idea of my own talents and prospects, and had fantasized about taking the place by storm. Suddenly I found myself surrounded by a lot of older, better actors, who knew their way around a stage a lot better than I did, and I went in 48 hours from expecting to play leads to wondering if I was going to get any kind of speaking part at all. And the summer might have been a real washout, if Jim Sandoe, who was directing Merry Wives of Windsor, hadn't seen something in me and given me Dr. Caius, the French physician-- based probably more than anything else on my being able to do the accent (I was semifluent in French). Anyway, it saved my summer; I felt I could hold my head up among all these brilliant, talented people I'd somehow fallen in with-- and I started to learn. I sat in the Mary Rippon Theatre for hours on end that summer, drinking in rehearsal after rehearsal-- whether they were scenes I was in or not-- and by season's end I really was starting to understand something about performing Shakespeare.
The interview will appear in the Sunday paper on June 1-- the day I arrive in Boulder.