CIRCUS ACT
Not your average freak show passes through the Haggerty
ON STAGE
The history of the Super Troupers of Helfaer Theatre
t s e i n n u F n w o t n i e l p o Pe marquettejournal.org
February 2010 | Volume 105, Issue 6
The
The Studio 013 Refugees know how to make you laugh
(
Senior
Charrlyie Bu
)
page 10
Local comedian Patrick Schmitz and the art of teaching class clowns
page 23
Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 1
Thomas Woodruff Freak Parade
January 27 - april 18, 2010
thomas Woodruff Freak Parade
student Fine arts night
Lucinda devlin The Omega Suites
Wednesday, march 3 6 to 8 p.m.
Barbara morgan The Montages stella Johnson Cameroon Images from Al Sol the northern masters Prints by Bol + Dürer + Goltzius + Saenredam + van Heemskerck old masters Paintings from the Haggerty
Free and open to the public marquette student art exhibition Food and refreshments Live performances by: Sanchez! Annie Chung and Anna Luetmer Gold’N Blues The Brew City Big Six Brian Harper
Haggerty museum oF art
Free admission
Marquette University 13th and Clybourn Streets Milwaukee, WI 53233 marquette.edu/haggerty 414 . 288 . 1669
Open daily Monday-Saturday – 10 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Thursday – 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. Sunday – noon to 5 p.m.
2 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
Contents the marquette journal | February 2010
Featured
Marquette’s Funny People By Kaitlin Kovach Not all sports use a bat and a ball. Not all sports are funny. Explore improvisational comedy with campus group the Studio 013 Refugees....................10 Organizing Chaos By Molly Gamble Some lessons are best taught in the classroom. Local comedian Patrick Schmitz teaches kids lessons on comedy with wit and creativity at First Stage Children’s Theater.............23 Journey Charlie Bury Better late than never — this senior only recently changed his career path, but he’s already well on his way to comedy stardom...................31
CIRCUS ACT
Not your average freak show passes through the Haggerty
16
By Sara J. Martinez Marquette’s performing arts program first gained notice in the 1950s under the direction of the Rev. John J. Walsh. How did it progress over the past half century, and what is yet to come?
ON STAGE
The history of the Super Troupers of Helfaer Theatre
t s e i n n u F n w o t n i e l p Peo marquettejournal.org
Growing Up on Stage
February 2010 | Volume 105, Issue 6
The
The Studio 013 Refugees know how to make you laugh
(ChBuarrylie) Senior
page 10
Local comedian Patrick Schmitz and the art of teaching class clowns
page 23
MARQUETTE JOURNAL, FEBRUARY 2010 • 1
Senior Charlie Bury poses for photographer Kevin Griffin.
10
23
To read about Bury’s journey, see page 31.
Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 3
What’s Inside What’s Online These stories can be read only on our Web site! Marquette is Service By Alexandra Engler A wealth of service and social justice opportunities are available at this university. Live in a community dedicated to social justice or find a local cause to volunteer with — it’s all right here at Marquette. Sewer Socialists By Matthew Reddin Explore the City of Milwaukee’s interesting political history. While it isn’t filled with corruption, Milwaukee has got its own share of fascinating stories of the underground and inner workings of government.
28
Real World Experience By Kendra Carruthers
Welcome to the Freak Parade Review by Molly Newman Thomas Woodruff’s eclectic and creepy Freak Parade marches through the Haggerty Art Museum. Step into his three ring circus right in the middle of campus until April 18.
4 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
Some colleges and majors require students to complete internships before they graduate. Read about a few undergraduates’ ventures into the real world long before they receive their diplomas.
Stylephile By Alise Buehrer, with Natalie Emmer and Arianna Green
Blogs
A’s List tips for looking classy in the cubicle. Fisher Reynolds, Christine Kehl, Danica Boehm and Arely Flores showcase trendy workwear...............................7
marquettejournal.org
The Marquette Journal publishes weekly blogs on many different topics, such as pop culture, diversity, cars and fashion. Check them out every day, only at marquettejournal.org.
find us online
2009-2010 Staff Editor-in-Chief
Sara J. Martinez Managing Editor
Patrick Johnson Features Editor
Brooke McEwen Copy Chief
Jesse Carpender Senior Reporter
Caitlin Kavanaugh Online Assistant
Joey Kimes
Features Assistant
Kevin Griffin
Promotions Director
Jacob Weisenberger Chief Designer
Writers
Alise Buehrer Jesse Carpender Kendra Carruthers Tony DiZinno Andreana Drencheva Alexandra Engler Molly Gamble Kevin Griffin Patrick Johnson Caitlin Kavanaugh Joey Kimes Kaitlin Kovach Brooke McEwen Molly Newman Matthew Reddin Ryan Riesbeck
Chief Photographer
Patrick Johnson
Designers
Sara J. Martinez
Contributors
Jimmy Barrett Danica Boehm Natalie Emmer Arely Flores Arianna Green Christine Kehl Bill Lacy Samantha Martinson Charlie Mohl Andrew Pauly Fisher Reynolds Patrick Schmitz David Stein
Brooke McEwen
Photographers Kevin Griffin Dylan Huebner
To advertise, call Student Media Advertising: 414-288-1738
from the editor S upercalifragilisticexpialidocious, as defined by Mary Poppins, is: “something to say when you have nothing to say.” If you asked me to describe this edition of The Marquette Journal in one word, that would probably be the most appropriate use of language. As we returned to begin the spring semester, the editors and I were presented with a series of difficult challenges. As we planned our third print issue of 2009-’10, things fell apart. Communication fell through, we didn’t have enough stories for a quality magazine, and everything was just messed up. You can’t have a magazine without any articles. What could we say when there was nothing to be said? Instead of panicking and stressing out, we did what everyone should do when faced with situations that might look hopeless: Sit back, take a deep breath and laugh about it. Why waste time freaking out when we could just have fun with the situation? An overwhelming giggle fit can often lead to the most brilliant ideas: Why not make a magazine that makes us laugh, too? We scoured our archives and tested the extent of our journalistic skills to gather a series of stories about performers, funny people and anything goofy that we felt could add to a lighthearted publication. We pulled through in one of our toughest time crunches, and overcoming those obstacles feels good. It also feels good to have a feel-good collection of stories. It started out as something to say when we had nothing to say, but we ended up producing some of our proudest work. In the 1964 Walt Disney film, Mary Poppins goes on to explain that supercalifragilisticexpialidocious really expresses a fantastically fabulous feeling. You might be able to apply the term to yourself when you’re finished reading this magazine. Here, we hope to entertain and enlighten with a series on comedy, theater, really weird stuff and really funny guys. Sit back, relax, and we hope you enjoy the show.
The Marquette Journal 1131 W. Wisconsin Ave. #006 Milwaukee, Wis. 53233 editor@marquettejournal.org Faculty Adviser
sara.martinez@marquette.edu
Dr. Steve Byers Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 5
Iread the Journal.
6 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
Stylephile Photographs
By Alise Buehrer by Brooke McEwen
In today’s competitive job market, it’s more important than ever to stand out while maintaining a professional appearance. Dressing well for interviews, internships and entry-level jobs can make or break our credibility in the workplace. While our generation is redefining the fashion guidelines of corporate America, one wandering hemline is all it takes to knock us off the corporate ladder. With structured lines, unexpected detail and powerful color combinations, this season provides an ideal opportunity to perfect our work wardrobe and show ‘em who’s boss. Contributors: Natalie Emmer and Arianna Green
Fisher Reynolds, Freshman, College of Arts & Sciences Dream Job: Political Consultant Frost Brothers sport coat. Calvin Klein sweater. IZOD shirt. Polo Ralph Lauren pants. Vintage belt. Justin boots.
