Saturday, October 17, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Jim Bradley memorial to Tom Humphrey 10/10/09
------ Forwarded Message
From: Jim Bradley <xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Date: Tue, 13 Oct 2009 07:41:42 -0400
To: "Bradley, James"
Conversation: TOM
Subject: TOM
Tom liked The Doors. He admitted that to me once.
Tom Humphrey. TH. Tom. Coach. My teacher. My mentor. My friend. He was Mr. Humphrey for the first 3 years I knew him. In the crowd I hung out with in high school, it was a rite of passage when you could call him Tom. It is the middle of the night here in NY and thanks to Carmen I have just finished watching the 2 plus hour North Carolina memorial video on the web. I feel a little lost. Lonely. Sad. Mad. All of it...
I make my living as a director now. And Tom was there at the beginning of it all; he opened the door to this world of creativity and helped ignite this passion for bringing ideas to life that still singes the inside of my skull -- at times it literally hurts my head. First at Newark High School in 1974 and then at Weathervane Playhouse and later at Millbrook Playhouse and finally in San Diego. The thing I remember most about Tom's work was his uncanny sense of setting the table. Preshows. Music to set the tone. Establishing the spine from the first sound/light/set cue. I find I use that sensibility every day. It all has to connect to your thesis.
I have lived in New York for the last 20 years and remember when my desire to be here began. And again Tom was there. August, 1979. He and I spent a whirlwind few days together running through museums and seeing shows. And in those few days my life unmistakably changed. First, "Sweeney Todd" at the Uris, to this day the most unforgettable evening spent in a theatre audience (talk about your preshow!). And the next day my introduction to 70MM film, my first movie (front row, rear section) at the Ziegfeld, and the first afternoon matinee of "Apocalypse Now" (they handed out a program with the credits as there were no opening or closing titles for the 70MM version of the film). From the helicopter pan of the theater in the dark that opens the movie to the final sound of the rains falling at the end, my little brain got bigger and bigger. Don't remember what time the show was but I remember exiting the theater with Tom afterwards and sitting in the Plaza just outside the Ziegfeld in the bright sunlight, feeling numb and a little woozy. It was around this time I had the dawning realization that movies -- and not theatre -- was what I wanted to do with my life. It was strange to be there with Tom, my theater mentor as it slowly dawned on me that his world -- the theatre -- was not my future. But somehow it made sense that he was beside me at that exact moment. We talked about the movie for hours.
And soon after we hopped in Tom's piece of shit yellow car (what the hell WAS that thing anyway?) and drove like a bat out of hell from NY to San Diego. I think it was 70 or 80 something hours that we were in that car together eating, sleeping, singing, talking -- no hotel rooms -- just drive, switch seats, sleep, switch seats, drive. We did pull off into a parking lot somewhere in Kansas but neither of us got out of the car, just slept in our seats ("Never get out of the boat, absolutely god damn right...") And then, bleary eyed, we emerge from our smelly cocoon and we’re in Las Vegas -- Tom liked Vegas -- so that he could feed his gambling Jones. It was Labor Day and the fucking Telethon was going on and there were people in wheelchairs and metal crutches EVERYWHERE collecting money for Jerry's kids – (“What the World Needs NOW, is LOVE, SWEET LOVE...”). And me, poor college student that I was, stumbling around Las Vegas, broke, bleary, dirty -- freaking because I don't gamble and because it was/is really REALLY weird in Vegas, even during a "regular" day. And finally I can't stand the constant begging for "the kids" and I step back into Circus Circus and Tom is just finishing up, losing the last of his money, cigarette dangling from his lips, drinking and pokering and as happy as can be, truly like a pig is shit, IN HIS ELEMENT...
Finally we get the fuck out of there and march on to the sea, Cardiff by the Sea. And it was my first time in California. And I would move there when I graduated from college in 2 years. And of course Tom had a hand in it…
I am mad that you didn't take care of yourself. That you continued to run the redlights through all the warnings signs for all those last years until it was too late. I am sad that I didn't respond to the last email from you because I didn't know what to say and just kept putting it off until I had the time to say it. I am sad that you never got that thing you were after in your life (did you?). I am deeply sad that I won't get to see you again. I am sorry that the whole world didn't know you and mourn along with us at your passing.
