Lost Angeleno

Alton

I want to talk for a minute about my friend Alton Grimes.

I met Alton in 1990, when I chanced to audition for a play at the Bellingham Theatre Guild.  Alton was the AD and the technical director—a capacity he served on just about every production at the time.  I hadn’t really planned to get deeply involved in theatre—I was only trying out for the show on a lark, anyway.  I was a junior in college and looking for something to do.  Anyway, I happened to audition, and I happened to get cast.  So I happened to meet Alton, and he kept me there.

Alton was president of the Board of Directors at the Theatre Guild at the time, and he quickly signed me on as corresponding secretary.  After that first show, I was involved in some capacity—backstage, on stage, or house staff—in each successive show for about the next two years straight.  After spending four years knocking around Bellingham, just marking time, I had finally found a home.

It was at Alton’s suggestion that I start directing.  He knew more about theatre than anyone else I’ve ever met—including the people in the theatre department at Cal Arts.  He knew the technical side, he knew the artistic side, he could do it all—act, direct, sing, set design, light design—if it was in a theatre, Alton knew how to work it.  He taught me everything I know about theatre, and I still don’t have 1/100th of the knowledge he did.

Alton was the person who inspired me to leave Bellingham and go to film school.  Not by a direct suggestion, just by telling me over and over again, like he told everyone, “You should be doing what makes you happy.” He had a few simple rules:  Don’t hurt people.  Tell the truth.  Keep your promises.  Do what’s right.

He taught me how to read a script.  How to direct a play.  Hell, he taught my cat Buster how to fetch.  When I lost my job only three months before leaving Bellingham for California, it was Alton and his wife Teri (another of my greatest influences) who invited me to spend the rest of my summer with them at their home.  He taught me above everything else to be true to myself—something I haven’t really been for the past few years, something I had forgotten about.

Alton Grimes died last night after a long battle with cancer.  I haven’t seen him in a year or so, but I’m going to miss him for the rest of my life.  I never got the chance to tell him what he meant to me—mostly because I know he wouldn’t have wanted to hear it, he would have said, “Oh, shut up.” But I hope he knows that I’m grateful to him for the things he taught me, and for his friendship.

Those of you reading this, do me a favor tonight and lift a glass of scotch to Alton.  If there’s a heaven, Alton’s up there right now readjusting the lights for the third act.