By one of those accidental life connections I found myself studying under a man called Rod Whitaker.  Rod’s pen name was Trevanian – the bestselling author of books like The Eiger Sanction, The Loo Sanction, The Main, Summer of Katya, Shibumi, Incident at Twenty-Mile, Hot Night in the City and The Crazyladies of Pearl Street

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trevanian

My attempt to describe Rod is going to take all of my skills as a writer, psychologist, swami, fortune teller, guru, psychic, prognosticator, soothsayer and time traveler.

I said, earlier that he had come from a theatrical background, originally.  Rod was awarded a Fulbright scholarship to study in England. He had a penchant for British Victorian jackets which have velvet lapels which reveals his taste for an era long gone of drawing room comedies like The Importance of Being Earnest: A Trivial Comedy for Serious People by Oscar Wilde – first performed in 1895 at the St. James Theatre in London

Rod is the classic being who is like a pendulum, swinging as easily in one direction, a momentary, fractional pause, and then back the other way on its 180 degree trajectory.  This level of mental gymnastics would never be apparent to even the most careful observer.   If ever there is a person who is an enigma, Rod is your man.

There were two of other friends of mine in RTF who would spend time Rod and me; perhaps over a coffee or a drink; even at one of the guy’s little apartment – never in a place of solemnity like his office.  Listening intently to what Rod didn’t say was as fascinating as those crumbs of intellectual quarks that did slip out of his lips.  In fact, he said very little.

Rod had this way of looking at you, through you and turning you this way and that in his mind as he considered what you were and if you were worthy of his time.

KITSCH

He once told us a story about the concept or game of “Kitsch”.   Wikipedia defines kitsch as follows: “The term is generally reserved for unsubstantial and gaudy works that are calculated to have popular appeal and are considered pretentious and shallow rather than genuine artistic efforts.”

However, my memory of Rod’s explanation of kitsch is wholly different than Wikipedia.  He gave us an example of kitsch.  Let’s suppose you are sitting at a bar.  You notice a fellow sitting to your left having a “drink” more fit for a woman like a tedious, effeminate (for men) daiquiri.  You say aloud, “Pardon me, but isn’t that a drink more for a West End “poof” than a man of your stature”?  You just lost 50 points in the game of kitsch because you were churlish to an obviously inferior person who does not have a command of the language through which an intelligent response can be forthcoming.

On the other hand, if the person is someone with above average intellect like, say, a Republican sheep herder, you might swing the pendulum of kitsch in your favor.  He could say, “I’m amazed you can see this far what with those coke bottle bottoms you are wearing for glasses”.  He just lost 500 points to kitsch for taking the pedestrian way with the banal to attempt to disparage your obvious superior breeding (particularly in the case of Italians).

Masters of kitsch who find themselves in close proximity for dialogue can entertain themselves for hours with double entendre and the coveted talent of bouncing off ones opponents theme to arrive at a totally different destination with the turn of a phrase.

The real bitch of this game is to wonder if anyone knows what the hell you are about much less is anyone keeping score – something harder to do than grasping a cricket match and its system of counting “runs”.  I mean people don’t go around handing out business cards with “kitsch” written on the back in invisible ink.

He possessed that kind of rapier, surgical criticism of someone’s self-indulgent sense that they possess a wealth of knowledge covering artistic expression fits Rods personality to a “T”.  Believe me, he had the ability to skewer a person in such a way that they would never be conscious of it but rather bedeviled by the unconscious part of their being which would ultimately drive them to have suicidal tendencies.  I never saw him do this to anyone in my presence.  I think a person would really have to fuck with him in a two faced manner to raise his ire to justify the effort which would, in and of it, be egotistical and out of character for someone with Rod’s taste and sense of class; or, his sense of “Shibumi”.  (See his novel)

This example plus the definition of kitsch below should give you invaluable insight in to the psyche of Rod Whitaker or as close as you are likely to come no matter hundreds of hours of research and interviews.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kitsch

MY GRAND FINALE

I had been around Rod a fair amount as he really was my mentor following me through my time in RTF.  For my final project, intended to show my capabilities in my school, I chose to produce an Av ant-garde, little known one act, one man play entitled The Objective Case. How I came to know of this play is unknown to all but my analyst.

It was to be a stroke of genius on my part, finally.  The production would employ both a live, theatre play with multimedia in the form of rear projected images that would support, define and embellish and enrich the play itself.  Per Dick Byrne’s class, I built two rear projection screens.  I then was able to convince Denny to allow me to use a photographic tool in the Drama Dept. to take images from books and what not using an “illumitran” slide copier device oft used in theatre history.

The really tough part of the project was yet to be wrangled in to submission.

As had been the case for many years, the Drama Dept. was a virtual island unto itself with no use for anyone in the theatre world no matter their experience, creativity and panache.  There was a time when student actors were forbidden to appear in plays staged by theatres in Austin.  And, there was no relationship of any kind between the Drama Dept. and the RTF Dept. – never mind that they are part and parcel of the same industry.  This isolation mentality is common at universities who teach nothing marketable in the business world, graduating legions of teachers of drama for high schools at best.

