The following column is the opinion and analysis of the writer:
In December of 1961 I was in the first grade and assigned the role of “Sheep #2” by Mrs. Logan in the Myers Elementary Christmas Play. Terror stricken with stage fright, with white paper-maché sheep ears taped to my head and a tail made of cotton balls, I trembled as I mumbled “We three kings of Orient are” with the three other mumbling “sheep” as our shepherd picked his nose and the three kings loped around the stage. Why couldn’t I have been one of the kings?! The wise men had the best costumes.
A sheep?! Baa!
Having spent my entire 40s host-headlining the annual “Tucson Press Club Gridiron Show” at the Tucson Convention Center until its final curtain, I was delighted when Bobby Rich, and the Diaper Bank, asked me to write a musical parody of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” — with a Tucson twist — to be performed as an annual fundraiser. I greedily cast myself in the lead, as “E. Scrooge,” promoting myself from “Baa!” to “Humbug!”
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My stage fright ebbed as our production moved through from a mega church to Centennial Hall and finally to the magnificent Fox Theatre. And then the run ended.
Maybe the one about the Martians invading Winterhaven did jump the shark.
Every Sunday I loved listening to Garrison Keillor’s corny and nostalgic “Powdermilk Biscuit Hour.” In his autobiography, Keillor noted he dreamt of producing something intellectual, brooding and cool. But folksy warmth was what audiences craved so he relented. And flourished.
A few years back when “Prairie Home Companion” came to the TCC I was asked to help write the opening monologue. When I met Mr. Keillor it was like young Bill Clinton meeting JFK. And yes, that’s the worst possible analogy.
Missing my annual holiday fun I stole his format, created “The Old Pueblo Radio Show,” cast myself as the host, picked some charities, strong-armed some local celebs, found a theatre, talked Arizona Public Media into airing us on Christmas Eve and waited …
Tomorrow at 1 p.m. our seventh production of “The Old Pueblo Holiday Radio Show,” benefiting 12 charities this go-round and featuring the Arroyo Cafe Players, Marty Bishop, the fabulous “Grandsons of the Pioneers,” “American Idol” finalist Crystal Stark, the Gaslight’s Reigning Queen, Katherine Byrnes, Tucson-born internationally famous singer songwriter Brian Lopez and our very surprising mystery guest will hit the stage at the historic Rialto Theatre.
Tickets are $20 online at https://www.rialtotheatre.com/events/the-old-pueblo-holiday-radio-show/ or at the door for $25. Show us your vaccination card, wear a mask and you’re in. A jolt of holiday spirit is worth a mask. Our show is our best show yet. I promise.
Like Robert DeNiro’s character, Rupert Pupkin, in the “King of Comedy,” I’ve dreamt of having a house band. At last, I have the rocking “Cadillacs.” And rimshots. And a grand piano. And amazing visuals.
And like Leo Bloom, the stop-the-world-I-want-to-get-on character in “The Producers,” I get to live my dream of being a producer with a hit show on East Congress! Which is close enough to Broadway for me.
Producing the show I feel like Jimmy Stewart when the whole town shows up to save his tail at the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life” and angels get their wings. The many friends, comedians, actors, jokers, divas, musicians and chums who show up to polish the show, every winter, into a diamond, sustain my belief Tucson is Bedford Falls with saguaros.
Opening in 1920, the Rialto Theatre featured talkies like “The Cisco Kid,” stars like Ginger Rogers and scandalous shows like the “All New Gay Paree Revue,” which provoked protests. In the 40s, an ill-fated piano player fell in the orchestra pit and died and is said to haunt the theatre. He’s welcome to enjoy Sly Slipetsky’s amazing piano playing.
After lighting a candle in front of my Jay Taylor shrine (a dear, funny man who performed with us), I’ll get to the theatre early. I’ll help set up, do some run-throughs, introduce our stage manager, Mary Steed, to the cast, do sound checks, and raid the green room for grub. I’ll scoot down the back stairs to haul chairs up to the stage for the cast, passing by the hundreds of bras and underthings tossed onto the Rialto’s stage through the years that adorn the stairwell.
It’s very “Spinal Tap” under the stage.
At 12:50 we‘ll gather stage right, in the dark, scripts in hand, prepared to hit our marks. The “On the Air” sign will flash and together, for the first time since the pandemic, we will be back, to laugh, to sing and to joyfully celebrate a memorable Old Pueblo Christmas.
