Exit Stage Left

By Chris James

Chapter One

Of all the places a boy might choose to grow up, California is probably high on the list. The southern reaches of the state revel in their deserts and beaches, while the north advertises their fine wines and towering forests. To any adolescent the state has attractions unlike any other.

But those are the views of an outsider. California is a state built by outsiders who came to seek their fortunes and stayed when they succeeded... or failed. They stayed because they couldn't afford to make the trip back to wherever they came from, or they stayed because they discovered that California was the Promised Land.

The people are unique and like to think of themselves as trendsetters for the nation. But on land wrenched from the natives, either Mexican or Native American, a territory was built and gold was its ticket to statehood. The true flood of people began after the War Between the States left the southland desolate and unproductive.

The soldiers of both sides found common ground in California, although the ground was often a little shaky. Southern farmers discovered the San Joaquin Valley to be the most fertile ground they had ever encountered. Northern men discovered the vast reaches of primeval forest in the north, trees unlike anyplace else in the land.

Business flourished with hard working honest people struggling to make a home for their families, and along with them came crooks who sought to steal that wealth. The former generally prospered, some of the latter became politicians.

Over the decades since those early times, the cities, towns, and entire regions took on a life of their own, a unique identity. San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco, famous cities spread up and down the coast. But it was in Sacramento that the state found its strength.

Halfway from the gold-bearing mountains bordering Nevada to the rich teaming Pacific Ocean, Sacramento was built near the confluence of two rivers, the American and Sacramento. The rivers were widened and the city became an inland port for commerce. It was here that state government settled in to dominate a large and ethnically mixed population. It was a good place to settle down, raise a family and enjoy the American dream. And this is where we find ourselves as the story begins.

While growing up, Dennis King was just an average little boy. A January baby, he was a Capricorn, an earth sign, the sign of the goat. That was fitting, Dennis was a stubborn child, and once his mind was set on something he usually persevered until he had his way.

He was remarkably adept with his hands, and like most small boys he took things apart and put them back together... most of the time. His mother tried to get him in kindergarten the fall before his fifth birthday but the public school system didn't buy it, he was still only four.

His mother wanted Dennis to socialize with other children; the main reason behind that decision was that she was pregnant with a second child. So his parents put him in private school where he remained throughout his elementary years. By the time Dennis was in sixth grade he had a little brother and two baby sisters.

The expenses of this larger family forced his parents to place Dennis back in public school. The boy didn't seem to mind this; he was advanced for his age, but probably a bit naïve when it came to social interaction with his peers. And then there was this new issue, one Dennis could not discuss.

The feelings came long before puberty arrived, the realization of what it meant shortly thereafter. Dennis was not one to act out on this new understanding of himself. He did not want to set himself up as a target. No matter that the school system in Sacramento was probably the most liberal around, the students said one thing and often did another.

Gay was a word he could understand, but not the way it was thrown around by so many of his peers. These personal feelings led Dennis to the internet where most of his questions were answered in one way or another. The computer his parents had given him was set up with parental controls to limit his exploration, but it took him less than two days to hack his way past that.

Like most twelve year olds, the ins and outs of the computer world quickly became familiar ground. His parents trusted him, but still on the off chance that his father would investigate, Dennis put in place the protocols that would alert him to intrusion, and set up his computer to automatically erase his search history.

The standard gay fare he found online was pornographic and often shocking. It inspired some personal sexual exploration at two o'clock in the morning, but he soon got past that. Chat rooms were filled with gay boys his age, and those pretending to be gay boys. But the vast encyclopedic nature of the information he found gave Dennis confidence. If he was gay it was normal, it was just the way he was and life could go on.

By middle school he was labeled a geek and he could laugh that off. Better to be known as a geek than for someone to discover the truth. Dennis decided that the gay thing could be explored later when he was older... and when he could deal with it.

He took the knowledge he'd gained online and parlayed it into a place on the honor roll, which kept the parents off his back. But he was the oldest sibling in his family, and as the best behaved he was given a great deal of freedom.

By ninth grade Dennis was a new freshman at Fremont High School in the valley and discovered he had to make a choice. High school was supposed to be a place of learning, and yet too many of the students there thought they were better than him. He was there for the academics, they all wanted to party. The geeks in the midst of all this were a target for intimidation, and it would be worse if they discovered Dennis' deep secret.

It had nothing to do with suburban Sacramento; it was considered normal behavior across the nation to despise fags. So many kids bought into the propaganda about the gay world, the ignorance made them feel superior. But Dennis knew the truth; the gay kids in his school were the smartest. He just didn't feel confident enough to openly become one of them.

