This is all quite admirable, so I expect the good governor, who is one of the most unforgiving Republican anti-abortion advocates in the country, to reach out now to all his liberal freedom-loving Democrat pro-choice constituents in Kansas who would like to talk turkey with him if he can only take his mind off all those “buns in the oven.”

Although I had read a great many science fiction novels when I was still in high school in Manila, I did not encounter the work of James Gunn until years later, when I was a student in the English Department at the University of Kansas, where Gunn was actually one of two faculty members who taught creative writing (the other one was Edgar Wolfe).  I quickly read most of Gunn’s books, which he preferred to call “speculative fiction” instead of “science fiction.”  And, to this day, one of my favorite novels is Kampus, his Kafkaesque novel about what campus unrest would be like in the near future, a novel which I also taught regularly in a class about depictions of life in academia, alongside other, more canonical works like Hard Times by Charles Dickens, Beneath the Wheel by Hermann Hesse, Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis, Changing Places by David Lodge, etc.

Living amongst many colleagues who were Doubting Thomases, disdainful of anything which smacked of genre writing, in which science fiction was held with the same disregard as historical romances, James Gunn tried his best to bring some respect and legitimacy to the world of speculative fiction. To that end, he brought to the campus some of the hot, young writers who were making names for themselves not just in books, but in the movies as well.

One of the hot, young writers Gunn brought to KU was Harlan Ellison, whose apocalyptic short story “A Boy and His Dog” had just been made into a movie, an underground hit, a cult favorite among the hip and the restless.  I was lucky to get a seat in the classroom where Ellison was giving a lecture. When he strode into the room energetically, for some reason I thought he looked like a younger Groucho Marx, minus the hat, the glasses, the moustache, the cigar.  Maybe it was just his grin, the gleam in his eye, the promise of unpredictability.

Actually, I don’t remember much about what Harlan Ellison said that day, in the formal part of his presentation. What I remember is what happened afterwards, during the Q&A, when one of undergraduate creative writing majors raised his hand and asked the inevitable question, “Mr. Ellison, can you give us some advice on how to get our stories published?”

“That’s simple,” Ellison smiled. “Where would you like to get published?”

“I don’t know,” the acolyte fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat.  ”Maybe Playboy…or Esquire…or The New Yorker.”

“Well, it makes no difference where you want to get published,” Ellison grinned. “All you need to do is go buy some recent issues of your magazine of choice, read all the stories that are published in them, then sit down and write one just like them.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s the same editor who has been deciding what stories to publish in the magazine.. Those are the kind of stories he likes. So sit down and write one just like the ones he likes, and chances are he’ll like yours, too.  That’s how you’ll get published, sonny.”

“B-b-b-but…isn’t that like…selling out?”

“You didn’t ask me about artistic integrity,” he grinned again, his eyes gleaming. “You asked me for advice on how to get your story published.”

There was dead silence in the room.  The students felt betrayed.  Now they have to look elsewhere for another Moses to lead them out of the wilderness of creative writing classes.  To this day, one hears the same arguments being tossed around by MFA students—Isn’t this writer too commercial? Hasn’t that writer sold out? Aren’t we all just better off writing things which we can admire and discuss endlessly in our workshops, never mind if our stories never get published in any magazine anyone recognizes?

But, back to Harlan Ellison. I thought it then, and I think it now.  He told it like it is, and for that I admire him. He’s been laughing all the way to the bank, right from the very beginning, when he was writing for such TV shows as The Loretta Young Show, Ripcord, Burke’s Law, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, The Outer Limits, The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., Star Trek, The Flying Nun, etc. And now, it’s my understanding that, after nearly four decades of being an underground cult favorite,  A Boy and His Dog is finally going big-time. It’s in pre-production, being remade as an animated feature, due out in major theaters in 2012.

Quite fortuitously, James Gunn is also still around.  Although he retired many years ago, Gunn still shows up daily in his English Department office in Wescoe Hall at the University of Kansas, as hale and hearty as one can expect for a gentleman his age.  Maybe it’s time Gunn invites Harlan Ellison back for another campus visit, once more to share his craft and craftiness with our MFA students.