Break the shirt-and-tie routine by making subtle tweaks to your classic ensemble. Layering a twobutton sport coat with textured separates and opting out of traditional dress shoes will catch the attention of coworkers and clients.
Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 7
Steer clear of dull blouses and shapeless skirts. Opting for structured jackets, popular prints and quirky eyewear will show your colleagues you’re up to date on the latest trends.
Don’t shy away patterns and bu keeping a strea well-tailored bl you can play w pieces without timeless silhou
Christine Kehl, Senior, College of Education Dream Job: High School Teacher Express Design Studio blazer. Forever 21 dress and earrings. A.J. Morgan glasses. American Eagle brooch. J.Crew bracelet. Aldo shoes.
8 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
Danica Boehm, Junior, College of Communication
Arely Flores, Junior, College of Communication
Dream Job: Advertising Executive
Dream Job: Nonprofit Executive Director
H & M jacket and necklace. J. Crew shirt and belt. Jaspal shorts. Handmade earrings. Vintage bracelet. Michael Kors watch. Simply Vera Vera Wang tights. Nine West shoes.
Luci Boutique blouse and ring. Express Design Studio skirt. Icing glasses. Forever 21 hairpiece, bracelet and tights. Mossimo shoes.
y from mixed ursts of color. By amlined skirt and louse on hand, with statement sacrificing your uette.
Agencies are the perfect place to mix creativity with sophistication. Embrace the latest take on work wear by sporting tights with trouser shorts, but tone down the bold combo with creamy neutrals and classic tweed toppers. Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 9
The Fugees (left to right) David Stein, Andrew Pauly, Samantha Martinson, Jimmy Barrett, Charlie Mohl and Bill Lacy (laying down) goof around during a practice.
10 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
y n n FPueople s ’ e t t e u q r a M
Studio 013 Refugees deliver Clever. Witty. Improv.
M
By Kaitlin Kovach Photographs by Kevin Griffin
embers of the Studio 013 Refugees don’t know much about how the group they dedicate so much time to was started. A tattered cardboard box filled with random materials has been passed down from year to year, but pieces have been separated from the puzzle over time. The earliest evidence the box holds of the group’s existence is a photo album that dates to the spring of 1999. The group is even a mystery to Marquette offices that usually hold that type of information. In the eyes of the University Archives, the Fugees don’t exist. The Office of Student Development, which keeps files on all student groups, had an empty folder with the Fugees’ name on it. Technically, the Fugees aren’t their own student organization. The group was started as a subgroup of the Marquette University Players Society in 1997 by then-student Jason Long. Even though he was a biomedical engineering major, Long was involved with the studio theater program throughout his tenure at Marquette. Improv frequently came up within the program. “Everyone would try to do improv, but it never went anywhere,” he says. One semester, Long had an engineering co-op and wasn’t taking classes. This left him with significantly more free time than a normal semester. That same semester, performing arts professor Phyllis Ravel offered to cover the cost for a series of improv classes at ComedySportz for a few interested students. Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 11
12 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
Long, now an assistant professor and chief of motion analysis in the Medical College of Wisconsin’s orthopedic surgery department, attended the ComedySportz classes and determined it was time to try to establish a more lasting improv presence on the Marquette campus. Through MUPS and the performing arts department, he organized a series of improv workshops held in the Helfaer Theatre’s dance studio 013. Long says being associated with MUPS allowed the Fugees to maintain integrity as a performance group. Being independent group would mean the troupe would have to be open to all students. Keeping the performing arts department association maintained an audition process that allowed only the best to join. Current president Peter Ritt said the group stays part of MUPS because there hasn’t been any reason to separate. As far as he’s concerned, the Fugees do their own thing but just use the MUPS name as needed to register space for shows.
than it is for like a 20-minute game, where you have to draw connections from earlier scenes and whatnot.” Long says the group always drew a crowd for its campus performances but “didn’t travel well.” It was hard to convince students to get to an off-campus location and then pay admission for a show that would be free on campus. Under Long’s leadership, the group also did a lot of private, paid performances for parties or corporate events. Near the end of Beehner’s freshman year, the Fugees did their first independent show, “Deep Goat Impact,” in room 100 of Lalumiere Language Hall. “It was usually standing room only,” Beehner says about early performances. “We started doing the Refugee shows at the end of (my) freshman year, and we would slowly do them more and more often. We would put on shows as often as we could by the time I left.” Despite being disconnected from their origins, the current incarnation of the Studio 013
They’re shorthanded for tonight’s practice. Only three veteran Fugees have come — Peter Ritt, Jimmy Barrett and Samantha Martinson — in addition to the three “Newgees” — Mohl, David Stein and Bill Lacy. The five other members of the group are sick or rehearsing for the performing arts department’s production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” The Newgees have only been to a handful of practices since being added to the group and still have a lot to learn before next week’s show. After two warm-ups that involve a lot of screaming and running around, they move on to improv games. They start with “Line Freeze,” splitting into three pairs, new Fugees with old Fugees. The scenes about bouncy balls, chestnuts and pinky rings go as well as they could. No one has any negative feedback once the game is over. While Ritt consults his list to choose another game, the other Fugees organize a miniature game of baseball, using a Reese’s peanut butter cup as a ball.
“I thought we got rid of this alliance when we got rid of the scissor club. This school is so cliquey!” “I guess it would only become an issue if MUPS ever prevented us from doing anything,” Ritt says. “They don’t. If they said, ‘No you can’t do this or that,’ we might consider it.” Auditions were held after the initial workshops in 1997 and six students, including Long, became members of a brand new improv troupe. Long says several names were debated before they settled on the Studio 013 Refugees. The Phat Kids and the Molted Beetles were contenders for a while. But after the workshops were over, the group could never manage to reserve its original practice space, forcing it to find any available room on campus for its twice a week practices — making them refugees from Studio 013. Johnny Beehner, a 2002 Marquette alumnus and former Fugee, was president of the group from 2000 to 2002. Long left the group under Beehner’s care upon his graduation from graduate school in 2000. “I knew it would either do pretty well, or crash and burn,” Long says. Beehner, now a professional comedian, says the group’s early days were heavily based on what they learned from ComedySportz. The Fugees played mostly short-form games used by ComedySportz and their shows almost exclusively involved “competing” against them, alternating between having shows on campus, in the Union Sports Annex, and at ComedySportz, 420 S. 1st St. Today’s Fugees tend to focus on long-form improv, often working games that can take up to a half hour into shows, which Ritt says is a radical departure from what the group did when he joined as a freshman. “It’s a completely different way of thinking,” Ritt says. “You have to refine your way of thinking because it’s different for a five-minute game
Refugees isn’t too different from when it started. They still hold a series of workshops at the beginning of every school year that end in auditions. They still do the occasional off-campus performance, sometimes going as far as Chicago, which current president Ritt says is a testament to how seriously they take their work. They even use the same “Fugee Man” logo Long downloaded from one of the first free clip art Web sites about 13 years ago — the mascot is now emblazoned on the back of the official Fugee track jackets, makes appearances on flyers and has its own Facebook profile. Awesome. Better. Catfish. Fall 2009 — Wednesday night post-midterms, the Studio 013 Refugees have a lot on their plate. There’s a show planned for early November — part of a comedy night planned by Marquette Student Government. Even though it’s not solely their show, the Fugees still plan to promote it as such and they need a name. They’re struggling. Sunday’s practice turned up a few potential options. New Fugee Charlie Mohl suggests “Programs to be a Bitch,” but Jimmy Barrett doesn’t think the Office of Student Development will approve it. President Peter Ritt agrees and offers “Robot House” as a contender. Others agree, and he tentatively writes it down. They’re not thrilled with this choice but hope tonight’s practice will generate something better. Before practice gets underway, plans are solidified for a ComedySportz show just before Thanksgiving. Ritt runs down details of a university holiday promotional video the group is going to be in, and practice starts.
