In celebration of Cherie Mason: an exemplar of the Opera House mission to use the performing arts to create excellence in all the way we perform our lives.
Part I of a 4-part series on the life and distinguished career of Cherie Mason, based on a 2016 interview with Judith Jerome, founding co-artistic director of Opera House Arts.
Part I: ENERGY
“When my mother put me to bed at night, she would open the
door after a little while and say, ‘Cherie, are you sleeping? What are you
doing?’ And I would say—‘I’m having a play.’ I remember those words distinctly:
‘I’m having a play.’ And I was, as I went to sleep, having a play. . . And doing
all the parts.”
Our first burst of laughter fills Cherie’s dining room. It’s
an afternoon of laughter and tea, the tape recorder running. Cherie Mason
delivers a line with impeccable timing—and knows herself well.
She dramatized storybooks, and would “drag my little
neighbor children in. I had a book on Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and so I
picked seven poor little children, my buddies, for each of the dwarves—and I of
course was going to play the lead. After a few minutes they were very bored
with this idea and didn’t want any part of it. And I just stamped my foot and
said, ‘We are going to rehearse this tomorrow and you’d better show up.’ Well
they didn’t show up. So that became a problem. I don’t know how that ended . .
.
I, Judith speaking now, had plays, too; also circuses. I
dreamed a real trapeze, hung in the sky. Mary McGuire told us years ago how she
and her sister and their friends would for weeks after seeing a traveling show
at the Opera House perform and re-perform it. From where does such wonderful personal
arrogance in a child arise? Eschewing expertise, embodying amateurishness, in
the sense of working from love and ownership—to take something into your body
and know you can do it? To put up the posters and invite the neighborhood and
charge the nickel? How does a life in theater begin? And what are the paths it
takes? In Cherie Lee’s case they were multiple. Mimicry is basic to how we
learn the world, but what is the impulse behind performance?
“As a child I lived in Milwaukee, WI, and that was certainly
not a mecca for theater. But I vividly remember my first experience. The
musical, Oklahoma, came to Milwaukee
and my mother allowed me to buy a ticket—we never had a lot of money, but she
was so good. I was in peanut heaven! I was so swept away by that musical that
[at the end] I was frozen in my seat, and people all around me were leaving. I
couldn’t move. And I didn’t move until they were turning the lights out on the
stage, and the house was going dark. And then finally I got up. And I’m not
sure I ever got over that—and I’m not sure that I have ever had more of a
reaction to anything in my adult life. I thought, oh, wouldn’t that be
wonderful, to be on that stage! But it never occurred to me that I ever could
be.”
Anni Lee (nee Wernitznig) was Cherie’s unstoppable, slightly
outrageous, mother. Who was she to be able to lay the groundwork to support
this daughter’s energy, ambition, and grace? Anni, too, had her moment in
theater. The Pabst Blue Ribbon company “had an auditorium right near the center
of town, and my mother in her early days—she was one of the first women to
bleach her hair; she was really a flapper, I’m afraid. One of those. She was in
a swing once in a stage production of the Pabst Theater. She was swinging and
singing on stage. She was VERY proud of that, and was quick to tell everyone
that she had been on the stage. So I inherited the stage—and inherited the
bragging!”
Anni raised Cherie on her own, and theater was not a regular
part of their lives; the ticket to Oklahoma
was a one-time treat. But Anni had the fancy that Cherie should be a ballet
dancer, so she enrolled her in lessons. “A Russian lady taught the ballet
classes. She had a long Russian name, and taught in a beautiful rehearsal hall,
surrounded by mirrors—it was quite elegant!—but you had to do your homework! You had to learn a tour jete and all these
things—but where was I going to do it?! We lived in this crummy little
apartment building, with narrow halls—I think they were about 4’ across. Well,
I practiced in the hallway. I would pray to God that no one opened a door—in
the middle of a tour jete—as I was flying by! Fortunately no one ever did.” But
it was embarrassing, somehow, practicing in the hallway. “Also, it just didn’t
seem like the way I was supposed to go.” She informed Anni. “I think that was
the same week I dropped a watermelon in the elevator.”
After she graduated from high school Cherie lived at home
and for the first year attended Marquette University. “But then I couldn’t
stand it, and I decided that I just had to go to Northwestern University [in
Chicago], because that’s where all the theater was. Northwestern had a wonderful
speech department. Paul Lynd and Charlotte Rae (also from Milwaukee) were
graduates. And Cloris Leachman. These were all just icons to me. So I applied
for a scholarship to Northwestern, and I got it! I lived with a family and did
their cooking, and took care of their children.” And carried a full load at
Northwestern. The trouble with being a theater student is that productions in
non-conservatory programs are outside coursework—you have to do them in your
spare time, and Cherie didn’t have any spare time. “So it was a mixed
blessing—to have all that in front of me but not be able to participate.”
“I didn’t even go home. I was afraid the job would be
filled. I thought if I don’t get there in time they’ll give it to someone else.
So, anyway, that was the beginning!
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