I leave Fireman’s Fund and begin a year of self-promotion,
performances, and odd jobs.
It felt weird waking up and not feeling I had to go to
work. It was a freedom I hadn’t
experienced in decades. Using my
dinosaur IBM Selectric, I got busy right away writing proposals and resumés
about my movement theatre work. Thanks to Annette Lust and our lecture
demonstrations, I had made connections with schools and other educational
institutions in the Bay Area.
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| Me as Wilma and Wilma's neighbor Martha in opening scene of Wilson's Rimers of Eldritch |
I had a promotional brochure with pictures
printed which I included with my proposal. Once I combined, signed, and sealed them in an envelope, I rode my bike to the Post Office
and sent them off. I got a couple
replies within as many weeks: One was from a
grammar school in Novato, another: Roseville High in Roseville, CA, a few miles
outside of Sacramento. I could take
Golden Gate Transit to Novato, no problem. Roseville? My parents lived in Orangevale near Sacramento. I could stay with them
the night before the Roseville gig.
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| My promotional brochure Photos by J.Hendrickson and D. McGarragh |
After leaving my job at the Fund, I started going with a recently divorced G-, I’d known G- for years through mutual friends.
He’d worked as a gardener for the City and had cashed in his retirement. He and his then wife relocated to some federal land north of Willits to start a pot farm- a
dangerous enterprise in the early ‘80s.
He volunteered to drive me to Roseville where we'd stay at my folks'.
At Roseville High, a faculty member showed me and G- who acted as my techie- to the library where I’d perform. The librarian, Julie Estridge, introduced me to a reporter, Val Bowman, from The Press-Tribune, who would do a review of my lecture-demo, and the photographer, Jim Denman, a bonus which I wasn’t expecting. Chairs for the students were arranged in rows. After I unpacked and laid out my costumes and masks, I realized I’d forgotten my Mad Sal (or Laughing Sal) fat-lady costume. Still, I had the mask and sound track, which would get me by.
At Roseville High, a faculty member showed me and G- who acted as my techie- to the library where I’d perform. The librarian, Julie Estridge, introduced me to a reporter, Val Bowman, from The Press-Tribune, who would do a review of my lecture-demo, and the photographer, Jim Denman, a bonus which I wasn’t expecting. Chairs for the students were arranged in rows. After I unpacked and laid out my costumes and masks, I realized I’d forgotten my Mad Sal (or Laughing Sal) fat-lady costume. Still, I had the mask and sound track, which would get me by.
Mad Sal was an
installation in San Francisco’s Playland at the Beach attraction at Ocean
Beach. She was a dummy at the Fun House,
set high up in a window overlooking the entire arcade. Mad Sal (who resembled a stereotype of a
freckle-faced Irish washerwoman, or a fat, slovenly Eliza Doolittle) was
stationary, but programmed to undulate from her wide hips to her battered hat, her arms flailing wildly, to a
loud, raucous laughing sound-track,
which I replicated. All alone in my flat
one day, I had set up my tape recorder, started a blank tape, and just started
laughing. I laughed louder and louder,
escalating to hysteria for about three minutes.
A photographer friend, Dennis O’Rorke (who has shot- and also collects-
iconic photos of San Francisco) had
taken countless photos of Playland at the Beach. I used his picture of Mad Sal as a reference
to create a plaster-cast mask, painted her image on it and glued on a messy
wig. Using foam, I made myself a fat-dress from an outfit I’d picked up at
Goodwill, over which I wore a baggy, tweed blazer and stuck a battered hat on
my head. I pulled candy-striped knee
stockings on my feet which I shoved into pair of navy-blue and red wingtip shoes
(Goodwill!) The first time I performed this piece – always as the finale of my
shows- I could hear the audience snickering at first, then the laughing caught
on and grew robust, loud and unrestrained.
The students filed in and took their seats. (My step-father had driven my mother to the school, I spotted her in the back row.) Julie introduced
me and gave a short overview- which I’d written for her- of what to expect. G-
started my cue and I stepped into my first piece. The following short works went well. But I never got to perform Mad Sal. At the
end of a piece, the principal walked in front of me and announced that the
performance was over and ordered the students back to class. True to most school administrations, someone
had forgotten to tell Julie that my time had been cut to only one
period rather than the allotted two- lunch and 5th period. As everyone was leaving, I thanked the
students, faculty, and my mother for coming. Julie gave me my check, and apologized for the abrupt ending.
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| "A Man by the Name of Ziegler" from a short story by Hermann Hesse narrated by Gerald Nelson. Photo by Jim Denman |
"We loved your demonstration
and performances," she said, "The students seemed really engaged. I had no idea how mime evolved through the centuries to Marcel Marceau and beyond," she added enthusiastically, "We’d
love to have you back to see the rest of your show.” Back in San Francisco a few days later, I opened my mailbox to find in it a copy of The Press-Tribune, Ms. Bowman had written, "Gaetana the Mime captivated an audience . . .without saying a word." Photographer Denman's pictures generously illustrated her article.