Ritt decides they should move on to a more complex game — “Backwards Scene.” This game typically starts with a scene between two people based on an audience suggestion. From there, the group will work backward, acting out other scenes that show how the story got to that point. The new Fugees have never played “Backwards Scene” before, so Ritt and Barrett offer tips. Ritt says the small group will make it easier. “It’s all about listening and setting other people up,” Barrett says. The key to the game is to pack enough detail into the first scene to build the earlier scenes off of it. Ritt and Barrett point out that the Fugees have a well-established formula for this game — someone usually dies in the first scene they act out, adding finality to the end of the story. They start with “javelin” as a suggestion, but launch into a story about warring high school cliques. The aquarium club’s fish head from its parade float has been stolen by the space club, which plans to give it to the bear club. Barrett, as the plotting leader of the space club, threatens to cut off the aquarium club members’ heads. “I thought we got rid of this alliance when we got rid of the scissor club,” Mohl says in dismay. “This school is so cliquey!” They move backward. From there, the story moves back to the scissor club’s murder by “hit fish” hired by the aquarium club. Ritt and Martinson lie dying on the floor, urging Barrett to avenge them. Eventually the story becomes a soap opera of STD-infected planets sleeping with each other. Ritt steps in as Derek Jeter at the very end. “When in doubt, end with Derek Jeter,” he says after the scene ends. “I heard he has herpes.” Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 13
This time they evaluate themselves. Stein says he felt the storylines were good, but the group missed cues. He thought the game was fun but had a difficult time because he wasn’t sure of the parameters. Barrett felt the scene, overall, was odd, and felt a lot like “La Ronde” — the group’s favorite game — again. “If it had been a ‘La Ronde,’ I would have loved it,” Ritt says. They move on to “Switchbox,” which the new Fugees have played before in workshops. Four Fugees stand in a box shape, two in front and two behind. They rotate any time the moderator tells them. Each combination for the front of the box has an assigned scene suggestion. Every time they rotate back to a pair, they have to pick up the scene where they left off. The second round turns up what the group was looking for earlier in the evening. For this round, Stein and Mohl are paired up with yoga as a suggestion, Mohl and Barrett have salsa, Barrett and Martinson have Mother’s Day and Martinson and Stein have driver’s education — which stems from an earlier conversation about Martinson having to take the class over Thanksgiving because of a ticket. Stein and Mohl start the game. Stein begins yelling at Mohl about how his irritable bowel syndrome is disrupting yoga class. Mohl says he just can’t resist that taco stand that’s on his way to class. They switch to Martinson and Stein. “A ‘D’ is passing,” Martinson pleads with Stein, playing her father. “No,” he responds. “ ‘D’ is for (dumbass).” Switch to Barrett and Mohl. Barrett has ruined Mohl’s sweet 16 party because he forgot to buy salsa. But Barrett is a magician and makes the ingredients appear from behind Mohl’s ear. Switch to Barrett and Martinson. The family waffle iron has been lost and Barrett is upset that he can’t make waffles for Mother’s Day. Martinson won’t tell him where it is. Switch back to Stein and Martinson. She continues to try to convince her father that a “D” is an acceptable grade for driver’s ed., but Stein won’t hear it. “You know what the grading scale stands for in this family,” he says. “Awesome. Better. Catfish. …” “Can that be the show title?” Ritt interjects excitedly. “That is the show title!” Downtown Showdown It’s Friday night, and the color-coded Comedy Sportz auditorium is ready for its next competition. Only the first few rows of stadium-style seating in the red, yellow and blue sections are full as game time draws nearer. The space features eclectic comedic decorations. A “V” formation of rubber chickens hangs from the ceiling. Humorous signs adorn the walls. A random assortment of costumes and wigs droop from hooks on the back wall of the stage. A “referee” wearing a bright yellow jersey and armed with a whistle takes the stage to introduce the competitors — Marquette’s Studio 013 Refugees against the University of Wiscon14 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
sin-Milwaukee’s 101 improv theater class. The Fugees, missing four from their usual group, are the first team introduced. Each Fugee steps out from behind the left curtain, briefly waves to the clapping audience and moves to the left side of the stage. UW-Milwaukee is introduced the same way, but the team’s entrance is less subdued. The performers run out from behind the right side curtain, jumping and encouraging cheers from the audience. From the tumultuous applause, it seems like two-thirds of the audience came in support of UWM’s team. The referee calls both teams to the stage to perform the “coin toss.” The teams link arms and will “speak as one” in a mini debate. The Fugees will argue for cats. UWM is for rabbits. The Fugees shakily begin speaking one word at a time down the line, forming a sentence to make their first point. UWM speaks slowly as a unit and the Fugees realize their mistake. Peter Ritt brings his hand to his face, looking slightly embarrassed. Games like this aren’t their specialty. They prefer longform improv games. UWM seems much more familiar with the Comedy Sportz format. When it’s their turn again, they’ve caught on. “Cats … have … nine … lives,” they say. “Rabbits … don’t … need … nine … lives,” UWM counters. The referee awards the “toss” to UWM and they receive five points and get to choose the first head-to-head game. Their captain, a male student wearing thick rimmed glasses and a black CBGB T-shirt, challenges Fugee captain Andrew Pauly to a round of “What Are You Doing.” For the game, one actor from each team takes turns asking each other what they’re doing. The response turns into what the person who asked the question has to mime. The teams cycle in new actors as the ones on stage miss cues and get knocked out of the game. Fugees Pauly, Owen O’Riordan, Ritt, Jimmy Barrett, Samantha Martinson and Bill Lacy get chances to play. Lacy’s performance is met with huge applause from the front two rows of the red section — comprised entirely of his friends that have come for support. The Fugees win the “applause-o-meter” and get to choose the next game. Pauly picks “Oscar-Winning Moment,” a popular game among the team. The referee gets two suggestions from the audience — the moon and pickles — Pauly and Barrett begin the scene. Barrett is a human starting a pickle farm on the moon, and Pauly is an elderly alien, excited to see him at work. After a few minutes, Fugee David Stein jumps in as a disgruntled alien, claiming Barrett is “blaspheming (their) planet with pickles.” Barrett explains that he just wants to sell the pickles and the referee yells, “Oscar-winning moment!” The lights go down to a single spotlight and dramatic music swells — a much more hightech production than a normal Fugees show. “My parents weren’t murdered so I could grow pickles on Earth,” Barrett monologues. The scene continues until Stein has an Oscar-
winning moment where he explains that he wants to ban all humans from the moon, except for Neil Armstrong. The audience loves it. UWM counters with a game called “Dr. Know-It-All.” It’s similar to the game the teams played for the coin toss, but this time they answer audience questions (like “How can I tell the difference between lettuce and cabbage?”) one word at a time. The audience is asked again to determine the winner with their applause. The Fugees win five points with overwhelming approval from the crowd. After another head-to-head game, the UWM crowd overpowers its Marquette equivalent’s cheers, winning their team five points. At halftime, UWM leads 10-5. During intermission, Terese Hagerty, a senior in the College of Arts & Sciences, organizes the Fugee fans for the next cheering contest. After a round of “Switch Interview,” they have their chance. When the referee asks people to cheer for the Fugees, the Marquette students stand and begin to chant. “We are,” clap-clap, “Marquette!” “We are,” clap-clap, “Marquette!” While impressive, their efforts don’t win the Fugees any points. Two more games are played before the final applause decision is made. They include a particularly aggressive round of the line game “185,” where UWM team members shove Fugees out of the way in order to get their joke in. As the referee talks to the audience after the game, Martinson tries to signal the Marquette audience members to bang on the tables and make as much noise as possible. Once again, their small numbers can’t win, and UWM is awarded 1,000 points for the win. The theme from “Chariots of Fire” plays, and both teams begin a slow-motion run toward the center of the stage. On the way out of the auditorium, several Marquette fans express their disapproval when they run into the Fugees coming from backstage. “That was rigged!” mj
Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 15