In related news, last night the mayor of the capital city of Topeka also repealed the city’s domestic abuse law, a move designed to ensure the city wouldn’t be stuck with the bill for prosecuting such cases.  What’s a cat to do in Kansas?

But, occasionally, FACEBOOK reminds me of birthdays of friends who are still near and dear to me, even though I don’t see them as often as I should or would like to.  For these friends, I do go out of my way to do something special. Most recently, to someone who has worked closely with me in theatre, at a surprise party being thrown for his 40th birthday, I contributed 40 specialty cupcakes, and also gifted him with all three seasons of BREAKING BAD.  Before that, to another friend and colleague in theatre whom I’ve known since 1975, whose wit and wisdom I continue to admire, I surprised him with a bottle of imported Scotch whiskey costing nearly $150, and also took him out to a nice Japanese lunch in Kansas City.

I could list more, but the point I’m trying to make is this—in none of these occasions, when I had gone out of my way to do something special for a friend’s birthday, did I get a follow-up “Thank You” by way of a phone call, a note, or even just an e-mail. So, if our friends and neighbors just don’t do it anymore, why should we expect our elected leaders, the contentious Republicans and Democrats in Congress, to even be civil to one another?

Okay, I admit that I continue to look at the incoming FACEBOOK messages about friends with upcoming birthdays, even though I now also delete them almost immediately.  I don’t feel badly about this, because I do not want to feel worse later, about feeling badly that I haven’t been thanked properly for having gone out of my way to buy expensive gifts for these once and future friends, my friends without benefits.

I wonder if it’s significant that, even when I was young, one of my favorite songs was “I Am a Rock” by Simon and Garfunkel.  I still remember some of the lyrics—

I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

I also wonder if Paul Simon ever misses Art Garfunkel.  Are they “friends” on FACEBOOK?  Do they need FACEBOOK to send them reminders of each other’s birthdays, or have they committed the dates to memory?  Do they give each other gifts, send each other cards via snail-mail, perhaps even just short notes via e-mail?  Can they bear to listen to “The Sound of Silence” now?

Okay, okay.  I confess.  I’m lying.  I’m eagerly anticipating the next FACEBOOK reminder about which friend is having another birthday…and the next one…and the next one.  And now, not just for birthdays either.  I wish there were some way FACEBOOK could also alert us regularly about friends who’ve been sick, at home or in the hospital…friends who’ve lost loved ones, including pets…friends who’ve lost their jobs or their homes…friends who need friends.

So, now that we have this wonderful Kansas Walk of Honor, how about establishing a parallel Kansas Walk of Shame?  Alongside those bronze plaques at the southeast corner of the Kansas Statehouse lawn, how about putting up some cheap miniature plastic fire hydrants for dogs to pay homage to those Kansans who have brought us nothing but ridicule and shame?  My first nominee for a hellfire-red hydrant is, of course, our very own Pastor of Hate, the Rev. Fred Phelps of Topeka’s Westboro Church.

Who’s your nominee?

Given GLEE’s seeming advocacy of topical gay and lesbian issues, I am greatly puzzled by the song which Rachel sings in the episode about whether or not she should improve her looks by submitting to plastic surgery after her nose is accidentally punched and broken by her boyfriend Finn.  For those who don’t watch GLEE and don’t know, Rachel is Jewish.  She admires Barbra Streisand for not getting her nose fixed. She herself has never thought about getting the procedure done, until now, when the plastic surgeon tells her that he can make her look more like Quinn, the school’s reigning cheerleading Aryan blond beauty queen.

In the end, Rachel does the right thing and decides to keep her schnoz.  She starts to sing “I Feel Pretty,” the Rodgers and Hammerstein song which the Asian-American Nancy Kwan sang so fetchingly in the movie adaptation of FLOWER DRUM SONG.  The lyrics to the song are fairly well-known:  “I feel pretty/Oh so pretty/I feel pretty and witty and gay…” But when Rachel sings the song, she changes the lyrics to:  “I feel pretty/Oh so pretty/I feel pretty and witty and bright…”

So what’s going on here?  Is the heterosexual Rachel afraid to use the word “gay” for fear that her peers might not know that the word also means merry and happy?  And since when did gay become synonymous with bright anyway? Or is this Rachel’s way of admitting how dumb she is for not singing the song the way it was written?  In any case, did the writers and producers of GLEE clear this word revision with the Rogers and Hammerstein estate?

