RIP, Tony Larimer
Tony Larimer - a Utah actor, director and teacher who died Tuesday at the age of 79 - was a big man with big eyebrows and a bigger heart."He was incredibly loving. He was devoted to the arts and education. Those were his major passions in life," his son Tim Larimer told the Tribune's Roxana Orellana.
Larimer appeared with practically every major theater troupe in Utah, and in every genre. He also appeared in films shot in Utah, including "Baptists at Our Barbecue," "Stalking Santa" and "The Dance." And he taught for 31 years at Rowland Hall-St. Marks.
"He was the kind of presence that allowed you to think about doing important work," Nancy Borgenicht at Salt Lake Acting Company said. "So you could think about giving to the community 'Death of Salesman,' 'The Ride Down Mount Morgan,' 'The Road to Mecca,' 'Hysteria.' It's hard to think about how you would have done plays like that without him. We all would have been less for it."
A service of remembrance will be held at St. Mark's Cathedral, 231 E. 100 South, Salt Lake City, at 1 p.m. Saturday - followed by a party at the church, to celebrate Larimer's life.
Labels: Tony Larimer
posted by Sean P. Means @ 9:05 AM |
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My Thoughts on the March 7, 2009 Service In Celebration of the Life of Emmet (Tony) Larimer
St. Mark’s Cathedral, Salt Lake City, Utah
It was the greatest gathering of Theatre artists I have ever seen, like Utah’s own version of the Tony Awards, but more democratic – all were welcome, all had their own unique relationship with Tony to celebrate, and all were focused on that something he had enlivened in them. Their purpose was to be there, far less to be seen there. They were simply moved to be in his audience one last time -- to honor him, of course, but perhaps more to receive from him again that sacred light he had determinedly carried and shared as Theatre in every rehearsal, every performance, every venue, every genre, every student, every audience, every cast, every cue, every line, every breath taken to speak, every pause, every applause, every standing ovation – here, in Utah.
The great St. Mark’s Cathedral filled quickly, requiring immediate decisions and little time to wander and greet those we knew, but that was fine - anywhere one sat, there were people there with Tony stories. My daughter and I instantly found someone significant in our lives to sit with, and then spent the time waiting for the ceremonies to begin sharing our most recent experiences, and pointing out those still arriving and their place in the wide constellation of Utah Arts.
Some had seen Tony more recently, had faced their fears to be with him and Marie, and witnessed the difficult changes, felt the losses. They had been blessed with seeing again and again the strength of his elegance, the resilience of his wit, and the sustenance of his love for Marie. No surprises there, just further proof that those changes were only on the outside.
For those who could not be present in the waning times, for whatever reasons (not sure if they belonged so close at such a time, not sure if they could face the cancer’s effects, not able to cross the distance), there are great stories to share, there are great communicators who were there, and there is hope that more will be told, and written, and – who knows – perhaps Tony will appear onstage again, enacted by another, revealing more and more his vast humanity.
Meanwhile, there was this moment, in this glorious St. Mark’s Cathedral, on this beautiful, brisk day in March, with the crocus blooming, and the daffodils poking through the earth.
Episcopalians are a funny lot, I think. Full of strong formal ceremonies, with great wit and humanity expressed in between the long hymns and Biblical pronouncements. And Tony’s long relationship with the Salt Lake Episcopal Diocese was clearly rewarding for all, yet not without its intellectual questions. “Which came first,” we were told Tony had once asked, “Liturgy or Theatre?” The answer was left to continually and warmheartedly ponder.
So, with this initial reflection from a clergyman who’d known Tony since 1958, the ceremony’s stage was set. It was explained, too, that Tony, ever the Director, had, of course, written and cast this service, choosing the hymns and prayers, the soloist and her songs, the Yeats poem (“The Song of the Wandering Aengus”), and the speakers. Of course, Tony had also written his own obituary. It was noted that since the general election had already passed, with Obama inaugurated, the statement encouraging everyone to vote the straight Democratic ticket had been cut. (This was received with applause by many, despite glares from a minute minority.)
Anne Stewart Mark, magnificent as always, brought us Charles Gounod’s “Ave Maria” early on, but we were forewarned that Tony had also selected an unnamed song for her to complete our experience, to sing as the clergy and his family left the room.
Anne Cullimore Decker, long time friend and frequent stage wife, spoke of Tony’s voice, likening its loss towards the end to Beethoven’s deafness, but taking us back, too, to some shining moments: a Shakespeare sonnet at Chris Hayes’ workshop in 2001, and his yearly reading of the redemption of Dr. Seuss’s Grinch.
Gail Hickman, another who was regularly cast as Tony’s onstage mate, often extending the family to include her daughter as well, spoke of his responses to those quirky “unscripted” moments in live Theatre, such as a smart adlib when a sudden release of water interrupted the dialogue when Willy Loman and his wife were discussing recent plumbing expenses, and the delight in his face when a thrown daffodil landed perfectly in an exposed cleavage.
The point, it seemed to me, was the Joy he brought to Theatre and to those who experienced Theatre with him (and the inherent encouragement to recognize that we, too, have the ability and the mission to do the same).
The public service ended, as Tony wished, with Anne Stewart Mark serenading the departure of Marie, their family, and the clergy from the chapel to a private internment ceremony, down the aisle, past the hundreds of friends. As with so many great song standards, it began with several less-familiar introductory bars (“Cathedral bells were tolling and our hearts sang on...”), then reached our hearts with, “I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places...” and with Tony’s usual theatrical perfection, ended with:
“I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you.”
Suffice it to say, the party afterward, in the Dean’s Hall, was densely full of Dionysian artists of all ages -- actors, directors, designers, technicians, producers, agents, teachers, dancers, musicians, students and patrons – from every venue, company, and school. It was a delicious demonstration of the vastly intertwining of the arts in Utah that Tony had an effect upon, all interacting on this day with such warmth and appreciation for each other.
I believe we have been renewed as a community, carrying an inspiration forward, to continue to both experience personally and share generously Joy through Theatre, as we have known and celebrated with Tony Larimer.
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