Turning Point Overturned

 I began my career as a professional scenic carpenter in Orlando at the ripe old age of thirty five. I knew going in that I could do the job, due to my years in community theatre. What I didn't know going in was that a) I was really very good at it, much better than I realized, and b) there was a huge good-paying market for it in most major cities. I started out in an events management company, doing sets for meetings, conventions and best of all, huge themed parties. During my first year I built some of my favorite things. See www.slideshare.net/jimemerson for details. And I began to realize that if I had known all of this twenty years back, I could have been working on Broadway or in Hollywood well before I was thirty five.

I was walking the dog this morning (see https://walkingwithabassador.blogspot.com for details) and thinking, as usual. My mind drifted to the time of year it was, and remembered that next year will be fifty years since I graduated high school. Would I go to Vero Beach for the reunion? Hell No. If I went to any reunion, it would be to Gambrills, Maryland to see the friends left behind when my parents uprooted and moved to Vero Beach in 1968. Once again, I was grumbling about that, the most life-changing change of my early life. Who would I want to see in Vero? The only 1971 VBHS grad I would want to see was in a play with me when the tenth year reunion was going on. And the only other folks I would want to see would be the friends I made in the Vero Beach Theatre Guild. That sent me on the same old track about how things might have been different if only... Suddenly, the juxtaposition of all of these musings took an unprecedented turn.

When my parents moved me to Vero, I had my high school life all mapped out ahead of me in Maryland. I knew dozens of people, I was asked to work on the yearbook committee, I was known to be a good football and baseball player, and I might even have gotten into theatre. I landed in Vero Beach determined to hate it. I skated through high school doing the bare minimum it took to graduate, and moved back to Maryland a week after graduation.

I thought about Vero Beach High school, which at the time was also home to the Theatre Guild. I actually went there to see Guild shows. I already was in love with theatre. There was an active theatre group doing high school shows. So determined was I to eschew anything that might be construed as enjoying my imprisonment, I avoided the drama department. Ten years later I was acting in a show with someone I sort-of knew back then. Sixteen years after that, at forty three years old, I was working with another, much more recent VBHS grad at F/X Scenery And Display outside of Orlando, doing real big-time world class set work. 

Suddenly, my whole life story turned upside down. It was not my parents uprooting me that ruined my early life. It was me, my pig-headedness that made me refuse to find my calling until middle age. I could have been a game builder/stagehand for The Price Is Right, if only I had allowed myself to find out early on that that was my dream job. I forgive you, Wyni and Gil Emerson. Rest in peace.

Covid-19 Sick Days

I received some bad news from the show biz front last night. My buddy Matthew and nineteen others were laid off from Mystic Scenic Studios in Norwood, Massachusetts. The reason was that there had been too many cancellations of gigs. No telling how long it might last.

This reminded me of a semi-similar situation back in the fall of 2001. F/X Scenery And Display experienced a steep drop in business after 9/11, but Mack, the owner, kept everybody on for the months affected by that situation. Now, to be fair to Jim Ray of Mystic, F/X had around twenty employees to keep while F/X has over a hundred. And, frankly, I was flabbergasted that we were all paid to come in and do nothing for many weeks. On the other hand, I was disgusted when a couple of our gung-ho Union guys were whining that we didn't get Christmas bonuses or raises at the end of the year. Humans will be humans.

I was among the laid off from Mystic after the crash of 2008, which, as we all know, was caused by Obama several months before he was elected. I was on unemployment for several months, worked for Harvard's American Repertory Theatre for one week, then for Jim Ray's former partner John for three months in Somerville, MA. After all of that, I was called back to Mystic in June of 2009 for the two weeks before we began packing up for our move to Albuquerque. In Albuquerque, I applied for hundreds of jobs, heard back from maybe seven or eight, had interviews with three, and was hired by none. What I did was get involved with scenic construction on a volunteer basis at Albuquerque Little Theatre. The Production Manager managed to squeeze a few hundred bucks out of his budget to pay me for my hundreds of hours of work. That was my last paid gig in the Biz.

So I understand Matthew's situation pretty well. He has applied for a couple of jobs already, but whereas I was 56 when I was laid off, he is 66 now. Good luck out there, buddy. And don't contract any viruses.

I Could Do That!

