New York Times
March 27 2015
Joe Assadourian, of ‘The Bullpen,’ Visits His Former Cellmates
By NEIL GENZLINGERMARCH 27, 2015
OTISVILLE, N.Y. — It’s a familiar enough homecoming scene: A
successful performer returns to his old stomping ground and puts on a
show in the gymnasium because he wants to give a little something
back. Joe Assadourian, who has been starring in a one-man show in
Manhattan since last June, made his pilgrimage Thursday, but the
gymnasium he performed in wasn’t in a high school. It was at the state
prison here, and many inmates in the audience were also his buddies,
because not that long ago he was one of them.
Mr. Assadourian performs a show called “The Bullpen,” a multicharacter
comedy based on his experience of being arrested and put in a holding
cell full of colorful personalities. The 200 or so inmates in his
afternoon audience on Thursday — he also did an evening show — roared
as he zipped through 18 characters, an outrageous collection of races,
nationalities and sexual orientations.
It was the roar of familiarity, and maybe also of shared aspiration.
For these men, at least some of whom hope to be released soon after
long sentences for hard crimes, Mr. Assadourian has so far managed
that most difficult of feats: He has found a way back into the world.
“It not only reminds us what we can do,” said Alejo Rodriguez, who has
served 30 years for a robbery-related homicide committed when he was
23. “It also reminds us not to give up on ourselves. We all have our
own talents. Joe’s a symbol of how to use those talents.”
Mr. Assadourian, 37, found his writing and performing abilities while
serving time for shooting a man in SoHo in 2001. He was 23 back then,
living in Cliffside Park, N.J., not doing much except “hanging out in
nightclubs every night, seven days a week, waking up at 4 or 5 o’clock
in the afternoon.”
If that sounds like a recipe for trouble, it was; the 2001 assault
bought him 12 years in various prisons, including three at Otisville,
in Orange County, where he arrived in 2010.
Richard Hoehler, an actor and writer, was doing workshops there. “He
got dragged in kicking and screaming,” Mr. Hoehler recalled, “and
turned out to be my brightest star.”
As a class exercise, Mr. Assadourian worked up an eight-minute scene
that floored his fellow inmates and Mr. Hoehler.
“I said, ‘Joey, give me an hour of that and we can do something with
it,’ ” Mr. Hoehler recalled. Once Mr. Assadourian was released in
2013, they did, honing the full-length show, with Mr. Hoehler
directing.
The piece mixed elements of Mr. Assadourian’s 2001 arrest with a mock
trial staged by residents of the holding cell, known as the bullpen.
The Fortune Society, a nonprofit organization that helps former
inmates re-enter society, put on some performances. The producer Eric
Krebs saw one and last June opened the play at his Playroom Theater on
West 46th Street, where it is still running.
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Before the first prison performance, old friends crowded around Mr.
Assadourian, getting him to autograph their programs. In an interview
the previous day, Mr. Assadourian spoke about his hopes for the
engagement.
“For me, it’s important that I go back there and show them that if you
use your time wisely there, you can do something when you come home,”
he said, “coming home” being the way an inmate describes his release.
In the gym, there was a beautifully awkward moment when Kathleen G.
Gerbing, the superintendent of the prison, arrived and greeted Mr.
Assadourian.
“I want to know what the rules are,” he joked as she approached. Were
they supposed to hug, or high-five, or what? They settled on a
handshake.
The performing conditions weren’t ideal — a couple of light stands;
cafeteria tables turned on end to provide a backdrop. The crowd,
though, wasn’t bothered; every line registered. Yet the biggest laugh
of the day might have come not during the show, but after it, when Mr.
Assadourian sat for a question-and-answer session. Somebody asked,
“Remember that $50 you owe me?” and brought the house down.
The Otisville prison has about 560 inmates, and Mr. Hoehler, who was
on hand for Thursday’s performance, acknowledged that there probably
isn’t room for 560 one-man shows by former inmates Off Broadway. But
that’s not really the point of acting and writing workshops like the
ones he conducted.
“There’s a rehabilitative aspect to acting,” he said of his work with
the inmates. “Something is awakening in them.”
Stephen Smith, 41, who said he was serving 20 years to life for a
homicide committed when he was a teenager, said Mr. Assadourian serves
as an example for any inmate who wants to succeed on the outside.
“The biggest thing is a willingness, one’s own determination to come
out better,” he said. Every inmate hopes to be released someday, of
course, but not all are prepared for the daunting shift from
dependence to independence. “You’re in the community bathroom one
day,” he said, “and the next day you’re in your own bathroom, looking
in the mirror.” Thursday afternoon’s audience was welcoming, but those
who had seen the eight-minute precursor were also viewing the
performance with a critical eye, watching for how it had evolved. The
consensus was that Mr. Assadourian, who was always funny in a
smart-alecky way, has upped his game considerably.
“You can see the maturity, the process,” said Chas Ransom, who has
served more than 30 years for murder.
Mr. Rodriguez added: “One thing that wasn’t evident before was the
humanity, the tragicomedy of it. The characters are not just
caricatures.”
Mr. Assadourian hopes to write and perform more shows, but when
someone during the talkback asked if he might try a serious play about
his incarceration, he demurred. “You should do that,” he said.
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