Living to Tell the Story

Once upon a time in Southern California, there was a mighty industry that built warplanes, weapons systems and military satellites. Defense stoked the economy, employing an army of workers.

Ron Lancaster was a soldier who did not love his job. By day, he toiled as a “financial administrator” at Hughes Aircraft. By night, he was an entertainer.

He’d put together a vaudeville act--a few ragtime songs, some fancy footwork, a little patter--that he’d perform wherever a nightclub would let him have the stage. He did stand-up comedy on open mike nights. And Ron loved a good yarn, so much so that he joined a club for storytellers. He honed a repertoire of tales, mostly true, about growing up Catholic, about teen-age courtship, about life’s trials and its lessons.

Ron Lancaster, at age 52, is now up to his eyeballs in his latest story, hoping to find a happy ending. Last November, the New World Order decided it didn’t need so many numbers-crunchers, including ones like Lancaster who put in 24 years with Hughes. As other former colleagues looked for work and otherwise plotted ways to stretch their buyout money, Lancaster followed his muse.

He cashed in 27 weeks of severance pay, his pension and his 401(k)--all of it--and invested in a dream. You can find it on Sherman Way, just west of Topanga Canyon Boulevard, in a part of the west San Fernando Valley that would seldom be mistaken for hip. It’s part bookstore, part cafe, and of course it has a stage. It’s called The Storyteller.

“It’s my way,” Ron is fond of saying, “of turning swords into plowshares.”

*

It’s open seven days a week and there’s usually somebody on stage. Hundreds of acts have taken the stage since The Storyteller opened last March.

The first time I dropped by, a young pianist was playing original tunes, just for me and three other diners. It isn’t a good sign when the number of patrons equal the number of employees. It was still a bit early for dinner, but it was clear this is a business built on faith.

Words of inspiration are displayed in a picture frame:

“. . . The moment one definitely commits one ‘ s self, then Providence moves too. All sorts of thi n gs occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance . . . . Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now. “

Easy for Goethe to say, but Lancaster swears it’s true.

“I’ve seen that happen,” he says. “This place is a magic place. All sorts of things happen. People appear at the right time to offer help, money, advice. . . . I’ve got a customer fixing my plumbing for free. He just showed up, which is great, because I can’t afford to pay him.

“The community has jumped in and helped. They want this like I want it. . . . It’s almost daily. For me this is a magic place.”

I had dropped by to chat with Lancaster and Fred Starner, a folk singer who has performed with Pete Seeger. Starner, who speaks of a bustling “folk music underground” that is largely unnoticed amid the flash and hype of L.A.’s giant recording industry, is putting together talent for monthly folk gatherings at The Storyteller starting Sept. 26.

To Lancaster, Starner further validates Goethe’s words. The folk singer was one of several artists who donated their talents to a fund-raiser to help The Storyteller through recent hard times.

The truth is, Lancaster’s dream has never not faced hard times. He has measured progress not in profit, but by losses that decreased from month to month. The pattern had been heading in the right direction, but September has been dead. The other night, Lancaster says, he had to close early for the first time. Nobody showed up for dinner.

What good is a story if there’s no one to hear it?

*

The prognosis isn’t good, yet Lancaster seems optimistic. One reason may be the fact that he’s a newlywed. He met Jane at a Parents Without Partners meeting and they got married right up on The Storyteller’s stage. Jane sells life insurance, so if Ron’s business goes belly up, it’s not like he’ll be out on the street.

Besides, Ron knows well enough that even the best stories don’t always end happily ever after. That may be why he’s polishing up his Elvis impersonation and the old vaudeville routine, this time on his very own stage. He seems determined to enjoy it while he can, always hoping for a dramatic twist of fate. Will a cavalry of folk-song lovers ride to the rescue?

And if The Storyteller meets a premature end?

“I will have a lot of happy memories. . . . As long as you can live the story to the fullest, that’s reward enough.”