Even at this age Dennis could see there was a future ahead, and that meant more than the next party. He quickly became disgusted with his peers, and realized he needed to make a change. At that point he could have become one of the nameless hoards of dissatisfied public school students, but then his mother changed everything.

His parents led a normal suburban life and had four kids to prove it. Dennis' father worked in banking, vice president of something or another, which gave them a comfortable home and vacations at the beach. His mother played bridge with the local women and spent time gardening, but she was also star struck.

The table beside her chair in the den was stacked with Hollywood gossip magazines; movie stars filled her fantasy world. She kept track of their careers, families and failures in her scrapbooks. It was an innocent pastime until George Briggs hit the road in a tour of the musical Camelot.

As a Christmas present, Dennis' father gave her two tickets to see the show at the Community Theatre. He might as well have cleared out the vault at the bank and handed it to her; she thought the tickets were gold plated. All Dennis knew was that on the night of January third he would be home babysitting his brother and two little sisters. It was so unfair.

Christmas in southern California was an anomaly of the season celebrated everywhere else. Santa's in red board shorts and sandals appeared on the sidewalks, it gave no credibility to the fake snow in the manger displays around town. Santa would be there on Christmas, except he would probably arrive on a surf board.

School was out for two weeks of seasonal vacation, it should have been a time of joy. The flu made the rounds of the bank and Dennis' father caught it. His mother pawned the younger kids off on her sister in Palo Alto to keep them from becoming infected. Dennis stayed home and made chicken soup for his dad. Miraculously, he didn't get ill.

The day before the much touted musical arrived in town George Briggs was interviewed on the local news. He was a handsome man, Dennis thought, but could he sing? They showed a clip filmed during a rehearsal and he had his answer. King Arthur would talk his way through the role.

"Your father can't go, I'm sure he'll be so disappointed," Dennis' mother said. "But we'll have a fine time."

"We... as in you and me?" Dennis asked.

"Yes, dear... I wouldn't go alone."

And if she didn't get to see her favorite movie star then life as they all knew it would change... for the worse. Dennis smiled, donned his best suit and they went.

Sitting in the theatre was hardly different than attending a movie, except the opening before them was covered in a thick velvet curtain. The sound of the orchestra quietly tuning up was the only difference Dennis noted, and then his life changed forever.

Briggs did quite well covering up his lack of a strong singing voice; a marvelous supporting cast did the trick. For an ancient fantasy, this Camelot had never seemed so real. Dennis was amazed at the scenery, the costumes, and the story. He felt himself being swept away.

This production catered to everything in a boy's imagination. Knights in armor, evil villains, there was even a real horse in the last act. But ultimately the story line of the musical was a tragedy and Dennis found himself choked up with emotion. He watched his mother dab her eyes with a tissue, and yet she was smiling.

She bubbled all the way home about how wonderful Briggs had been and Dennis nodded, lost in his own thoughts. The music and the singers had been good, but he wanted to meet the man who had designed the scenery. If there had been genius on that stage it was due to the man who made Dennis believe that Camelot was real. After that day it was an easy choice, Dennis wanted to attend Cabot Performing Arts High School.

His grades would get him in, after he had 'the talk' with his parents. His mother was thrilled, his father formed the opposition.

"What kind of career can you have with a degree in theatre?"

"I could design shows on Broadway, or movie sets," Dennis said.

"You'll end up managing a McDonalds in no time."

"The school has an intense academic curriculum, Dad. I'll be the best manager McDonalds has ever seen," Dennis replied.

"Now, Henry... the boy has always been good in school, it's about time we let him make a few choices on his own."

Dennis smiled. "Thanks, Mom... I'll make sure you get free tickets to every show I design."

"Oh yes, that's a wonderful idea," She laughed.

"I'm sure I'll live to regret this," Henry said. But he hadn't so far.

What Dennis remembered so well about his decision to attend Cabot was the interview he had with Arthur Lynch in the spring of his ninth grade year. If he was going to attend Cabot that fall he first had to get accepted. Dennis had never been more focused on a goal in his life.

The school was a large complex that held classrooms and performance spaces. Three huge buildings were lined up facing the vast parking lot, one for drama and musical performance, one for dance, and the last one for the film and television students. Cabot covered all the performing disciplines; the school system had placed all its eggs in one basket.

The parking area held a lot of cars and so Dennis knew school was in session, but he didn't see anyone as he walked up the steps. He had discussed this interview with his parents who offered him some good advice on dress and manners. But Dennis insisted on only one thing, he would go it alone, and so his mother sat out in the car and read a book.

The lobby of the academic wing was filled with display cases. Whereas a normal high school might display the trophies of its various sports teams there was none of that here. There were a few trophies, some models of scenery from past productions and then there was the gallery of picture frames.