Marquette’s performing arts department has established itself over the past 60 years. By Sara J. Martinez Photographs by Walter S. Sheffer, Courtesy Marquette University Archives
F
or the first 70 years after Marquette University was dedicated in 1881, the performing arts program was hardly recognizable. One man changed all that. Remembered as the man who made a name for Marquette’s theater, the Rev. John J. Walsh came to Marquette in 1951. Walsh had just graduated from Yale University’s theater program as the first and only Jesuit priest to do so, and he brought with him a wave of innovation that would transform Marquette’s theater program over the next 15 years. Before this time, Marquette had no semblance of a theater program outside of the Marquette Players — a group of students who gathered to create university productions. While the specification did not yet exist, those who wanted to study theater generally had a major in the School of Speech. Walsh was classically trained in theater and dance and was able to inspire a mass of young adults and children in the Milwaukee area during his career at Marquette. There was no theater in which to perform, so Walsh and the Players made do with community resources such as the theater at Alverno College or the Pabst Theater. Students performed in “Teatro Maria” in Bellermine Hall behind Gesu Church, what is now the Parish Center, in a small theater built entirely by the theater company. Walsh says in an interview with former Player, Jim Peck, in a program shown locally in Milwaukee on PBS affiliate Channel 10 WMVS titled “Two Hammers and a Saw: The Theater Legacy of Father Walsh,” that when Backstage he first arrived at Marquette and asked where the theater was, he was led up to the attic of the Speech The Rev. John J. Walsh, director of Marquette’s theater program from 1951 to 1965, applies makeup building. There were two hammers and a saw on to Stewart Moss before a photoshoot. Colette Kerrey the floor of the room, and Walsh realized that he looks on. would need to build it himself. 16 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
Growing up on Stage
Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 17
And so Walsh and the Marquette Players built Teatro Maria from the ground up. Because the theater was so small, Peck describes how the dance room doubled as backstage for the actors, the green room was also the makeup room, and the costume shop shared roles with the dressing room. Tech work took place in the “twin coffins of claustrophobia that were the light and sound booths,” Peck says in the documentary. When full, the theater held 120 people. The unusual stage had three sides with wagons that rolled in front of the stage if needed. As the program’s reputation and popularity grew, the Players would need more space. The Players would close down Wisconsin Avenue to perform in front of Church of the Gesu. Actors performed atop large wagons, resembling early medieval street theater, old-fashioned mystery plays and nativity stories. At one point, they even had a live donkey that would perform amidst all of the other actors in front of the church. The Greek-style stage setting allowed for the players to perform in the manner of medieval traveling theater troupes, and provided the perfect outlet for cyclical pieces such as “Ludus Coventriae.”
scenes, with him explaining the spiritual meaning of the playwrights,” says Dominique Noth, who was a part of the players from 1960 to 1965 during his time as a student at Marquette. He continued his relationship with the theater program long after his graduation, teaching at Marquette in the 1970s and sending some of his children through the theater program. Joan Schwartz, another former Player, entered Marquette as a freshman in 1951, the same year Walsh arrived at the university to take charge of the theater program. As a Player for her four undergraduate years, Schwartz, then known as Joan Jackson, developed such an attachment to the program that she decided she couldn’t leave the company. “It was a privilege and a pleasure to be in his company and to work with him, so one wanted to be in that aura as much as possible,” Schwartz says. “It was a great fulfillment of the talent that I had, and I have not worked with anyone since.” Later, Schwartz taught various classes including speech, drama, acting, history of theater, oral interpretation and English for the next 10 years, her Marquette career directly coinciding with that of Walsh’s. At the time she also did some work with the Milwaukee Players and tried to work on TV, but she felt nothing could
be explained. It took his students four years to figure out what he meant. “It takes a good long time to really, really get rid of yourself because acting is a process of transformation. You decide, really, you must not be ‘Jim Peck,’ anymore,” Walsh says, using his interviewer and former student as an example. “You have to be Romeo. I can see you trying to be Romeo, but Jim Peck always comes through.” Walsh says it was a painstaking process to teach actors how to truly be another person, not to be themselves acting as another person. “It’s only when the transformation becomes a part of you that you’re a great actor. Otherwise, you’re just a personality actor,” he says, saying that famous actors such as Cary Grant and Clark Gable were just “personality actors.” Walsh taught his students a way to transform themselves that he always joked would take “seven years” to perfect. But “he didn’t produce snobs, he produced working professionals,” Peck says of Walsh’s tactics. And many of his students have seen great success in the performing arts industry. During the Walsh era, speech students at Marquette were part of the Players because they wanted to perform as a career, Noth says. Many
“It takes a good long time to really, really get rid of yourself because acting is a process of transformation.” Walsh says the use of the donkey for the Players’ production of “Ludus Coventriae” was a turning point for the group. “It made our reputation. It was the only thing that got us off the ground here in Milwaukee,” he says in the documentary. “Everybody remembered the donkey.” The donkey was kept in the engineering school during rehearsals, two blocks away from where the performance would take place at Church of the Gesu. According to Walsh, when the Players were looking for a place to temporarily house the donkey, an engineering professor said, “We’ll put it in the basement. One more jackass won’t make this place any different.” The night of the performance, however, nobody wanted to deal with the untrained donkey, Walsh says in the documentary. But once they finished the struggle of dragging the animal two blocks over to Gesu, it was worth it. The donkey performed just as well as the Players, and the show was one to remember. The production gained such popularity that it was picked up by a television station for national broadcast. Students were cast and the play was re-choreographed and filmed at the WISN Channel 12 Studios. It aired nationally on CBS’s “Look Up and Live” in four 30-minute installments. The production featured all music and dancing with a voiceover narration, and it was a huge step in earning national recognition for the Marquette Players. “Walsh himself hosted national TV shows where some of Broadway’s top actors would do 18 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
compare to working with Walsh. “It was like a family. It was a dedicated group of individuals, inspired by Father Walsh,” Schwartz says, emotionally recalling her years as a Player and teacher at Marquette. Recalling memories brings tears to her eyes, as Schwartz describes the genius, charisma and brilliance she feels Walsh brought to the theater in the ’50s and ’60s. When Walsh left the program in 1965, so did Schwartz. “He had such a personal influence upon so many people’s lives by his great kindness, understanding and interest,” she says. “He was a very fatherly figure in some ways, concerned personally with the lives of his students. He was a warm and influential role model for many people.” Walsh’s success came from his unrelenting yet welcomed pressure upon students, Schwartz says. He demanded the best that they could give, settling for nothing less, and as such, students felt fulfilled that they had given a performance to the best of their abilities.
went on to have distinguished theatrical careers, such as Tony award-nominated Helen Carey, who performed in one of Walsh’s productions of “Saint Joan.” Highly esteemed choreographer John Neumeier, who is the artistic director of the Hamburg Ballet, is a product of Walsh’s program at Marquette. Actors Peter Bonerz, Stewart Moss and Charles Siebert are also Marquette alumni from the Walsh era, as are directors Richard Colla and Michael Schultz, as well as pioneer in visual art, Fred Barzyk. In the documentary, Moss emphasizes that he came to Marquette for Walsh, to learn to be an actor under the direction of the Jesuit. Colla recalls a time when Walsh yelled at the students, “If you’re not ready to commit to this thing, then get the hell out of here!” Values on commitment and dedication were deeply instilled in all of Walsh’s students. “Father Walsh told us how difficult it was going to be and what the commitment was to be, and what he expected of us,” Colla says.