Last night, at the 63rd Primetime Emmy Awards, GLEE won none of the awards, and MODERN FAMILY won five, including the Best Comedy Award, which it also won last year.  I used to like both GLEE and MODERN FAMILY equally; but now, if I have to decide which of the two shows is braver in its depiction of gay and interracial issues in America today, like the Emmy judges, I too would have to go with MODERN FAMILY.

For me, GLEE lost some of its luster when it substituted the word “bright” for “gay.”  And, for all her gay agenda last night as host of the Emmy Awards, I thought the GLEE-ful Jane Lynch should have just worn her usual Sue Sylvester polyester gym sweats for the show, instead of all those ugly gowns which made her look like Ichabod Crane in drag. Not a bright choice for someone’s who’s gay. That’s how Sue would have called it.

And so the governor’s wife is launching the Kansas Book Festival, an annual event which will open next Saturday at the Kansas Historical Society in Topeka. In attendance will be more than 30 writers from Kansas or who have strong Kansas connections.

It isn’t clear who’s going to pay for all this.  According to the Journal-World, Mrs. Brownback established the festival as a nonprofit organization, with the goal of it becoming a self-sufficient organization within a few years. She believes it will also enable the organization to give out grants to school and public libraries around the state.

And what does her husband think of all this?  That isn’t clear either, but here’s a quick look at how Kansas Governor Sam Brownback voted in Congress on various matters with regard to education.

Gov. Brownback voted NO on spending $338B of tax cut on education & debt reduction (4 April 2001).

Gov. Brownback voted NO on funding smaller classes instead of private tutors (15 May 2001).

Gov. Brownback voted NO on shifting $11B from corporate tax loopholes to education (17 March 2005).

Gov. Brownback voted NO on $5B for grants to local educational agencies (26 October 2005).

Gov. Brownback voted NO on $52M for “21st century community learning centers (27 October 2005).

Gov. Brownback voted NO on additional $10.2B for federal education & HHS projects (23 October 2006).

Gov. Brownback voted NO on the College Cost Reduction and Access Act (27 September 2007).

And, of course, Gov. Brownback does not believe in evolution, nor in global warming.

I think Mary Brownback has her job cut out for her.  If she wants the Kansas Book Festival to be properly funded, she’ll need Sam’s support.  She needs to get him to read her lips.  To that end, she should herself begin by reading Lysistrata, the ancient Greek comedy by Aristophanes, which shows women how best to get their husbands to give them what they want, by getting off their backs.

Good luck, and good night.

Additionally, through the years, I’ve directed many other plays at LCT, frequently as co-productions with English Alternative Theatre (EAT), my own theatre-producing organization within the English Department at the University of Kansas.  Among these productions are Master Class by David Pownall (1986), Master Harold and the Boys by Athol Fugard (1989), Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? by Edward Albee (1998), A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry (2000).

Many stories can be told about each one of these productions, some funny, some not so funny, but nothing to seriously damage my friendship and working relationship with Mary Doveton.  And then something happened during the production of Whiteout, a new play by my student Alan Newton which Piet Knetsch was directing for EAT in the LCT space in October of 2000.  I am not yet ready to share with everyone the awful details of what happened at that time. But then, in 2007, along came someone out of the blue who inadvertently “buried the hatchet” once and for all, although not in the usual sense one uses this phrase, as to where the hatchet is buried.

In June and July of 2007, Zack Mannheimer, an enterprising young director who had grown weary of the theatre scene in New York, decided to undertake “A Survey of the American Theatre Landscape” by embarking on a remarkable journey which takes him from Pittsburgh, PA to Raleigh, NC, with 25 stops in between, to see if there is a hospitable city where he can locate his own theatre company.  He started a daily blog (http://www.zacksblog.subjectivetheatre.org) which you can read in its entirety, or you can skip ahead to what he says about Day 49 of his odyssey, in Lawrence.  I’m reproducing below, the more salient passages of his account of the separate interviews he had with Mary Doveton and myself, in our respective offices.

