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Thank you.
Well the first thing I want to do is thank my parents. They’re here tonight. Betty and Larry Day. (that’s right… thanks mom and dad)
My parents were awesome. They did all the great things that great parents do - they put me in a position to succeed and gave me all love and support to pursue whatever I wanted to in life. So it means a lot to me that they could be here.
I know I haven’t been able to attend these banquets every year because I’m often performing over the holidays, but every time I’m able to be here, I am overwhelmed by the sheer number of exceptional people with this one thing in common- the Poplar Pike Playhouse. The work we did here at the playhouse and GHS-TV was so meaningful to us, it formed a bond that has withstood the test of time and trials of life that can often separate high school friends.
My parents made me feel very special and loved no matter what I chose to do.But it was the work I did with Mr. Bluestien that helped me understand what I wanted to do with my life.You gave me the confidence to pursue it. You made me feel like I was talented and that I too could be exceptional.
I moved around a lot as a kid. I lived in Houston Texas til I was 12. Then we spent 3 years in Denver. I loved Denver. I was totally set in Denver. My parents bought me a drum set, I had done my first couple of plays and I was gonna be in the marching band… rock stardom and groupies no doubt were soon to follow.Then one day, my parents dropped a bomb on me, “We’re moving to Tennesse.”It was so not awesome.My mother’s advice to me was, and has always been “Bloom where you are planted.”Sounds sappy and sweet now, but at the time it sounded suspiciously like, “suck it up and make it work” So we moved to Germantown the summer before my 10th grade year, and I had to try to make it work.
The first person I met was Scott Bettes. Scott gave me a tour of the television studio and I remember telling him that I couldn’t decide whether to stay in the band, or to join the production class. He took me to an edit suite and popped in a tape of the spring musical, Into the Woods. I had seen High School productions before, but they were all the same plays that every high school did: Grease, Bye-Bye Birdie, Oklahoma, and Our Town. I had never seen anything like this before. I remember watching that video of Into the Woods starring Julia Wilson, George Downer, Andy Romine, Steven Davis, Greg Budzak and of course, Missi Pyle, and I knew right then, I wanted to be in the plays next year, I wanted to try to be a News Reporter and I wanted to join the production class. I was also able to recognize that my parents had planted me in a place that cultivated its own traditions and offered opportunities to bloom in areas I hadn’t even imagined.
All of the students who were working in the studio, and in the production class treated each other with an air of professionalism that I had never been exposed to before. Some students held titles such as Anchor, or Producer, and Floor Manager. The studio was being general managed at that time by Brian Dupantis and Chris Ridenhour… the epitome of professionalism… who would say to us, “Dude, that switcher costs more than your life…” and I BELIEVED HIM.
Mr. Bluestein had decided that fall to do the play Crimes of the Heart. There was only 1 male part and before the audition, I tried not to get my hopes up. I knew there were seniors who had paid their dues and I was totally prepared to chill out and wait my turn. So I audition, and I couldn’t believe it… I got the part. I was so excited! Mostly because I was going to be the only guy in an all girl cast- Tennessee was looking pretty sweet right about now!
So, we get together after school one day and we have a rehearsal. A “read through” if you’re a professional! I went home that night and pretty much memorized all of my lines, only to learn the very next day that Mr. Bluestein has decided he’s changed his mind. He’s going to scrap the whole project and put on a musical instead - “ Trixie True: Teen Detective”
And an enormous reversal of fortune occurred for me. This play had 4 male parts and I had the smallest. Just to be sure my ego was in check, Mr. Bluestein would often remind me that I was the worst singer in the entire cast. A valuable lesson was being learned here. I’d have done anything to be on stage and Frank knew that. In the words of Bart Simpson quoting the late great George Burns, “show business is a notorious bitch goddess.”
Despite my smaller role in the show, I was able to see the bright side - the girls still outnumbered the guys - and I knew we were putting on a much bigger, much better production. I’m certain it was funnier. I mean come on, we had Andy Romine playing this evil kidnapping Nazi Fop obsessing about ballet slippers- what’s better than that really?
Trixie True turned out to be a much larger and much more rewarding undertaking. Another valuable lesson was being learned here - being part of an ensemble and making a contribution to something where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts is much more rewarding than having the spotlight all to yourself.
