Popination Congratulation
a series of unhinged personal essays disguised as pub reviews. Today: The Corner Office.
The Corner Office
The first time I went into The Corner Office Martini Bar in Downtown Denver, it was many years ago, sometime back in the early 20-teens. I was going there to meet my theatre adjunct colleague to talk about joining forces on a live theatre production of Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree. I was to write the script adaptation and be in charge of choreography, and she was planning to direct. Which is great, as she was (and remains to this day) a prolific, excellent, and award-winning director.
It was in the heyday of my adjuncting grind, working for several colleges and universities across the metro area, living miserably married and abjectly broke in a remote suburb of Boulder called Gunbarrel. As such, The Corner Office was a bit out of my league, price-wise. But it was close to where we both taught, and so it was an easy jaunt to go there and commiserate. And she was paying, so.
They make excellent high-end cocktails there, and the vibe is a Mad Men ad man posh hotel bar. In fact, I believe they serve as this very thing (a hotel bar) for the Curtis, occupying the same corner. It’s got cool atomic age decor, and I hear that if you actually sit at a table and do the full menu, it’s quite excellent. But I’ve never experienced the Corner Office other than at the bar.
That afternoon with my colleague was very cool, and I ended up composing a couple drafts of Giving Tree for the project. We planned things from my checkered past of theatrical experience, like: aerial dance techniques for the Tree’s branches, and elaborate artistic puppetry for various vignettes. Shadow work on a scrim, natch. I’ve written a few short plays in my time, and I tend to not prefer that kind of writing, as it’s so bare-bones to me. A playwright puts down the skeleton, which the actors, designers, and director then flesh out with their artistry. But this was going to be different. Sitting there at a tall bar table, my friend elaborated on the poetic stage directions she wanted me to create for the script, and as we spun our fantasy theatre plans, it sounded more and more like it was gonna be a really cool experience. After two drafts from me, the show itself never ended up happening, but it’s okay—I’m not exactly bummed, as the Giving Tree story is a bit problematic for today’s audiences. Stuff like that is not a waste, though, either—creative work is creative work, process as well as product.
The second time I went to The Corner Office, it was only a few years later, just after I had auditioned for the big statewide cattle call at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts. It was an audition for the DCPA itself, as well as a handful of other professional theatre companies across the state. I gave a solid audition, and, though I had no illusions about getting cast anywhere, I still stopped by The Corner Office afterward, to reward myself for accomplishing such a big task with a glass of Prosecco.
Oh, Henry!
Last Monday, I found myself at The Corner Office once again, this time dressed appropriately for the posh place, in my new purple cocktail gown, lace shrug, and of course the gothy touches of Daemonia boots, fishnets, and fine leather collar with amethysts and spikes. Purple was the appropriate color, as it’s the main hue for the graphics of the Henry Awards, which is the reason I was downtown.
The Henrys are just like the Tonys, which are basically the Oscars of live theatre. The Henrys, though, are a local awards ceremony, attending and judging and giving awards to theatre productions and artists in Colorado only. The categories are the same, though: Best Actor in a Play and in a Musical, Best Design (of several kinds), Best Director, and the like. No awards for best fight choreography or stunts, though, just like the other national awards. Sigh.
But it is a gala, and it functions not only as a congratulatory event for a few good theatres, but also a fundraiser for the Colorado Theatre Guild, which all in all is a good thing. I was attending because I had been invited to present an award by the director of the event (as well as of one of the plays I did fights for in late 2022). It’s easy for me, as a large woman with eclectic training and a recovering academic only recently cut off from even the academic theatrical world I had been immersed in, to feel like a has-been. As good as my work is when I’m hired to do it, theatrical work has been more sporadic of late, since my return from Washington last summer. That’s normal, by the way—theatre gigs are indeed sporadic and it’s not easy, unless one is a captive company member at a big company, to get dependable and constant work. Even with an agent, which I don’t have. And I’m normally not equipped to travel a whole lot. I know that when I do what I do, I do it well, but I forget that a little when I get too isolated. I feel out of the loop. Not in the underdark of burlesque and drag, though—I’m well known there, and am thankful for the regular Blue Dime Cabaret shows that I’m so richly and heavily involved in, for this reason amid others. But theatre proper still doesn’t exactly respect those underground acts, not much. It’s gotten better, but still isn’t really considered, well, proper.
And so, getting this call from that director was important to my sense of self worth: it was a reminder that I was indeed a memorable part of local showbiz, and it was an honor to be asked to do this. And so there I was, at The Corner Office, the place where two other failed theatrical attempts at relevance went to drink, pre-gaming the ceremony. I knew the show was going to be three hours long with no intermission, so I decided to break my rule of not eating before performing,* and have a Sazerac and a snack there at the bar before call.
*Usually, this is a nerves thing. Though I don’t really get particularly nervous before performing anymore, I do still get into kind of an elevated state, where food just does not go down well, and I find a beer is best for nourishment. It’s also why I often need to go eat after a performance—I end up expending so much energy on not much actual food.
They make a dang good Sazerac at The Corner Office, and the pimiento cheese I nibbled on alongside was creamy, tangy, and addictive. That’s another thing about the vibe of this bar: it was originally meant as a classy joint for local businesspeople to come meet up after work, and so all its signature snacks and several of its drinks are named with business jargon. The appetizers, for example, are called Startups, and etc.
Crossing the street into the Denver Performing Arts complex, I found my way to the smallish Wolf theatre, and got myself a sweating bottle of Voodoo Ranger IPA to sip on while getting the rundown on the event from the Stage Manager. And who did I run into right away, also presenting that night? That same old colleague from Giving Tree! It had been years since I’d seen her, and it was so good to catch up. She asked how life at ___ university was, and I told her I wouldn’t know. It was the school I left last Spring, that I’ve described in this piece and this piece from my memoir. She understood, and we chatted about that hot tea and about what we’ve been doing elsewhere.
The Henrys event itself went great, and I got to meet a new friend and her seeing-eye dog who was a very good boy. We presented Best Actress in a Play together and it was truly an honor. It was also great running into another old friend from way back in the 1996 Midsummer that I was in, just out of college. It was good to be a part of a grand, snazzily-dressed crowd. The performers in each interlude throughout the night were phenomenal, too, and it made me proud to be a part of the immense talent that surrounded me. It was a long night, but a good night.
Oh, and, speaking of: Remember ‘Friend Tenured Jim’ from this story? He was there. I won’t elaborate—I don’t want it to be that easy for just anyone to guess who he is, but. If you know, you know. Suffice to say I continue to be summarily and pointedly ignored by that whole faction. And there, readers, is yet another reason why this was such a good event to appear onstage at. Does that sound petty? After 20 years of good hard expert work, to be treated with such disrespect? Nah. I’m valid, and so are my feelings.
And that purple dress really did look great.