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15. Flight to the North

In 1994, I launched my most ambitious project, the planting of a new church in Kent, Ohio. Leaving the structure, leadership, and security of a long-established congregation, we launched out into the deep. We started in a movie theatre where, for a time, we enjoyed some success. Circumstance reared its ugly head, however, forcing us to search for a new meeting place. We eventually found a day care center just across the Stow-Kent line. Passing through the bottleneck of a lobby, you entered a big, circular play area. Beyond the "circle" was a smaller area ringed by classrooms and kitchen. (An aerial photo of the building shows something that looks much like Han Solo's spaceship, the Millennium Falcon.) The church met at Kids-Play from the summer of 1997 until after the Robinsons' departure in the fall of 2001.

In between those dates, we used that play area not only for worship and study, but for a variety of programs, including movies, a special appearance by a 40-voice choir (glad they brought risers!), and a little something called Flight to the North.

If you're a fan of the George Reeves Adventures of Superman series, you'll quickly recall that title. It was one of the more offbeat episodes. The plot goes something like this: Ex-con Louie Lyman bets his pal Buckets that his old friend Margie can bake a better pie than Bucket's aunt. But Margie won't bake a pie for Louie; she'll only bake for her fiancé, Steve, a soldier stationed in Alaska. Margie has requested Superman's help in getting the pie to Steve. A hillbilly named Sylvester J. Superman appears at her door. Believing him to be the genuine article, Margie sends Sylvester north with the pie. But Margie's lemon meringue pie is worth $25,000 to Louie who follows the hick Superman on his flight to the north.

I remember watching this episode one day. I noted the simplicity of the sets (the series operated on a very tight budget) - a couple of sitting rooms, an office, a shack interior - and thought, "I'll bet we could turn this into a stage production." Of course, flying would be out of the question. I suppose we might've been able to rent a theatre with the proper rigging - if we'd had the money. But then, as I reflected, lack of a flying man had stopped neither the movie serials nor the Superman TV pilot from being produced. There were a couple other super-stunts we'd have to simulate, but those didn't look too hard. Venue was a greater issue. Our church was struggling, hurting for members. We needed something that would get people in the door, an event that would create new prospects. I didn't want an audience in a theatre; I wanted potential members in our meeting place. So I decided to work with what we had. Faster than you can say, "speeding bullet," I was recruiting a cast for a live adaptation of Flight to the North.

I invited several people to my home to watch the episode. I told them what I wanted to do with it and why. I told them the specific roles I had in mind for each of them. I don't remember much of the discussion that followed. I do remember the stark contrast from my previous experience in that nobody suggested that church was no place for Superman. As I recall, the only doubts expressed were about personal ability. Although a couple of these folks had been class clowns, none of them were actors. I assured them they could pull it off and they took me at my word. Everybody I'd asked to come onboard stayed onboard.

I look back on it now and shake my head. Loyalty and trust are valuable coin indeed. I was truly blessed to have such people at the core of that congregation.

Now the work began. First, the script: I didn't so much write an adaptation as transcribe from the TV. Thankfully, it required only a few minor changes for our setting and needs. The original script was the work of David Chantler who'd penned many Adventures of Superman episodes. This one was a refreshing departure from the usual Lois-gets-in-trouble-Superman-appears offering. In Serial to Cereal, Gary Grossman calls the episode "timeless" and suggests that Chantler channeled the genius of Carl Reiner. I got excited thinking about working with my actors to help them let that comic potential loose again.

I not only produced, I directed as well. I'd had a little theatre experience and quite a lot of experience writing and directing plays and skits for church. In addition, I fulfilled my life's ambition by taking the role of Superman. Some might call it hubris, some might call it presumption. I prefer to think of it as unmitigated gall. Seriously, though, it made sense if for no other reason than that I was the one in the best physical shape for the part. True, I was 44, four years older than George Reeves was when he did this one. But, unlike George, I liked to work out - enough to look svelte if not particularly muscular.

I'd bought the costume a few years before. My son, Alexander, had worn it in our much briefer adaptation of "The Death of Superman." The basic uniform, a one-piece blue jumpsuit with false red briefs and false red boot tops needed no alteration. The costume came with a pair of sole-less foam boots. I quickly discarded these, opting instead for a pair of red socks. You might snort, but I'd seen a much more elaborate production of It's A Bird, It's A Plane, It's Superman, and that guy wore red socks! Let me tell you, they save a lot of time changing from Clark Kent to the Man of Steel!

I cut the unbecoming tie strings off the cape and got Barb to fix it to the shoulders of my costume with Velcro. I wish now that I'd had her do the same with the costume at the back. You live and learn. There was an elastic half-belt that I threw away in favor of a yellow Boy Scout belt. It matched the yellow in the S emblem and complemented the ensemble nicely.

We kept furniture and props to a minimum - a small table served for the front desk of a shabby hotel, Kent's desk at the Planet, and Steve's radio station in his Alaskan outpost. Only the props on the table changed. Actors coming onstage carried in. Those exiting the stage carried out.

