The Real Story

Johnny Mangano had a lot of trash to carry with him. He's always portrayed as a self-centered, ego-centric gambler without a soul. Yeah, sure, Charlotte wrapped him up in her little cage she'd made out of which they'd never get out - Charlotte's Web. In the end he lays his guts on the floor and offers up his entrails to Charlotte. But how did he end up here?



In 1966 Johnny, then known as Jean to his friends, traveled to India to study the tabla under Pandit Chatur Lal . Like Chatur Lal, Jean had no formal education. He grew up in a family of musicians and poets. He took to life in the back streets of Delhi, doing what he had to do to get by. Eventually he ended up in All India Radio. From his training under Chatur Lal he developed a style of his own, noted for a lightning rhythmic pattern and an intimate understanding of the immediate mood. When asked he would reply that the one thing he'd really understood in all his training was this one thing: "All My Efforts Have Served A Single Purpose: Sangat Both In Art And Life." He would also say that because he didn't know what Sangat was he didn't have a clue what that meant. The weight of this mis-comprehension drove Jean to despair. He lost weight. His tablas were stolen. His life meaningless.

Disheartened Jean went back to Canada, frequenting many local bars, getting into fights, and, of course, gambling too much. At this fragile moment in his life he ran into Charlotte, a woman in need of a man. He let her put the whole dog show together and drag him around for twelve years. When he finally broke down and pleaded to her, "What would you do if I let you go?" it's really out of his own desperation out of the fear of being alone. He knew Charlotte (very nice name) would make it alone. More like it was he who needed her, and didn't he know it.

As luck would have it though ... well, the next night during the performance there was a very interesting person in the audience.............

The Genesis

And in the beginning, there was a spot-light. Wait, back up--in the beginning there wasn't a spotlight. There wasn't even a stage. There was only the desire to perform, to move people, to emote. The thing is, there has never really been a theatre on Fort Myers Beach. Many people have noticed it, but only a few people have felt so strongly about it that they decided to create their own damn theatre. And thus was born The Orpheus Players. Rob Shineyoung Rosenberger first sidled up to the Greek cafe and befriended Tony Mallous, part-owner of the cafe. Somehow or other, they got to talking, and the theatre was born. The first show was, oh what the...oh yeah, "Hooters." A cute show about young love and the troubles it brings. One of the actors broke their arm, if I recall correctly, and so Rob called me to stand in for the actor. Since it was that night, I did the part with the script in my hand.
We did some Mamet after that, Sexual Perversity in Chicago, with the infamous
"6th actor" making an appearance (the show was done in our underwear, basically, and, well, Rob forgot to pin his slit, or whatever you call that nifty easy access located in the front of most boxers and briefs.) It just fell out, not the other thing you are probably thinking of. After that we did, hmmm, let me see, I guess The Tales of King Farouk, and On Tidy Endings, the first being a piece that Rob wrote as a spoof off of Derrick Redd's rantings from Sexual Perversity (he played Bernie perfectly) and the second a touching piece about a man who comes to terms with his homosexuality. His wife has to come to terms with it, too. I can't actually recall all of the shows in order. There are many posters up in the Orpheus that would help me remember. We did Mamet's Speed the Plow. Rob has nicknamed me plow ever since. It was good times.
It was not at all easy though. We've had issues since day one with the venue. It has taken Jimmy and Chimo, the other bothers in the Orpheus Cafe trio, almost ten years to stop calling us "the fucking gypsies," which usually was followed by all of our set going in the garbage. We got so sick of it that we started looking for another venue to perform and found the Holmes House. By now, Rob had moved on, but the theatre was still going. With Donna Prima as the main artistic director and Mark and I as the other two legs of the Orpheus Players Tripod, we were a pretty tight troupe. We found the Holmes House, our dream spot, with Petra as owner and facilitator. She gave us the whole back room to perform, we offered patrons fabulous dinners by Chef Rudi before the show, and a full bar. It was everything we ever needed. We did Crimes of the Heart there, a live radio show version of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy (before the film came out, as Mark would say,) and Extremities, where we got to tie up and beat James Knox-Benfer for being a rapist, and the famed Babel Rap, my first direction, where I had to call out the actors lines because they had already been round and round, and round and round, and I couldn't bear to hear them go round again. Then Hurricane Charley came through, and the Holmes House was gone. Easy come, easy go. I had a baby, and some time went by, but the flame never died. The next time we got together, we decided to do Sam Shepard's Seduced. We built a tent underneath the Ligthouse Resort, and did the show that way. It actually worked! With little other options, we decided if we were going to keep performing, we needed to go back to our roots and try the Orpheus Cafe again. We approached the brothers, (this is a few years later,) and they were receptive. It is amazing how time heals, because during our last run, Jimmy stayed almost every night we performed and even Chimo said that we do a good job. The first show we did when we got back to the Orpheus was The Boiler Room Suite, about two homeless people who find some comfort in a boiler room and a bottle of wine. We just finished Berthe and Johnny Mangano and His Astonishing Dogs, two plays by Michele Tremblay, about the life of performers and wanna-be performers. Let me tell you, we appreciate all that the Orpheus has offered us, but we all know we really need a theatre.
Well, come full circle, it looks like we just may get one. Carl Conley, of the Island Sand Paper, is building the Purple Heart Theatre right here on the beach. We are all still in the talking phase, but chance are, the next time you see us perform, we will be reflecting purple.

I was only reacting!!!

Not many people tonight, eh? Well, that is because we have only begun, my dear, sweet audience. It's true, we are all a part of the audience of life. Oh, you've heard it said that "all the world's a stage, and us, we are merely actors on it" or something of that nature. But I say, what is a stage show without its audience? Some of us are better audience members than others, true, but maybe it is because some of us don't know the most important part of being a member of an audience--reaction! Oh, yes--what poor fragile creatures actors really are, starving for reaction! So, whether we are at the theatre, in the theatre or buried far beneath the theatre, remember to react!
Interestingly, the term react, if broken down is re and act, or to act again. Please, please feel free to react right here, for all the world to read!