Of Martinis and Seagulls

My Brother Returns to Acting and Chicago, and Leaves With a New Book. Plus: A Report from Brooklyn Bar Convent.

One of Eric’s drawing that adorn his new book. The show’s costume designer had him where a fedora, making him think of Indiana Jones.

Before we get to today’s post proper, I’d like to thank everyone who took the time to come see me at the Bar Convent Brooklyn (BCB) at Industry City this week, where I was signing books on Tuesday and serving Martinis at the Haus Alpenz booth on Wednesday. Special thanks to the several The Mix subscribers who made the trip. It is always wonderful to meet the people who support this newsletter and make our work possible. I hope my Martinis were cold enough for you!

Serving Martinis at the Haus Alpenz booth at BCB.

A few of you were kind enough to mention that you had made your way to Crif Dogs and PDT to try a Simonson Dog, or otherwise got into the spirit of last week’s Hot Dog Week. I’m so happy people are giving my creation a try. So far, the reviews have been good. I also met two gentleman who went to Atlantic City with The Mix’s “Summer in a Day” from last year in hand. They managed to get to White House Subs, The Irish Pub and Tony’s Baltimore Grill. Well done! (Those Summer in a Day guides from 2023 are still relevant, so feel free to try them out this summer.)

Particular thanks to Eric Seed, owner of Haus Alpenz (and a Bar Regular!) and his crew for giving me the chance to step behind the bar for once and make Martinis for bar world pros and enthusiasts. My son Asher was also at BCB as an employee of The Mix and is responsible for the fine photos of my bartending stint that you see here.

And now on to today’s post, which also features the Martini as a supporting player.

This week’s attraction at the Haus Alpenz booth.

---

Indiana Dorn and The Seagull of Doom

Some readers might know that before I started writing about cocktails and bars, I used to write about theater. A lot. I was a theater journalist for more than twenty years, from my days at the theater critic for The Daily Northwestern, the school newspaper at Northwestern University, to my long stints as the editor of Playbill On-Line and as a feature writer for The New York Times.

I was a theater writer because theater was the family business. My mother, a high school drama and music teacher, raised a brood of stage artists. My older sister Karin has been a costume designer for decades. My brother Eric was an actor, then a director, then a playwright. Both married actors, thus increasing the number of show folk in our family. I became a theater critic and reporter, because I had no desire to be on stage, though I did write plays for a decade of so. My other sibling, Britta, took a theater degree in college, but ended up in real estate, like my father.

Proof of my theater-going past: me waiting in line for Broadway tickets at the TKTS booth in Times Square in 1987.

I’ve seen dozens of productions that my family have had a hand in, including some of my brother’s early performances as an actor in the fiery Chicago theater scene of the 1980s. Once Eric began making a name for himself as a director, he left acting behind; his last stage role was in the Tony-winning adaptation of The Grapes of Wrath on Broadway.

One show Eric was involved with recently that I desperately wanted to see, but was not able to, was the production of The Seagull at Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theater Company in spring of 2022. He didn’t direct it or adapt Chekhov’s classic play. He acted in it, as the pivotal character of Doctor Dorn—his first acting gig in more than thirty years.

The offer came out of the blue from director Yasen Peyankov, and the emotionally overwhelming experience of returning to the boards, and to the city where his career began, was such that he was inspired to write a memoir about the experience. Between the Lines was release in May. The book is part examination of the acting process, part history of the Chicago theater scene of the ‘80s and ‘90s, and part personal journey for Eric, both backwards and forwards in time. The whole is illustrated with Eric’s own drawings, which he made both during and after the production. (My brother has many talents. During our shared childhood, he always asked for—and received—the most interesting Christmas presents, including a 35mm movie camera, a jigsaw, a unicycle and a trampoline.)

I interviewed Eric about the new book, his first that isn’t a play. The exchange is below. If you want to meet Eric, his annual Wisconsin arts festival, the Door Kinetic Arts Festival, will take place Sept. 22-27.

THE MIX: What caused you to write this book?

ERIC SIMONSON: Well, I explain that in the introduction of the book. After I had gone back on the stage after 33 years, people seemed intrigued and it would spark whole conversations, and that got me to thinking about why I had done this crazy dare on myself in the first place. I’d left acting because I had a fear of being in front of crowds, at least while playing a character in a play. And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a fun story to tell, and a memoir seemed like the best medium. And by story I mean a good yarn. Like, there’s a guy on a high wire—maybe he’ll fall and go splat?

Did you start writing it during the run of The Seagull, or afterwards?

ES: After. It was a good six months before I put pen to paper. I never would have been able to focus on writing the diary while killing myself trying to act. I know I would not have been able to find meaning in the experience without some sort of perspective.

You talk about both your experience on that production, and your early years in the Chicago theater scene. Was that the original vision of the book, or did you decide to include your past career later?

ES: I’m not sure how and when that came about. I think when I started writing, all these memories started emerging, because in order to explain why it was so difficult for me to get back on the stage, I had to go way back and explain why I had stopped in the first place, which led me to talking about acting in The Grapes of Wrath, which led to why I started acting at all. I could not have told the story of Seagull without telling the backstory that led up to it. And then, as long I was telling that story, it sort of gave me permission to tell other stories that were important to me. 

Do you think it was being in Chicago for such a long stretch, after so many years away, that got you thinking about your salad days there?