Cabot had been open for almost eight years and in that time a couple of students had gone on to bigger and better things, their faces were on the wall. Beside them hung certificates for excellence in statewide drama and dance competitions. It was all pretty impressive, and a little intimidating.

The building seemed to hum with activity around him as Dennis signed in at the office and was then shown to Principal Lynch's office. The man was sitting behind a broad desk playing with a Rubik's Cube. He smiled when Dennis walked in.

"Sorry, I have yet to master this darn thing," Lynch admitted, dropping the cube on his desk with a sigh.

Dennis smiled. "I hear if you can memorize a certain number of algorithms the puzzle can be solved in less than two dozen moves."

Lynch stared at him, and then a smile crept across his face. "I studied a great deal of advanced mathematics in my college days; you'd think that might give me an advantage." Then he laughed. "My grandson solves this darn thing in three minutes. Just proves the old dogs and new tricks adage."

He moved the cube to the side and looked down at the open file on his desk. "So, Mr. King... what brings you to our door?"

"I would like to become a theatre major, Dr. Lynch. You have the best program for what I want."

Lynch nodded. "Yes, we do. Your application mentions no involvement in theatre, what made you decide this?"

"I know, my realization came late," Dennis said. "I saw the musical Camelot last winter at the Community Theatre. What I would now judge to be a poor performance disguised behind a wonderful production."

Lynch smiled. "Well said, I thought the same thing. I see here you have all the academic values of a good student, maybe better than most. Are you involved in any social or sports programs?"

Dennis shook his head. "No, sorry to say I'm not. I read a lot and swim at the pool in summer; I don't get to the beach very much. I guess that means I'm pretty much a geek, Dr. Lynch."

"And so are the other two hundred and twelve boys and girls we have in our theatre program, Dennis. Why should you be any different? To a student at Cabot a social life means attending a cast party or going out to breakfast with the crew at two in the morning. I would venture to say your stay with us would be quite productive.

"Like all the students you'll have to choose a course of study in one of four disciplines. Music, dance, acting or technical production are each a part of the whole view of performance arts. You'll learn a little bit of everything before you graduate. I don't see any problems with your application, so let me welcome you aboard."

And that was it, he was in. Dennis remembered Lynch's comments every time he finished a rehearsal and went out to eat at midnight. If there was one thing every student got from Cabot it was a dose of reality. Theatre was fun and hell at the same time. It would be a lot easier to choose a career as a junkie as he soon discovered that theatre was an addiction.

As he began that fall, Dennis looked at the students around him in class. He would be spending a lot of time with these people; he would get to know them very well. Conversely, they would get to know him, and that meant everything. There were still things he was reluctant to talk about, but this would be the place he could open that closet door.

His academic classes were about what he expected, except the curriculum was designed to cater to the theatre student's abnormal life. Homework was done from programs off a website; he was given his own password the very first day. Lessons for each subject were posted there, keyed to his identity and class. The whole semester was posted there.

That first week was loaded with surprises, their daily schedule being only the first one. The academic day ran from 10 am to 1 pm and then broke for lunch. At 2 pm class resumed, only this time it was a theatre class in acting, dance or stagecraft which was generally over by 3:30. Then it was lab time, something for each discipline, until 5:30 when school was dismissed.

A lot of the students went home to eat dinner and returned for rehearsals at seven, others stuck around, ate fast food and continued to work on the lab assignments. Dennis soon discovered that most of the technical students were at the school seven days a week and often went home only to sleep. He would soon be one of them... he was looking forward to it. And he had decided to major in production design.

English and Algebra would occupy his morning three days a week, Science and History on the other two. All new students were directed to the computer lab on their first day where they were each handed a laptop. Dennis was a sophomore in a sea of freshmen; it made him feel like he had wasted a year. But Lynch had assured him it didn't matter, he would soon catch up.

"Make them your own, people," Mr. Lowell said. "They really are the ultimate educational tool until you graduate, and then you get to keep them. The Great State of California and the school board have determined that each of you shall be given one of these to pursue your academic careers. I have only one word to say on that score, and I will repeat it three times. Backup... backup... backup."

Lowell smiled. "All your class work will be done on this device, submitted by this device and everything you study for a test will be accessible through this device. Be sure to kiss it every night before you go to bed, you're now married to it."

The device was brand name, state of the art and specially designed to endure the rigors of life as served up by a teenager. Their password was in a little envelope attached to each unit, along with the directions on how to personalize it. It was like Christmas all over again.

In the first classroom that afternoon devoted to stagecraft he met Marsha Wheeler; she was a new sophomore too. She was a nice looking girl, tall and thin, with a pleasant smile. She had the hands of a pianist; long slender fingers that Dennis would soon learn were more attuned to sewing. She gave him a nod as their eyes met, and then the teacher swept into the room.

