Six Decades in the Spotlight (and Behind the Curtain)
I've spent more than sixty years in theater—long enough to watch bell-bottoms go out of style, come back, and go out again. And if you've got a minute, I'll tell you how a kid from Rhode Island ended up with greasepaint in his veins and stories to tell.
It all ignited in the early 1960s when I first stepped onto a stage and felt that electric rush—the lights, the audience holding its breath, the momentary terror that I might forget my lines. I was hooked.
By the 1970s, I'd discovered where I truly belonged: not in front of the lights, but orchestrating everything behind them. My directorial debut was "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court" at Middletown High School in Rhode Island, and that was it—I became addicted to the...
Six Decades in the Spotlight (and Behind the Curtain)
I've spent more than sixty years in theater—long enough to watch bell-bottoms go out of style, come back, and go out again. And if you've got a minute, I'll tell you how a kid from Rhode Island ended up with greasepaint in his veins and stories to tell.
It all ignited in the early 1960s when I first stepped onto a stage and felt that electric rush—the lights, the audience holding its breath, the momentary terror that I might forget my lines. I was hooked.
By the 1970s, I'd discovered where I truly belonged: not in front of the lights, but orchestrating everything behind them. My directorial debut was "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court" at Middletown High School in Rhode Island, and that was it—I became addicted to the director's view, watching stories explode to life from the best seat in the house.
But here's what I'm proudest of: it's not the standing ovations or the sold-out houses. It's the actors and directors I've mentored along the way. For twenty years starting in 1991, I worked quietly as a Drama Advisor, coaching emerging talent at places like the New England Theatre Training Institute. I've always believed theater is a living tradition—you learn it, you live it, then you pass it on.
I'm a Roger Williams College alum who never kicked the learning habit. Over the years, I tracked down workshops and apprenticeships with legends like Stella Adler, Burt Reynolds, Charles Nelson Reilly, and Avery Schreiber. Each one peeled back another layer of the craft, and I absorbed every lesson like a sponge in a rainstorm. That hunger to keep growing—that's what I hope shows up in everything I create.
The productions? They've been my education, my laboratory, my love affairs. "Jesus Christ Superstar," "Oliver!," "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat," "Brighton Beach Memoirs," "Noises Off," "A Few Good Men," "My Three Angels"—and everything from "The Emperor's New Clothes" to "Love Letters." Each one taught me something new about connecting with audiences and coaxing magic from actors across theaters in Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, South Carolina, and Florida.
Theater wasn't my only playground. Between 2007 and 2015, I ventured into radio, TV, and film, helming projects like "Newport Arts Scene" on WADK-AM and "Newport RI: The Series" for Newportant Studios. Shows like "Rhode Island Comic Throwdown" and "Newport City Limits" taught me that storytelling doesn't recognize boundaries—it just needs a stage, whether that's made of wood or pixels.
And I never stopped acting. From the stage—"Inherit the Wind," "Wizard of Oz"—to the screen in "You've Got Mail" and "Amistad," plus a string of PSAs and commercials since 2016, I've always loved the challenge of inhabiting different skins, different souls.
Beyond the stage door, I've poured myself into community arts leadership—producing major events like "Newport Rocks the Fort" and working with the Newport Folk & Jazz Festival, Newport Arts and Culture, and the Fort Adams Trust. Theater doesn't exist in a vacuum; it exists to lift communities, to give voice to what matters.
Now comes the twist in my own third act: I'm a produced playwright.
When the pandemic slammed theaters shut in 2020, I did what any theater person does when the curtain won't rise—I found another way to create. With stages dark and audiences scattered, I started writing. What began as a way to stay creatively alive during lockdown became my new calling. After spending decades bringing other people's words to life, I discovered I had plenty of my own to share.
I'm channeling everything I've witnessed, experienced, and survived into plays about real human stories—the messy, beautiful, heartbreaking kind. The best part? I get to direct and perform in my own work.
This is what it's all been building toward. Every show I've directed, every role I've played, every actor I've mentored—it was all preparation for this moment. I'm ready to share my own voice with the world, drawing on sixty-plus years of living, learning, and loving this impossible, irresistible art form we call theater.
And you know what? The curtain's just going up.