ES: Being in any place after not having been there a while brings back memories, but Chicago was unique because it was at a time in my life when anything could have happened. And a lot did happen, both good and bad. And all that made for many core memories. I think it was a combination of being back in Chicago while acting that unearthed these specific memories. The occupation and the backdrop together was like a key that unlocked the past.

Jeff Perry playing Sorin in The Seagull.

You state that you think of the Chicago theater's golden age as having been from 1980 to 1995. I tend to agree with you. But, then, like you, those were some of the years I was in Chicago covering the theater. Have you gotten any feedback or pushback on that contention?

ES: Not really. Though Jim Higgins at the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, in his critique of the book, suggested that those years were my opinion, not generally accepted fact. I mention in the book that this is editorializing and anyone who thinks differently should write their own damn book. But I can make a case for those years, and I think I do in the book. It was an exciting time, and I think historians will look back at Chicago in the ‘80s and ‘90s in the same way they look back on Paris in the ‘20’s, or New York during the Algonquin Round Table. That rare period when the planets align and the arts has a combination of lucky and talented people finding one another in the same time and place. 

You seem to have been something of a Zelig figure. You knew almost everyone of note in the Chicago theater scene in the '80s. Among the people who make cameos in the book are Gary Sinise, Terry Kinney, Jeff Perry, Second City founder, Bernie Sahlins, playwright Scott McPherson, John C. Reilly, Joan Cusack, and Tony Kushner. Was that simply because it was such a tight community back then?

ES: I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sure the tightness of the community had a lot to do with it, but yeah, I guess I was often in the right place at the right time. Don’t get me wrong though. My life has been pretty far from being in the right place at the right time most of the time.

You talk about getting stage fright while in the Broadway production of The Grapes of Wrath. I never knew that happened. Our sister, Karin, also didn't know. Did you ever tell anyone about that until now?

ES: I pretty much kept it to myself. After I left the stage, and secretly knew that I would not be returning, there was no need to worry about and therefore no need to confide in anyone. But it really was about memorizing lines. I remember Glenn Davis and Audrey Francis (Artistic Directors of Steppenwolf) asking me if I would ever want to act again—this was a good six months before the offer came to act—and I told them “Yeah, if you can find me a role with no lines.” I feel like going back on stage exorcised a lot of demons. I don’t think I have stage fright anymore.

It occurred to me as I read that book that, while the Chicago theater scene in the '80s and '90s is justly famous, not much has been written about it in terms of books or histories. Is that your impression as well?

ES: Well, there’s Ensemble, by my friend Mark Larson, and The Steppenwolf Theatre Company, which is an oral history to Steppenwolf by John Mayer, but yeah, there hasn’t been much written. Particularly by someone who was a practicing artist. I felt that was something I could bring—a worm’s eye view of what it was like to be dropped into the middle of that movement. To me, the most interesting recollections I have was what it was like to be young and poor and have the world in front of you. I’m glad it worked out, but it could have easily have gone south. And if I hadn’t been on the edge of failure most of the time, I certainly would not have had a very interesting story to tell. 

Eric’s daily walk from his Chicago apartment to Steppenwolf.

You included your own illustrations in the book. Do you draw those during the show or afterwards, from memory? 

ES: Both. I doodle during rehearsals at table reads and when I’m offstage, and some of those made it into the book. And then there are sketches I did months later as an homage to the folks I illustrate. I was inspired by actor Antony Sher’s The Year of the King, a diary of his performing Richard III at the RSC. He’s a brilliant artist as well. I’m not, but I know my way around sketch pad. Also, speaking as a slow reader, I’m a fan of pictures in books.

I was glad to see the Martini get a cameo in the book. Yet, it turns out to be cast as a villain, throwing you off one of your performances the following day. Did you tell Joey Slotnick, who coaxed you into that after-show drink, about that experience at the time?

ES: No. I think it would have made him feel bad. And it wasn’t his fault. As a grown-ass man, I should be able to handle one martini in any given circumstance. And for the record, I still love Martinis and don’t see myself giving them up anytime soon. 

Co-star Joey Stotnick and the fateful Martini.

With the experience all in your rear view mirror now, are you glad you took the acting gig? During much of the book, you seemed to have regretted it.

ES: That’s a good question. I don’t feel like I never need to go back on the stage again, but the experience made me grow as a person and see things about myself now that I didn’t before. Perhaps I went a little too far on the angst in the book. In the end, the benefits of the experience far out-weighed the drawbacks.  

Would you act on stage again?

ES: As I said, no. But I would like to do a little more screen work. I think that would actually be a lot of fun. But my feeling about me on stage is that there are so many better actors than me out there—let them do it.

What is your next upcoming project, either stage or screen?

ES: I’m writing a film for some producers. I can’t divulge the subject, but it’s a good one and I’m in my happy place. I also have a couple series in the works that look promising. And then there’s my festival, The Door Kinetic Arts Festival, which happens in September in Door County, and that keeps me busy. My latest pipe dream is to get a mini studio together—camera equipment, editing and production equipment, and write, direct and produce films for myself and whatever audience I can find. Technology has brought us to this moment in time when that is not so far-fetched a dream. Independent media is now super affordable and I intend to take advantage of that.

Eric’s Martini

• 3 ounces Hendrick’s Gin

• 1/2 ounce dry vermouth

Combine ingredients in a mixing glass half-filled with ice. Stir until chilled, about 15 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with three olives—two in the glass and one blue-cheese-stuffed olive on the side.

Cocchi owner Roberto Bava, maker of fine Italian aperitifs and vermouths, posing with a Cocchi fan.