Who can forget the John Candy – Steve Martin movie, “Planes Trains and Automobiles”? In this classic, we witness two unlucky, polar opposites that fate has smooshed together, as they encounter hurdle after hurdle in their long journey to simply get home in time for Thanksgiving.
I had a similar memorable occasion, long before this memorable movie.
The year was 1980-something. I was a young cub of 19 or 20, touring the country, playing the part of Hiawatha, and Hiawatha’s mother, three shows a day five days a week, to school kids in 35 states, from late August through mid-December, for a total of 239 performances, but who’s counting?
I was paired with a man named “Bob” about 15 years my senior. Bob played three characters on this tour; a comic sidekick to my Hiawatha, some evil doer, and “The Great Teacher.”
As the top pick of the company of eight troupes of two, we were allowed to choose the route we wanted to tour, so Bob and I agreed on the Midwest, up to the Maine coast, then finishing south in the Carolinas.
In my eyes, Bob’s star was fading, and mine was just rising. Bob was a recently fired morning radio DJ, a failed stand-up comic, and just coming out of his second failed marriage. But the worst part was Bob was hyper-sensitive. If he tried a joke out on me during our long drives and I didn’t laugh, he took it personally.
I couldn’t stand Bob, and he couldn’t stand me, I’m sure. Bob drank, a lot. I didn’t. Bob smoked, a lot. I didn’t. Bob drove our U-Haul the entire tour, and I couldn’t. I tried to learn how to drive a stick while we were out in the middle of Oklahoma early on our tour, and that lesson lasted about three minutes, or three miles, I don’t recall.
Since I wasn’t driving I was the navigator, reading what they called in ancient times, “a map,” to help us reach our destination, our next school, our next opportunity for stardom.
Then came the weekends. Usually my respite, because once we arrived at the town where we would be performing on that upcoming Monday, Bob typically took off in the U-Haul and would shack up with whoever would take him for the weekend, so I had the hotel room all to myself.
And hey, who wouldn’t want to spend their weekend shacking up with an actor pulling up to the local watering hole in a U-Haul? Evidently enough did.
Come to think of it, maybe Bob just didn’t want to room with me and hurt my feelings, so perhaps he got a room somewhere else for the weekend. I never thought about that until now.
What we did have between us that worked, was our chemistry on stage. We were really good together. I mean no adult would ever confuse me with some mighty Indian warrior, but I passed the Indian litmus test with most third through sixth graders, that’s for sure.
Each week when we received our “care” package from the production company, they would include a stack of reviews from the school principals and fan mail from the students. I got my share of accolades, and yes, the occasional love letter, sometimes even from a teacher. What can I say? Hiawatha was the hero of the show, so that had more to do with it than anything else, I’m sure. Still though, Bob did not get any love letters, fewer reviews, and it soon started to feel like I was touring with Charlie Brown, and his valentines just never showed up.
Our final day together was in Columbia, South Carolina. I was to fly home and Bob would drive the U-Haul back to Arizona, because he had no plans for Christmas. There we sat at a little table in the airport, sitting quiet, emptied of anything left to say to each other, he with a cold bottle of beer in his hand, and me with my Dew. We sat, not talking for what felt like an eternity. Then Bob finally stood up and spoke, “Well I’m not one for long goodbyes.” He tipped his cap, tapped my Dew with his bottle, and walked away.
I watched Bob walk away until he was immersed in the crowd of fellow travelers. I got on my plane, flew home, and reached out to him on New Year’s Eve that year, and I think our chat lasted about two minutes, ending with “Let’s keep in touch.”
About 14 years ago I decided it was time to put these Hiawatha memories to paper, and I knew I could sure use Bob’s help in recalling some of the crazy antics that occurred during our tour, and it would be great to have both perspectives now.
Life had tossed me a number of lessons in the interim that made me now understand Bob a little bit better, and I wanted a chance to talk to him about all of that as well.
How to find Bob after all these years? Well, now we had this thing called the internet, so I thought I’d just look Bob up and send him an email. Instead, I found Bob’s obituary. I missed him by one week. I look back now and realize, after all this time, Bob never reached out to me. I can only imagine how I must have made him feel.
Steve Burnette is an occasional contributor to the paper when space is needed to fill. He also serves as the executive director of the historic Murphy Theatre in downtown Wilmington, Ohio, and serves on the Board of Directors of the Ohio Arts Professionals Network.