Learning to Act Walsh is famous for always saying, “It’s going to take me seven years to teach you not to act,” according to the documentary. When Peck asks Walsh what he means by that, he says it was an exaggeration, but it really did take him all four years to teach his students what they needed to know about “not” acting. The point is that there’s an art in honestly talking and listening to another person, Walsh says in the documentary, and it couldn’t really
Leaving a Legacy Nowadays, students aren’t coming to Marquette specifically for theater, and those who do frequently do not pursue performing arts as a full-time career. Noth says the difference between students of the Walsh era and today is the type of ethic used in the 1960s productions. The focus on theater arts as a career when performance was not yet recognized as an art form was sometimes frowned upon, Noth says, and the theater program at Marquette has moved
Acting Out Stewart Moss as “Mack the Knife” in the Rev. John J. Walsh’s production of “The Threepenny Opera.” The show ran from July 11 through Aug. 10, 1958.
Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 19
“Annie Get Your Gun” away from this. “(The program) can’t get away with some of the stuff they used to do back then,” Noth says. “Walsh had a profound influence as a Jesuit. There were things you could not get away with as a teacher that Walsh got away with as a Jesuit.” Even during his time at Yale University, as the only Jesuit ever allowed to attend the Yale Drama School, Walsh won acting awards without ever having been in a public production. According to Jesuit rules, the priests could not be in productions, but Walsh had a reputation just from his presence in the classroom in 1950. Walsh’s talent and charisma played major roles in the development of the Marquette Players, Noth says. Whenever the program needed money, the experienced dance teacher Walsh would go down to Chicago and teach a few classes for wealthy patrons. “We’d need a tape recorder, and he’d come back with a tape recorder,” Noth says. During a trip to Europe, Walsh was even able to convince a company to donate costumes to Marquette. He had a way with the theater, and he made Marquette into a Milwaukee power. Having performed in so many of the Walshera productions and maintaining a close rela20 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
tionship with the university ever since, Noth has seen a long evolution of the theater program. The evolution is possibly in the academic philosophy, he says. “It’s moved away from notable, cutting-edge motivational theater,” Noth says. “Walsh’s extraordinarily good acting classes were completely based on the script and a whole range of character acting, big on dance and musicals.” In recent productions, Noth says the Marquette theater program has chosen safer plays and musicals that will obviously be popular within the community. The problem there, however, is that the company is not producing the hits that made it so famous in the ’50s and ’60s. The 1963-’64 production of “Oliver Twist,” for example, totaled 78 performances by the time the curtain fell, according to Milwaukee historian Thomas Jablonsky’s book, “Milwaukee’s Jesuit University: Marquette 1881-1981.” Noth says that at the time, “Oliver” held a record for longest-running community theater production. Schwartz says that there will never be another coming of theater in Milwaukee that could compare to the Walsh era. He brought memorable innovations to Milwaukee theater, Schwartz says, such as the theater in the round at Teatro
Nerisse Trombetta and Peter Bonerz in the 1958 production. The Marquette University Players also performed the show at the Pabst Theater in 1955.
Maria and the outdoor production of Ludus Coventriae. According to Schwartz, programs under prior theater department heads, such as Ruth Klein from 1926 until 1946 and Joseph W. Miller from 1946 to 1950, never reached the proportions the program did under Walsh’s direction. “He inspired a love of theater in the people he worked with,” Schwartz says. “He brought out the best in you.” Today: The Ravel Years Current theater faculty, however, believe the program is doing a fine job grooming young professionals as they prepare to enter the industry. One main focus of the performing arts program today is to solidify the department’s accreditation with the National Association of Schools of Theatre. One main benefit of accreditation is to grant tenure track to department faculty. Stephen Hudson-Mairet, professor in the department of performing arts, says that tenure for the performing arts department has only recently been approved at the university level, and
“Seventeen” Colette Kerrey and John Neumaier in the 1958 production. Neumaier has been director and chief choreographer of the Hamburg Ballet since 1973.
the department is hoping to be granted associate membership with NAST this month after it was deferred one year. Earning accreditation won’t necessarily affect the daily lives of students, Hudson-Mairet says, but it adds to the validity of the program. “I truly believe we do good work. I truly believe we have a quality program here,” he says. He doesn’t want his time at Marquette or as performing arts chair to be remembered as “all about him,” he says. It’s about the students. While he does not discredit the “Walsh Era” at Marquette, Hudson-Mairet says the methods Walsh is famous for really don’t work with the style of teaching the department stresses today. For example, even the audition process has been revised for the Walsh scholarship that is given to a junior theater major each year. The department brought in Walsh-era actor Peter Bonerz this past year as a judge for the auditions, and Hudson-Mairet says Bonerz effectively understood that these are young students and they are growing. Bonerz spent a lot of time working with the students, and Hudson-Mairet says the audition
will be more workshop-based to make it more valuable for students. “I think that you can get some fantastic work out of students who understand professionalism, who understand they need to work hard but who understand they still need to grow,” HudsonMairet says. “If this experience here is the pinnacle of your career, you’re in trouble. I think for certain members of that Walsh community, this was the pinnacle of their performing arts careers.” Hudson-Mairet emphasizes that his term as department chair came off of a powerful artistic director, adjunct associate professor Phylis Ravel. He says he doesn’t think history has yet recognized that the performing arts department had a rejuvenation when Ravel arrived. There is a group of young professionals currently working in the industry (such as actors Danny Pudi, Nick D’Agosto and John Bobek) who came out of the theater program under Ravel. “There is quite a number of really high-end performers and technicians out there who were here when she was,” he says. “They might not look back on it as ‘the Ravel Years,’ but they might.” Even so, Hudson-Mairet isn’t interested in
carving his name into the program. It’s all about the students and what they can learn. “I want (students) to be having a really solid educational experience that involves the whole faculty,” he says. When the faculty members each take greater ownership in the lives of their students, they are better able to help them develop throughout their careers at Marquette. Hudson-Mairet cites “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” director Maureen Kilmurry as an example of a faculty member who does great work and truly cares about the students. She only works at Marquette part-time, but she is invested in helping students with the practical experience they need to develop. Many students coming into the program at Marquette think they’re going to act professionally, Hudson-Mairet says, but the program at Marquette promotes itself for providing a wellrounded education. He says students come to Marquette for a solid acting program and a great B.A. experience where they are able to participate in multiple areas as well as appreciate Marquette’s emphasis on social justice and community. mj
Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 21
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22 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
Organizing Chaos
Patrick Schmitz worked his way through the Milwaukee comedy world and now teaches at First Stage Children’s Theater and ComedySportz Milwaukee By Molly Gamble Photographs Courtesy Patrick Schmitz M
arquette
Journal, February 2010 • 23
“Everything was theatrical growing up. It was all make-believe land. Now, to have a career in make-believe land ...”