But most of all, I am forever glad to have known you. You changed my life.
Love forever, Jimmy.
FADE OUT.
------ End of Forwarded Message
From: Jim Bradley <xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Date: Tue, 13 Oct 2009 07:41:42 -0400
To: "Bradley, James"
Conversation: TOM
Subject: TOM
Tom liked The Doors. He admitted that to me once.
Tom Humphrey. TH. Tom. Coach. My teacher. My mentor. My friend. He was Mr. Humphrey for the first 3 years I knew him. In the crowd I hung out with in high school, it was a rite of passage when you could call him Tom. It is the middle of the night here in NY and thanks to Carmen I have just finished watching the 2 plus hour North Carolina memorial video on the web. I feel a little lost. Lonely. Sad. Mad. All of it...
I make my living as a director now. And Tom was there at the beginning of it all; he opened the door to this world of creativity and helped ignite this passion for bringing ideas to life that still singes the inside of my skull -- at times it literally hurts my head. First at Newark High School in 1974 and then at Weathervane Playhouse and later at Millbrook Playhouse and finally in San Diego. The thing I remember most about Tom's work was his uncanny sense of setting the table. Preshows. Music to set the tone. Establishing the spine from the first sound/light/set cue. I find I use that sensibility every day. It all has to connect to your thesis.
I have lived in New York for the last 20 years and remember when my desire to be here began. And again Tom was there. August, 1979. He and I spent a whirlwind few days together running through museums and seeing shows. And in those few days my life unmistakably changed. First, "Sweeney Todd" at the Uris, to this day the most unforgettable evening spent in a theatre audience (talk about your preshow!). And the next day my introduction to 70MM film, my first movie (front row, rear section) at the Ziegfeld, and the first afternoon matinee of "Apocalypse Now" (they handed out a program with the credits as there were no opening or closing titles for the 70MM version of the film). From the helicopter pan of the theater in the dark that opens the movie to the final sound of the rains falling at the end, my little brain got bigger and bigger. Don't remember what time the show was but I remember exiting the theater with Tom afterwards and sitting in the Plaza just outside the Ziegfeld in the bright sunlight, feeling numb and a little woozy. It was around this time I had the dawning realization that movies -- and not theatre -- was what I wanted to do with my life. It was strange to be there with Tom, my theater mentor as it slowly dawned on me that his world -- the theatre -- was not my future. But somehow it made sense that he was beside me at that exact moment. We talked about the movie for hours.
And soon after we hopped in Tom's piece of shit yellow car (what the hell WAS that thing anyway?) and drove like a bat out of hell from NY to San Diego. I think it was 70 or 80 something hours that we were in that car together eating, sleeping, singing, talking -- no hotel rooms -- just drive, switch seats, sleep, switch seats, drive. We did pull off into a parking lot somewhere in Kansas but neither of us got out of the car, just slept in our seats ("Never get out of the boat, absolutely god damn right...") And then, bleary eyed, we emerge from our smelly cocoon and we’re in Las Vegas -- Tom liked Vegas -- so that he could feed his gambling Jones. It was Labor Day and the fucking Telethon was going on and there were people in wheelchairs and metal crutches EVERYWHERE collecting money for Jerry's kids – (“What the World Needs NOW, is LOVE, SWEET LOVE...”). And me, poor college student that I was, stumbling around Las Vegas, broke, bleary, dirty -- freaking because I don't gamble and because it was/is really REALLY weird in Vegas, even during a "regular" day. And finally I can't stand the constant begging for "the kids" and I step back into Circus Circus and Tom is just finishing up, losing the last of his money, cigarette dangling from his lips, drinking and pokering and as happy as can be, truly like a pig is shit, IN HIS ELEMENT...
Finally we get the fuck out of there and march on to the sea, Cardiff by the Sea. And it was my first time in California. And I would move there when I graduated from college in 2 years. And of course Tom had a hand in it…
I am mad that you didn't take care of yourself. That you continued to run the redlights through all the warnings signs for all those last years until it was too late. I am sad that I didn't respond to the last email from you because I didn't know what to say and just kept putting it off until I had the time to say it. I am sad that you never got that thing you were after in your life (did you?). I am deeply sad that I won't get to see you again. I am sorry that the whole world didn't know you and mourn along with us at your passing.