Post 49—Day 49: Thr 7/19/2007—Lawrence

After a shower at…Jay Hawk Motel…I leave to attend my first appointment with Mary Doveton, the Executive Director of The Lawrence Community Theatre (www.theatrelawrence.com). Housed in an old church, the theatre is one block out of the heart of downtown on New Hampshire Street….

I am led downstairs to the offices by the receptionist who brings me into the green room.  Mary is busy speaking to another employee. Behind me sits a large-scale model for a new theatre, and I find out later that this larger space will be opening in 2009.

….Mary brings me into her book-lined office and we sit down. “I’m sorry, we only have a few minutes, I do have another appointment coming shortly.”  Mary sits before me, a strong-willed woman of about 55 who, despite her stern look, is as sweet as Moscato….We begin with the usual round of questions, and Mary answers: “This is our 31st season. We bought this space in 1984. Before that we were operating out of community centers or wherever we could find space.”

LCT has an operating budget of $325,000 of which 65% is earned through ticket prices of $14-$20. They do receive some assistance from granting organizations, but the other 35% is made up mostly through private donations and corporate sponsorship. “There isn’t much, we get about $8,000 from the Kansas Arts Commission,” Mary tells me after I ask her about state/city funding. “There isn’t a lot of public funding in Kansas.”

LCT produces 6 shows per year, recently closing Thoroughly Modern Millie to sold out houses….Mary explains that they try to produce cutting edge work, but the same people always come to that; there does not tend to be an overlap of those who come for campy musicals to something like the latest Shanley play. “Mysteries and musicals bring in the money, and that’s what we need right now.”

…..Her next appointment, who was running late, has now arrived. Before I leave I tell her about my quest to find a new city (to settle in). “Do not come here,” she warns me pointedly. “There’s just not enough room for another group.”

Mary asks me where I’m headed next. “Off to English Alternative Theatre to meet with Paul Lim,” I say.  She makes a face. Not a pleasant one.  “What?”  “O, nothing. Enjoy your talk with Paul.”

And with that, I’m on the road across town to the University where Paul is a professor. It seems, as I am gauging from Mary’s comment, that the theatre community here knows each other, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they like each other.

I’m on the phone with Paul as I cannot seem to find the building he is talking about. “I’m in a black shirt standing in a spot for you as there isn’t a lot of parking,” he says.  I arrive almost 30 minutes late to meet him, after driving repeatedly in the wrong direction down dead end streets….

“Hello!” Paul greets me as I finally pull into my reserved spot.  “I’m so sorry, I got lost.”  “Don’t worry. Come, let’s go to my office.”  I follow Paul into Wescoe Hall for the Humanities. Paul is a lively, happy man of about 60.  Originally from the Philippines, he wound up in Lawrence at KU for college, receiving his BA in 1969, his MA and becoming a GTA in 1972, a lecturer in 1978 and was granted full professorship in 1989. He is the Chancellor’s Club Teaching Professor of Playwriting in the English Department. Not the Theatre Department. Don’t mess that up.

Paul brings me into his small office jampacked with books, posters of old productions, and endless knick-knacks. I sit down beside his desk and we begin. I have so many questions for him about his company, English Alternative Theatre (www.eat.ku.edu), and its affiliation with the university. “EAT is the only theatre company in the country run through the English department,” he tells me….

“Since you’ve been in Lawrence for quite some time, how has it changed?”  “People used to be more adventurous,” he begins, “but that time seems to have passed. There is not a great deal of risk-taking now when it comes to theatre. Lawrence Community Theatre used to take a lot of risks, but that’s not what pays the bills anymore. Still, there is a small handful of people in the community who actually miss what they used to do.”

