The Tent, Suddenly a Villain, and Stupified

In 1980, Bob Reid, Steve McCrae, Tom Beaty, Bob Hill and several other men decided that Fort Mill needed a theater group. At that time, the town had no group of actors, no play, no director, no sets, no props and no theater, but these were not men who gave up easily.

Working through the Fort Mill Recreation Complex and the Springs/Close family, they chose a play, Spring for Sure (a play in the vein of Li’l Abner) and a director. Auditions were set and the play was cast. There was a major problem…Fort Mill had no venue suitable for a play of the scope these men envisioned. There was a field beside the Springs Complex, someone suggested a using a circus tent, and the guys were off and running.

Bob Hill’s skill was woodworking so he was in charge of building sets. Dad did not build for the moment but for the ages. His sets were ¾ inch plywood and the Rockettes could not have shaken them. The stage and sets took life under the supervision and hard work of artists Steve McCrae, John McCrae, Barry Grant and Alexa Spratt and awaited only the arrival of the full sized three-ring circus tent.

On the theatrical side, things moved right along. Lead actors Steve Strange and Sharon Harrelson were supported by a cast and chorus of over forty locals, most of whom were new to acting but full of talent and enthusiasm. Yes, I said a cast of over forty. Once again, these founders dreamed big.

The Hill family was deeply involved in the play. Bob, my Dad, was a founder and set builder, Steve Strange (brother-in-law) was the male lead, Connie (sister)was in charge of props and my wife Jane was in charge of make-up.

I was there as an uncredited gofer.

Spring for Sure sold out every night for every performance. Part of the winning formula was that everyone in town had a family member or friend in the play. The other part was that the play was well cast and well directed.

I didn’t get involved on stage until 1982. Jane and I ran the auditions for Music Man and director, Rick Eric called each hopeful in and had them read and sing a little. I enjoyed watching the auditions and, like a sinner at a Billy Graham Revival, was called to the altar of auditions..

The play was Music Man and State Representative Palmer Freeman was cast as Professor Harold Hill. I was chosen as his sidekick, Marcellus. My big number was “Shipoopi,” a little ditty guaranteed to propel the singer to anonymity.

Dad had always loved the role of Mayor Shinn but I couldn’t get him to audition. At one read through, the actor cast as Mayor Shinn was out of town and I asked Dad to fill in for the day. Director Rick Eric came up too him after the reading and asked, “Bob, Where were you when we did auditions? You are a natural.” The compliment stayed with Dad the rest of his life and he often mentioned it wistfully.

The next year, Where’s Charlie was the play selected. The play, set at Oxford University, was about two students who invite their girlfriends for a visit promising Charlie’s aunt will be on hand to serve as chaperone. When the aunt does not show up, Charlie has to impersonate her so the girls will not have to leave. Obviously it was a comedy of errors with Charlie running on and off stage as himself and as the aunt. Steve Blackmon stole the show with the title role and once again I was cast as sidekick.

I played the role of Jack and at one point Jack’s father appears. My stage father was played by my real father. When he came on stage, my line was, “My father!” The dialogue had to stop every night because of the ovation Dad got for just walking on stage. He played his role as a stiff upper lip Brit and was worth the ovation. While I am biased in favor of my father, he was truly bigger than life.

The next play is difficult to talk about. The play was Carousel and my wife Jane was chosen for the lead role of Julie Jordon. I agreed to sit that one out. With three weeks to go before opening night, the director came by the house and asked me to be in the chorus because someone needed to bump up their energy. I was always good at energy.

With Steve Strange playing Billy Bigelow, Jane playing Julie Jordan and Big Bob playing the Starkeeper, a God-like character, (Type casting) my contribution in the chorus was supposed to be forgettable.

It was anything but. On the morning of the dress rehearsal/press night, Terry Seed, playing the consummate villain, Jigger Craigin, had a lung collapse. I was teaching at Fort Mill High School when the call came in. The director wanted me to take over the role of Jigger and to go on stage that night. Jigger had over 100 lines and four songs. I knew most of the songs from the chorus but the lines were a problem. The director said the audience would understand if I carried a script.

I decided I would take the role but I would not use a script. I put the class to work (it was a less rigid time in education) and started reading lines. I read them non-stop from 10:00 am until the end of school. Even on the ride home and outside the door when I was in the bathroom, I had someone working lines with me. I read lines at dinner and during costuming.

I went on without a script that night. All the lines weren’t perfect but with the help of the other actors, particularly Steve Strange, things went pretty smoothly. I played Jigger off-book for the two-week run of the play. The play I was supposed to sit out was my finest hour on-stage.

At the end of the last performance, Rick called me out after the curtain calls. He told the audience that I had said I would like to play a villain and he had told me that I looked too much like a nice a guy.

“He showed me,” Rick told the audience, “He can play a villain.”

I guess the most uncomfortable role for me was that of Captain Von Trapp in The Sound of Music. The role required me to be pompous and stuffy and so I spent most of my time holding back energy. If you have ever seen me on stage, energy was about my only redeeming quality. I also had to sing a couple of solos and singing in public has always terrified me. The director asked me why I did theater if it scared me to death and I told him it was because it scared me to death.

The make-up person for the play was Jane, now my ex. She kept trying to get my make up so that it would suit the director and he kept telling her to make me to look older.

“How old do you want him to look?” Jane finally asked.

“I want him to look forty.” The director told her.

“He is forty!” Jane told him.

I could not help but feel good about that exchange.

At one point the Captain has to make a quick change into formal clothes for the wedding scene. There was no time to run to the dressing room and get back in time so I had to change just behind the curtain, stage right. Anyone familiar with The Sound of Music knows that a group of nuns are part of the cast. These were actors, of course, but they stood, in costume, stage right, waiting for their entrance. Every night, I had to strip down to my skivvies in front of a group of nuns, some who helped me dress and the rest who were engaged in quiet but off-color cat calls.

I was teaching in Chester at the time and a teacher friend was John Cook. John was a great person and a self-proclaimed curmudgeon. John, to my surprise decided to come to the play one night and to gird myself against his review, I told him in advance that I was not a great singer. After the play, John came up to me and gave me what I considered a great compliment. “It is a good thing you can act.” He said.

I was in several other plays, but the one that sticks most in my mind was L’il Abner.

Cheryl and I had been dating for a few months and were in charge of auditions. John Dixon was the director. We had both met him before and at the end of the first day’s auditions he turned to Cheryl and me and said, “I have already picked out parts for you two.” Neither of us had plans to audition so this came as a shock. Cheryl took some convincing.

John asked Cheryl to play the role of “Stupefyin’ Jones” a robot bombshell whose job is to distract L’il Abner away from Daisy Mae on Sadie Hawkin’s Day. Cheryl wore a black body suit with a red belt and scarf. To play the part successfully, good looks were not enough. Stupifyin’ Jones had to be irresistible. She was.

I was to play “Available Jones,” who, for a fee, releases Stupifyin’ to practice her inescapable allure on L’il Abner.

Cheryl was a stunner on stage and the cast and crew were convinced that we had met and fallen love during the production. There was even a prop tree with “MH CE” on the set.

At the cast party, Cheryl and I were talking to Stage Manager Polly Adkins and her twin sister Lolly. Lolly came up from Charleston to see the play. She loved it and with Cheryl standing right in front of her, asked Polly, “Who was that bimbo playing Stupifyin’ Jones.” Cheryl raised her hand and said, “That would be me.”

Cheryl was convincing. I was stupefied. The rest is history.

It was not my greatest role, but my life was certainly taking a turn for the better.