remembrances...

Chicago lost two cultural icons this week - Gerald Arpino and the great Studs Turkel. I have fond memories of close encounters with both of these men:

Studs Terkel
It was several years ago, and I was volunteering for Lyric Opera's annual Operathon fundraiser. I think this was the first year I volunteered for it, and I was placed on the 4th floor, with the assignment of bringing guests to the radio room for their segments. Sounds exciting, doesn't it? It really wasn't. We only got a handful of guests and the rest of the time was spent staring into space. I'd had no idea what to expect, so I hadn't brought anything interesting along in my bag - no book, magazine, something to doodle on, nothing. Who would have thought I would have needed something to do? Anyway, I was sitting there, waiting for something to happen, with another volunteer who had brought a book along with her (she was considerably older than me, and not inclined to start talking to some kid, I guess) when the door opened and Mr. Studs Terkel was escorted out. He was, I believe, walking out with Ed Pashke (who had designed the poster for Sweeney Todd that year - which tells you how long ago this was! I think about 5 years ago?) Studs stopped, spotted my name badge and chatted with me about my appropriately operatic last name. He was completely charming, and it was the highlight of my afternoon.

Gerald Arpino
When I met "Mr. A" (always Mr. A for me, I could never call him "Gerry." Kind of like when I was student teaching with a teacher I'd had in eighth grade. I always called him "Mr. Daiberl" never ever "Richard" or "Dick." I just couldn't do it. Out of respect, I guess. Or perhaps a sort of reverential awe?) he was already well past his prime years of choreographing. Still in the studio and around the office though, he was a familiar figure with that dark hair, perfect dancer's posture and big coat. He had no clue who I was, of course, as he was starting to become forgetful. It was just accepted that I too was part of his company (administratively speaking) , and if I should bring him in his cup of coffee or did something to help, I was given a big smile and a fond, "Thanks, baby."

The last few times I saw him were in September. The first was at the company's free performance at Pritzker Pavilion honoring the victims of 9/11. I sat behind him, watching him as he watched his company perform two of his great works, Kettentanz and Round of Angels. Someone in the seat in front of him turned around and said "Thank you for giving these to us."

It was strange during the fall program, not to see him in his usual spot in his box, or hearing his familiar voice calling "Bravo!" to the dancers. He said once that the company had been watched over by angels - those in heaven who'd given them their start, and those on earth who helped the company through the most difficult of times. Now, he too, is one of those angels, watching over the company.