“A Kind of Homecoming”
Wayne Bryan and A Christmas Story
As observed by Kevin Lane Dearinger
In my efforts to chronicle the magic of The Lexington Theatre Company, I have only occasionally waded into first-person narrative. Not that I am ever unflappably objective. Honest, I hope. Sincere, I trust. Just not entirely objective.
Objectivity is not really an option when you are on a well-engineered roller-coaster and having the time of your life.
I love this theatre and the work they do, and, callooh-callay, I love the people they bring in to work on their shows.
For A Christmas Story, the Musical, The Lex has gathered its usual celebration of talent. Playing the role of “Jean Shepherd,” a folksy first cousin to Thornton Wilder’s “Stage Manager,” is one of the most complete theatre persons I have ever known.
Really.
A man of total dedication to his craft.
And from the beginning of his long career, he has remained one of the nicest people in the business.
“Mr. Nice Guy.” I’ve seen that in newspaper headlines, but it is also true.
And, consistently, “Mr. Talent.”
Wayne Bryan is a native Californian with a boyish all-American aura that he still carries without effort. He has been entertaining since childhood, but, surprisingly, it was his time in the U.S. Navy during the Vietnam era that sparked his professional career. After duty in Southeast Asia, he found himself stationed in San Diego, with a bit of time on his hands. He was offered the lead in a play, then another play, and then found work in television. When he was asked to try a musical, he revealed that he could sing. When he needed to dance, he made sure that he could.
This took him to Broadway. He was cast as the irrepressible Bobby Randall in a lavish revival of Good News.
I caught the production in Cincinnati on its pre-Broadway tour. Good News was a big show, with big stars, big scenery, and a dazzling ensemble, but for me, it was Wayne’s show. He was doing what I aspired to do and doing it with such joy. When he grinned, I grinned. The entire audience grinned.
I saw him again the next year. On Broadway. In a revue of Rodgers and Hart music, called, oddly enough, Rodgers and Hart. Again, Wayne’s charisma was palpable. He had an ease and command on the stage that I found inspiring.
Over the next few years, I occasionally ran into him at auditions. Some actors are paranoid and defensive when they are auditioning. Wayne always entered on a wave of positivity, nothing showy, but greeting his “competition” with a grin and a twinkling eye. He was one of those fellow-actors, who, when they “got the part” you were trying for, the only logical reaction was: “Of course Wayne got it. And it couldn’t happen to a nicer person.” A very few years younger and considerably less-experienced, I looked up to him and thought, “That’s who I want to be!”
He has that effect.
Wayne continued to astonish, taking on whatever the theatre asked of him.
As he hovered gracefully around forty, Wayne took over as producer, sometime director, and occasional actor at Music Theatre Wichita. The job offer came as a surprise, but, characteristically, Wayne committed to the challenge with his usual integrity and “brightness of spirit.” Also characteristically, he did so on
his own terms. Reviewing his experience as a performer, he was determined to “never treat anyone badly.” He hoped to be the sort of producer he “always wanted to work for.” He wanted actors and creative staff “to be brave, not to be intimidated. I wanted everyone to feel comfortable, to feel that they contribute.” For him, the theatre had to be “the most collaborative effort” in the arts.
That nice guy from auditions was now the nice guy in Wichita.
The Californian with Broadway sparkle and the “infectious grin” spent thirty-four summers creating outstanding musical theatre in Kansas and building a national reputation for his theatre. So many currently working actors across the United States remember Music Theatre Wichita as their springboard to a professional career. Wayne’s shows were well-crafted on every artistic level: performance, design, music. He mixed New York actors with strong collegiate talent and hired directors, choreographers, designers, and stage managers who shared his vision of joyful collaboration.
Does that vision sound familiar?
Wayne’s resolve to create with kindness proved as wonderfully contagious as his grin.
A few years ago, Music Theatre Wichita provided a summer home for two young performers: Jeromy Smith and Lexington-native Lyndy Franklin. This duo quickly went on to Broadway and major touring gigs, but, encouraged by Wayne and his husband Mark Madama (legendary educator and director, including The Music Man and West Side Story at The Lex), they returned to Wichita to choreograph and direct. Wayne and Mark, remembers Lyndy, “saw the director-choreographer in me before I saw it myself.” Their mentorship “changed my life and the trajectory of my career.”
That mentorship would go on changing lives.
Lyndy and Jeromy married. (Wayne was there!) The Smiths started a family, and, eventually, they decided to raise their sons in Lexington. They settled in the Bluegrass, but they didn’t settle down. They had lost none of their theatrical fire. They had a mission to pursue. They felt a call “to say thank you,” to “pay it forward,” to create a space where “more folks could experience what we got to experience as young artists.”
They knew the model they wanted to follow.
Wayne’s Wichita Wonder!
When they shared their plans with Wayne, his first response was, “How can I help?”
Typical.
Wayne modestly shrugs off any suggestion that he is the “Grandfather of The Lex,” and perhaps he is still too boyish for that title, but he is moved and impressed by the accomplishments of The Lexington Theatre Company. “Lyndy and Jeromy have taken everything we tried to do in Wichita,” he recently observed, “and improved on it.” Like the Wichita theatre, The Lex has high production standards, bringing together a mix of seasoned professionals and tireless collegiate talent, while reaching out to train the next generation of theatre artists.
Since his retirement from Wichita, Wayne has continued to work as an actor, adding to his impressive list of comic and musical roles. As “Jean Shepherd” in A Christmas Story, he showcases his acting skills, burnished by a lifetime of experience. He radiates a warm command of the stage, watching the younger performers with affable admiration and his signature grin. He has always treasured the opportunity to be in “a place where what you do makes a difference.” He continues to “see the potential in people,” and has never stopped exploring his own potential.
Initially, Lyndy felt rather “nervous” about directing her beloved mentor. In fact, she finds their collaboration “dreamy.” Wayne, she observes, “brings such intelligence and love for the show to rehearsals!” For his part, Wayne is clearly delighted to be directed by his former protegee, praising Lyndy’s detailed preparation and creative focus. He especially admires the “deep well” of her understanding of emotion, situation, and character. She, too, cares about actors. Wayne and Lyndy rehearse together as skilled and trusting colleagues. Fellow artists.
They are creating more than a magical production of A Christmas Story. They are strengthening and passing on a tradition of artistic excellence and theatrical idealism.
Welcome home, Wayne.
The Lexington Theatre Company’s production of A Christmas Story plays the Lexington Opera House for six performances, November 21-24.
Kevin Lane Dearinger is a retired actor, singer, and teacher. His published works include four theatre histories, six volumes of poetry, six plays, and two memoirs, Bad Sex in Kentucky and On Stage with Bette Davis: Inside the Fabulous Flop of Miss Moffat. For many years, he sang out to the back row, acted from his heart, and danced, as one tactful critic put it, “with athletic grace.” In his soul, he still does all three. He counts among his blessings the privilege of sitting in on rehearsals with The Lexington Theatre Company. He is proud of his Actors Equity Pension.