HALL OF FLAME
INDUCTION SPEECH

A lot of people ask me why it’s called Ruth Stage. Sometimes people initiate emails on our account with “Hi Ruth.” It makes me laugh but I guess I can see why they infer that. If we were called Debra Stage, I guess you’d automatically assume it’s run by a woman named Debra? I don’t know.

But the story is this. Bob Lamb was the best friend I’ve ever had. We met in 2005. I went on an audition for a play called The Mousetrap by Agatha Christie in Freehold, NJ at the Center Playhouse in downtown Freehold. I’d never acted before in my life but it was always something I wanted to do. The director of the play was also starring in the show and so he had asked Bob to be an assistant director - come to the auditions and rehearsals from time to time to watch.

Long story short, I was cast as the lead in my very first play. Detective Sargeant Trotter. The “police officer” investigating a murder at the Manor during a snowstorm. I didn’t know it was the lead role until I got home and flipped through the play. The terror I felt. I didn’t think there was any way possible in my first role that I could memorize all these lines, much less carry the show. I remember being sick to my stomach the day of the first show and wanting to run out of the building moments before my character entered the stage. The ironic part is, the way I was positioned backstage behind the set – the only way I could actually get out of the building was to enter through the stage. I had no choice. I had to go out there. Otherwise I might have run away and never looked back.

During that production though, Bob went from what was supposed to be a passive, drop in once in a while, assistant director to the captain of the ship. The production essentially became his and with me being the lead of the show, we worked very closely together. I can remember during that production people telling me “Have you ever seen Bob act?” and “Bob is an incredible actor.” It kinda became a joke with me and one of the castmates that Bob was like Bowser in the video game Mario Brothers. The Final Boss. We had heard the legend of him but obviously – having just met him – had never seen what everyone was talking about.

He was a graduate of the American Academy of Dramatic Arts and lived as an actor in New York City in the 80’s, starring in off Broadway productions and even on a long gone soap opera opposite Kevin Bacon if my memory serves me correctly.

Bob was big on creating character bios. A history of your character. He bestowed so much of his wisdom on me during this production, teaching me about acting, making choices, being authentic and getting the audience to believe you and more importantly getting you to believe in your character. “These are real things happening to real people. And if you don’t believe it, they’re (the audience) not gonna fucking believe it!” was something he would say over and over again in the rehearsal process about the actor/audience relationship. Also, to whip up us into shape when a rehearsal wasn’t going well, “This isn’t Mickey and Judy in the barn people!” Basically saying, this isn’t a nice little cookie cutter, gingerbread man show. Take it serious or get the fuck out. Bob had an edge.

I did everything he said. I listened. I worked my ass off on the character, wanting to be the best I could possibly be, especially in my first role – getting an opportunity to do something I had always wanted to do. Act! And now here was this man, this mentor – Bob was about 35 years older than – teaching me all the things he had learned at the Academy, from his teachers, from his experiences. By the time the production had wrapped, Bob had made me feel like a real actor. Call it community theater, whatever – a production directed by Bob Lamb was a legitimate production. That is why I was so lucky.

After The Mousetrap Bob cast me in his next production, The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams. I played Tom and this was not only the start of my love affair with Tennessee Williams but still, to this day, one of the best productions I have ever been a part of. On this production I worked even harder, my bios were more involved, I was determined to make Tom’s monologues each unique and different. Bob and I worked together incessantly on this like we were mounting a Broadway show. But he instilled this in me from the start.

I remember saying to him one time, wouldn’t you treat a lead on Broadway different than being a lead in Freehold? And he would say “No. It doesn’t matter where it is. I treat the work the same.” When someone like that is your mentor, who is a brilliant actor and director and someone who runs his own theatre company – you get so much wisdom. By the time 2006 had come around Bob had been running his own theatre company, The South Street Players for nearly 25 years, directing and starring in nearly 150 productions. How lucky was I to answer a casting call on NJTHEATER.COM in the summer of 2005? Being cast in The Mousetrap changed my life. Bob changed my life.

I can see it as I write this that I am him. Everything he taught me, everything he did, I am carrying it on without truly realizing that this theatre lineage he created as organically passed through to me.

Bob loved acting. More than anyone I knew. And I think he found in me, not only a young protégé but also a kindred spirit that he could connect to. We got close very fast and he would always refer to me as the son he never had. I would always say to people that I have three parents. My Dad, my Mom and Bob. When I tell you there was nothing he would not do for me, I meant that. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for me.

