It was a strange sensation as I took flight from New York toward Portland and the future. A part of me, small though it was, wanted to stay and make that she-devil of a town give in to my demands of fame and fortune. Though I’d not lived there that long, she had taken a surprisingly deep hold of me and didn’t want to let go. Our pseudo-romance based in the “if-I-can-make-it-there-experience” still ricocheted in my head, but as the mileage between us increased my anticipation and excitement grew and I felt a freedom and sense of relief I’d not experienced for a while.

Landing in Portland I hit the ground running. It had been a little over a year since leaving, and coming back to the West Coast felt fresh, vibrant and so very clear. I was there to be the anchor host for KBPS’s “Seeing Sound” Fundraising Week and the action started right away. I was whisked off to the radio station for promos and interviews. Since “Radio Reader” Dick Estell had sadly gone down sick and was not able to join us as scheduled, the bulk of the on-air and interviewing work fell to me. In the months leading up to the event, I had taped a number of interviews in New York (the great film star Jane Powell (originally from Portland and with whom I had Howard Keel in common), Leslie Denniston (also from Portland and a good friend with whom I’d worked a number of times and who ended up on Broadway in “Pippin” and on TV in “As The World Turns”), Howard Hessman from “WKRP in Cincinnati”) and was scheduled to do live phone interviews with Sally Struthers (“All in the Family”) and David Ogden Stiers (“M*A*S*H”) as well as some local performers and celebrities.

The studio was small and a lot of folks were crammed into the tiny space making it intimate and all slightly breathless. During the week, I had spoken briefly to my live guests in advance of going on-air, and managed to maintain the chatty banter about their support for and the importance of Public Radio and Educational Broadcasting, and stories from their professional lives. My final interview for the week was with Sally Struthers. This was something special. I’d neither met nor spoken to her before that evening, but in the few minutes on the phone before we went live, we had introduced ourselves to each other and I found her to be very relaxed, engaging and very funny. In response to my first on-air and rather generic interview question about being a big star working in television she declared “Oh come on, Richard. We know each other better than that!” and we launched into a long, rather personal conversation about being in show business and the trials and tribulations and rewards we’d both experienced. The folks in the studio and the studio itself all seemed to disappear as we laughed and commiserated and cajoled each other to the point where I hated to say goodbye to her. People commented afterward that it sounded like we were old friends just catching up. It was a memorable night. Over the week, we managed to raise $25,000.00 for the station and I was very happy to have been a part of it. But it was time to say goodbye to Portland (again) and head North; but not before lining up a lot of work for the summer back with the Summer Rep. at Portland Civic Theatre. Gotta keep it moving, right?

In the summer of 1963, the cross-country train from Montreal to Banff (and the School of Fine Arts) had a stop in Winnipeg for an hour. I got off to stretch my legs and wandered out to the front of the station to have a look around. Main Street stretched out to my right and left. The land was flat for miles and miles around and it was hot and dusty and brown. My only thought was “who would ever want to live here!?” I got back on the train and headed to the Rockies. Little did I know that twenty years later that hot, dusty town would be the center of my universe for almost thirty years!

It was pretty cold coming out of the airport (the end of February will always be miserable in Winnipeg) but I was there, finally, anxious and excited to get going. The Manitoba Theatre Centre was incredible! I felt like I had moved from the moat into the castle as far as theatre conditions were concerned. This was a long established professional theatre in every way – as I mentioned earlier, MTC was Mecca as far as Canadian Theatre went – and the staff welcomed me (as they did every performer) with incredible generosity and respect. That pervading attitude had obviously been set by the person at the top of the chain, Richard Ouzounian, the Artistic Director. As I quickly came to understand, he was generous, loyal and devoted, patient and, above all, compassionate. It was “Mr. Hurst” at every meeting and encounter with department heads and staff. I was in heaven!!

My first play at MTC was Bernard Pomerance’s “The Elephant Man” playing ‘Sir John’. This was its Canadian premiere and we launched into rehearsals two days after my arrival (which gave me time to buy gloves and a down coat and boots!!!). For years I’d always regarded myself as something of a grunt when it came to working in the Theatre. By that I mean I considered what I did to be work at the demand of others – the director, the designers, the producers. Of course, there was a degree of recognition as a result of the work I’d done, but my reality was usually one of toiling in dark basement rooms at odd hours for minimal pay. It was rewarding on a personal and creative level but the ambience in which it played out was just a bit shoddy and gloomy and not a little bit second rate. Perhaps I had allowed that to identify me even in my own mind. I guess that thinking was a vestige of New York I was still hanging on to. I was now in The Light!