Speaking of the stage, we had none. If you remember the circular play area I mentioned, it opened up on a smaller area behind. We covered the space between the walls at that end with a purple backdrop on PCP pipe. It was simple but serviceable and actually rather elegant. Our onstage area, then, was before the curtain, backstage behind. Actors always entered and exited through the curtain at stage left (audience right).

Rehearsals began around the end of March. We rehearsed two or three times a week for four weeks. It wasn't easy for non-actors, and particularly difficult for Jackie who played the part of Margie the pie baker. She not only struggled with the lines, but with the flu. Thankfully, Harry (Buckets), Buck (Steve), and the others stayed well, strong, and dedicated. I don't remember having any trouble with people not showing up for rehearsal. I do, however, remember one member of our troupe being rather mule headed. As a matter of fact, all he did was stand around like a jackass. But that's only because he played the hillbilly Superman's constant companion, his beloved mule, Lilly Belle. Tom Teeter wore a paper-mache head my son had made and a brown poncho. He made a great mule.

The very talented Rob Fickel played "Leftover" Louie Lyman, pining for pie and salivating all the way to the bank. My sixteen-year-old son, Alex, who'd played a young Man of Steel a few years before, now hitched up his overalls to do a befuddled rural version. His sister Ruth played Lois. A girl named Martina played the desk clerk - a small part, but with great lines.

As the cast trod the boards in rehearsal, I trod our area with posters and fliers announcing the show. I didn't make it onto the radio, but I did get us into a couple papers, including the Akron Beacon Journal. I got hold of their religion reporter, Jim Carney, who interviewed me over the phone. Saturday morning of the day before our show, I walked to the nearby convenience store. There, to my delight, I saw that I'd made the front page - above the fold! Inside was a big picture of me in all my open-shirted, S-exposed grandeur with the headline, Look! Up in the sky! Not only did Jim spell my name right, he gave us a wonderful write-up, adhering closely to what I'd said in the interview.

The script had been committed to memory, the blocking established, the sound-effects rehearsed and the word put in the streets. I'd enlisted half-dozen women and a man or two to bake a dozen and more pies (not just lemon meringue) for refreshments after the show. Now all we had to do was...fill our seats.

Ah, theatre! The roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd! There's nothing like the delicious tension, the adrenaline-fired, senses-heightening expectation of Opening Night. Of course, in our case, win, lose or draw, opening night was to be closing night as well. One performance (so we thought at the time). One chance to introduce ourselves, get to know some new folks, and maybe draw some folks into the church.

Around 40 people showed up. That may not sound like many, but, for a well-hidden facility on a fast-traveled street, a place that housed a church numbering 25 or so in attendance, 40 wasn't bad! Early on, I'd climbed the backstage ladder up to the storage area above the kitchen. On cue, I would stand above the crowd for that famous opening narration ending with "...truth, justice, and the American way." Everything was ready.

Please, Lord, let nothing go wrong! And the Lord said, "Okay, sure."

Our sound man, Wayne May, let 'er rip. The thrilling music of that unsung musical genius, Leon Klatzkin, filled the room. I stood in the breeze of a low-set fan tossing the American flag behind me. I looked down on the audience. A father nudged his young son, pointing upwards. Superman had arrived on earth! The moment so thrilled me, if I'd been a few years younger, I think I might've jumped the eight feet to the floor.

Instead, as the music faded, I faded back out of sight, and then clambered back down the ladder. I had to hurry. This was a job for Clark Kent! I'd toyed briefly with the idea of wearing padding beneath my costume, like Reeves had done, to bulk up a little. Now I was glad I hadn't. Even with help, it takes precious minutes to shrug off a cape and slip into shirt, pants, coat, tie and shoes. (Glasses too. Don't forget your specs, Mr. Mild Mannered Reporter!) Padding would've made it harder and taken more time.

We did well. I can't remember any serious flubs, no technical problems. Our super-feats came out nice. The first, lifting and carrying a piano, was Alex's stunt. We'd simply disguised a book case to look like a piano. It was wooden, of course, and so had heft but that only added to the illusion that Sylvester J. Superman was a mighty strong feller! My only feat was to crash through a wall of ice. We built a simple frame and covered it with butcher's paper. I forget how, but we were able to attach ice to the paper. The only problem was I hadn't been able to rehearse with the rig repeatedly. There was neither paper enough nor ice enough nor time enough to keep rebuilding the thing. But it worked. A couple people in the front row got the added thrill of some ice in their laps!

I don't recall much laughter. If my recollection is correct, it's a shame. The lines were clever and funny:

Kent: Skis? Did you say skis?

Desk Clerk: Yeah, s-k-e-e-e-s! Skis!

*****

Superman: Has he been here yet, the man who wanted the pie?

Steve: Certainly. He left just a few minutes ago, but don't fret. I've got a nice can of plum pudding for you!

*****

Anyway, I thought this stuff was funny. Still do! I also thought the pie we had after the show was delicious; the apple pie, that is. I don't care much for lemon meringue.

I also thought that, as Omar Khayam said, the moving finger having writ, moves on - or, in our case, the troupe having performed quits. In this, I was mistaken. We wound up performing the show again in a different place. Tell you all about it next time.

Don't miss the next thrill-packed episode: Another Flight to the North.

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15. Flight to the North

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