He loved Daniel Day Lewis and James Dean and would say things to me like, “You could be at that level. You have the talent to do those things.” A lot of the times I’d find myself in chaotic relationships that pulled my focus at times away from the acting. “You can’t serve two mistresses Matthew.” He would say. One of his famous lines was, “Lawrence Olivier used to say, I have to act to live! I want that for you.”

About those chaotic relationships…

He always listened. No matter how many times I needed to repeat stories, feelings, sadness – no matter what it was. When all my other friends were sick and tired of hearing about the emotional turmoil I found myself in periodically, Bob would listen. He was no stranger to relationships himself. In fact, he was in one for 9 years and when it ended, he said it utterly destroyed him and I believe that was a big reason Bob never pursued acting to the levels that he could have. It was also why he remained single for all the days that I knew him. “I never want to got through that again.” He would say while adding, “Isn’t it weird? It’s like the person is dead. But you know they are not. They are out there living. Just not with you.”

I knew Bob for 14 years. He directed me in some great shows and helped develop my ability in ways that no one else would have ever been able to. He was my coach, my mentor, my director, my co-star, my best friend, my therapist, my third parent. He was everything you could want in a close relationship. And he never charged me a dime for any of the countless hours he spent working with me on acting and teaching me how to run a company. Now this doesn’t mean that our friendship was without incident. There were plenty of arguments, mostly creatively. But they would never last. He would always come over, hug me and say “It’s not a close friendship if there isn’t conflict from time to time.”

Even though he was 70 years old and I was 35, Bob was always up for an adventure. I’d stop by his house after a night out with friends – it would be 2am. “Hey Bob you wanna go get Burger King?” I didn’t have to ask twice. Road trips to Boston, plays in New York, hanging out and watching baseball, trips to every Daniel Day Lewis movie that premiered, dinners at the Metropolian Café in Freehold, ordering pizza while we read a play. “You pick it up. I’ll pay he’d say. Order a pizza. Get whatever you want. Just nothing with anchovies.”

Bob was a gangster and always up for anything. I know I was his best friend and he was mine.

He became such a huge part of my life that he and his mother came to Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve celebrations. My parents loved him. My sister. He was family. It was without question a beautiful friendship and he was a beautiful man.

At this point in his life, from when I met him up until 2014, he was living with his mother, taking care of her. Bob’s dad had died tragically when he was a young man and so for all of his life it was just him and his mother. She was in her 80’s when I met her and her health gradually deteriorated until the day she passed in 2014.

Things changed a little after that. Bob became very sad. Dark. He cried a lot and longed for a time when he was a kid, Sunday Irish dinner with his family. There were 9 of them. Aunts, Uncles, cousins, etc. He wanted those days back. He even started a new theatre group called NINE THEATRICALS, in honor of that time in his life – having cut ties with the South Street Players.

I lived in New York City from 2008-2013 and did some productions there. Whenever I did, my parents would come and their feedback after the show was always – “Not like Bob’s shows. Stick with him.” I can’t stress enough how fortunate I was to have a mentor like him. I know I’ve said it a few times already but it’s like mostly everything I do – comes from Bob in some incarnation.

I spoke earlier about the legend of Bob and his acting. Before it was all said and done I had the opportunity to work opposite him on the stage, three times. The first was shortly after I moved into New York City. We did a production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? By Edward Albee. I was Nick and he was George. I remember seeing it on Broadway a few years later when Tracey Letts did it. All due respect to Mr. Letts but Bob absolutely blew him away. His preparation, his choices, how he was so alive in the moment. It truly was an experience. The man that had taught me everything he knew, The Final Boss! I reached that point in the video game where I got to confront him in his element and see what everyone was talking about.

I’m a very competitive person and a huge sports fan. I love theatre so much because it’s alive. It’s in the moment. There are no second takes. It’s like a live game situation that makes film and TV quite boring for me by comparison. And I want to win. I want to be the best. At any cost. Whatever it takes. I’ll do it. But I can say that there was probably one time in my life that I truly believed there was someone better than me on the stage. And that’s not a flex or meant to be arrogant. I work hard and I believe in myself. And I know the talent that I have. But during Whose Afraid of Virginia Woolf? – Bob was the man. And it wasn’t just the role of George. It was Bob. He was just better. And if he stuck with acting and didn’t let a relationship derail him and didn’t get comfortable producing shows in Freehold – he could have been one of the greats. To me, he was. But everyone else might have gotten to see it too.

That was one thing I didn’t want to happen to me. Look, there’s only so much I can control and I do not know how my story will end but one thing that I really wanted to do after knowing Bob for about 10 years and primarily doing shows was start moving the company into New York City. I didn’t want to get stuck in community theatre. This was around the time Bob started slowing down in 2014, shortly after his mother died and you could just tell his spirit wasn’t the same. His desire to be great, it was no longer there. He seemed to look forward to death, the same way someone might look forward to a trip to Italy.

