Welcome to the Rabbit Hole.

Most visitors never make it this far. Since you're still here, you're probably curious—and curiosity tends to be rewarded around here.

This little corner of POZERVISION contains photographs, newspaper clippings, programs, and memories from the beginning of my creative life. My mother carefully saved these pieces of history. Decades later, I'm grateful she did.

Ready? Set? Down we go…

You first.

Right Off The Hop

Auntie Dadye and the Beginning

A listing for the “Dadye Rutherford Dramatic School” appeared in the Yellow Pages under the ambitious tagline: “The School of Versatility.” My mother was thrilled to spot this ad for student enrolment. Here was something unusual and exciting — a school of the arts for children — right here in Vancouver. Okay, it was on the east side, but still…

Not long after mom had spoken with the former director of the “Sun Ray Revue”, we were in the old Simca on the way across town to meet her.

Dadye Rutherford had a teaching designation from Trinity College London, a background with the Pollard Opera Co. out of New York and Hollywood, and had set up her own school. She was serious about performance, and you knew it the moment you met her. Especially when you’re six years old and still figuring out how shoelaces work.

Her letterhead featured a full buffet — Comedy. Drama. Vocal. Novelty Songs. Plays. Operettas. TV & Radio Technique. Speech Defects. Elimination of Accents. Remedial Reading. Speech Arts. Phew!

Everyone called her, “Auntie Dadye.”

Nobody dared call her anything else.

Auntie Dadye was wonderfully competitive and entered her students in every speech arts festival and talent contest she could find. If there was a trophy, she intended to bring it home.

Those were the days of bow ties, lipstick, polished shoes, and nervous children waiting backstage while their parents set up folding chairs in the auditorium. Auntie Dadye stayed behind the curtain managing everything like a theatrical field marshal.

Looking back, it all seems charming and innocent. The nerves, however, were real.

Auntie Dadye introduced a lot of children to stage fright. And dreams about stage fright.

My contribution to the performing arts? A spirited rendition of Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh.

The audience laughed. I survived.

My Big Break

Oliver! and the Professional Stage

My first audition at the age of nine for a major theatrical production changed the course of my life.

I landed a spot in the boys’ chorus of Oliver! with the Vancouver Festival which would open in 1966. The show starred Jules Munshin and Roma Hearn, and before long I had joined Actor’s Equity and was touring professionally.

Rabbit Hole Fact: Margot Kidder — yes, Lois Lane — played the role of the undertaker's daughter. I shared the stage with Superman’s girlfriend.

Director Stone Widney also cast me as the understudy to the title role.

That meant that in addition to rehearsing with the boys’ chorus, I sat in on every rehearsal with Brett Smiley, who played Oliver Twist on Broadway. There were definite advantages to being an understudy. I learned countless lessons from a great director over months of rehearsals. It was an education long before I ever stepped into a film classroom.

The show opened at Vancouver’s Queen Elizabeth Theatre, then toured to the Seattle Opera House (now the Marion Oliver McCaw Hall) before finishing at Portland's Keller Auditorium. These were grand theatres with seating capacities of more than 3,000 people.

That’s a little intimidating when your Grade 5 class photo has only twenty people in it — including the teacher.

One year after Oliver! I found myself wearing lederhosen and singing my way through the touring production of The Sound of Music.

I played Kurt opposite Dorothy Collins and Academy Award-winning actor Maximilian Schell.

Not bad for a kid whose mother had simply answered an ad in the Yellow Pages.

In 1969, I landed the title role in Oliver! for Theatre Richmond. The production was a tremendous success and returned the following year for the grand reopening of Malkin Bowl in Stanley Park.

A few years earlier, I had been sitting in rehearsals as the understudy to Oliver. Now I was playing him.

For a young performer, singing "Food, Glorious Food" in an outdoor theatre surrounded by towering trees and summer skies felt truly magical.

"Please, Sir, I want some more."

"...he gives a pretty good imitation of a hissing cat." (one of my best performances ever)

The smile says it all.

Following the 1970 Theatre Under The Stars season, I received the E.V. Young Award for Most Promising Actor from two performers I greatly admired: Cecilia Smith, the definitive Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, and BC Entertainment Hall of Fame actress Doris Buckingham.

I remember this photo being taken and feeling like I was floating about three feet off the ground. Some memories never fade.

Forty-seven years later, Cecilia Smith and I shared lunch and a long conversation about theatre, life, and the passage of time.

The award was wonderful. The reunion meant even more.

The Boy Who Could Fly

Growing Up Could Wait

For decades, it was a theatrical tradition that the role of Peter Pan be played by women because they could capture the spirit of youth so convincingly. Somehow I got the job.

I loved Neverland, and in many ways I never left. The tights, however, were a challenge.

Rabbit Hole Fact: Yes, newspapers really did publish children’s home addresses.

Dance choreography was hard. Flying was harder. But still easier than the tights.

-Sideways Hop-

That time I ran away with the traveling circus. More to come on this…

Pirates, Kings, and Mentors

Every Young Actor Needs Heroes. I got lucky.

Graeme Campbell was a memorable King Arthur and became my acting mentor.

Working alongside Graeme taught me something I’ve never forgotten: talented people make everyone around them shine on stage. He was gifted and generous, and enjoyed a long career in theatre, film and television. More importantly, he treated young actors with kindness and respect. That leaves a lasting impression.

A few years later, I was cast as Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island with Graeme playing the charming — and thoroughly dangerous — Long John Silver. He also shared the stage with a live talking parrot perched on his shoulder.

To be fair, the parrot stole more than a few scenes.

The legendary Paddy Crean directed the production and created all of the swordplay.

Watching him stage a fight scene was like attending a masterclass in swashbuckling. Every clash of swords had a purpose. Every movement told a story.

Some rehearsals were literally ‘pirate training’ boot camps.

The show played for two consecutive Christmas seasons at Vancouver’s Queen Elizabeth Playhouse before heading out on tour.

One of our stops was Ottawa, where we became the first Canadian production mounted at the newly opened National Arts Centre.

At the time, I thought this was just what theatre people did. Looking back, I was one very fortunate kid in good company.

One of those moments when you look around and wonder how you got there.

Sharing a laugh with Governor General Roland Michener and his wife. On the right is director Paddy Crean, who looked remarkably like Errol Flynn and actually worked as Flynn's stand-in and stunt double. In the middle is actor, mentor, and Long John Silver himself, Graeme Campbell, wearing what can only be described as a magnificent 1960s lounge suit.

Some photographs capture a moment. Others remind you of the people who helped shape your life.

Can you believe I got to do all this before I was 18 years old?

Those early years shaped everything that followed.

The films.
The television work.
The books.
The classrooms.
The adventures.

The theatre years gave me far more than roles to play. They introduced me to mentors, friendships, adventures, and opportunities that shaped the rest of my life.

Looking back, I realize the moments, the shows, and the photos are wonderful. But it's the people in them that matter most.

Through the journey and the detours I learned a valuable life lesson for a creative career: stay curious — because curiosity takes many turns and has a remarkable way of opening doors.

Thanks for wandering down the Rabbit Hole with me.

Now let's climb back out before someone notices we're gone.