Deaf Side Story: Deaf Sharks, Hearing Jets, and a Classic American Musical

End Credits

er, perhaps because the actors know in advance what to expect, they persevere and refuse to droop. The evening ends with one last standing ovation, a bouquet of flowers for Terri Benz, and an incisive, two-hour strike that leaves the room looking as if it were trying, once again, to become a quiet little fencing gym.
Two weeks later, the cast and crew reassemble for a lazy, almost sedate barbecue-cum-cast-party on the Mac lawn. It’s eighty-five degrees and humid; weather maps show potent rainstorms in all directions. CJ tries to catch Frisbees in his teeth; Michael brings a skateboard and then doesn’t use it. Olivia chases a soccer ball, only to be chased in turn by Cara Hammond’s lively little sheltie. Bob Dramin and his wife bring their children; everyone coos over his youngest. Diane spots an enormous ring glittering on Pearlene’s left hand, a ring featuring the traditional masks of tragedy and comedy. “Pearlene,” Diane asks, amazed, “are you married?” Ever the coquette, Pearlene proudly replies, “I’m married to drama!” Pearlene’s enjoyment is marred, however, by the fact that Ken, who is deeply engaged in a discussion with Melanie Jacobson over the subject of choir politics, never makes an effort to chat. She thinks to herself that it’s just like in the movies, where the two actors, so in love on screen, must go their separate ways once the filming is complete. Stung, she talks to everyone else she can find, including Bryce Hoffman, who tells her that he has decided, as a result of West Side Story, to become a Deaf Ed major. This is the last official function of the West Side Storiers, but, for many, the reunion is muted by the unexpected death that morning of Phil Decker. Phil, Diane’s theatrical progenitor and Finale 205 perhaps the most popular professor Mac has ever known, had been quietly fighting lung cancer since November 1999. He was the first person at MacMurray to hear the fledgling idea of staging West Side Story as a “deaf” musical, and the first to offer his encouragement. In the end, his illness prevented him from seeing so much as a single rehearsal. Later, Diane takes leave of the cast party early in order to attend the first of her expectant parent classes at Springfield’s Memorial Hospital. As she speeds toward the city, racing between field after field of barely sprouted bright green corn, she remembers exactly what Phil Decker told her, all those months ago, upon hearing that only half of West Side Story’s cast would themselves be hearing. “That’s a great idea,” he said. “Go do it.” 206 Deaf Side Story November 2002 The production is long gone. At least half of Mac’s student body has no memory of West Side Story having ever happened and, what with the cast and crew having scattered to the four winds, much the same situation applies at ISD. Such is the nature of theater. No one understands this better than Christopher, who has returned to Gallaudet to continue taking classes and center himself in the bower of the area’s large and welcoming Deaf community . He has never stopped performing, and his induction into the Wild Zappers, an all-deaf, all-male dance troupe, recently took him to Los Angeles to perform for that city’s Deaf Expo. The Wild Zappers work most often along the Atlantic seaboard, but they have traveled to Australia, Jamaica, and Japan, among others, and they have appeared in venues across the United States, winning numerous awards and garnering an appearance on The New Kaptain Kangaroo. Each member of the Zappers, formed in 1989, contributes to the choreography, and while in Los Angeles, two of Christopher’s pieces were featured, “Out Here on My Own,” (the theme from Fame) and “Strange Fruit,” as sung by Billie Holiday. When he’s not on tour, Christopher works as an office assistant for Invisible Hands, the brainchild of Fred Michael Beam, cofounder of the Wild Zappers. Invisible Hands, an ambitious nonprofit group, is “dedicated to the advancement of deaf and cultural awareness and to bridging the gap between the hearing and deaf communities”—a perfect fit for Christopher. 207 Epilogue ...