The Valiant

  The Valiant

  Noel Laflin

 4-26-15

"A coward dies a thousand deaths, but the valiant taste death but once."

It had been another tough rehearsal night. When the director threw a folding chair across the stage - well, it got everyone's attention pretty much.

"Tim!" Jack yelled, nearly biting off the stem of his ever-present pipe, "You've got to FEEL this!  Again, from the top - and with passion this time, damn it!"

And so it went, night after night.  Poor Tim. Poor Jack. Poor supporting cast. We smelled failure in the making and dreaded opening night, which was fast approaching.

The one-night show was billed as 'Sycamore Presents,' and was to be our final junior high stage production for the 1967 school season.  And we all thought it could not come fast enough as the smell of summer was clearly in the air.

What the drama class had to present for the final production was a series of short one-act pieces. A couple of skits, like the one that I was in, were silly - humorous in nature. The finale would be the patriotic '1776' ensemble. But the headlining act was to be the 1924 classic, 'The Valiant,' for which my old pal Tim had been chosen as lead. He had drawn the heavy straw. The rest of our acts paled in comparison.

Now, 'The Valiant' is a serious piece of business as far as drama goes. A mysterious condemned man is spending his last half hour on Earth in a prison cell when he soliloquies that famous, passionate, Shakespearean paraphrased line regarding death and cowards and valor.  But Tim was struggling with the passion. We could all feel it. And it drove Jack to near tears.

But, the show must go on - and it did of course.  And to everyone's utter amazement, Tim nailed it that evening. Somewhere between the occasionally tossed chair, verbal berating, and just plain hard work, the boy had found his passion in the nick of time and delivered it perfectly. 

His beaming parents stood with the rest of the audience and applauded wildly that night.

Jack wept openly with pride.

The rest of us, peering out from behind the curtains, heaved a collective thespian sigh of relief and joined in the ovation.

The entire night was a hit. We took in the sweet smell of success and made a run for summer.

Many summers passed. Jack would go on to direct two hundred more student productions over those years; encouraging, berating, laughing, cajoling night after night – rehearsal after rehearsal.  Countless chairs and scripts were thrown about the stage no doubt.  But in the end, the man always got his kids to dig deep, find the passion, and deliver the performance of a young lifetime.

The rest of us just had to grow up and find passion where we could. 

                                -------------------------

Tim died unexpectedly a number of years ago. He left behind a beautiful family and scores of folks who thought mighty highly of him.  His funeral was well attended.

In writing his mother a final note of condolence, I spoke of how her son and I had shared a childhood bond of friendship through church, school, and Scouting. But what I would always remember most about Tim, I concluded, was how he had conducted himself so very valiantly in a one-boy performance from long ago.