Fred Griswold
I got the call from Tee this morning. Fred Griswold, an incredible actor in my hometown, passed during the weekend.
I had the opportunity to work with Fred a few times. In my first community theatre show, Wind in the Willows, he was Mr. Toad. I think that tells you something right there. When Tee and I finally got a chance to do our stripped-down (technical term, this was not avant garde nudie theatre) performance of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Fred was The Player. I cannot tell you how incredibly cool that was to be able to share a virtual stage between the three of us to do that show.
For a while, he was the go-to guy to play Scrooge in the excellent production of A Christmas Carol they would do. If you've ever seen a production of Scrooge, you know this is no easy task since Scrooge is basically on for the entire show. The second year is what I remember Fred for–and it's probably the best moments I've ever had on stage. He was Scrooge and I was the "middle Scrooge," the one who gets to go from being happy with Belle to, minutes later, having become King Cockhead and having fucked it all up.
The writers of the show knew they weren't kidding around. Not only did we have to go from happy to all-is-fucked within the space of about thirty seconds to transition from one scene to the next, but we were ending the first act on a real downer. Downer being Belle having fled, breaking our engagement and me, as Medium-Sized Scrooge, crumpled in a ball on the floor having realized that I can't go after her, so dedicated am I to my task of becoming a wealthy moneygrubbing asshole. (As opposed to what I've become in real life, which is the same thing, but, you know, poor.) Fred, as Scrooge, had to do the hardest thing for an actor to do in these scenes, which is to not be the complete center of attention. He was, of course, because he was Scrooge, but Belle and I ran the scene. So he's just there reacting to a scene he lived through before.
The second year was the year I got it right. Belle and I nailed the hell out of it (sad that it took me two years, but I was just a shmoe-in-training then–she was the better actress since it was her first year and she nailed it) to the point where it literally destroyed the three of us. I would need all of intermission just to get myself out of the character. It was amazing.
Anyway, one night I remember the set closes. Belle's offstage, I'm inside the set with Fred. We are, the both of us, crying our fucking eyes out because the scene just overwhelmed us. And I will never forget what happened next. I stood up, we embraced each other, and Fred, laughing incredulously, said:
"It's only a FUCK-ing PLAAAAAAAYYYYY!!"
Fred had been sick for a long time. At the end, Tee tells me he was very out of it and suffering a great deal. So this really is for the best.
Fred was an actor, a great human being, and, while funny as hell when sober, was hilarious when he was drunk. And I'm going to miss how he would yell "Johnnyyyy!" when he saw me. Just like I'm going to miss a lot of things.
I'm going to be fucked up about this for about an hour or so. And then I'm going to be all right. Because Fred was right. It is, after all, only a fucking play.
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I didn't go to his memorial service because I didn't care to stand around and see a bunch of obnoxious theatre people preening, but I've thought about Fred all week and weekend. I used to give him rides home when I'd see him walking when we both lived in Five Points. He was a truly wonderful person, and I'll miss his electricity on the stage. He's one of the few people who would capture my attention so totally that I'd be flipping through the program, trying to figure out when next he'd be on the stage. Community theatre needs more actors like that.
And, Ebeneezer, my love, we did get it right ONCE the first year. I remember that performance. Saturday, 4:30. I don't remember if it was the first weekend or the second. But we stood in the back hall and cried for all of intermission, dorks that we were.
You're a fabulous actor, btw. Always have been.
Love to you…
E.
Well, hey Elaine. Long time no hear. For those of you in our studio audience, Elaine was Belle the first year. The original Belle. Belle Classic, as she would be marketed today.
Lest it seem like I was saying that the first year sucked, let me clarify: I think it was because I became less of an actor-shmoe the second year that we started nailing it. I'm sure we would have nailed it more times than the one Elaine mentions if I had been better at what I was doing. So she is blameless.
And Elaine, my dear, what I remember our year for, and the story I tell about us…is Green Dragon. For those of you not in the know, Green Dragon was the refresher rehearsal. You did a weekend, then you were dark for a couple of days, then you would come back for a runthrough to make sure you didn't forget anything.
Of course, just running the show is lame, so you would change it up and make it funny. Fred, for example, performed Scrooge as if he was flaming. The baker from the crowd was an Evil Baker and poisoned one of the urchins. The street urchins, all kids, God bless em, had more of a sense of continuity than Marvel or DC put together. They then dragged the dead kid around for the rest of the show. In fact, at the end, when Scrooge is changing to come out after having been "converted," it's the dead kid, "Bobby," who's supposed to be playing tag with the others in front of the door to buy time. Here, they had slumped Bobby in the doorway and instead of calling out "Can't catch me, Bobby!" they were taunting the kid with "Can't catch me, Bobby…CAUSE YOU'RE DEAD!" Freaking brilliant.
Anyway, Elaine and I, right before we went on, with maybe, I don't know two minutes tops to spare, hit upon the idea of reversing the scene when we got to the crushing office scene where Belle leaves. I say we because I don't remember exactly who came up with it first.
So it was Belle who was the vicious greedy bitch and poor Ebeneezer who she leaves because he just can't get as much coin as she craves. Then he becomes a miserly bastard to try and show her what's what. Lines like "I cannot view marriage as a business" became, thanks to Elaine, "I cannot view marriage as a sacred contract!" And it's poor Ebeneezer who wants to go out to spend time with their friends Dick and Felicity but she won't have it, not the other way around. We managed to twist all the dialogue 180 degrees with two minutes prep time before the scene prior to the switcheroo.
So yeah, that's what I remember and that's the story I tell about us: best improv I've ever been a part of. Hugs back to you, lady.
Aw, you flatter me. I'm pretty sure it was your idea, but we did make a good team! I remember it taking all that we had not to burst out laughing in the middle of it, especially since the cast was busting a gut out in the audience.
I wish I weren't such an old fart and that I could play that role again. At the tender age of 17, I didn't know what heartbreak was, so I couldn't put a lot of life experience into it. About 4 months later, I probably would have played it totally differently. And now I know I would.
I don't think I could direct that particular version of the show, either — I ADed in 1998 and I was very rough on the actress playing Belle. I realized later that it was because I was trying to project my interpretation of the role onto her, since I was too old to be playing it anymore. Not fair, but a good directorial lesson. Since then I've been better able to let it go when actors show up with their own ideas. Bastards.
I missed your book signing — had the postcard up on my fridge so I WOULDN'T miss it and then got dorked on the date.
So sorry about that.
Oh, and now that I think about it… I really don't know HOW Fred managed to hold it together during that Green Dragon scene, because we completely blindsided him with it. Margie snickered all the way through, but not Fred. He was totally serious. Flaming, but serious.