More Ghost Stories

This is a picture of the traveling set for "Jay Johnson: The Two and Only" which is a simplified version of the set we had on Broadway. (Seen here in work lights. The lighting is a integral part of my show. The cases literally glow and cast beautiful shadows on cue). These cases have been part of the show since the original Atlantic Theatre run. They know their part very well by now.

At the Colony Theatre in Burbank we duplicated the set with different trunks and that is where my story begins. For three days of rehearsal and tech I walked on and around these trunks, as we prepared the show for its opening last week. Every theatre is different so there is always an adjustment to that particular space. The difference in the trunks was negligible in the total process. Everything was proceeding as it should, and then came the dress rehearsal the night before opening.

For those who have not seen the show, at one point I describe a time when my mentor Art Sieving opens up a carrying case revealing his wooden partner Harry. It is a poignant moment and I can easily take myself back to that time very clearly in my mind. Not only during this show but on other occasions in my career I have felt the unseen presence of my friend Art. This dress rehearsal was one of those times.

It was a particularly emotional rehearsal for me that evening. I was having trouble keeping my feelings in check to get through the script. My director Murphy mentioned there was a full moon and with no other reason for this night to be different, we accepted that fact as an explanation. I was sitting on a trunk stage right delivering Art's story. I said, "And he opened up that suitcase," and one of the latches on a case, stage left, sprang open. It was loud enough for the crew and the few people in the audience to hear it clearly.

I was stopped mid sentence, startled initially by the sound but then blind sided by the emotion. It was impossible for me to see this as merely a coincidence. The cases are old and the coupling of the latches are worn. It would not be so extraordinary that one would suddenly fail and spring open. However, I had been bounding all over the stage for a couple of days and the latch had not given way with my movement. It chose a time when there was no movement, I was sitting down on the other side of the stage and the exact moment I mentioned that Art opened his case, to spring open. The timing could not have been any more perfect.

I suppose you can see this incident in any way you choose, and call the phenomenon by any name you wish. To me it is just a reminder of life continuing to express itself and find a way to be known, individually. I have another week to tell the tale of Art and Harry at the Colony, I'm pretty sure they are going to be around watching.

As you were,
Jay