I quickly learned the difference between being pushed or dragged though the rehearsal period and being guided through it. A respect for personal process was the foundation for an emotionally safe and protected environment which, to this day, is my basis for directing. Working in that production with the likes of Lorne Kennedy, David Schurmann and John Innes was a daily Master Class in a considered approach and execution, absolute focus and attention to detail. It also taught me not to be quite so serious about the craft all the time. These were incredibly funny men and the combination of work and play was glorious! For me, those days laid a solid base for the next four years of the Acting Company that Richard eventually established and the work of which was considered to be, at least by Gina Mallett, the Toronto-based theatre critic, “fire on the Prairies”. Even as “Elephant Man” took to the boards in the evenings, we were on to other things during the day.

The next production was Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” in which I played ‘Old Adam’. The luxury of developing a character assisted by a production team that listened to and considered one’s thoughts about costuming and wigs and make-up validated my approach and, as a result, my portrayal of this relatively small character within the play was praised if only because of that wonderful support. For everyone, the play was indeed “the thing” and our energies were singularly focused on making it as fine a production as it possibly could be.

The playbill for the next season evolved and I was asked back with a packet of roles which, to this day, I still shiver at: ‘Tranio’ in “Shrew”, ‘Antonio’ in “Tempest”, ‘Clock Charlie Brown’ in “Black Bonspiel” and “Side By Side By Sondheim”. Rehearsing Sondheim during the day and performing Shakespeare at night … well, who could ask for more! The season concluded with great celebration and we all headed in different directions to our various summer involvements already looking forward to being back together again in a few months. This had become my family and I was going to miss them.

I arrived Portland only a few months after having left and was into rehearsals for a Summer Rep. production of “Cole!”, a very classy revue of Cole Porter tunes that brought together some great friends with great voices. Never one to let the grass grow under my feet, I also started to develop and ultimately present a cabaret act for late night weekend shows with the great Ron Snyder at the piano in a cozy, small bistro called Dobie’s  in Portland’s Old Town. Performing Cole Porter during the evening and songs of other Musical Theatre composers I loved late at night set me down in a bubble of Bliss and Harmony. But there was something lurking in the back of my mind that didn’t feel quite right.

I realized, gradually, that I was in a kind of limbo. Where was I supposed to be? Over the previous two years I had moved from city to city and didn’t really have a home. Even in New York I had moved four times in the short period I was there. I slept on friend’s couches or in spare rooms. There were even a couple of houses I had rented for short periods. I hadn’t truly settled in Winnipeg because I was leaving again for Portland not that long after arriving. Where did I belong? Years later I came to understand the intricacies of a nomadic life. Some of the orchestra musicians I was contracting on extended show tours had, in a couple of cases, spent almost three years on the road, living out of suitcases in hotel rooms that changed every week. They told me you get used to it and develop a kind of routine that eases the feeling of being so unsettled and that’s what keeps you on an even keel. But at this point in time, I was actually “homeless”. I had no furniture, no dishes or cooking utensils, no book collection or shelves, no towels or bed sheets and it was beginning to affect me in ways I didn’t think I could do anything about. I found myself growing anxious for no apparent reason, edgy and nervous. Being without a home to call my own was taking a toll.

And then, on June 20^th, 1981, I fell massively in love.

I’m letting that just hang there for a moment. Bet you didn’t see THAT coming! Neither did I!! These posts are not about that aspect of my life (maybe some other time) but I mention it because, over time, it altered a great many perceptions of who I was as a performer … and as a person. I write “massively” because it consumed me as new love tends to do, completely, mightily!

By now I was into rehearsals for the next production on my schedule – Thornton Wilder’s “The Matchmaker” – and the Oregon summer was into its dog days. I was living in two places, one which I had rented and was rarely at, and the other with this Love that had very securely found its way into my life. There was a third place as well – the Theatre. I put it in last position because it had become that last place I wanted to be. The cabaret Late Nights at Dobie’s counted as part of the Romance and I felt, for want of a better word, “real” there. My songs were from my heart and, despite full houses, I was really singing to an audience of one. I had started to close off from the outside world and I couldn’t help myself. My time on stage as ‘Ambrose’ was an intrusion and I began to resent having to go to the Theatre. On the outside an observer might think I had everything going for me. In fact, I was incredibly conflicted. I knew the summer would soon end and that I had to go back to Winnipeg. What WAS this!? How was this supposed to WORK?!

While “Matchmaker” was still running I created more chaos for myself by directing a production of “Cabaret” to which I’d long ago committed myself for one of the theatres in town. Because of a poor casting decision on my part and a great deal of procrastination regarding replacement, I ended up playing the ‘Herr Schultz’ role (again) which just added to my upheaval.  In spite of taking on a huge voice-over project for an Evangelical organization in South America (yeah, I can’t figure that one out either), teaching some performance classes and being on a weekend softball team, I was desperately trying to make some sense of my personal life.

The summer slowly wound down and much too soon, it was time to head back to The Peg. Our leave-taking got all Rod McKuen-y and Dan Folgelburg-ish and was gut wrenching. But what could I do? Plans for visits had been made and I took some heart in that. But was the problem of a long-distance relationship going to affect my work and my focus in the months to come? As it turned out it did, but the perfect solution came from a most unexpected source!!