The Loneliest Liberal:Listening to Frank

By James Knudsen

It’s not well known that theatre can be a hazardous profession. I use the word “profession” in the broadest sense, as it rarely results in monetary compensation. but I will refer to the time I spend on stage as a profession in order to stand in solidarity with my fellow actors who trod the boards and collect a paycheck. Hazards come in all forms. Physical, such as the disc in my lower back that was pushed out of position from catching a dancer incorrectly or the bump on the head from a piece of falling scenery I was helping to strike. The heart is also at risk. Show-mances are an everpresent danger and, given the volatile nature of actors, of either gender, are rarely advised. And the less said about my personal experience on that the better. There is a third hazard, one I never saw coming: discovering an unpleasant truth about the character you’ve grown to know and love.

While cleaning out old computer files, I came upon one titled “Frank.” I knew what it related to, but was surprised to learn that it was an audio file of myself reading lines from a play. Several years ago I learned that I acquire information through hearing it, and ever since I have made it a practice to record my lines so that I can listen to them in my spare time and hopefully memorize my lines.
    The play was “Detroit,” a dramedy by playwright Lisa D’Amour, which received the Obie Award for Best Play of 2013.

Premier production at Steppenwolf Theatre, 2010.
L-R: Robert Breuler, Laurie Metcalf, Ian Barford

In its initial productions, “Detroit” received high praise for the playwright’s dialogue and characters, but some felt it was reaching too far in trying to examine the decline of the American social fabric – in particular, the first-ring suburbs experiencing the turnover of homes from their original owners to new, younger, more upscale owners or, in the other direction, to renters. This sort of neighborhood is the setting of the play, in whose final moments D’Amour gives a glimpse of what this neighborhood used to be, when a former resident appears for the first time and delivers what one critic described as, “an awkward coda.”

L-R: James Knudsen, Sabrina Lopez,
Steven Weatherbee

    It fell to me, when Fresno City College brought “Detroit” to its stage in the fall of 2015, to deliver that “awkward coda.” My character, Frank, is the uncle of one of the main characters and arrives to view the results of the previous evening’s catastrophic events. We learn from him who and what his nephew really is, as well as how he came to be the caretaker of the house next door, which has clearly seen better days. We also get a picture of what the neighborhood – this once new subdivision dubbed “Bright Houses” by its developer – was like in that “perfect” time we have all created in our memories. Frank explains to the young couple:

I lived around the corner for twenty-nine years. We bought one of the model homes, the houses people would come pick from. There were five of them, and every house in this neighborhood is one of the five. Hard to tell now, because people have redone things, repainted, knocked down, rebuilt. But yes there were five model homes and you just picked the one you liked and they built it for you. You could choose your colors, or maybe move a closet from here to there, but mostly they just built from the model. It was no big deal that your house looked like a lot of the other houses. It was a new house! You were living in Bright Houses. It was like stealing second base. You were safe. They were magic times. Kids running ragged everywhere, skinning their knees, catching beetles. All the fathers pulling into the driveways at 5:30 sharp in their Belvederes, their Furies. Kids running up into their arms. Our arms. But now look at this place. Half the houses falling apart, the others so fancified they seem untouchable. I mean how are you going to ask for a cup of sugar from someone who lives in that place? You’d have to buy a new pair of shoes just to walk up their driveway. This is not what the developers intended. They wanted you to have neighbors. They wanted you to be in it together….

    As I listened to my Frank saying those lines, a realization suddenly hit me. Frank voted for Donald Trump. Now, I know Frank, I played him for two weekends, rehearsed for weeks, he’s a good guy. But a year after “Detroit” closed at Fresno City College, Frank and millions like him were looking around wondering what had happened. Frank had done everything right – went to work at the same time every morning, came home at the same time every evening, paid his bills, waved to his neighbors, and still works the griddle at the Rotary Club Pancake Breakfast. So why is his nephew a drug addict, his old neighborhood run down, and his 401k worthless? Why? I also know that Frank, while having voted for Donald Trump in 2016, really doesn’t like him. The most recent tirade about a deceased POW turned U.S. Senator – well, that just isn’t the way Frank was brought up.
    I don’t know whether any candidates for the Democratic presidential nomination will see this – I’m fine if they don’t – but I hope that at least one of them seeks out my friend Frank and talks to him. And maybe listen to him while you’re at it.

Copyright © 2019 by James Knudsen