Los Gatos Weekly-Times

Photograph by George Sakkestad

Los Gatan Harry Fromm not only writes many of the plays, he makes merry during intermission.

Decorum Decomposed

Nothing's sacred where double entendre and bathroom humor rule

They love old houses, old furniture, even old cars, judging by their driveway, so it stands to reason that Harry and June Fromm would run the Ole Opry House in New Almaden in the southernmost reaches of the Almaden Valley. Harry has been active in the theater since its inception in 1961--what with acting, directing and singing.

And today he writes most of the plays, since his "back was against the wall," as he puts it. The former owner didn't have a backlog of material to pass on, so the drama well was running dry. For a year or two the director "massaged the plays they did have," and then Harry was forced to become playwright as well as producer.

Harry's first dramatic effort was "Gong, Wither Wind," in which the principals are Butt Rhettler and Scarlett Scarlett Scarlett. "Don't ever call her by her middle name," the players warn each other throughout this one. Since then he's written at least eight others and has the formula figured. "I know what audiences expect at the Ole Opry House."

The cast is usually made up of four men and four women, playing the villain or villainess, the hero, the ingenue and supporting roles. After the play, called the first act, the same players perform vaudeville bits that constitute the second act of the evening. Harry sings Irish songs in brilliant green costume as his Barbary Coast Players change costumes.

The play that is opening in July is an audience favorite, The Gizzard of Ozz. This one was written by Steve Petulla, who works at Cisco Systems by day and twirls a mustachio at night. This summer and from now on, each play will be performed for a month in rotation, instead of the nearly three-month run the theater formerly employed.

In August audiences will see Panama Root Canal. Playing through June is The Seduction of Ma and Pa Kettleman. Performances are Friday and Saturday nights, 8-10:30 p.m. Special performances for corporate groups, usually on Thursdays, can be arranged with June, who runs the box office. On Friday nights there's free pizza before the show, and for groups of 50 or more the Fromms can arrange a dinner buffet.

In the current show's second act, the vaudeville shticks, there's a bit from Ernie Kovacs called the Nairobi Trio. In this pantomime the actors represent the automated, but animated, parts of a glockenspiel. This bit is exceptionally well done and gives one a new appreciation for Kovacs and a conviction that he was at least 40 years ahead of his time, because it seems so fresh today.

More up-to-the-moment is a spoof of Riverdance, which the Barbary Coast Players call "Swamp Dance," complete with clodhopper boots and synchronized stomping, which is a real crowd-pleaser.

One of the most clever bits involves no visuals at all, just wacky automated voicemail responses. Some excerpts: "If you're excessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly; if you're codependent, ask someone else to press 2; if you're paranoid, look over your shoulder and then press 3."

Sometimes these shticks are old routines such as Abbot and Costello's "Who's on First?" and sometimes cast members invent them. "Nothing is sacred," says Harry, and double entendre and bathroom humor are the twin pillars of the game. If they're not offending someone, they're probably not doing their job. "I warn them it's bawdy when they call for tickets," says June.

Melodrama hasn't changed much in its 100-year history, although the Opry House's shows have references to current events sprinkled throughout. Rest assured that Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky are well covered.

It's an entertainment that works best if you're part of a good-sized group. Many choose to celebrate birthdays at the Opry House. Half a dozen different parties of birthday celebrants chose the Ole Opry House on a recent evening for their anniversary merriment. These honorees are appropriately crowned by June at the end of the evening.

Melodrama thrives on audience participation: The audience is encouraged to hiss, boo and applaud, much as they did in the Old West of 100 years ago. Melodrama and the Old West seem to go hand in hand, and the historic Casa Grande is a most appropriate setting for Opry House antics. Beer, wine and soft drinks are for sale, and the popcorn's free. Popcorn pelting of and by the audience continues through the evening. The audience is cautioned, however, not to throw popcorn on stage, where it's a safety hazard.