"I could do that!" were the very words spoken by me, words that marked the turning point that spun me in the direction of my long career building and installing custom works of three dimensional art. I've never had a dream to drive me to pursue any career. I never went to any school or program to learn any of what I ended up doing. My Facebook profile says that I attended the Gilbert H. Emerson School of Art from 1953 until 1987. What that means is that I either watched my dad or helped him create solutions to whatever problems arose, and invent ways to produce whatever he dreamed of creating. When we moved to Vero Beach, Florida in 1968, he carved a niche for his commercial art business in a town that repeatedly told him that they had no use for a commercial art business. He did it by taking on whatever half-baked idea anyone had, and making it happen. He was a genius at that.
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So when I graduated high school in 1971 and moved back to Maryland, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I got a job pumping gas at the Auto Service Department of the Montgomery Ward store in Glen Burnie, Maryland. Now, Aaron Montgomery Ward began his mail order business in 1872, so there were big doin's afoot. There were guys I saw installing "CENTURY II"  signs and displays throughout the store. What do you suppose I said to that? So I cozied up to them, met Fred, the Display Department manager, and put the wheels in motion for a transfer. In March of '72 I became a member of that department. Before long, there became a category called "Jim jobs," projects that required time and planning and engineering things for which the others had no patience - like things my dad and I had done for years.

In 1980, back in Vero Beach, back working with my dad in the art biz, I finally decided to get involved with the community theatre. I quickly became one of the hard core, working onstage and backstage. And with the flexibility that accompanied working for Emerson Art Service, I was afforded the opportunity to work paying gigs doing load-ins, load-outs and various jobs during performances of the various touring professional shows that came to our beautiful little gem of a theatre. So, I was unloading chunks of scenery from the truck and wrestling them into place so that the touring professional scenic carpenters could put them together by whatever fastening systems - screws, bolts, clamps, lashings, loose-pin hinges, whatever - and I said "I could do that!"

In 1988, less than a year after newlyweds Carmen and I moved to the Orlando area, I was still unsure of what path my career might take, I saw an ad for SCENIC CARPENTERS AND STAGE HANDS in the Orlando Sentinel Help Wanted ads. What do you suppose I said then? Image International was an Events company that specialized in corporate theme parties for the huge convention industry in and around Orlando, but took on pretty much whatever half-baked idea their clients and sales staff had. I quickly became a respected professional scenic carpenter.

My final example took years to come to fruition. Sometime during the late '80s or early '90s, we went to the Orlando Science Center museum. Part of it was screened off with temporary wall sections. Through a crack between sections, I could see a bunch of guys working, installing an exhibit. "Wow!," I said, "I could do that!" In 2005, I was happily working away behind a temporary wall installing exhibits in the Museum of Science in Boston, and did so regularly for four years.

I suppose, as tremors, arthritis, carpal tunnel syndrome and factor 5 deficiency blood clots slowly eroded my effectiveness in my chosen profession, I must have seen some retired geezers and said "I could do that," because here I am.

Don't Give Up Your Day Job

My day job doesn't pay much, but it pays a lot better than my night gig. I can't say for sure whether this has been the case ever since I gave up show biz eleven years ago, but I can say that ever since my sleep study in Nashville, when I began sleeping on my left side exclusively, I have been building and installing scenery professionally pretty much every night in my sleep.

What I am building is never very clear, but whatever I am working on is fraught with problems. No place to build it. It's gone when I arrive for work the next day. Materials can't be found. Tools are missing. The truck has already left without me or my project or both.

The other part of the story is the venue. We can't find the place. The place is so huge and convoluted that we can 't find the ballroom or the theatre or whatever we're looking for. We brought the wrong stuff. We can't find our way home.

It's interesting to me that pretty much without exception, the problems I dream about never happened during my twenty years in the business. Sure, there were always problems, but I guess since we always figured out solutions, those problems aren't worth dreaming about.

Anyway, I usually wake up scratching my head about some ridiculous situation we encountered. And I usually wake up exhausted. That's show biz.

The Face of Reality

My mental health professional gave me homework: update the blogs! Okay, this is number three.

So here I sit in Jacksonville, updating my blogs primarily because it's an assignment. Sure, I love to write, and I have already come to some interesting conclusions about the chain of events that precipitated my return for help from those in the mental health field. And the rise and fall of the Bellevue project, detailed in the previous post, contributed a considerable chunk.The initial response was so great and so immediate, I could not possibly have predicted the way it crashed and burned after six months of diligent hard work by the few of us who carried the ball to the end zone.

The good news is, moving away from Tennessee was a much easier transition than it would have been, had we actually birthed a viable community theatre group in Bellevue. We did not.The other good news is that our friend Pat and I have attended locally produced shows many times since I moved here a year ago. I haven't yet done any onstage or backstage work here yet, but I haven't given up on the idea either.

The reality is, I'm not ever going to be a show biz professional again. Perhaps a vastly talented amateur dabbler. I think that will be enough.