Samuel Weisman – 50th Reunion Essay

Samuel Weisman

66 Fountain Street

West Newton, MA 02465

samweisman@gmail.com

617-549-0968

Spouse(s): Constance McCashin (1978)

Child(ren): Daniel Weisman (1982); Marguerite Weisman (1987)

Education: Yale, BA 1969; Brandeis University, MFA in Theatre Arts, 1973.

Career: Actor, turned director/producer, work in theatre, television, and film, 1973–present. Teacher of acting, Brandeis University, Harvard University.

Avocations: Theatre, film, music, fitness, golf.

College: Morse

Words from “Bright College Years” keep rattling around in my head:

“How brightly shine through memory’s haze,

Those happy, golden, bygone days.”

“Happy?” “Golden?” Not so much.

I remember some weird stuff, like being intimidated into buying a Yale ’69 mug (which I still have). Bladderball is a hard thing to explain in the modern era. Waking up Sunday mornings, hungover, in order to stumble my way to Christ Church for a paid singing gig, where I became ill due to the incense—what a memory. Vivid image: John Kerry and his fellow pundits taking control of the Cross Campus, dramatizing The Aristocrats. Contrary to current opinions: he was tall, handsome, and witty.

There are educational moments as well. Vincent Scully’s incredible presence in the Law School Auditorium gave me a lifelong appreciation of modern architecture. Shakespeare is a passion because of Alvin Kernan. I will never forget Fenno Heath’s musicianship, energy, and humanity whenever I hear choral music. Likewise, I am grateful for Beekman Cannon’s gracious gentility as my advisor. Erich Segal taught me twice. He was brilliant and generous. The History of Comedy course was a template for my career in the entertainment business, alongside Robert Brustein’s intensity in my Drama School classes.

Growing up in upstate New York, in a family with modest means, I came to Yale as a scholarship student, after attending Deerfield Academy in similar circumstances. At Yale, it seemed that the money thing was more of a factor. I felt like an outsider. My freshman roommate was Mark Dayton, who was friendly and kind, but I couldn’t get over how many ties he had. It bothered me that I had to work in the Commons pouring milk.

But comfort was around the corner, in the form of Hardy Brereton, my freshman counselor. One day, he randomly approached me and asked if I wanted to audition for his singing group, The Society of Orpheus and Bacchus. I got in and realized I needed The SOBs more than they needed me. Hardy and several of the others are still in my life, and we see each other regularly—brothers in song—remembering, appreciating.

My family puts up with me when I tell the stories, trying to explain how different things were for us “back then.” Constance, my wife of four decades, knows. She was at our Senior Prom (not with me), where Wilson Pickett pulled her up onto the stage—another good story. Our son Dan is in the music business, and has his Lizzie, a woman with a great sense of humor. Our daughter Margaux, (an editor at Penguin Random House) has her Will, a gentleman. They are part of the story now, and loving this family is my thing.

I still see myself, but with hair, and thinner, huddled in an archway, with my singing group mates. Maybe we’re in tune—maybe not. It doesn’t matter. We tried.