.
That year- 1983- I also took a couple of
acting ròles:
“The Rimers of Eldritch” and “Where has Tommy Flowers Gone,” by Lanford Wilson, while continuing
mime and movement work with Leonard Pitt and Ron Leeson, both Decroux-trained
mimes. I was hired by community
organizers to do walk-arounds at city functions, and got a gig for the Oakland
Museum’s Floral Show, where I moved among the visitors through the floral
displays, wearing green leotards and tights (like a flower stem), a straw hat
and makeup like daisy petals around my eyes.
I had gotten a ride over there with a man I’d just met who appeared interested in my
work. As I got out of his car with my change of clothes and make-up case, he said, "Sorry I can't stay. Good luck! I'll call you," reached over and slammed the door. I never heard from him again. Thankfully, an enthusiastic friend showed up and gave me a ride home.
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| "Rimers of Eldritch". Me, 3rd from left; Anne Galjour to my left . |
My cousin, Dan Caldwell*, was teaching Theatre Arts at Tamalpais High in Mill Valley, CA. I had lost contact with him over the years. In truth, he intimidated me as he once was the artistic director of The Marin Shakespeare Festival for a few years. I wanted to do an educational lecture performance at his school, but hesitated. Then, I thought, "All he could do was say, 'No'". So I drafted a letter which I lamely began: "Hi Dan, do you remember me?" . . . I stuffed it in an envelope along with a proposal and a brochure and sent it off. After several days of anxiety, I got a phone call from him. I was so flustered, I almost couldn't speak. But after a while, because of his tone and familiarity, I relaxed. Turned out, he apologized for not getting back to me sooner, he explained. "I'm the program director for Tam's Ensemble Theatre. I had to run your proposal by the board of directors for their approval," he said, "And?" I asked.
"We've got a show!" I was ecstatic. It was happening. We talked about a date in May and other matters regarding tech, publicity, etc. My middle son, Terrence, drove me to Marin with my props, set, costumes, and Ron Leeson who assisted with tech, in his pickup. The show went well, attended by drama students and the public. I had displayed on a table my mime book collection, which included the complete script of Marcel Carné's "Les Enfante du Paradis," and Jean-Louis Barrault's autobiography, which I'd bought at a used book store with my last six dollars, After the show, an older woman picked up my Carné book. She seemed rapturously obessesed by it. I watched her put back on the table. A friend from Fireman's Fund, Garilee Leary, who had videod some of my pieces, had planned a reception for me at a friend's Mill Valley home. There, the older woman told me, in a heavy German accent, that she loved my lecture on mime history and performance illustrating it. "I want that book," she then teased, "You don't know how close I came to walking off with it. Where on earth did you get it?" "Oh,"I said, "it was another great find in the film section of a used book store." She flipped through it again, then reluctantly set it down with the rest of my books, shaking her head. "Aren't those the greatest places? I can easily spend hours there."
Terrence had to leave immediately after the show so a generous, supportive friend arranged to give Ron and me a ride back to the city though she lived in Marin. Dan said we could leave the props and set at the theatre as long as we picked them up on Sunday, the day after the show. We weren't too happy when, that day, we ran into Bay to Breakers traffic on the way to the Golden Gate Bridge, which we'd forgotten about,
Next: Chapter 15: I was spending money too fast. I'd have to start job hunting soon. Something I wasn't looking forward to. I take temp receptionist jobs, proving my ineptness when it came to pushing the right buttons when transferring calls.
*Dan, who merited a new theatre arts building on the Tam High campus which bears his name-the Daniel Caldwell Performing Arts Center- died of Alzheimer's in March 2015. He had been the head of that department where he taught for 35 years. In May of that year, a huge reception was held for him in the eponymous new building, attended by his family, current, and former students, faculty, and all who had had the pleasure if working with him over the decades.
)
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| The Program |
Terrence had to leave immediately after the show so a generous, supportive friend arranged to give Ron and me a ride back to the city though she lived in Marin. Dan said we could leave the props and set at the theatre as long as we picked them up on Sunday, the day after the show. We weren't too happy when, that day, we ran into Bay to Breakers traffic on the way to the Golden Gate Bridge, which we'd forgotten about,
Next: Chapter 15: I was spending money too fast. I'd have to start job hunting soon. Something I wasn't looking forward to. I take temp receptionist jobs, proving my ineptness when it came to pushing the right buttons when transferring calls.
*Dan, who merited a new theatre arts building on the Tam High campus which bears his name-the Daniel Caldwell Performing Arts Center- died of Alzheimer's in March 2015. He had been the head of that department where he taught for 35 years. In May of that year, a huge reception was held for him in the eponymous new building, attended by his family, current, and former students, faculty, and all who had had the pleasure if working with him over the decades.
