Tim Douglas Jensen - 12/12/05

Staunton, VA - For the third time since I began writing this weblog, I find I must write on the passing of a theatrical colleague. Last night, after the conclusion of the evening's performance of A Christmas Carol, I received word that Tim Jensen had suddenly and unexpectedly passed away from pneumonia. A member of the Fredonia theatre class of 1990, I was fortunate to have had him in my classes and shows for my first two years as a teacher at Fredonia, and also most fortunate to have kept up with his career in New York City and spent some time with him when he returned to Fredonia to direct Les Liasons Dangereuses and teach for a semester. It was then I saw his one-person show Shoes. His death is not only a sad event but a shocking one as well, as he was a young man in the prime of his life and his career. Many good people, myself among them, deeply mourn his passing.

When I first arrived at SUNY Fredonia in the fall of 1988 as the third acting teacher in as many years, I was all of 36; brash, eager, excited at starting what I considered the opportunity of my lifetime. In hindsight, of course, I knew very little then about what it meant to be a teacher of acting. My knowledge and practical skills were little more than those I had learned in graduate school, and my stage experience to that point had been restricted to my work in grad school and a couple of seasons at Wisconsin Shakespeare Festival. But of course I wanted to do well, and create a good impression.

The class of 1990, juniors when I first met them in '88, were an extraordinary collection of individuals. Talented, smart and energetic, they had forged a strong bond among themselves. Upon meeting them, I sensed this strong bond almost immediately. Almost to a person, these young actors had strong individual personalities and sensibilities, but it seemed to me that one of them, Tim Jensen, appeared to be at the center of this group.

I think I'm on pretty safe ground when I state that Tim was the hardest-working and most serious-minded of any person I've ever had in my classes. A careful reader may note that to this point I have avoided calling Tim a "former student," because that would imply that I taught him something. Such was not the case. As a teacher I was too young and inexperienced to teach someone with the work ethic and talent Tim possessed anything at all. He seemed to me so confident, so self-assured, that the best thing for me to do was stay out of his way and give him whatever opportunities I could to work on his craft. I remember envying him a bit as well, because I was never as self-assured and hard-working as he was when I was his age. I doubt I am even now.

Of course it wasn't like Tim couldn't have fun. I recall the first time I saw him do "Dreamgirls" with Ed and Jim (or was it David? The curse of failing memories!) at Fish House when I was invited to a party. Omigod was that funny! I had not ever seen anything quite like it before, and subsequent performances during Studio Hour were always a treat. And of course this class had great fun at poking fun at me whenever they could; Tim had an imitation of me (although Chris Springer's was the best) that was quite good.

Tim was in my first production at Fredonia (ironically enough, A Christmas Carol), and I got the chance to work with him on stage when Dr. Bob directed Equus. I played Martin Dysart while Tim played Alan's father. But of all the memories I have of Tim, the most lasting and the most powerful is his portrayal of Rev. John Hale in my production of The Crucible in the spring of 1989. The production contained a wealth of talent - Chris Springer, Christine Fuchs, Ed Schneller, Gerard Gentleman, Jim Patrick, Kathy Puma, Kathy McLean, John Cordaro, Todd Giglio, Fran Curry and others - and for me remains one of the finest productions I've ever directed. While much of the play's central action focuses on the relationship between John Proctor and Abigail Williams, I've always thought the character of John Hale to be the most pivotal one in the play. He is the portrait of a man who has a strong set of beliefs in the beginning, only to see those beliefs be severely questioned, tested, and ultimately repudiated. The role calls for an actor capable of conveying not only a strong sense of moral surety, but ultimately a man caught in the throes of the deepest crisis of conscience. He is, in effect, the audience's conscience. There was never a doubt in my mind that Tim was the man for that role.

As I recall, with a memory now tinged with sadness and sweetness, Tim gave everything he had to that role. He had much to give: Tim himself was a man who had a strong moral code and a high sense of ethics, he was driven to succeed in his work and to constantly improve himself, he was sensitive to others and had the ability to empathize with others in suffering or sorrow. There was even a nobility to everything he did in the theatre, as if he knew what he was doing had a high purpose. He brought all these characteristics to the role of Rev. Hale, and in a remarkable production he gave a remarkable performance. I believe I still have a piece of the courtroom scene digitized which is not with me in Virginia, but which I hope to dig out and put up on the web for people to see.

Of course there was no question Tim was going to New York to pursue a theatrical career. He went on to get his MFA at the Actors Studio Drama School and to perform in and around New York City. Those of you not Fredonia graduates can get a short biography of him here. He developed his playwriting skills to go along with his acting skills, and I recall bumping into him once quite by accident in a New York City coffee shop, where he was sitting with a huge cup of coffee, hard at work scribbling in a notebook, totally absorbed. Same hard-working Tim, I thought. Some things never change. And I got a kick out of the fact that this summer we were both doing Leonato from Much Ado About Nothing at the same time; he in NYC with Riverside Shakes, and I down here in VA. I got a look at some pictures of his production in the Times, I believe, and felt sort of proud of myself, that I was doing the same role as Tim Jensen. Maybe I had finally made it after all. :-)

Those who truly want to understand what the theatre is all about, what the heart and soul of theatre really is, would do well to look at Tim's life and contribution to it. His death will not be a cause for the lights to dim on Broadway; rather, it will be a cause for the light which theatre can bring to us all to become dimmer. His work was full of the stuff that makes humanity the messy-sweet, sloppy "ugly cake" that it is (yes, Jean, that's really Tim come to visit you. Give him a hug from me). Shoes is the kind of work which embodies the soul of the theatre: reflections on how even the most seemingly insignificant person in the most absurd circumstances can offer us glimpses into the universal. While playing Scrooge and watching audiences react to CC, I have been recently reminded of this theatrical reality: the theatre - and only the theatre - brings to us directly and immediately the stories we need to hear to remind us again who we are as humans, and what we mean to each other. As with Ellen Opelia and Bess Brown before him, Tim brought to the theatre not just his craft, skills and talent, but his soul and heart as a human being, and willingly shared them with those who came in contact with him as audience or friend. His stories became our stories as he shared them with us. At its most fundamental, all theatre is community theatre, and Tim's passing is, to those of us within his community, a greater loss than the passing of Arthur Miller, for it is more direct, more immediate, more shocking and more present to us all.

It is not surprising that humans through all ages have tried every means at their disposal during the dark days of the winter solstice to ward off the darkness with celebrations and festivals of light. Perhaps in its infinite wisdom, the cosmos has decreed that Tim's passing will be for us who knew him, not a deepening of the seasonal darkness, but a deeper celebration of the light, the happiness and the joy he brought to his friends and audiences. May we all celebrate that light! -TWL