2 commentsRichardson — Quiz Time: Listen Up.
Q. What two Tony winners currently appearing in Dallas performed extensively in Fort Worth early in their careers?
A. Yes, of course, Betty Buckley is one. The Cats Tony-winner and Cowtown home towner opens Friday in Arsenic and Old Lace at the Dallas Theater Center. And the second? Master ventriloquist Jay Johnson, who collected his Broadway award four years ago for Jay Johnson: The Two and Only, is performing that one-man, multiple-puppet show through the weekend at the Eisemann Center in his home town of Richardson.
Johnson honed his stage craft decades ago at Six Flags and in the cast of Charlie’s Kids, a revue conceived by former Dallas Summer Musicals producer Charles Meeker. It ran for more than a year in a cabaret beneath the Hotel Texas in downtown Fort Worth.
Johnson’s Tarrant County internship has long been eclipsed by his stint as a schizophrenic ventriloquist on television’s Soap, a career phase referenced hilariously in Two and Only, which is more than worth the challenge of negotiating the maze of ramps and exits to reach the hidden fortress that is the Eisemann. The show is funny, poignant and informative―teaching you more than you ever expected to know about the history of ventriloquism.
Johnson recalls that a fundamentalist evangelist once accused him of practicing dark arts, citing Satan as the world’s first ventriloquist. (He channeled his voice into that serpent in Eden, remember?) Jay’s presentation, however, only goes back to 850 A.D.
He has a standup comic’s wry/dry wit. His non-human partners have various personalities, all of them calculatedly distinct from his own. The show’s occasional profanity, for example, only comes from the mouths of the puppets. The most outrageous of the lot is Bob, Johnson’s smart-mouthed partner on Soap. His beloved Squeaky was deemed “too sweet” by the show’s producers. In an affecting flashback, the ventriloquist breaks that news to his wooden partner.
What makes Two and Only work is that you totally accept the wooden figures as human-like beings. And, of course, there’s the matter of Johnson’s mastery of the lip control aspect of ventriloquism. When they sing, they (he) hits the high notes, and on-key, yet.
In addition to Squeaky and Bob, Johnson is joined by Amigo the reptile, Nethernor the vulture, Spalding the tennis ball and Darwin, a monkey, natch. When not performing, the figures reside in suitcases placed around the stage. The most sustained laughter at Thursday’s opening show came when Johnson introduced Darwin. In classic nightclub style, the sassy simian targeted a front-row patron for abuse. (“That’s a monkey joke, lady. Where are you from, anyway, Garland?”)
The most innovative bit occurs late in the show when Johnson creates a character from scratch. He draws the figure on a sketch pad, and it talks. I’m not sure how he does it, but it’s terrific.
There are artful mood shifts that directors Paul Kreppel and Murphy Cross help orchestrate. And there’s appropriate homage for ventriloquists of the past, in particular those from Johnson’s boyhood. Big Jon and Sparky are recalled, and their Saturday radio show’s theme song, “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic,” is heard twice during Two and Only. And Johnson’s friend and mentor, Art Seiving, who carved Squeaky, is remembered lovingly.
There’s another, more subtle tip of the hat to Johnson’s early career. Take a look at the “Special Thanks” paragraph at the bottom of Page Four in the playbill. Along with Felicity Huffman, Bill Macy and other notables is David Sinkler, Johnson’s long-ago comrade in the Charlie’s Kids cast. 