“O
K, give me a minute here, I gotta get some money for that vending machine because I am dying,” says Patrick Schmitz as he rustles through his desk drawers for singles. “Do you want some gummy bears? They’re good gummy bears.” He holds out a Ziploc bag filled with chewy colorful sugar, taking a fistful for himself. “I didn’t know there were bad gummy bears,” I say as I grab three. “Oh, yeah, there are some bad ones out there.” Some moments more than others, Patrick Schmitz seems like a kid in an adult’s body. This is one of those moments. He’s eating lunch from a vending machine and offering novelty candies, when stereotypically a comedian should share caffeine, alcohol or nicotine. He’s in his unofficial uniform of a gray Organized Chaos T-shirt, jeans and gym shoes: both practical yet completely devoid of age. Patrick is an improv actor, coach and teacher. Teaching, for him, does not involve homework and books. Rather, it is rigorous in laughter, wit, creativity and observation. Can you learn to be funny? If Patrick Schmitz is your teacher, then the chances look good. We sit at a table in the Milwaukee Youth Art Center. Snow is blowing horizontally on this Saturday, the day of the week when Patrick spends five hours teaching improv to high school students at First Stage Children’s Theater, the Milwaukee Youth Art Center’s theater school, in a program called Organized Chaos. He is in an adult quartet called “The Gentlemen’s Hour,” coaches “The Meanwhiles” and teaches classes to junior high and high school students. He lives in the Bay View neighborhood of Milwaukee and is 30 years old, although his personality seems like that of a enthusiastic, outgoing boy. His face is round and jovial, his hair light brown and cut short. Patrick is the youngest of 10 children, and he 24 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
says his siblings were a tremendous influence on his humor and imagination. “Everything was theatrical growing up. It was all make-believe land. Now, to have a career in make-believe land,” Patrick Schmitz shifts to a whisper, “it’s f***ing awesome.” He says it like it’s a secret — he starts to laugh a little and rubs his palms on his knees. Before picking up “The Gentlemen’s Hour,” his comedic quartet used to go by the name “Socially Awkward.” Patrick says the name suited the three other members rather well, although he wouldn’t exactly pin himself as awkward. “That’s why I’m the one standing by the door greeting people when they come to our shows,” he says. “There’s no ego in our group. They’re all very nice, all coming from genuine places. No one walks into a room and is loud just to be loud,” Patrick says. Although competition may be an unknown concept in “The Gentlemen’s Hour,” it was prevalent in Patrick’s stint at Milwaukee’s ComedySportz, a licensed improv organization with more than 20 locations in the U.S. The club has a similar format to Whose Line Is It Anyway? where teams of “actletes” compete in various games and are judged by referees. During his stint there from 2000 to 2003, he was not only the first new member in five years but also the youngest of all the players. Comedy, while not the average cubicle gig, is not exempt from workplace hierarchy. In the early days at ComedySportz, Patrick, an actor, acquainted himself with students at the club by inviting them to his house on weekends. They would practice and he would give tips to help develop their scene work. Word caught on, however, and suddenly Patrick Schmitz was a threat. Teachers thought he was working against them, and they resented how students were approaching a new and young player for advice. “No one was outright mean to me, but it was
just this sense of apathy. They knew they didn’t have to hold my hand, but they wouldn’t shake my hand either,” Patrick says. His facial expressions as he recalls make it clear it was psychologically and emotionally wearing. At times he looks at the table and shakes his head incredulously. “Phew, yeah. Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve never felt so left out before. I started to think I wasn’t funny. It really messed with my self-esteem,” Patrick says. After awhile it began to feel like he was leading a double life. He would get on stage and make people laugh with his humorous contributions. And then he’d walk off to a bitter clique and unsupportive environment – an ironic reality when it’s more intimidating to walk off stage than on. “Oh yeah,” he says, summarizing a distinguished memory, “you go on van rides for 45 minutes where no one talks to you, and people just completely leave you out. And then you got on stage, and they laugh at you. Then you get back in the van, and it’s another silent drive.” The exclusion got so bad that Patrick eventually considered giving up improv. “But then I thought, you know, I can’t talk about cars, politics or sports,” he shakes his hand, indicating he wouldn’t really care to. “But comedy, I can sit and talk about it all day and analyze it all day. I couldn’t give that up.” Teacher Knows Best On Saturday, Patrick is donning jeans, gym shoes and his gray First Stage T-shirt with students’ messages and names signed all over the back. He paces the sun-lit room with a clipboard and takes attendance while 15 kids do warmups. They arrange themselves in a circle and begin a game called “Hep.” After watching several rounds, Hep’s complicated rules and legalities remain unclear. The students go around in the circle, each taking a turn with hand clap-
“Killing me with their youth” ping and verbal exclamations like, “hep,” “zip zop,” “woah,” “wormhole” and “dip dip dee.” To them, it’s as easy as simple division, even though they sound like adolescent martians. The collective volume of the voices makes for an exceptional soundtrack. Most are wearing Chuck Taylor sneakers. Some have torn jeans or chains hanging from their pants. One girl is wearing purple acid-washed jeans with purple sneakers. But looks aside, they couldn’t be more opposite from the stereotype of an apathetic, unmotivated teenager. These are the kids who speak enthusiastically about everything. Simple hellos to classmates are so energized, it sounds as though they hadn’t seen each other in months. After a few more minutes of the gibberish game, Patrick tells them to sit down in their seats, which are lined lengthwise across the wall. He instructs them to get into groups of four or five, preferably with students they don’t know very well. Together they must decide on a topic of conversation that they feel strongly about. “Obviously, we don’t want to get into politics or religion,” Patrick says. “Awww,” the students say in mock disappointment. The students are to simply sit at a table in their groups and hold conversation without acting in character. Patrick encourages them to intensely voice their thoughts. “What we’re looking for are strong decisions, strong opinions, strong choices. And natural and realistic reactions,” Patrick says. “Listening is a
Patrick and a few students gear up before doing a presentation in front of the board at the First Stage Children’s Theater’s summer program in May 2009. Photo by Casandra Horton
huge part of this.” Patrick turns and writes First Stage Children’s Theater, 325 W. Walnut St. the word “Funny” on the Organized Chaos — the Academy Improv Comedy Team for junior high room’s white board in green and high school students led by Patrick Schmitz. marker. To schedule an audition for the team, call Patrick at 414-267-2972 or “OK, let’s review. What e-mail pschmitz@firststage.org. makes something funny?” It seems like a huge and daunting question, but it doesn’t bother me as much. But let’s stay away hangs for only a split second before students from the comments. It makes other people feel begin to answer. like you don’t really want to be here, and it just “Truth!” One student throws out. isn’t professional,” Patrick says in a calm and “Yes, truth, absolutely,” Patrick writes it on kind voice, like an older brother to sensitive sibthe board. “If I feel you are trying to be funny lings. and trying to make us laugh, I will stop you. I “We’re in a safe environment here, OK? You will coach you. I will do my job.” don’t need to do this whole ‘cool’ act. It’s much After listing other words like conflict and more professional to be like, ‘OK, all right, let’s irony, Patrick asks who would like to go first. A do this!’ ” he says with a clap. brown-haired girl named Emily throws her hand The students note Patrick’s mild scolding in the air. The three other boys in her group, ob- without wilting. This wasn’t the first time he viously annoyed with Emily’s eagerness, give spoke about professionalism — at the start of out small moans and mumbles. The four sit class he encouraged people to be more prompt down at the table in the front of the room, Emily when replying to his e-mails. on the end. The groups discuss a variety of topics — mu“OK, before we start, when you guys were sic, modern art, weddings and why girls go to getting up here, I heard some comments and bathrooms in groups. While they talk, they build noises. Why did you make those comments?” houses of cards to have something to do with Patrick asks. their hands. One group tells Patrick they want to Emily dodges the question, saying she didn’t discuss divorce. say anything. She looks at the three boys. One “Umm, hmm,” Patrick says, biting his penof them says he didn’t feel prepared enough to cil and moving his chair to another spot in the go first, while another says he would have rather room. “I’m not really sure of peoples’ personal gone second or third. business in here, so I’d encourage you to go “Well, I know you guys really well, so it with a plan B,” he says. The group then decides Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 25
rick says, sitting with a pencil and notepad in his lap. When the group is critiqued, Teddy’s hamming doesn’t go unnoticed. “Teddy, just a little bit of putting on a show there. Just a little bit. Let go of ‘being on,’ OK? It’s nothing personal.” “Yeah, yeah,” Teddy says, still sitting at the table, nodding. “I had this problem for the longest time,” Patrick says. “People would tell me all the time that I needed to turn it off, and I never knew what they meant. But then one day I realized it. I walked into a room and was just quiet, and people were asking me what was wrong. And I was like, ‘Nothing’s wrong! I’m just feeling quiet, you know? I’m just being human.’ It’s a weird feeling. It’s a weird pressure and expectation.” As the day progresses, however, Teddy is not alone. It seems every group has at least one ham. It only takes a few minutes before it’s recognizable, evidenced by a laugh that booms louder than any other in the room at things that aren’t that hilarious. Or they will frequently throw themselves into scenes while others sit back and observe. Sometimes it’s painful, or uncomfortable, to see children trying so hard to reign in laughter. After class, I ask Patrick if he ever gets annoyed with the stage stealers. “No, I just have to tell them to watch it. And usually when I say something, they listen to me, because, well…” He pauses and raises his eyebrows. “They know I’m right, basically.”
