The Danny O'Hare Story (part 1)
Let’s talk about the joys (and occasional horrors) of creativity and making stuff.
I celebrated my 60th birthday in a pretty typical way: I and some friends performed a cabaret act in Scotland, at the prestigious Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Or rather, the lounge singer Danny O’Hare performed, and I just lurked onstage following his every movement. He did not like it, but I had to be there.
Danny, you see, is a puppet.
Yes, at the age of 60, I became an accidental puppeteer, and birthed the legend(?) that has become Danny O’Hare. A legend that has turned out to be far more popular than anything else I’ve ever created.
“Jamie,” I hear you cry, “”Accidental?’ How could you become a puppeteer by accident?”
Well, it began, as many things do, in Middle Earth, on the road to the Bucklebury Ferry.
Where a tree used to be
EXT. WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND - DAY
Mari and I were on a cruise to Australia and New Zealand. This included a day in Wellington, home of Weta Studios where The Lord of the Rings trilogy was made. We signed up for a tour of the studios and some of the nearby locations. (Actually, as I was to find out, it was really just me who had signed up for the tour, and Mari went along because she’s a good sport. More on that later.)
Wellington, in a nutshell: gorgeous, charming, perched on a natural harbour, surrounded by hills. Very steep hills.
The “studio tour” was actually a tour of a warehouse/gift shop that Weta had set up separate from the actual studios. It was early days for them, and the whole thing had a charming “hey, let’s put on a show!” vibe. After a demo of some props from the movies, we got back on the bus to go see a local spot used as the location for an iconic scene. Excitement!
We drove up those very steep Wellington hills to pull into the parking lot of a typical suburban park/playground. Also bordered by hills. Then we walked through the playground, and started up the path. It went up those hills.
The path was cut into the slope, and covered with tree roots snaking across at every angle. New Zealand is 70% British farmland, and 30% Cretaceous jungle. With the difficult footing from the roots, the heat, and the cicadas hammering away in the trees, we were pushing 35-40% Cretaceous. And the higher we went, the more Cretaceous it felt.
I was kind enjoying the low-key adventure of it. And then my husband senses started tingling. I looked over at Mari, and realized she was not enjoying this uphill march in the heat. While my nerdom somewhat insulated me from the trek, all Mari had to protect her from the heat, insects, and incline was good taste, sound judgement, and a superior intellect.
Finally, our guide told us we had arrived. (He was a young, New Zealand version of Brian Blessed, which is a sincere compliment to them both.) There was a high bank on one side of the path, and a 3-4 ft (1-1.5m) drop on the other. And there was a huge dent in the soil by the edge of the drop. The whole thing looked vaguely familiar.
New Zealand Brian Blessed (I’m going to shorten this to NZBB) gathered us together, and told us it was the section of road where Frodo sensed that he and his friends were being chased by The Nazgûl (also known as the Black Riders, also known as the Ringwraiths, also known as the Dark Riders, also known as the Nine Riders, or just the Nine to their friends). It was that scene early on where Peter Jackson uses the cool Hitchcock dolly zoom, before Frodo tells everyone to get off the road, and they all hide under the exposed roots of a tree.
The tree was no longer there, just the dent on the side of the trail. Our guide told us that the production never cut down a living tree. This particular tree had been flown in from South Island of New Zealand after it had been felled by strong winds. It was put in place and dressed to look like it fell there.
All the assembled LOTR fans were thrilled to be there, of course. A genuine Middle Earth location! A behind the scenes story of eco-respect and movie magic! Who wouldn’t love it?
Well, have you ever just looked at someone and instantly just knew what they’re thinking, were almost transported into their point of view? Me neither, until I looked over at Mari’s face, bedewed from her exertions, with an expression devoid of anything smile-ish. And that’s when the vision hit me, and I saw what she saw:
A group of people ooo-ing and ahh-ing over where a tree used to be.
She did not share that enthusiasm. After the heat, the roots, the cicadas, and the incline, she definitely did not.
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Enter the shoulder devil
INT. SHUTTLE BUS - DAY
Back on the (mercifully air-conditioned) bus, most of the folks on the tour opted to be dropped off in downtown Wellington to look around, and then catch a later shuttle. We had already spent the morning in Wellington — and Mari was all funned out — so we stayed aboard to head back to the ship. With hardly anyone else around, we started chatting with our tour guide (NZBB) and he mentioned that he had performed stand-up comedy at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. I thought “Oh, cool,” and left it at that.
Mari (total sweetheart, remember) knew about my long-standing curiosity about the event, and pressed him for more details.
OK, remember how I called this section “Enter the shoulder devil?” Yes, that’s Mari, and I mean it as a compliment. In fact, I had several shoulder devils throughout the whole Fringe project who helped propel us to Edinburgh. But Mari was the first and the best.
“But surely she’s a shoulder angel,” I hear you cry. But no. I don’t need shoulder angels. Years of Catholic upbringing mean I can say, “no, good things aren’t for you” all by myself. It’s like the interior of my skull is covered with demotivational posters telling me to “play it safe” and “stick to your lane.”
That’s why I love the people in my life who are shoulder devils. For me, a shoulder devil is a living embodiment of the words “possible” and “yes.”
A shoulder devil, a good shoulder devil, is not the kind that tries to get you to do bad things. A good shoulder devil knows the direction you’re yearning to go, and coaxes you to the precipice of your experience, right to the abyss — and then belays you so you can safely dance on the edge.
So Mari, sitting there in a completely different context, remembered my decades-long fascination with the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, and took an opportunity for me to find out more about it. And NZBB was was happy to oblige.
That’s where we found out the shocking truth about The Fringe: They let anybody in. Anybody. All you need to do was rent a venue, and pay a fee and you are on the official program. Voila! You are performer in the world’s largest performance arts festival.
That’s it. No jury, no auditions. Of course, you’re on your own to get people to actually show up at your venue, and you’re on your own to keep them in their seats once they show up. But still…
And so, returning from our hike on a hilly road at the outskirts of Hobbiton, the thought of being part of this renowned international festival lodged in my brain, and would not let go. And that obsession carried me and some amazing co-conspirators through the year and a half journey and all the myriad moving parts we went through to get onstage at Edinburgh.
More on that later.
I hope you find your own shoulder devils. If you do, cherish them. You deserve great, surprising things in your life.
Until next time, I remain,
Your pal,
Jamie