Charlie and I shared an interest in theater at Carleton – mine purely amateur and his heading to professional. We roomed together in New York that first year out of Carleton, he to a fledgling MA drama program at Columbia and I at Columbia Law. I left New York the next year and Charlie stayed and graduated. He became a visiting professor of musical theater at Carnegie Mellon but his real career blossomed as the traveling road company manager for major musicals and drama productions around the country. Charlie knew pretty much “everybody” in the theater and I am certain he knew the lyrics to every musical number in every musical in the American song book. While I was miserably studying first year torts, he was singing “Man of La Mancha” at the top of his lungs. After that year, we stayed in touch and visited every once in a while even hiking one summer near his place in Lake Placid. Charlie was opinionated, funny, goofy, worldly, kind and always thoughtful. In the fall of 1991, I received a copy of his will in the mail and, puzzled, called his sister, Margy. In August of that year, Charlie had been canoeing Lake Placid at night with a friend. They were far out on the Lake, watching the great Adirondack night stars when a motor boat cut their canoe in half, killing Charlie instantly. I still hear his voice distinctly and continue to admire his love for tilting at any and every windmill he could find.
Jay Stroud ’66
Comments
Charlie and I shared an interest in theater at Carleton - mine purely amateur and his heading to professional. We roomed together in New York that first year out of Carleton, he to a fledgling MA drama program at Columbia and I at Columbia Law. I left New York the next year and Charlie stayed and graduated. He became a visiting professor of musical theater at Carnegie Mellon but his real career blossomed as the traveling road company manager for major musicals and drama productions around the country. Charlie knew pretty much "everybody" in the theater and I am certain he knew the lyrics to every musical number in every musical in the American song book. While I was miserably studying first year torts, he was singing "Man of La Mancha" at the top of his lungs. After that year, we stayed in touch and visited every once in a while even hiking one summer near his place in Lake Placid. Charlie was opinionated, funny, goofy, worldly, kind and always thoughtful. In the fall of 1991, I received a copy of his will in the mail and, puzzled, called his sister, Margy. In August of that year, Charlie had been canoeing Lake Placid at night with a friend. They were far out on the Lake, watching the great Adirondack night stars when a motor boat cut their canoe in half, killing Charlie instantly. I still hear his voice distinctly and continue to admire his love for tilting at any and every windmill he could find.
Jay Stroud '66