The next year, in eleventh grade, I remember that televisions were installed in every classroom. We were now required by law to watch a national student news program produced by an elite group of high school students selected from across the nation. It was called Channel One. We would watch this program with curiosity, comparing it to our own work at GHS-TV. I recall feeling proud of our logo, our production values and our professionalism.
One day, Frank stood by the pencil sharpener at the end of class, as he often does, and he validated what we had all been thinking. He told us we can do anything Channel One can do, and we don’t need to be selected as part of a national elite program. We ARE an elite group. He told us to strive for perfection, because we have it within us.
Mr. Bluestein never seemed to doubt that students from Germantown would be the next generation of performers, writers, producers, and directors, and he did everything he could to help us create that same vision for ourselves. One way he did this was by introducing us to many successful and influential people who were excelling in their creative work.
One of the most memorable days of school was the final week of 10th grade year. It was when Charles Strouss came to visit. For those who don’t know him… Mom and Dad… Charles Strouss wrote the musical Annie. Frank took us all into the theatre and Charles sat down at the piano and played the song Tomorrow. The sun will come out tomorrow.
I never thought about where that song came from or why. We are used to hearing that song sung by a little orphan Annie and seeing her sing it from the fire escape in the movie. Well, listening to this old man sing it gave the song an entirely new meaning for me. In that one gesture, (putting Mr Strouss behind the piano upon our stage) Mr. Bluestein had taken a timeless piece of art that seemed untouchable, he changed its context entirely by bringing its composer to our theatre and made it real and accessible. I was able to see the creative process right before my very eyes. It was kind of an epiphany for me. I looked around the room at my peers, many of whom were in tears, and I remember thinking “pinch yourself, you are surrounded by a lot of talent. I knew in that moment that me and my classmates would soon venture out to take the place of Mr. Strouss. Soon we would soon unleash our creative work into the world.
My senior year culminated with a visit from Jerome Lawrence, the author of the play “Inherit the Wind.” He attended our spring musical “Chess” He told me I had a voice like a ton of bricks and he thought I could play the part of Henry David Thoreau a play he wrote called “The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail.” He asked me if I had ever read it, and of course I said no, and he gave me an autographed copy that said, “dear Wes, I hope you play Thoreau someday… Jerome Lawrence.”
My first day of college at NCSA, we had to perform a monologue, followed by a discussion with our classmates. I very dutifully put together a monologue from The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail. During the discussion, one of my classmates asked me why I chose this piece. I humbly said, “this may sound funny, but I met Jerome Lawrence, he saw our high school musical, CHESS, and told me I should play Thoreau… so... I guess I’m giving it a try.” Another student piped in and said, “your high school did the musical Chess? What high school did you go to?” I said I was from Memphis and he cut me off… “Wait a minute,” he said, “don’t tell me… is that real snobby school… called Germantown?” And I got mad. I was proud of where I came from. And our stupid school motto flashed through my mind… and I blurted it out without thinking… I said, “We’re not snobs… We’re just better.”
We’ve heard many alumni say this before, and I’m proud to be saying it again. Mr. Bluestein laid a foundation for me at his institution here at the Poplar Pike Playhouse that gave the skills necessary to succeed at other institutions. From the North Carolina School of the Arts to my career as an actor in New York with the Blue Man Group project, my professional life started here at the Poplar Pike Playhouse where Mr. Bluestein helped me understand that I have the talent to excel. He made me feel exceptional at a time when I needed it the most.
A lot of people who’ve been deeply touched by Mr. Bluestein over the years have looked back and wondered why and how someone like him can do so much for his students at a public high school. First and foremost, Frank Bluestein is a teacher. Students will learn the most when they know their teacher cares about them. I knew that Frank could take a Hit Broadway Show from NYC and we could be the first high school in the U.S. to get the rights to do it. I knew that Frank had a deep knowledge of TV production and knew he had his fingers on the pulse of cutting edge technology. I knew all of that. And when your 15 years old none of that matters. I didn’t care about that. I knew that Frank cared about me.
To the current students at Germantown, You are more than students. You are my peers. I’m a part of you, as you are a part of me. Tradition Never Graduates. The most meaningful recognition in life comes from one’s peers. Thank you for selecting me as your guest of honor tonight. I’ve had a lot of fun.
Thank you.
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