I needed a theatre for my production.  All we had in the RTF department were small, sterile studios with no real lighting equipment and no stage. I had met a wonderful man named David Nancarrow who was something of a legend in the theatrical lighting world.  He was the hammer in the Drama Department.  His influence went well beyond lighting plays.  I called David to arrange an appointment.

The Drama Department owned and controlled a couple of different theatre spaces at that time.  There was a so called “black box” theatre which was designed with hydraulics that could change and alter the space in to any configuration of the imagination.  No way were they going to allow me the use of that holy of holies, particularly an RTF student.  They also had a small, hundred seat proscenium theatre that seemed to be idle a great deal of the time.

The thing I love about David is that he is a doer and not a talker.  He saw no reason why I shouldn’t be able to utilize that theatre for my project, RTF or no RTF.  That is because he is a professional – not some down your nose “artiste” who wielded just enough power to enjoy people cow towing daily.

And that wasn’t all.  David lent me some lighting equipment and a control board to augment a pitiful number of Fresnels from KLRU along with some black draping.  Seeing that I was becoming overwhelmed with the project, he jumped in to whip up a modest but effective lighting plot, cue sheet and – best of all – himself as my LD (lighting director).

All the pieces of the puzzle were in place.  I had the play, the slides of images to support the play and dialogue, the actor, the theatre, lighting, a lighting director and my rear projection screens.  I was in business until my actor chose to quit the night before the show was to open.

His name was Carl Hickerson.  He is known to most people who’ve been in Austin long enough as “Crazy Carl Hickerson.”  He earned that moniker, believe me.  Carl turned up stoned for the tech rehearsal the day before the final dress rehearsal.  He stammered, looking down at who knows what kind of hallucination, shuffling his feet and mumbling that he couldn’t go through with it.  He had that Norma Desmond look in his eyes which signaled that nobody was home.  There was no point in arguing with a flake that had no sense of responsibility.  Fuck him.  I took over the role. And Rod assumed the mantle of director since I could not sit in the audience to watch the blocking, lighting, rear projection images and act on stage at the same time.  (For the right money I could have!!)

During the dress rehearsal, about a quarter the way through the play, Rod stood up in the back of the theatre and said, “Stop”.  I had no idea what was the matter.  He made his way slowly down the stairs to the backstage area where the crew was assembled to run slides and what not.  Unbeknownst to me, the crew had been talking and making noise while the dress rehearsal was in progress.  In his subtle, soft spoken but primal way, he dressed them down, instructing them on the way one walks on stage during a play – softly and mindfully for the Buddhists out there.

I was blown away at the support Rod showed that day.  He had the responsibility of running the entire Radio, Television and Film department but he made time to come to my rescue as the ultimate big league director.

The Objective Case multimedia production opened and ran for 3 performances – all we planned.  I worked myself to death on that meager production.  I did not realize that the marshaling of resources, coupled with coordination, design and implementation would become a model for my work as a producer, both at the Paramount Theatre and for the national arena throughout my professional life!  It was also the first time I used a legal pad to organize – the first of thousands.

I doubt Rod praised me as that was not his style.  The very fact that he did what he did to support me meant that he valued my attempt to create something unique out of virtually nothing.  I was incredibly lucky to have the chance to work under his tutelage.

ROD AND THE PARAMOUNT THEATRE

There is no one alive who has any notion that Rod and I had discussed the Paramount Theatre in 1971 after my graduation from U.T.  We had discussed the idea of mounting a production of The Importance of Being Earnest as a test to see how the community would react to the venerable but mostly vacant theatre,   which had been reduced to “Kung Fu” exploitation films such as the forgettable Five Flying Fingers of Death with Bruce Lee.

Rod accompanied me to meet with Charlie Root, the city manager for ABC Interstate Theatres which controlled hundreds of screens across the country including seven in Austin with the Paramount at the top of that list.  We pitched him on the idea and my vision for the Paramount’s restoration and rejuvenation as a legitimate theatre that it once was.  (See Paramount Theatre stories for more)

The project didn’t come to fruition.  Little did I know that Rod was deeply involved in writing the first of his best sellers, The Eiger Sanction, later made in to a “vapid” film (Rod’s term) starring Clint Eastwood.  Additionally, he still had his day job as chairman of the department.  For my part, I had no experience raising capital, creating a production budget, managing a crew, hiring designers and a hundred other tasks.  Also, I had no money – like zero.  That mix makes for a bad brew in the business world.  However, the vision for a restored and vibrant Paramount Theatre was born full blown, two years before I would begin to hit the pavement to try and pull it off. Yet again, Rod supported my vision.  He is one of no more than a handful who believed in me which is why this next part of the story is painful to write.