RICKY McCORMICK OF RICHMOND VIRGINIA (1950-2015)

I knew Ricky McCormick during my time at the Carpenter Center from the summer of 1985 until the end of 1989.  Jimmy Dean, the IATSE Local 87 Stage Steward at that house, had brought in Ricky as a hand, although I don't believe Rick had ever had any prior stage experience.  Jimmy had an eye for great talent.

Anyone who knew Ricky will attest that he was a superb stagehand, the best really; he was unbelievably strong; he had Leading Man Good Looks; and he was funny as hell, in his sly and entirely original way.  Besides his stage work, Rick eventually served the Carpenter Center as House Engineer.  He was a great guy.

My fondest memory of Ricky was when he was high atop the rolling A-frame ladder focusing the first electric for some road show.  Ricky yelled down to Jimmy Dean, "Move me, please."  Jimmy responded, "Stage left or stage right?" 

Temporarily flustered, Ricky pointed left (stage right) and yelled, "Stage thataway!"

Me and Ricky in my office, the walls of which Ricky, Jimmy, Earl and other hands had volunteered to build out of the leftover scenery from "The Twelve Dreams of Christmas." 

Ricky on stage, standing behind the backside of one of the orchestra shell towers.  The stage doorman, Mister Carter, is seen reclining on the left.

Ricky in the grid, he and Earl Butler versus that nasty Gagnon-LaForrest hydraulic fly system.  They performed a comprehensive survey and repair in that heavenly hell hole.

Ricky's astonishing work on stage prompted Sue Bahen and me to hire him directly.  Here he is changing the color of the Reception Room from cream to burgundy for the rechristening of the room as the ill-fated "Star's Club."

Rick's finest work for us was the annual and Herculean task of hanging our Christmas tree.

Ricky's perfect and equally attractive soulmate and wife Sandy soon became an integral part of our small team, serving in various capacities including the dreaded role of Concessions Manager.  She is seen here in the stage right wing with my Beloved Kitty Mabel Normand's son whom I named "Tin Man" because of his nose markings.  Tin Man lived in the theatre and was loved by one and all, and for Sandy he deigned to look into the lens.

Rick and Sandy at their "second home."

May flights of angels, Ricky, lead you on your way.

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