Pinot Grigio is Always Acceptable

BY JEREMY WANG-IVERSON, TUFTS STUDENT, 1998-2002
I had the pleasure and privilege to act in Tony's final two Tufts productions: The Merry Wives of Windsor (Fall 2000) and Romeo and Juliet (Fall 2001). Both were delightful experiences. I played the Prince in Romeo and Juliet and Slender in Merry Wives. Tony really liked Merry Wives. It was the only play he directed twice at Tufts. In his program notes, he called it
"infinitely pleasing." Also, from his program notes for that production:

"When I came to Tufts in the early 1970s, I directed my first Midsummer Night¹s Dream. I returned, a few years later, to direct [Merry Wives] in a six-person production, I also traveled with it as stage manager, company manager and nanny on a tour that opened in the great Chinese-built theatre seating 2000 people in Khartoum in the Sudan. We then traveled on to Ethiopia, Uganda, Zambia, Kenya, Zimbabwe, Malawi & Botswana. Most audiences watched with scripts in their hands!"

Nanny? Anyway, that was a tangent, but I thought it was worth noting. The below anecdote, which is a little weird, highlights Aron Epstein's point about Tony's generosity and shows just how far he would go for his students.

It was the Summer of 2001 and I was about to backpack through Eastern Europe with Scott Trudell (Tufts '02). I was in a bind. After moving out of my apartment in Edinburgh, where I was studying abroad, I had some excess baggage. I left my belongings that I couldn't carry in a London storage facility run by a husband-wife duo named Gary and Adelaide. I would pick up my things after our travels, then fly home to the States. But if I didn't pick up my belongings by a certain date, Gary and Adelaide wouldn't return my $300 deposit. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't afford to lose the $300. I brainstormed with Scott - who did we know in London?

Tony!

So I e-mailed Tony and asked him if he could pick up my stuff. My stuff was in a big, black garbage bag. I explained to him the situation, about Gary and Adelaide, how they were being pricks about my $300, about my big, black garbage bag, and all of it. He wrote back: "Well, that certainly is a lot of money. Clearly, you should have left your belongings with me in the first place. But, nonetheless, I would be pleased to assist you." I felt stupid, but thrilled, a strange feeling that I think Tony specialized in inspiring. I asked if I could get him anything from our travels, perhaps a bottle of wine. Tony responded: "A bottle of Pinot Grigio is always acceptable." Perhaps I was impressionable, but because of that, to this day, I drink
Pinot Grigio.

A few weeks later, back in the States, I called Gary and Adelaide to find out when I would get the deposit back. It was still an annoying situation, as Gary would only cut me a check, in pounds. He refused to refund my credit card. So I'm trying to work it out, and Gary says, during a lull in the conversation: "So I understand you're an actor." "Excuse me?" I said, certain there was no way he should know that, even if he did go through my stuff. "Oh, I suppose Tony didn't tell you," Gary said. "Adelaide, Tony, and I have gone out for drinks together! Twice!"

I felt betrayed, that my privacy had been invaded, that my drama professor socializing with my London storage professionals just wasn't right. They were hanging out and they had nothing in common but a big, black garbage bag of my stuff. But, then, after hanging up the phone, I was comforted that Tony, Gary, and Adelaide had become buddies. Any worries I had that I wouldn't receive the deposit check quickly vanished. Sure enough, I got it within the week.