Want to be funny? Patrick was recently asked to teach at ComedySportz Milwaukee, 420 S. 1st St., and will be instructing the 103 Advanced Comedy Workshop. The course can only be taken after completing both the beginner and intermediate workshops, 101 and 102. According to ComedySportz Milwaukee’s Web site, in course No. 101, students are taught the fundamentals of improvisation and stagework, basic mime work, the art of speaking freely and clearly as well as thinking quickly. The eightweek course teaches students games and provides individual and group instruction. Course No. 102, the intermediate level, explores more difficult scenework and specialized areas of improv with the goal of making students comfortable in improv. Patrick’s course, No. 103, is designed to provide a place for students to apply their newly learned improv knowledge and spend time practicing. Patrick also teaches some longform improv and prepares students to play in the club’s rec leagues. Classes are $150-180 for eight-week sessions. Call 414-272-8888 to sign up. The next sessions begin in April, and Patrick teaches on Monday nights from 7 to 9 p.m.
26 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
to talk about high school social pressure. Some of the kids are noticeably talented — their humor seems effortless, their facial expressions natural yet more entertaining than words. Some are natural leaders in steering the conversation, and the funniest ones don’t seem to realize this. Such oblivion to their undeniable stage presence — or classroom floor presence, rather — makes their talent remarkable. They have learner’s permits in funny. But not everyone is blessed with artfully furrowed brows or comedic faces. To some kids, funny doesn’t come naturally. It’s like cardio — lots of effort, some physical strain and intricate planning of what to do in advance. In a discussion about music, Teddy, a lanky student who frequently speaks in an English accent, makes far-stretched analogies about pizza and pasta being like Galileo and Isaac Newton. He then sneezes to purposely knock down his house of cards. Nothing falls. He still looks around the room to see if anyone saw. “Teddy, keep it honest, keep it honest,” Pat-
Keeping it Clean Two middle-aged women sit on a bench in the hallway of the Milwaukee Youth Center, leaning in toward each other while exchanging whispered opinions on a woman they both know. On the ground beside them, two little girls are playing with cards on the purple and taupe colored carpet. It’s noon on a gloomy Saturday in April 2009, with rain falling in sheets from a dark sky. Despite the gossiping women and playing children, the hall is quiet. Except for one voice. It’s coming from the classroom across the hall. A booming voice, so full of energy that if voices could pop at the seams from spirit, this one would. “OK, back to the game!” It says, followed by a handclap and the chatter of adolescents. Walking in, Patrick is standing like an umpire in front of eight junior high students. He has got his hands on his knees, smiling and instructing the kids on the next step in the game. Two students are playing a hand game while the other six must act like street mimes, silently roaming about the room. The point is to reinforce improvisational focus — to be attentive to tasks at hand as well as the other people with whom you share the stage. “OK, hug! Hug, hug, hug!” Patrick booms. The kids maniacally huddle and layer backs over backs and arms over arms, and then part, revealing smirks and crescent moon smiles that linger as they walk back to their plastic chairs. “That was basically improv in a nutshell,” Patrick says. “Healthy competition and teamwork.” He is once again wearing his gray Organized Chaos tee, jeans and sneakers. If the weather
Practice makes perfect
“So, I thought, ‘I should talk to my students about this!’ So what are some things we shouldn’t do in improv?” Patrick asks the 14 students. “Obviously drugs and alcohol are out the window, and sexual innuendos, but what else?” One of the kids raises his hand and says mental deformities. “Yes, yes, mental deformities. We don’t want to go down that road. If you find yourself playing that character, I’d suggest you get out of it fast.” “And physical deformities, too, I guess,” the student continues to Patrick. “But, I mean, you should just take a good look at your audience to make sure.” “Uh, yeah … or you could just be a good person?” Patrick says, noting that there doesn’t have to be an individual in a wheelchair in the room for physical deformities as humor to be offensive. “Yes! Anna?” “Um, well, you should probably avoid anything that may not be offensive to you but could be to someone else,” Anna Wolf says in her high-pitched doll-like voice. She sits in her chair, wearing denim Bermuda shorts and striped pastel-colored Keds. “Yes, be more specific,” Patrick says. “Well, just like stuff that you don’t think is a big deal, but it can hurt other people’s feelings,” she offers again.
Patrick leads the high school improv group, “After School Special.” The group of four teenagers performed at The Alchemist Theatre, 2569 S. Kinnickinnic Ave., earlier this month. Photo by Julia Kroll
is any excuse to feel down or tired today, Patrick doesn’t buy it. One would guess he slept 12 hours the night before and/or drank a pot of coffee before coming to work. He is naturally revved, pleasant and animated in a contagious way. He steps to the side as classes rotate, when the junior high students leave and the high school students come in. “These kids. These kids,” he says, shaking his head. “They keep me young, but they’re killing me. Killing me with their youth,” he says, laughing and ushering high school students into the room. Although Organized Chaos classes feature games, skits and bizarre warm-ups where the students speak gibberish, there are also times when the class quits the act and sobers up from laughing fits. Today Patrick is kicking off class with the high school students with a class discussion: “What not to do in improv.” It’s written in messy handwriting on the white board, and Patrick wants to talk about taboos. The idea came to him after Alex, from “The Meanwhiles,” experienced an uncomfortable moment when directing his student longform improv group at Brown Deer High School. A student took to the stage and began to speak in an offensive Asian accent, and Alex was a bit perplexed as to how to handle the incident.
