Parting Glances
My fledgling journalist days began at Harry Burns Hutchins Intermediate School, as contest editor for the Hutchins Star, during my senior year.
Three times that long-distanced semester when the four-sheeter was published I'd dream up contests based on riddles. (Q:Who's a moving vehicle plus a flotilla of ships? A: Mr. Van Fleet, gym teacher. That sorta simplistic thing.)
I also did drawings and wrote a poem for "The Coach and Four," the school's year book. Looking back at my poem recently stumbled upon in a Detroit Public Schools bound anthology, I appear to have been rather morbidly introspective for my young, just post-pubscent years, age 15.
"The Clock." Ahem, it goes: "Our dusty old clock sits on the shelf/ Ticking softly there by itself/ Slowing counting the hours away/ As night turns to another day./ Winter, summer; the whole year through/ Tick tock, I hear it, do you?/ We grow old and pass away/ But the clock goes on/ From day to day."
(For decades now I've been meaning to have my poem set to music but I haven't found a gay composer worthy of matching suitable mood music — non-contrapuntalist, overly acoustic, no hint of boom-box rap — to such a prescient literary gem.)
As a lark while attending my second semester at Wayne University I asked Frank Gill, Wayne Collegian journalism advisor, whom I met through my then partner Ernie, if I might try my hand at reviewing something for the paper.
"How about it, Frank?" said Ernie, who was writing music reviews. I've been mentoring Al's aesthetic tastes, inspirationally, emotionally — occasionally physically as well. Give him a byline opportunity. Let's see what happens."
Gay friendly Mr. Gill, gave me the nod and a go ahead to the paper's chief editor. I was off and running. (I still am. Both.)
My first review was of a dance concert choreographed by modern dance mavin Harriet Berg at Wayne's Jessie Bonstelle Theater. (Harriet, at 80-something-young, is still around, and, one way or another, actively promoting dance. She's founder of Detroit's famous Madam Cadillac Dancers.)
I remember little of Harriet's performance back then, except a pas de deux, set to the hauntingly lovely music of the Bachianas Brasileiras by Hector Villa-Lobos. The piece is for five cellos and soprano. (It was, as performed by Harriet ,"lyrical." Another piece she did in near-total darkness with flashlights was anything but.)
There's just a possibility that I also had a reviewer's "first." Mentioning it here is timely. It was a performance of Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream" also at the Bonstelle. It was the local debut of a yet-to-be-discovered star.
Raymon Lee Cramton was Oberon, King of the Faeries. (No comment.) Ray, who died recently, was TV's Medical Center Chad Everrett. Off stage he was a frequent reveler at Verne's Bar, a theatrical gathering place for actors, on Wayne's campus.
Ray's agent, Henry Willison, also "discovered" Tab Hunter, Rock Hudson, Troy Donahue, Rory Calhoun. (My, my. Small world.)
I wasn't paid for my Wayne Collegian reviews, but earned a by-line, saving my handful of column comments, insights, sarcasm as samples of presumed mastery of Journalism's 5 Ws. Who. What. When. Where. (And, Why Not!)