EAT has an annual budget of $15,000 – $20,000. Most artists are not paid, as it is almost uniformly student driven, though the designers, technicians and stage managers he brings in are given a stipend. “I don’t like them to do work for free,” Paul says.  “Does the university provide the funding?” He laughs. “We have one angel who gives us money—it’s been the same person since our inception; we founded the group together.”"Who is this?” I ask curiously. Paul hands me a copy of Angels in the American Theater.  Apparently, Southern Illinois University Press, who tends to publish all the important theatrical essay books, has just put out a book about theatrical donors in America, and there is an entire article devoted to EAT’s one Angel, Grant K. Goodman. Goodman has an amazing story…there’s not enough room here to go into it, but the long and short of it is that he has always had a lifetime devotion to and love of theatre. Each year he gives EAT the full budget for the season. Paul has never run a fundraiser and has never received a grant, though they are a not-for-profit.

Angels in American Theater is an important book. Never, to my knowledge, has a book been written about the donors of American theatre. This is vital as there would be no theatre without these generous folk. For better or worse, these are the first line of defense when it comes to creating theatre in this country. While I typically abhor the wealthy paying for the art that they want, this book does not only profile the typical Broadway donors. There’s a whole chapter on EAT in Lawrence, Kansas, for god sakes. Robert A. Schanke is the editor and the brainchild behind this operation. He has edited and/or written a virtual catalog of books on American Theatre, this one being part of the Theater in the Americas series that he edits….

But back to Paul, talking about who performs in his shows “The actors come from the community and the student body. I get a lot of the disenchanted theatre students, the ones who just fall through the cracks but are talented and want to perform.”  He says this rather jollily, his round face bobbing along with his words, kindness and warmth emanating from the wide hands he speaks with. “We’ve sent about 20 students to various regional festivals of the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival…and we’ve had 5 or 6 go on to win on the national level.”

“It’s all about the students,” Paul reflects.

This was such a wonderful meeting, and it was warming to be back inside a university.  For all of my dislike of what some of them do, I do miss the feeling of being inside academia. I bid farewell to Paul, and am off to The Pig downtown to continue on with my writing.

I don’t know what’s happened to Zack Mannheimer, and whether he ever actually relocated to any of the cities he visited and wrote about back in 2007.  But, it has now been nearly twelve years since I’ve stepped foot inside 1501 New Hampshire.

And now, of course, Mary Doveton is in the final stages of raising $6.2 million to build a new home for her newly-named Theatre Lawrence at 6th and Wakarusa, at the western edge of Lawrence, far away from the heart of the community.  Last I heard, as of a couple of weeks ago, she was still around $600,000 short of her goal. She needs to raise the amount before the end of September, or she’ll lose a $1.2 million out-of-state challenge grant, and that will be the end of that.

Thankfully, on September 6, Lawrence city commissioners approved giving Theatre Lawrence $100,000 ($20,000 a year for the next five years). A week later, on September 13, representatives from Theatre Lawrence asked Douglas County commissioners to do the same, to give the organization another $100,000 (also $20,000 a year for the next five years).

In its editorial on September 14, The Lawrence Journal-World wrote:

“After making a successful funding pitch to the Lawrence City Commission last week, representatives of Theatre Lawrence, the former Lawrence Community Theatre, have decided to extend their tour with a stop at the Douglas County Commission…to ask county officials to make a similar commitment….To many local taxpayers, this seems like a double-dip….The theater received a generous contribution last week in the form of $100,000 in city taxpayer money. The decision now to ask the county to match that amount may be over-reaching. A large majority of county residents already will be contributing to the fund through the city’s contribution.  Should they be asked to give again through the county?

“Theatre Lawrence says it needs the money to reach its $6.2 million fundraising goal by the end of this month and collect a $1 million out-of-state challenge grant.  We hope they are successful in meeting their goal, but, especially at a time when local government dollars are in such high demand to fund essential services, the city’s contribution of local tax dollars may be enough.”

Needless to say, I’ve been thinking about Mary Doveton a great deal these past couple of weeks.  And I’ve just reread what Zack Mannheimer had to say about Mary when he mentioned my name.  What I’m wondering now, of course, is whether or not to bury the hatchet, this time in the usual sense of the phrase, by giving Theatre Lawrence a bunch of money before the end of September.  If I do so, maybe Mary will no longer make a face, an unpleasant one, the next time my name is brought up in casual conversation.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle-shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.