“Yes. Anna. That’s what we’re talking about. Specifics!” Patrick says, clasping his hands at his chest and chuckling at Anna’s earnest attempt to answer. He tells his students to stay away from offensive accents, particularly those of the “gangster,” Asian, Indian and Native American. He also advises them to avoid body type jokes. “We had a girl up here in the last class, and someone in a scene goes, ‘Oh, she’s so skinny, she needs to eat!’ And she was really little. And it’s like, hmm, OK, well now is she feeling selfconscious?” Patrick says, twisting his face into a sort of unsure but concerned look. The students begin to balk after deformities, race, sexism and grotesque humor are all called off. “I’m not trying to put walls on your humor,” Patrick says. “Some things are playful in comedy, like stereotypes.” He notes shows like Family Guy and The Simpsons, which sometimes employ more controversial humor that is borderline mean. “I wouldn’t recommend you guys do that sort of comedy … like making fun of Helen Keller,” Patrick says, completely serious. Patrick, as a teacher, doesn’t wait for a kid’s feelings to bruise before reigning in the jokes. He wants to stomp out that possibility, the chance that a kid would ever leave class feeling small or inadequate. After seeing him teach, act and coach, Patrick Schmitz knows a lot about what’s funny. But what he knows isn’t funny, is almost just as telling. mj
Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 27
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Welcome to the Freak Parade Venture through a bizarre attraction created from the innocent strokes of painter Thomas Woodruff. Review
by Molly Newman Photographs by Dylan Huebner Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 29
“P
lease clear a simple path,” for with anatomy textbook dissection view — to Thomas Woodruff’s Freak Pa- an eight-breasted baton twirler, a leopard with rade. So goes the opening line of skin lesions and a crusty-eyed dancer with amWoodruff’s hauntingly beautiful putated feet. He goes beyond the typical circus five-year masterpiece, currently on display at freak show favorites, inventing beasts such as the blood-sucking hummingbird. the Haggerty Museum of Art. He based many of the freaks on memories Though internationally-renowned for his elegiac series work, Woodruff still gamely ap- and friends, honoring the dead with a lettuce man and a flower obepeared at Haggerty for Freak Parade’s open“Clomping, slithering, lisk, exorcising his demons over a boy he buling Jan. 27, outfitted prancing, limping, lied as a child and using in red velvet and flash the image of a friend’s right down to his toes — perfect for a parade spectacularly ulcerated.” skin deformity for inspiration. Grand Marshall. Carrots, pink carnations, heart-shaped flow“There’s a hint of color on the horizon, and it’s coming our way,” Woodruff said. Bright ers, coral branches and spider webs are present reds and yellows jump out at the viewer against throughout the parade, and the color palette rea backdrop of midnight black for a dramatic, mains fairly constant in yellows and pinks, with eerie effect. Woodruff softens the edges of the hints of green and gold. Glitter and gemstones ethereal images he presents, making their garish accent each piece, adding to the magical curiosity of the creatures. Chains and ribbons loosely deformities appear as innocent quirks. Carefully chosen poetic puns and wonderings link three and four pieces together in groups. “Clomping, slithering, prancing, limping, accompany each painting but are purposefully kept off center stage with a half-erased chalk- spectacularly ulcerated,” it’s impossible to look board effect. It’s here that Woodruff shows his away from these pieces. Each one has an asdark sense of humor and witty way with words, tounding array of activity, highlighted by windplaying on metaphors and personal memo- ing words of introduction, all twirled into a soft, ries, using archaic vocabulary and presenting twinkling night. Beautiful from afar, the beasts become uglier the more you find out about them. tongue-in-cheek questions to the viewer. The beautiful wide-eyed ballerina is actually “Be prepared for attraction and revulsion and dancing on stumps where her feet used to be, a quickened pulse (I know I’m quite giddy).” Woodruff prances 32 grotesque creatures while her eyes are crusted over with mucus, if before us, from Anatomy Boy — complete you look properly. Those cute little rabbits have
evil red eyes and unnaturally long necks. Up close, that blushing plump flower girl has a red moustache. Woodruff draws viewers in with brightness and beauty, allowing them to appreciate the freaks instead of instantly loathing them. Looking at Woodruff, with his mullet hair and not an inch of skin left un-tattooed, I can’t help but think he is portraying himself and his own feelings of freakishness, at least in society’s eyes. “This parade is my sprawling celebration of all things aberrant.” This is Woodruff’s comment on society’s homogenization. The bland, WASP parades of old are gone with his inspired creations. No longer are fire trucks and displays of power the highlight of a parade. Now, unicorns with gender identity issues and woodpecker epitaphs are the norm. Woodruff has outdone himself with this series. He used the same creepy attraction as in his “Solar System” of cosmic two-faced optical illusions, combined with the bright fantastical beauty of works like “Diviner.” His patient devotion to detail and wild imagination have earned him an outstanding series. The only drawback about the parade was that it went on a little too long. With so many things to look at in all 32 paintings, they take a long time to examine. Nevertheless, each is a masterpiece of the bizarre. So take the time to visit the Haggerty, stand back, and watch in awe as Thomas Woodruff’s Freak Parade limps grimly by through April 18. You’ll never attend a local parade again. mj
30 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
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30 • Marquette Journal, February 2010
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Journey Photograph
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Name: Charlie Bury Age: 22 Year: 2011 Major: Broadcast & Electronic Communication Minor: Theatre Arts Campus Activities: Mainstage productions at the Helfaer Theatre, intramural basketball, Improv Club
My Journey In my time at Marquette, I’ve gone from being a 300-pound freshman without much direction or ambition to a 200-pound senior without much shame or humility. I use the term “senior” loosely, as my diploma rests mainly on the compassion of my remaining professors and a looming statistics requirement that seems to have been taunting and inappropriately gesturing at me for the past four years. Academics aside, college has turned into an amazing educational experience that I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. I’ve been able to form relationships, share experiences and accomplish goals that I never would have thought possible when I first arrived in Milwaukee. Perhaps most important, that drive and ambition I lacked as an 18-yearold finally surfaced, leading me to my passion and a career I aim to pursue for the rest of my life: entertainment and comedy. I’ve played Shakespeare’s lovers, gotten nasty with stand up comedy in the Big Apple and studied the art of long form improvisation. But before all the fun stuff, I had to roll up my sleeves and learn some lessons about loss, resilience and hard work. My journey is living proof (well ... still living by the time this is published) in the power of self-belief and determination. Just in case, I’ll go ahead and request R. Kelly’s “Remix to Ignition” be played multiple times throughout my memorial service.
Kevin Griffin
The roads I took to get there: My first big break arrived when the kindergarten circus came calling, and I was just the portly little clown for the job. After the circus parade rolled out of town, I decided to step away from show business and pursue other interests, until it was mandatory that I participate in my 6th grade’s production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I was cast in the role of chunky Egyptian backup dancer without any lines. In case you couldn’t tell, being an overweight kid is a theme here. It’s not like I had a tortured childhood, but growing up fat definitely wasn’t easy. Finding humor (unlike the 50-yard dash or climbing fences) was never a challenge. At a young age, I developed a knack for imitating voices and accents. I grew up idolizing John Candy, Chris Farley and other overweight funny men who reminded me of myself. As hard as those guys made others laugh, I knew that being that heavy really takes a toll on you, inside and out. My goal was to be the funny fat guy who lost all the weight. After starting at Marquette in Broadcast & Electronic Communication, writing about basketball for DraftExpress.com and taking on a sports radio internship, I found something else that struck a chord in me. It was in “Acting for Non-Theatre Majors” that my professor, Heidi Mueller Smith, helped nudge me in the direction of performance. The more I focused in on entertainment as a career, the more I began to appreciate all Marquette offers as an institution of growth and learning. From classroom conference calls with Henry Winkler to alumni like Michael Kelly and James Bailey flying back to Milwaukee from Hollywood — the extended Marquette family really pulls out all the stops for students
(even the ones who drop lots of classes and are frequently on academic probation). I knew it was time to get serious about myself. I was able to lose more than 100 pounds through a change of diet and lots of exercise. It’s going to be a lifelong battle, but my weight is never something I’ll let get out of control. In the midst of all my excitement and success, I lost my uncle Mark Patton to cancer. Markie was the author of a humorous and helpful book that guided other people with his incurable disease, multiple myeloma, which he survived a staggering 18 years. Mark was like a father figure to me and the source for much of my comedic inspiration. Somehow losing Mark made making decisions like choosing honey mustard instead of mayo seem much easier. Mark, along with my late aunt Pat Dane, taught me that no matter how tough life is, there is always room for laughter. Continuing the Journey: Along with my partner in crime Michael Gau (who has played a huge part in everything I do) I hosted a professionally filmed stand up comedy event on campus and co-created a new campus improv organization, where things are very laid back and everyone is welcome to learn, enjoy and share in the art of long form improv. Mike and I are heading to LA for spring break, hoping to gather as much knowledge as possible, and maybe even try to holla at Lindsay Lohan or one of those shawties from Laguna Beach. As far as the future goes, all I can control is how hard I work and the way I treat other people. I have an awesome extended family, a tight-knit group of friends I can trust and the best parents anyone could ask for. I’m goin’ after it. Marquette Journal, February 2010 • 31
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