But most of all, I am forever glad to have known you. You changed my life.
Love forever, Jimmy.
FADE OUT.
------ End of Forwarded Message
Saturday, October 3, 2009
The NYC version of the Tom Humphrey Memorial
Date: Sat, 3 Oct 2009 08:59:25 -0400
Subject: The Tom Thing
Subject: The Tom Thing
Hey y'all,
So here is the scoop for Saturday 10/10
We are gathering around 6:30 at Carmen's place of work - Du-Art Media Services at 245 W. 55th St. between Broadway & 8th on the 9th Floor. Access to the building can sometimes be funky, so if you have trouble getting in, call Carmen or DB and we will come down to get you in.
This is a BYOB affair, but we will have water, cups, glasses, ice and munchies.
Once we are all assembled we will figure out what to do about dinner - we'll probably order in, or there are various pubs in the neighborhood where we could go if people prefer. Some people are bringing old photos so if you have stuff like that to share, bring it, baby!
Phones: Carmen 917-607-4332 DB xxx-xxx-xxxx
As for the entertainment portion of the evening - here are the highlights: Jim Bradley and Charlie Sullivan are nearly finished with their multi-media presentation inspired by Kristina Katz called "Behind the Bleachers", while Jim Simpson will be reading a short epic poem by Christian Northcote. Russell will decide between giving a modern dance rendition of "As Tom plunges through the west wing floor" or "Baseball-headed men I have known" and while Val will be singing "The Ballad of Kyle and Jane...and Tom".
Can't wait to see you all again!
XOXOX
DB
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
New CD: The Red Circle Line
Okay folks, it's been a nutty couple of weeks. South is down, for now, and I've divided my new schedule between catching up with my actual job and sleeping.Now for all of you who may not have been fortunate, or crazy enough to make it to New York City for South, I've naturally got another thing going. Somewhere in the rehearsal process for South, I wrapped a new CD, The Red Circle Line. The title honors my daily commute into midtown by subway to extract money from the man, or a man. Or sometimes the Woman. Whatever. In any case, it's a wonderful piece of musical output, and you will be certainly pleased by it if you pick up a copy.
Now I'm not going to get into that "hey, support me because I'm an artist" thing, although I do crave support. No, you should check it out because it contains some truly great music and I think you will like it. These songs are good. A guy at work said, "It would be great if you could get some guitar and drums in these like a normal album, but even with the ukulele or whatever that is, I was humming these tunes on the way into work today. Weird."
See, people like this stuff.
Go, listen to some pieces, and if you're interested, then buy it online, because unless you come ring my doorbell in the Bronx, that's where you're going to get it.
If you'd like to be supportive, but don't want to spend any money, I have another offer. Listen to the snippets on itunes or CDBaby, post a comment on CDbaby or itunes, let me know you did it so I can check it out and I'll send you a copy for nuthin'. Of course, if you do not wish to waste precious time reviewing the actual music, you may simply provide a testimonial on those sites regarding my character and I'll honor the commitment. Writing is good for you! Even if you trash me out with a scandalously negative review, I'll still send you a CD. You may be able to make a few bucks selling it on ebay (where most of my sales occur), but whatever, I'm into redistribution of wealth, even my own, such as it is. This offer is especially good for Kent, as he pontificates so beautifully about quality music, and I long to be included in his commentary.
A few facts: I wrote all of it and played most of it. Some spectacularly sexy vocals by Alison Davy, to whom I'm married. (TMI?) Eric Garfinkel played guitar on one song, and I should have used him on more. Brian Dewan did a beautiful painting for the cover. Alan Silverman of Arf Digital in NYC mastered it for that extra special something. All in all, it's a no-miss event.
So that's the deal at the moment. Download it on itunes for 10 bucks (fire up itunes, type in Carmen Borgia in the itunes store) or buy the CD on CD baby for 10.99 plus shipping. More info can be had here on my Web site. Come on, go do it!
Man, marketing my own stuff is hard. Almost makes me wish I was on a record label.
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