How to Copy an Original

What starts a revolution? In George Shea’s one-man show, “ChesterChesterChesterChesterChester,” at the Fremont Centre Theatre, it’s a quiet, self-effacing man with a habitual laugh whose determination to simplify office work led to a 25-year obsession.

Shea takes us back to an era when students copied sections of reference books by hand and secretaries typed through several layers of paper to make blurry carbon copies. Making 100 copies of a document was a laborious task, not the simple operation it is today. Shea asks us to imagine life before photocopy machines were standard office equipment and how the addition of one machine brought revolutionary changes in offices and schools around the world.

Along the way to creating the first xerographic copying machine, the largely forgotten Chester Carlson (Shea) left stained bathtubs, neighbors and landlords disgruntled over sulfurous household fires and a ruined marriage. Turned away by 32 companies (including Eastman Kodak), hindered by a nation at war and briefly distracted by the desire for harmonious domesticity, Carlson persevered. But at what cost?

Unlike the comically trite inventors profiled in the recent production of “Great Men of Science, Nos. 21 and 22” by Circle X Theatre, Carlson was hugely successful. He had one of the most profitable patents ever and “much more money than any one person could possibly spend.”

Shea plays Carlson as an old man reminiscing about his struggles--the enormity of his success is downplayed because Carlson didn’t seem to take pleasure in the money it brought him. Facing every obstacle with humble determination, Shea’s Carlson is not fiery crusader or wild-eyed visionary. He’s a bespectacled man in a rather shabby gray pinstriped suit, white shirt with navy blue pinstripes and bow tie--an earlier version of a dapper Caltech nerd. And his dream tempts him like a petulant mistress.

Shea shows him as a common man, willing to take risks but sadly neglecting his personal life and health. As his story progresses, the laughter that punctuates his narrative takes on a crushing poignancy. Carlson only had one invention in him. Although it’s now an integral part of our everyday lives, its success left him with no goal for his few remaining years.

Fame and fortune held little attraction for him. He married a woman who introduced him to parapsychology and Eastern religions. Ultimately, he wished to die a poor man, giving up most of his fortune to charity, demonstrating no desire to have buildings or monuments named after him.

Martha Stevens directs this production with an atmosphere of stark humility. The stage is bare and the backdrop is a black curtain. The few times sound effects are used are somewhat jarring, suggesting that more with a subtler hand might give this production extra polish.

Shea leads a discussion about Carlson after each performance.

BE THERE

“ChesterChesterChesterChesterChester,” Fremont Centre Theatre, 1000 Fremont Ave., South Pasadena. Sundays, 7 p.m. Ends Sept. 27. $12. (888) 441-5979. Running time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.