Gary Martinez Remembers

I met Mark in the state of Michigan. We were both members of the Performing Arts Company as Michigan State University. It was a consortium of scholarshipped students in the MFA and Ph. D. programs. Mark had been there a year or so by the time I got there. I had joined the program a few months before the classwork to begin in September of 1977. I had been offered roles in the Summer Circle Free Festival held on campus during the summer. When Mark and I first rubbed shoulders in the company it was all too clear that we both shared the California experience and a sick sense of humor. We appeared in a few shows that first summer including The Barber of Bombay, As You Like It, and a series of One-Acts. We laughed, ate, drank, and smoked through that first summer. Then the school work began. Mark and I were in some classes together, but mainly our time together was spent onstage. We performed together in Much Ado About Nothing, The Threepenny Opera, and The Time of Your Life to name only a few. While it could clearly be said we were both partiers, it was also very clear that we were very professional in our approach to the work onstage. In addition to Mark’s acting skills, he was a very accomplished classical guitar player. I recorded about a half hour of his playing one dark and stormy night (no joke) in a classroom with clear sound and minimal echoes. I ended using his music in a production of As You Like It I directed for Idaho Summer ’78 in Moscow, ID. And, of course, many many nights we were singing everything from Neil Young to Simon and Garfunkle to Crosby, Stills, and Nash.

I got to know Mark’s first wife, Juliette Gay and their dog Phoebe, an English bulldog they both loved and cherished. After the first year in school together, we went on to another Summer Circle Free Festival the second summer. When that gig was over, we loaded up his VW van and took the jaunt to my farm in Northern MN about 1,000 miles away.

I’ll never forget the time spent in East Lansing before and after the performances. Amidst the 3.2 beer bars on the main drag was an establishment named The Peanut Barrel famous for peanut shells on the floor and a regular weekly Trivia Night where the host posed questions to the unruly crowds screaming out answers. For each correct answer, the host tossed a chip good for discounts on the already-low priced pitchers of beer. Everyone screamed, ate greasy burgers and fries, munched peanuts to their hearts content, drank beer, and laughed. I remember that the host had put together questions that only Mark would know, such as “Who played General Clayton on MASH?”. Of course the answer was Herb Voland, Mark’s Dad.

When our time at MSU came to an end, we tearfully departed with big hugs all around and well wishes for the future. It was hard to say goodbye to such a close friend. Lo and behold! As fate would have it, both Mark and I were hired at Hope Summer Repertory Theater in Holland, MI the summer of 1979 and we were reunited. That summer we performed in Twelfth Night (I as Feste and Mark as Toby Belch), The Rainmaker (I as HC Curry and Mark as Noah, my son!), and A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (see pictures!) (I as Erronius and Mark in the Zero Mostel role). He was fabulous-singing and dancing even! Needless to say, as Mark was at this time separated from his wife, we got into lotz of trouble in the Holland area—swimming at the beaches, eating in the restaurants, drinking in the bars, and spreading ourselves thin among the womenfolk.

After that, I lost track of Mark for awhile only to be reunited when I ventured down to Los Angeles years later. We reconnected and partied together off an on for the next five years or so. Sometimes he would venture north to the Bay Area and I would put him up for a few days before he would venture home again. I could tell he was troubled. His excesses were beginning to catch up to him and he was moody and argumentative at times.

We always kept in touch though. He was a veracious writer and very politically aware. He would send me articles on the foibles of the Republican party and politics in general. Of course, most of his concerns were way over my head, but I respected his views and his persuasive way of speaking about them.

And as Mark continued to expand his career from performances in Topanga Canyon to television work (Hill Street Blues, Colombo, General Hospital, Dallas, Murder She Wrote, Max Headroom, and a great guest appearance on Cheers), I envied his career and his ability to earn money at a pretty good rate. Whenever I visited him in LA, he lavished me with debauchery of both the liquid and solid kind. He could drink me under the table and his use of other things far exceeded by abilities. Long after I was waving off another “bump”, he was right there indulging deeper and deeper in his excesses.

After a few more years----well really about 12---I heard from him that he was beginning to have problems with his ability to memorize lines. Then came the seizures. Then came the accidents. Then came the medications. Then came the confusion. Then came the resolution that he was unable to care for himself.

I last saw him in the flesh a couple of years ago when I joined him in LA at Camp Jenny in Oxnard to help him sort out things a bit after his Mom’s death. We spent about three days laughing and running errands. He would repeat himself constantly and I could see that his mind was on the wane. But then we’d begin thinking about days past and I could sense a clarity in living in the past. Mark could remember such details! It was great to be with him and it was tough to leave, but we both knew that our lives were on different tracks and I always had a gig to return to in the Bay Area.

I spoke with Mark on Saturday—four days before he died. We spoke of getting together soon as I was going down to LA to secure a place to stay to begin my chasing the media a bit as an actor. I apologized that I wasn’t going to be able to see him on the current trip down South as I was not driving down myself, but with a friend. Mark was upbeat, glad to be living in his own place, was satisfied with SAG and AFTRA and their treatment of him in terms of getting his pensions to him, and was looking forward to seeing me in the near future. His last words were about making sure I phoned him before I showed up as he couldn’t trust his mind anymore to remember when I was coming. He wanted to be sure he was home when I knocked on his door.

Mark and I wrote each other back and forth for years. We didn’t see each other that much, but when we did it was as if ZERO time had passed between us. We were truly brothers.

I loved him like one. And will think of him often.

Gary S. Martinez