Remembering Bain

I first knew Bain from the Children's Theater in the 1980s.

We all know that "CTC in the 1980s" is its own deep statement, and I'm not going to go into it here. I was CTC-adjacent, but never attended the school, so my story is different. But that all is to say that I knew Bain as a performer and instructor when I was a teenager — and that looking back now all of those relationships were so very much more complicated than they seemed at the time.

He opened the Jungle in a small storefront on Lake Street when I was at Jeune Lune, and I saw many adventurous productions in that little space that was akin to watching a production whilst crammed onto a 21A bus. I remember him cutting through the ceiling of the space (into his apartment above) to create an exit from the stage, many mesmerizing productions including a Waiting for Godot that I believe starred Michael Sommers and Kevin Kling and spoils me for any other production ever, and a generally robust mix of classic and new plays that made me optimistic for dedicating my life to the theater.

I spent a year in interim management at the Jungle in 2004-2005 when I left Jeune Lune, and at that time I worked closely with Bain. We were both in early; he would make us espressos and we would talk about the work he wanted to do, the people he wanted to work with, where he wanted the theater to go. It's then that I learned he could not just read a play, that he needed to experience it through a table read. The Jungle at that time was fiercely trying to develop new writers, and so I got to know a number of talented playwrights, including my departed friend Dominic Orlando. I got to work closely with talented designers and technicians, including the incredible John Novak and the also-departed lighting genius Barry Browning. The Jungle continued to produce new work (I'll never forget things I saw there by Charlie Bethel, so this really is becoming a memorial paean) at the same time that it explored classics. The Jungle was a fierce part of the community there, whether is was Bain eating daily at his table at It's Greek to Me or the bartender at JP's starting to mix my Boneshaker the minute I walked through the door. His love for his mother was epic. And Bain taught me a lot about making the theater a home for the people who worked there (so many others who were do important to me) and for the audience members that attended.

Patrick's and my first "date" was there, when I brought a group of people to Recent Tragic Events (ironically enough, a play set on September 12, 2001, looking at the initial aftermath of 9/11).

And then of course since then both I and he left the Jungle, and it's been through several more iterations of its life. I would periodically see shows there, or run into Bain as he walked his dog down Grand Avenue. I, like everyone in the theater community, has deeply mourned the recent closure of the Lyn-Lake building and the sale of the assets. When I walk into one of my clients there every week and see the space (just the other day with a dumpster in front of it), the loss is visceral. I meant to go see Bain when I heard he had (again) gone into hospice, but I thought I had more time. I always seem to think I have more time.

I still have a Jungle poster, signed simply "Thank You! - Bain" on the wall in our library. So I guess the best way I can think of to end this is to say "thank you" back, for 45+ years of knowing him.



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