Swinging from cables like a chimp while focusing amber glows and shocking spotlights on some of the most talented characters marching across the American stage, Chip Hunter takes readers on an adventure in theatre production in his memoir Stage Monkey. This look back to his days on the road, behind the curtains, and above the bright lights tells the story of a young man eager to experience the sensation of showbiz while discovering the grueling and rewarding realities of a thespian lifestyle.

As Chip becomes a confident stage professional, his entertaining chronicle demonstrates how solid grounding in this ancient artform becomes a fitting platform for surviving the slings and arrows of rising adulthood, perhaps revealing the ticket to wisdom that the stage-loving Greeks, Romans, Shakespeare, Noel Coward, and Tennessee Williams figured out long ago.

I stand smack in the middle of the most glamorous setting I have ever seen. Radiant lights wash a huge stage curtain in liquid gold. The live orchestra is invisible because the musicians are in the “pit.” Still their tightly woven chords fill Broadway’s Imperial Theatre with excitement and energy …

We did not laugh much in my house when I was growing up. At least I didn’t. Nor did my little sister, Neil. It’s not because we were abused, went without things, or forgot to celebrate holidays. We simply always had serious matters to consider …

She stands there looking down at him, flowing hair draped across the shoulders of her robe. Dark lips, provocative, feline eyes. Nighttime. The scene is draped in shadow. Their exchange is sensual. He’s opening a bottle with a pocket knife. They speak about many things. A war is going on …

I sit crouched, arms around my knees, on an elevated catwalk high above a protruding stage apron. My perch, built by the UGA stage crew, extends well over the upfront house seats. My helper sits beside me. Large, torpedo-like lights surround us …

A wiry guy scrambles up the ladder, introduces himself as a member of the house staff, and asks if I’m okay. I am nervous as a cat. Strange house. New show. Unfamiliar crew. He says he’ll stay with me during the run-through. He assures me it’s a “piece of cake” …

Northern Michigan University’s (NMU) summer theatre company is housed in a large structure like a barn on the banks of Lake Huron. Back in my room after an exhausting day of travel, I hear some chirping, squeaking noises as the lights go out and I settle in for the night. Suddenly, a scream rings out …

Windows in my truck are down. A Chesapeake Bay breeze tousles my hair and suddenly, warm, exotic fragrances fill the cab. I pass the main factory of McCormick Spices and am charmed by this unique welcome mat put out by Baltimore, Maryland home of Center Stage, my new employer …

The American Stage Festival (ASF) is a classic summer stock venue with enormous sliding portals on the upstage wall opening directly into New England’s back woods. ASF thrives by drawing top tier talent and seasoned theatregoers because of the venue’s proximity to Manhattan …

With the help of a party-loving colleague Petey, we arrive in the meat-packing district of New Haven, Connecticut, home of Long Wharf Theatre. As assistant technical director (ATD), I report directly to this distinguished company’s teeny scene shop to supervise set construction for revival of Lillian Hellman’s Broadway-booked Watch on the Rhine ...

The new year starts on Broadway at the John Goldman Theatre. We have scored opening night tickets for Watch on the Rhine and for once, I am thrilled to wear a jacket and a tie. It is a spellbinding event but more because of the location than the familiar lines. At Sardi’s restaurant we await the reviews …

Late winter, early spring blossom with opportunity. Joanna and I both take on side gigs in addition to working at Long Wharf on a highly promoted revival of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf featuring Mike Nichols and Elaine May trading verbal jabs under the watchful gaze of playwright Edward Albee …

Following a rare summer off, I return to New Haven with pretty bride Joanna by my side. We hit the road with two traveling shows, The Lion in Winter by James Goldman and Noel Coward’s Private Lives. I am Touring Technical Director but Jo outranks me as Assistant Stage Manager with a Union card …

With our apprenticeship behind us, the LWT on Tour team sets out for middle America. We travel a lot and sleep little. Every location is different from traditional hemp-rope-fitted stages to state-of-the-art marvels. There are breakdowns, break-ins and fist fights. Late nights, early departures and gags along the way …

Our cozy motorhome driven by grinning Ramone arrives at the totally glazed meat-packing plant. I am the last to scamper aboard and am sure I have never been so cold. Hairs in my nose have frozen into icy splinters. We head west to Corning, New York for one performance of Private Lives …

At this moment in my career, I am about as pleased as a stage monkey can be. My resume is growing. I see my name in prestigious playbills. I rub shoulders with casts from Broadway. And now, I am entering California to spend an entire month here in the middle of winter …

LWT on Tour goes as far west as we can go. It is time to head back home but we are not retracing our steps. During a perfect day of reckless skiing in Loveland, Colorado, I am reminded no matter how much one chooses to avoid reality it is always there …

We say goodbye to the Rockies by air, landing on the Gulf Coast at Galveston, Texas for one performance of Private Lives and three straight nights of The Lion in Winter in Austin. A rare ride in a classy limo gives me time to take stock of my team, consider how we have bonded and wonder where we all go from here …

This gypsy caravan has traveled more than 10,000 miles hushing rowdy crowds, opening minds and lifting spirits in 31 states. Now back in New England it seems those who have benefitted most are not the audiences but the hard working performers, drivers, managers and stage hands …

The St. Charles streetcar line takes me from Tulane University’s shady campus to the bawdy French Quarter. Between sets at a bar called “Blue Angel,” I slurp oysters and sip suds with banjo-picking, Theatre Department Chairman, “Buzz” Podewell. He makes me an offer I can’t refuse …

After two years as an Academic I have had enough. It seems odd because reviews are generally positive. I get along well enough with other faculty. Students have generous things to say. There are offers from other institutions. But one small, personal incident really rocks the boat. Ask Mr. Nabokov…

We all crawl before we walk. My story outlines how one knuckle-dragging stage monkey went from wannabe, to rookie, to mentor as a participant in the world of live performance. I hope in some small measure other curious, creative types find glimmers of inspiration here …

Thanks for Swinging with this Ape.

Questions? Observations? Leave a Comment below. Curious George will get back to you after his nap.