Through my dear friend Don Wrights encouragement and influence I am blest to have been afforded the opportunity to work at "The Barn Dinner Theater" in Greensboro, North Carolina for a few months and play the part of "Uncle Stanley" in their production of the popular play "Smoke on the Mountain". I must say approaching this project was unsettling to me, as I have never been much of a public speaker, never been good at memorizing lines, and have never done any 'acting' in my life. Nevertheless I decided to try my hand at it. Uncle Stanley was the role they were needing to have filled, and it didn't take me long with the script to see that if there EVER was a role that I might be able to play, it was Uncle Stanley's. Uncle Stanley is the cigarette smoking, beer drinking, ex-convict, black sheep of the evangelistic "Sanders Family" who has just returned from a stint on the chain gang building bridges and roads for the State of North Carolina. His brother Burl (Pete Corum) a traveling preacher, has agreed to let Uncle Stanley stay and travel with the family until he can get on his feet again in exchange for some music and his testimony. Burls wife Vera (Kelley Kennedy), their children, twins Dennis (Jeff Michael) and Denise (Ramona Church), youngest daughter June (who considers it her calling to provide a most unorthodox and unintentionally humorous form of sign language to illustrate the words to the old hymns the family is signing), as well as a couple of cousins (both named Reuben and played by Don Wright and John Hoffman) go along on the crusades to minister through their songs and testimony.
Musically the play was something I really wanted to do because of the great friends and musicians already involved, and the song selection was a dream come true...thanks to my Mother I developed an early and abiding love of the old hymns of the church.
The part that was of concern is the aforementioned inexperience regarding public speaking, memorization of lines, and acting. My approach to the audition was to memorize the lines that were essential to the storyline of the play (fortunately Uncle Stanley isn't called upon to do much except play the guitar or the banjo) and then when he gets called upon by the pastor of the church to give his testimony, I pretty much said whatever popped in my mind, trying to remember that at very least I should end like the original script for the benefit of whoevers part came next. The director seemed pleased and said that so long as I came in at the right time and got out in the right way I could say most anything I wanted to within reason during the time designated for Uncle Stanley's testimony. Thus began a little over three months of 'being Uncle Stanley'.
During the play and since that season ended an occassional inquiry comes in regarding where a copy of Uncle Stanley's testimony could be found. Since I was given the freedom to improvise for the most part, I had only made a few notes in the beginning. Recently a few of those notes were found, so for those of you interested, here is basically typically how it went;
First, a brief set-up-
It's 1938, where you become the congregation of Mount Pleasant Church. This is their "first ever Saturday Night Sing". Pastor Oglethorpe (Darrell Overman)is trying his best to move his congregation into the "modern world", by inviting "The Singing Sanders Family" to join him.
After an hour of longwinded testimonys and explanations from the rest of the family, and June's hilarious disruptive sign language, an obviously un-nerved Pastor Oglethorpe calls on Uncle Stanley to give his testimony by saying "Uncle Stanley, you've been so quiet this evening, why don't you give us your testimony?", to which Uncle Stanley replies;
"Well Preacher, I usually fare better letting my guitar do the talking for me. Seems to me that quiet folks aint the only ones that don't say much... I'm not handy with the Scriptures like some folks are either, but I do believe the son of the Psalmist, wise old Solomon said that "The Spirit of the Lord is a candle within the soul of a man searching out all his inward parts", so there aint much use in me standing here telling you what a saint I am. Fact is, I'm country as a stick, rough as a cob, and about as mixed up as Father Adam must have been on the first Mothers Day. All the bad things Dennis says he's done, I've done- and a lot worse. You know the parable concerning the 'Prodigal Son', well-so far as the Sanders Family is concerned, that would be me. While Burl and the kids were lookin' after our sick Mother I was down here on this Yadkin River building bridges and working on roads for the State of North Carolina... One good thing about doing that kind of work is that it gives a man time to think about things, like where he's messed up and such. I really believe it's true what the Good Book says about us reaping what we sow, but seems like I've sowed a bunch of seeds and didn't know what I was doing 'til the harvest started comin' in, and then I'd look around at all the thorns and thistles I was trying to pull myself free from and say 'you mean I'm the one that's been planting this kind of stuff??' One thing about it Preacher, all seeds have to bloom right where they're planted, and I reckon we got to do the same thing. It stinks in these spots we find ourselves planted in sometimes, but I reckon if a man makes his mind up he can choose to turn all the manure in his life into compost for his soul.
Yes sir Preacher, and I know what this beer and these cigarettes smells like y'all been talking about. I hate to admit it- but I really like it. Truth be known, I probably gave my nephew Dennis his first drink. Friends- some of the most understanding, helpful folks I ever run into in my life was in a beer joint. While most church folks will say 'let's pray for so-and-so' or mutter a 'help 'em Lord' under their breath, most of the drunks I know will get off the bar stool and come help you if you need it. I can assure you one thing, if you go to a bar and start acting all uppity and casting stones- you're looking for a fight. I know most of you sitting here tonight has got no use for strong drink or them that imbibe in such stuff, and I'd say it probably aint right myself. My poor old Grandma was concerned about me years ago and used to warn me about drinkin' all the time. She'd say "Now Stanley, it's alright to drink like a fish- so long as you're drinking what the fish drink", but Preacher, aint it it the Bible somewhere that the Good Lord Himself said it's not what a man puts into his mouth that fowls him up, but what comes out of his mouth that does all the damage??
Preacher Oglethorpe, I'm sure you don't have anybody like this in your congregation, but I have run into a few folks that thought they could claim an affiliation with a certain church or denomination or religion, pull a robe of righteousness about themselves, put on a tinseled show of piety for each other, and that somehow gives them the right to cast stones and judge and condemn those stumbling and groping around in the dark, or the fallen, like me.... Neighbors, I think those 'Holier-than Thou' type folks ought to remember that a halo only has to slip a few inches to turn into a noose...
I believe when Jesus looked out over the 5,000 people that day there had to be at least one or two in the bunch that was ornery like me, but nevertheless his heart went out to them. He wanted to minister to them and feed them right along with the rest of the crowd. Maybe that means there's hope for folks like me. I know one thing, I'm wearied from all my runnin' and carrying on and from all the sleepless nights and hangovers. Friends, take it from me, if countin' sheep don't help your sleeping, try counting on the Good Shepard.
I want to thank you, brother Burl for taking me back in, thanks to you Preacher for having us, and thanks to you, congregation, for sitting through all this and hearing me out...