Michael Brady was the head of the technical department, and thus by default he designed the shows unless he allowed someone else to do it. Dennis had no idea how the various components of a production came together, Brady soon took care of that.

The man had a reasonable method of teaching. His lessons were interspersed with small stories meant to amuse, but which often turned out to be a warning of what could happen if a student was careless. The machinations of a theatre production involved a lot of movement of large objects in darkness; it was bound to be dangerous to the unwary.

In that first class alone they learned about the various parts of the theatre stage and what they were called.

"That way if you're walking across a darkened stage and trip over something as you fall into the orchestra pit then at least you'll know what to call it on the accident report," Brady said. There were smiles, but most of them knew he wasn't joking.

The lab that afternoon was assembled in the center of the main stage and consisted of fourteen students gawking at the cavernous space. Dennis glanced out at the audience seating, the 'house' Brady had called it. This one seated eight hundred people in modern splendor.

Brady soon joined them. "As you see the orchestra pit is covered. When it's open you will see the warning lights in the wall that burn 24/7. If you look closely we also have these tiny neon bulbs embedded in the lip of the stage, that way the actors and crew can see where the void begins during blackouts.

"One of your fellow students has prepared a little demonstration. It will give you some idea of how advanced our facility is, and show you things you need to learn." He turned his head up towards the back of the house.

"Tommy, you ready?" Brady asked.

"All set," A voice replied from the sound system.

"Cabot is fortunate enough to have state of the art electronics for sound, lighting and even scenery movement. For student productions most of what you do on stage will be in manual operation for teaching purposes, this is just to show you what we can do with the equipment. Follow me, please."

Brady led them down a narrow staircase set into the stage by the proscenium wall. Dennis remembered the word from the class lecture. The proscenium was part of the picture frame that ran up either side and across the top of the stage. They were told to take seats in the front row.

"OK, Tommy," Brady said.

The house lights darkened as the work lights over the stage snapped out. Dennis was glad he was sitting down; the whole theatre was in darkness now. From over the sound system came the strains of the 1812 Overture, and things began to happen.

Lights slowly came on, revealing a deep blue curtain that covered the opening of the stage. Dennis hadn't even seen it come down in the dark. The gentle flood of light on the curtain grew in intensity and then the curtain moved upwards and within seconds was gone from sight.

The stage was bare for about ten seconds and then black curtains began to drop down from overhead. Beginning at the proscenium and going to the back wall Dennis counted five overhead curtains... borders Brady had called them. Then the side curtains dropped in, the legs, which hid the off stage areas left and right. Now everything was framed and the fun began.

First the lighting battens moved down, each of them holding several dozen fixtures. They lowered to different heights, the colors changing in time with the music reminding Dennis of a rock show. A white gauzy curtain came down at the back as the lights went up out of sight, and then another gauze curtain came down at mid stage and was filled with bright light.

The first scenery they saw was a huge arched doorway that flew down, followed by sections of walls. The general lighting dimmed and the scenery was lit in pools of light. Above the walls and doorway a three dimensional image appeared through the gauze, the unmistakable skyline of New York. It looked so cool.

But this Tommy guy wasn't finished, not by a long shot. The walls and doorway flew out and the curtains began to close in, building a dark tunnel towards the back wall and that skyline. The mid-stage gauze curtain flew out and the skyline was revealed to be a cutout hanging in air. With the forced perspective of the curtains closing in, the skyline was lowered revealing that it was barely four feet high as it gently kissed the stage.

The curtains opened wider, revealing more and more of the white curtain behind the skyline just as the soundtrack reached the cannons firing in the Overture. Splashes of color in shapes like fireworks burst here and there over the skyline and continued until the music ended. Then like magic, the skyline, the curtains and the lights all vanished upwards, leaving the stage bare once again.

They applauded as the house lights came back up and the stage lights blinked on.

"Thank you... thank you," A voice was heard to say. "Next time, throw money." And laughter could be heard over the sound system.

Brady smiled as he stood up. "That would be our own Tommy Dean, he's a senior this year and he'll be showing you a lot of those lighting tricks first hand."

He leaned against the front of the stage and looked up and down the row. "I'm fortunate to have the teaching aid of a student like Tommy, and every time I get a new class I wonder who will come next. The students here shoulder a great deal of the responsibility in production; it's the best way to learn.

"We do so much that I can't keep up with it all and so as I look at you I ask myself which one of you will be like Tommy? He'll be off on tour with the Maitland Opera next summer before he starts college. What you just saw he did on his own with about an hour's worth of programming time. That young man is going places."

There was silence in the theatre and then a voice came over the speakers. "Thanks, Chief."

And Brady smiled. "You're welcome, Mr. Dean."