Theater legend spurs walk down memory lane.

Byline: WRITE ON By Jeanette Stone Bishop For The Register-Guard

A naive, stage-struck, 18-year-old freshman at the University of Oregon in 1949, 1 felt so fortunate to have entered college in the very term that the new modern world-class University Theatre had its grand opening! So I put on my formal and high heels and struck out alone, in the dark, from Rebec House up 13th Avenue past the Lemon 0, the Side Inn and Taylor's and sashayed across campus on that November evening to watch "Winterset" - as I recall.

That is all I remember about the play, if even that is correct. But I definitely remember the thrill and historic significance of that moment. If I felt it at all, I managed to ignore the fact that I didn't fit at this grand occasion. I now know that those in attendance were mostly university patrons or Eugene socialites.

I had never heard of Horace Robinson, so didn't know that he was responsible for the theater's existence.

Later that year, I ran into Robinson when I tried out for "The Girl I Left Behind Me." I was ignored after the first reading, but since I hung around at the break, he invited me to read again. Never having worked with a real director, I had no idea how to take direction, and after several evenings of readings couldn't sustain the lengthy ha ha ha guffaw laugh that he required, so I didn't get the part.

Two years later, I signed up for Robinson's technique of acting class, which turned out to be my favorite class of all time. After two terms, he asked me not to continue for the third term. I leave it to your imagination to speculate why. I didn't ask.

Not to be denied, without apology I signed up anyway and showed up. To his credit, it was never mentioned again, and he gave me all the time and attention that I needed. He even complimented me a couple of times, which happened so rarely for anyone that I was the subject of some generous "Wows!" from others in the class. Behind his sometimes gruff exterior, Robinson is a kind man.

I never knew what to call him. He just wasn't a Mr. Robinson, and I never heard anybody call him that. Others called him Horace, and I think he was comfortable with that, but I wasn't. It felt presumptuous to me, so I didn't call him anything to his face. If I wanted his attention, I said, "Uh ... ' and stated my case.

After participating in small ways in several plays, I tried out again for a real part the next year in the University Theatre musical, "Brigadoon." This time I got the part and even, to his credit and a little bit to mine, won the coveted University Theatre award for Best Supporting Actress that year, hopefully redeeming myself a little bit in his eyes. See, this is kind of a Cinderella story.

That was in 1953.

Obviously, I didn't make a career out of theater. But I'm in good company. Most stage-struck people don't make careers out of acting. If they did, it would be like turning on more neon lights in town, dimming the sparkle of the real stars overhead. So, actually, failure can be a contribution!

Instead, I wisely got married and had four kids, among many other endeavors, including participating in some amateur theater activities through the years.

In October 1999, I noticed that Robinson himself was performing at the now renamed Robinson Theatre with some of the members of a reading group that he has been conducting for years.

I had my son drop me off, and didn't realize until I got there that the performance was the kick-off for the 50th anniversary celebration of the opening of the University Theatre! This was in the month of Robinson's 90th birthday and was an amazingly entertaining and nostalgic evening for me. To see Robinson still going, filling in the dots for me between the past and the present on that stage that I had run all over and commanded for a minute! Oh, the smell of the greasepaint and the roar of the crowd!

In that deja vu moment, I decided not to call my son as planned for a ride home. It seemed ordained. I should walk. So I gave my head a dramatic toss and set off alone in the dark - in the other direction this time - across campus to my home of 28 years, marveling at the coincidence of it all, contemplating my good fortune for having crossed paths with the best director in the world, and wondering where half a century had just gone.

The air felt the same; I could smell William's Bakery, just like always. For a minute, I thought about sashaying, but I walked, a little slower this time, and this time I was wearing tennis shoes.

Jeanette Stone Bishop of Eugene taught and counseled in public schools for many years before retiring in 1988 and entering real estate sales.