(And where he brought down the house!)
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
The year is 1977. An incredibly enthusiastic, vastly intelligent, enormously talented 26 year old would-be director from Ontario had a huge decision to make; take his talents to sunny, beautiful, flowers-in-February Victoria to be nourished artistically and aesthetically by the fine faculty that lead the enlightened programmed for directors at the University of Victoria. Or -- wend his way west and NORTH to Edmonton, Alberta -- one of the coldest bloody cities on the face of the map to struggle against all geographical and climatic odds and attempt to flourish as an artist.
The decision was simple. Go to Victoria.
After two years as the darling of the drama department and lauded as the next Harold Prince, or at least the next Carl Hare, this gifted young director set out into his community to try and find fame, or at least a chance to ply his craft. Much to his horror, he found that the island of Vancouver had no theatres, or none to speak of. Every place he went to look for artistic fulfillment, he was encouraged to open a mushroom farm or learn to paint murals on the sides of derelict buildings or -- shudder -- get a job in government.
"No" said the unbelievably talented and unfortunately sensitive young director, "I'll leave the island and go to the shimmering city on the mainland! There they will recognize my worth and understand the value of my training!" So, he hopped on a ferry to take him to Oz.
On arriving on Bill Millerd's doorstep, the response was "Who?" On his stop over to see Ray Michal at City Stage, the answer was, "He trained where?" A jaunt over to see Christopher Newton at The Playhouse warranted an emphatic "No". Pam Hawthorne at the new Play Centre screamed "GET OUT!" After that, it was all down hill.
The astonishingly insightful young director's hoarded scholarship funds began to run dry given the astronomical cost of housing in the shimmering city. He had to get a job. Everywhere he turned, employers laughed at his degree, decried his training, mocked his profession. Finally he landed a job flipping fish and other sea creatures at the Only Restaurant in a particularly scummy part of town. His once healthy pink skin that had glowed with the flush of idealism became more and more pock marked by the endless onslaught of deep fryer fat and bitterness over a talent wasted. When they finally pulled down the decrepit shell of The Only and tossed him into the desolate streets, he went to the only place he knew he could -- the drug infested flophouses of the east end of the shimmering city, which shimmered no more. At the tender age of 38, he swung by a rope into the path of a moving Skytrain -- and that was the end of what should have been a brilliant career.
This could have been my story. But luckily, I chose the other path and came to the University of Alberta. Like so many of us in this room, I was fortunate enough to have been nurtured, challenged and pushed around in the best way possible by such great teachers and artists in their own right as Tom Peacocke, Jim McTeague, Frank Bueckert, Lee Livingstone, Jim de Felice, Victor Becker -- fill in your own blanks. The Drama Department at the University of Alberta provided me with a foundation of experience, a chance to experiment, a rigorous critical environment and lots of support. (At what other university would your thesis advisor take you out after successfully defending your thesis and buy you enough drinks that you puke in the washroom of the Library Lounge. Tom Peacocke gave me that kind of support!)
Since I graduated in 1979, the University of Alberta has continued to provide me with opportunities to teach, direct, collaborate and grow. Since then, people I meet from outside of Edmonton have constantly asked me why there is such a proliferation of theatrical activity in an isolated prairie city like Edmonton. One might have said "money", but you would have thought Calgary to have as much of that! There is only one answer, the incredible incubation of theatrical talent at the University of Alberta.
Okay -- here is the moment of truth. Could you turn the house lights up please? Alright--if you have every taught a course, taken a course, or graduated with a BA, B Ed., BFA, MFA or MA from the Drama Department at the University of Alberta, please stand up.
I rest my case.
The Drama Department at the University of Alberta has set a standard of excellence for theatre in our city for almost fifty years and I'm proud to be both a graduate and an associate of it. My decision in 1977 to turn NORTH and bypass the flowers in February set me on an amazing course and gave me opportunities that most Ontario Boys only dream of.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one with the bigger sky,
And that has made all the difference.
(With thanks and apologies to Robert Frost)