Our friendship was different. He still loved me more than anything. I truly believe that. But that love came in more quietness. He’d snap a little more than usual. He was not the easiest guy to get along with, that’s for sure. But he and I had something special.

There was a “board” for NINE THEATRICALS, if you even wanna call it that. To me it was a bunch of old ladies sitting around eating pretzels once a month taking notes as Bob and I led NINE THEATRICALS. The idea was that he was in charge of the NJ shows and I was in charge of the NYC shows but the other 7 board members literally did nothing. And I remember getting so frustrated at him when he would tell me the board has to approve it when I pitched a NYC show. “Approve it?! Why are we giving them any kind of authority when I do all these shows myself in NY and you do them all in NJ with no help?”

“Because Matthew. There is a board and we have to follow the bylaws.”

Bob maybe played by the rules a little more than me.

Regardless, I’d find a way to produce the shows and for a few years I started making a name for NINE THEATRICALS in New York City. And then Bob had a falling out with all of them. “I’m dissolving the company and creating a new one.” He said. “Oh Jesus Christ Bob! I’m making a name for NINE THEATRICALS in New York City. Now I have to start all over? No.”

“I want to create a company in the memory of my mother, Ruth. She took me to the theatre in New York City when I was a kid. My love for the theatre and acting is because of her. I want to call it The Ruth Players.”

I paused, knowing I couldn’t talk him out of this. All my work with NINE THEATRICALS was going to have fall away.

“Ok. But not The Ruth Players. That sounds like a community theatre group. We want power Bob. Let’s call it Ruth Stage.”

And that’s how it happened. The original logo was a white rose because that was her favorite flower.

Ruth Stage’s first official production was actually Wars of the Roses, not The Collector., as the website states It was my chance to work with Austin Pendleton in an adaptation of Richard III. Austin and I took the texts of King Henry VI Part III and Richard III and merged them together to create a “new play” by Shakespeare. This was going to be a very big things for me and my career, playing Richard III under Austin’s direction and also playing opposite him on the stage. Bob knew this was a big opportunity for me too. There was only one problem. Ruth Stage had no money in the bank account and the theatre was going to cost $10,000 to rent for 3 weeks.

“I will pay for the theatre, Matthew.” Bob said to me, handing me a check for $10,000.

I assumed he had the money but after his death – I realized he didn’t. But he did this for me. How can you ever repay a person back who was this good to you? It was like no matter what I did, I felt like it could never measure up to the things Bob would do for me. And he NEVER, EVER held it over my head. “I do these things for you because I love you like a son, Matthew. It gives me great joy to do these things for you knowing that it’s helping you get closer to becoming the great actor I know you can be!” He would say it emphatically. Like it was his duty. How do you ever repay someone like that? Not just monetarily but in every way. Everything he did for me. There was no one like him and I know I will never find a friendship like that again. I don’t think many people will.

Bob and I had a common friend in the theatre, Joe Battista, who used to run the now defunct 13th Street Repertory Theatre. Joe gave us a lot of free rehearsal space for Wars of the Roses and so Bob and I bought him a gift card to a local restaurant in Freehold. Joe lived in town too. He came in and got the gift card and then I walked him outside. He stopped me in the driveway.

“Matt. Bob has cancer.”

“What do you mean he has cancer?”

“My father just died of cancer and I was taking care of him. Bob looks the same. I’m telling you. Bob has cancer.”

This was September of 2018.

Bob had slowed down considerably and lost some weight but he told us he had irritable bowel syndrome. I explained to Joe that that was what it was. Everyone in Bob’s family with the exception of his father lived well into their 80’s and 90’s. Bob was only 73 at this time. I knew I had at least another 5-7 years with him.

Thanksgiving came that year and Bob didn’t come. It was the first Thanksgiving he missed in over 10 years with my family. He didn’t make it for Christmas Eve either. I saw him the next night though and took him out to dinner for Christmas. A few days before that he took me out for my birthday which ironically, is Christmas Eve. I assumed he wanted to be alone and that’s why he didn’t come for the holidays.

I didn’t see him for about 6 weeks when I got a call one day from a common friend. She said to me, knowing how close we were, “Matt have you seen Bob lately? He’s so thin. He looks like the wind could blow him over.”

I went to his house to see what was going on and was mortified. His face was sunken in. He was frail. He must’ve lost 30 pounds and was a thin man to begin with. “Bob, what is going on?” I asked. “It’s this damn IBS, that’s all.” “Let me take you to the Dr.”

