"To a Good Run"

Saturday night, March 10: for the first time since my tenure with the Vancouver Voice ended upon its folding, I ventured out to see a play at one of our local playhouses. I went alone to the Slocum House Theater in downtown Vancouver to catch their production of “Greater Tuna.” It would be the final production of the company at Slocum House, as, after more than 40 years, increased rent would force them to find a different venue.
It was a wet,  indigo twilight as I parked along Block 10, the empty lot block just northeast of Esther Short Park. I had written a piece about it for my reporting class at Washington State University in Vancouver back in the fall of 2007, and early the next year I sold it to the Voice as my first contribution. For that story, I talked with people of the Southwest Washington Center For the Arts about a proposed performing arts center to occupy that space, designed to attract theater and modest concert tours to Vancouver. It was to help vitalize downtown Vancouver, making it a cultural force to compete with Portland. Now, more than four years later, the lot is still empty.
As I cut through Esther Short Park, I looked up to the impressive structure across the street from its south side. The building was built for, and briefly occupied by, The Columbian. Thanks to the tanking print journalism industry, it too had to be left vacant. Looking at it, I imagined what it would be like to have that building stand as an active host for Vancouver’s daily. And, at the same time, to have a performing arts center presenting plays and musical concerts just a block away. Esther Short would have been at the center of Vancouver’s burgeoning culture.
I had been to the Slocum House Theater many times in the past few years. When I wrote for the  Voice, I had asked the editor if I could began writing reviews around the local theater scene. There were only a handful of small theater companies active, as compared to the considerably more massive and versatile scene in Portland. Ah, ever in the shadow.... Still, while I knew next to nothing about the art of theater going in, I enjoyed seeing the productions and giving it my best, meeting cool people, keeping my thumb on the pulse, and seeing good shows. Slocum presented the first show I saw and reviewed: “The Green Room.”
I arrived twenty minutes before curtain, and spoke with director Jim Fully at the box office. As I did, somebody raised a cup of wine to him and said, “To a good run.”
The house was packed, and I was lucky to have been secured a seat. Also, as a bonus, admission that night was free. Thanks to Jim and the good people at Slocum for both. “Greater Tuna” was good fun: a series of loosely-connected comedy vignettes centering around a redneck town in rural Texas. Only two, quite talented actors, took on several roles in different genders (ala Monty Python.) Before the show, I got to see/chat with some friends I had made during my tenure there. At the end of she show, I applauded, then hastened out of there so I wouldn’t have to say goodbye twice.
As I walked out of the theater, the first to leave, the twilight had given to night, and the rain was firm and steady. I’ve always been amazed at how quiet downtown Vancouver is at 10 p.m. on a Saturday. I walked past Tigers Garden and the Starbucks, and they looked like scenes from a Hopper painting. God, I thought, that dream of surging vitality had only been a few years ago! A year ago, in fact. As a writer for the Voice, I got to meet people through the theater, make friends with other staffers and figureheads in the growing cultural scene in Vancouver. I got to enjoy art shows, concerts, parties, the Da-Da. As I walked alone to my car that night, I wondered, was it now floundering, or am I just out of the loop?
A while ago I went to see a movie at the Kiggins (Raiders of the Lost Ark, I think it was) and while enjoying a pre-movie hard cider upstairs, I chatted with my esteemed friend, accomplished photographer and all around Ms. Vancouver Anni Becker, and we agreed that things aren’t quite what they were even a short while ago. I had never been the most comfortable at parties: it’s always been difficult for me to blend in and socialize, and I ended up pinballing between Anni and other friends of mine. Still, now, sitting along and typing this at home alone on a Saturday night, I miss writing for the Voice. Something was growing here, and I miss being a part of it, contributing to it in what little way I could. I had even founded a spoken-word reading session on Sunday evenings at an uptown coffee shop. Few people showed up, it was put on hiatus, and the shop was burnt out. Still, thinking about it now, I think, did I really do that?  Mostly, though, I miss the people.
Of course, they’re still around (most of them, I assume), and so is the art. Only, now I don’t get paid to experience it. I guess I’ve found myself being pulled magnetically the way most people seem to have: it was fun, but unless you’re planning on making a living doing this, it’s time to move on. But...nah. These things come in surges, and as long as there are people putting out their art, sometimes a few, sometimes many, there will still be something wonderful in Vancouver. It continues to be a good run.