Audience involvement is paramount in this genre: Players speak directly to their listeners to let them in on their thinking. A spotlight shines on the actor, much like an old movie closeup, to pinpoint the villainy under way or a sudden awakening as the character talks directly to the audience.

Being involved in the action gives the audience a vested interest in the undertaking. But the practice has its drawbacks: A loudmouth or two in the audience can destroy many of the punch lines, the best gags. Cast members have a repertoire of put-downs for such folks, such as: "Here's a prime example of fetal crowding, someone who didn't get enough oxygen to the brain at crucial moments."

With all the catcalls rampant, there's no way to maintain the momentum a play needs, even a spoof. Just too many distractions. Wiseacres keep up a running dialogue with the cast, who have a lot of their lines stepped on or lost. Of course, that's one explanation for the use of running gags, repeated periodically throughout the evening.

The Opy House holds auditions several times a year. New cast members are often recruited from the audience.

"It's fun to see people who originally worked behind the scenes decide to come into the spotlight," June says. "We can see them gain more confidence with each production." People who think they can't get up before an audience often surprise themselves and become dedicated troupers.

One such is Ron Havener of Monte Sereno. By day he's a mild-mannered accountant who owns and operates the Hayes Mansion in San Jose. He's one of several partners in Network Conference Co. Inc. At night he's Joe King, Studley Kettleman or whoever else the Ole Opry House needs. His acting career sprouted from desperation.

His wife, Nancy, was in the production of The Seduction of Ma and Pa Kettleman, playing villainess Vivian Vinegar. A minor player was suddenly out of commission, and Nancy asked Ron if he'd fill the gap. He would and did and was surprised at how much he enjoyed the limelight.

Later he was cast as Studley, whom he played with a deliciously deadpan quality. Farm boy Studley was working on his GED while his girlfriend, Milkmaid Mary, a Martha Stewart clone, was busy saving the farm, getting her Ph.D. and milking the cows.

Now the Haveners are a dedicated part of the Barbary Coast family.

"These people aren't going on to Hollywood or Broadway," says Harry. "They have a 9-to-5 life, a job, and this is just one way of having fun."

Indeed, it's the very way he started with local theater. A friend was directing a play in Los Gatos and Harry joined the cast. He's been at it ever since, playing with nearly every little theater group in the valley. His stage name is Edsel Chrysler, "part failure and part success."

One woman, who was writing her dissertation on melodrama, came to every performance for six weeks. She saw 12 different shows, always the same play, and said that each one was totally different.

The troupe is very much a family, getting together after rehearsals, with the Fromms serving as Ma and Pa. The Fromms owned the playhouse from 1968 to 1982, sold it and then, seven years later, took over the operation again. This time they lease the historic building from the Santa Clara County Parks and Recreation Department.

In their former lives he was an engineer/Realtor, and she was a teacher. June taught the primary grades at Lexington and Blossom Hill schools. Later, she was a special-education aide to Virginia Buckman at Los Gatos High School. Children she had taught in the early years she reconnected with in their high school years.

The Fromms have two grown daughters, Gail in Oregon and Pam Kredel of Danville. The Fromms have lived in Los Gatos since 1954 in four different locations. They used to live in a Victorian on Los Gatos Boulevard, which was destroyed in the '89 earthquake and which they both still grieve for.

June is active in the Victorian Preservation Group, and both Fromms are avid letter-to-the-editor writers. They were the ones who first referred to "the dome" on the corner of Los Gatos Boulevard and Blossom Hill Road as a phallic symbol during a summer of colorful letters that ran in the Los Gatos Weekly-Times.

Harry recently celebrated a landmark birthday, held, of course, at the Ole Opry House. But instead of turning 70, he calls it the 31st anniversary of his turning 39. So you see that signing off a story about the Fromms without using a gag is like a latte without milk.

Therefore, here's a parting shot from Harry, part of the patter in their current show:

Question: "What's the No. 1 oxymoron of the century?"

Answer: "Adult male."

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