Bob basically lied his way thru the next couple of months. Telling me that he had made doctor appointments, they gave him new prescriptions, there was nothing that could be done for the IBS, he had to have a cleaner diet. It didn’t make sense. He continued to get worse and worse. I wanted to take him to the hospital. “No!” he would snap. “I don’t want to go to that place. They are gonna keep me there and I just want to stay here.”

“But Bob if there’s something that they can do to help your condition…”

“I don’t care. I’m not staying in that place.”

A few days later his condition somehow worsened. He told me he was falling a lot. I saw the bruises on him. He lived alone and I was over 40 minutes away. I came a few days a week and got him food and Pedialyte and other things he asked for. One afternoon I was with him waiting for a nurse to come that his goddaughter and I had arranged to come check on him.

“Can you run to the store for me and get me some animal crackers?” He said.

I went. When I came back I asked, “did the nurse come?” He said no. I told his goddaughter the nurse never came. I waited with him all day.

The next day I got a call from his goddaughter saying that the nurse did come but Bob wouldn’t let her in. “I was with him all day….” And then it dawned on me. He sent me out the exact time he knew she was coming.

We called an ambulance one night to take him in the middle of the night. He refused care and called me the next day. “Did you call an ambulance to come and get me last night?”

“No.” I said.

“Don’t lie to me Matthew.”

“Ok, Bob. I did. Because you’re sick and something is not right.”

I was at his house a night or two later. I know this wasn’t the last time I saw Bob but it was the last time I remember seeing him. I have no memory beyond this.

It was very late at night and he was on his couch wrapped under the covers with the TV on. The only light in the room came from the TV and a small table lamp in the corner. I’m pretty sure the TV was on silent because he always muted commercials. I knew that I had to say the hard things because there probably wouldn’t be many more chances with him.

“Bob, do you have cancer?” I asked.

“Yes, I think I might.” He replied. It was an admittance.

I kneeled down behind the couch with my head and arms over him as he laid there. I began to cry.

“Bob. You’re the best friend I ever had. Thank you so much for everything you’ve ever done for me. I love you and I could never repay you for the things you’ve done.”

“Matthew. Just let me go.”

He died just a few days later. This was May 2019.

I officially took over Ruth Stage in December of 2019 even though there were two productions after his death. Lone Star in June and The Glass Menagerie, off Broadway, in October. Then of course, there was Covid. My reign as the chairman of Ruth Stage really only began in the summer of 2022 with our off Broadway production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

Every show I have ever done since his death, I have tried to honor him in some way. In Lone Star I spray painted his name on the set. In The Glass Menagerie we used his furniture for The Wingfield’s apartment. We also used a giant picture of Bob on the set representing The Wingfield’s father. That was a special production for me because if you remember, Bob and I worked on The Glass Menagerie together in 2006. 13 years later, Ruth Stage, founded in honor of his mother was now only the second company in history to stage the production off Broadway.

I changed the logo. It’s now a skull – injecting my darker, edgier vibe. But you’ll notice there are white roses surrounding the skull honoring Ruth and more importantly, honoring Bob.

In our Cat on a Hot Tin Roof productions I hung up one of his old sweaters in the dressing room and kissed it before all 76 performances. In our 2023 off Broadway production of Lone Star, we added a unique comic book element to the show. In the comic, we drew Bob, as the priest marrying my character Roy to Elizabeth. Most recently in The Zoo Story and At Home at the Zoo in Asbury, I wore his sweater, the same one I kissed, on my back, inside out as part of Jerry’s costume. Every time, just before I’m about to go on stage, I make the sign of the cross and I say “Bob. Be with me out there.” He is my Obi Won Kenobi. I know he is watching and I know he is so proud of the work that Ruth Stage is doing. I am continuing the legacy that he started when he founded his first theatre company back in 1982.

How do you repay someone like this? A literal angel who helped me through some of the most difficult times in my life while simultaneously teaching me how to be the best actor I can possibly be. No one has ever believed in me the way that Bob did. There are days when it seems like too much. The fundraising, the events, the marketing, the PR, the acting, the producing, dealing with contracts and all kinds of people. There are days I just wanna say fuck it and be normal and stop putting myself through this madness.

But then those feelings go away and I find my center and I remember that Bob and I started this. And Bob and I will finish it. Even if he’s somewhere else while it happens. I know he’s here.

The Hall of Flame started off as a joke and then I said, wait a minute. This is actually kind of cool. Let’s honor the people who have helped Ruth Stage. We’re a bit dark. But there’s so much light. And no one’s light has ever shined brighter than Bob Lamb’s. The best friend I have ever had and the reason this entire thing exists.