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This autumn, fall for Moth Stories as we travel across the globe for our mainstages. We're excited to announce our fall lineup of storytelling shows from New York City to Iowa City, London, Nairobi, and so many more. The Moth will be performing in a city near you, featuring a curation of true stories. The Moth mainstage shows feature five tellers who share beautiful, unbelievable, hilarious, and often powerful true stories on a common theme. Each one told reveals something new about our shared connection.
To buy your tickets or find out more about our calendar, visit themoth.org slash mainstage. We hope to see you soon. Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Phyllis Bodwin, a storyteller and your host for this week. You may have heard my story, Quiet Fire.
Sometimes, a story is all about perspective. Two people can look at the same thing and have wildly different takeaways. That's one of the special things about storytelling, getting to see something in a whole new light. This week, we've got two stories about the exact same event, and we'll be doing something a little different this episode. We'll be starting with one storyteller, Kathy Gaziorowicz,
We'll pause in the middle to share another story from Janet Clark that might just shed new light on what happened. Then we'll finish up with Kathy's story. We hope you'll enjoy this shift in perspective.
We're using 2022 to take a look back at each of the first 25 years of the month. So both of these stories are from 2021. First up is Kathy Gaziorowicz. She told this story in the Twin Cities. The theme of the night was celebration. Here's Kathy live at the Moth. Thank you. This was spring of 1993.
I got a call one day from a gentleman who identified himself as the marketing director for the St. Paul Saints minor league baseball team. I'd heard a bit about them. I don't come from a sports family, but I knew that that was like the one with the bat and the small ball and the guys with the mitts. I don't have any brothers. I know that sounds so sexist, but honestly, my...
My dad was not a good sports role model. So anyway, but I knew a little bit about them, and he said, so you're going to get a call from a guy named Mike Veck. He and Bill Murray are co-owners of the St. Paul Saints, and just want to make sure you're a mime, right? And I said, that's right.
And it didn't sound like an accusation, but I'm always a little bit sensitive to that. Anyway, shortly after that, I got a call from a guy named Mike Vecch, and he said, "Hey, can I call you Gaz?" And I said, "Absolutely." He said, "So I got this idea." Okay, so our motto is, "Fun is good." Whatever happens at the Saints game, it's supposed to happen. What's happening on the field, that's great, but what happens in the stands, that's what we care about.
So, for example, he told me about they have this nun wandering around in the stands who gives haircuts.
And then between innings they have a mascot, "Paulo the Pig," and they have pig races. They have people in giant inflatable fat suits and they do wrestling. They did like a six-minute play where they do 60-second scenes between innings. All sorts of stuff. So he said, "I really don't care if more than one person sees you, but what I want is for all the home games," it's like 40 home games,
I want you to do mime in the stands. Got it? So I said, okay. And what would the pay for that be? Well, I'm thinking 50 bucks a game.
So, now, I have to give you some perspective as a mime. You know, it's not my, would not be my hourly fee, but at the time, 1993, the only thing beneath me was not getting paid. And this would have been, like, by the end of the summer, like, two grand, which is, like, bank if you're a mime. So, I said, yeah, I'm in. That sounds really fun. Okay.
But then he said, "I've got a second proposal for you. In addition to that, here's what I want to do. I want to kick the whole thing off, the whole summer of mime off, with you and a bunch of your mime friends."
entertaining during this game. So he said, "But wait, here's what I'm thinking, is that we don't have like a giant screen at the Saints game, right? So the mimes are gonna do like slow motion instant replay. Got it? Every time there's a play?" And I said, "Yeah." He said, "Think it's a good idea?" And I said, "Sure."
I said, "The only problem is that I'm doing a musical up in northern Minnesota, a little summer stock theater, so I'm gonna miss that night, but I'll be back in time for all the home games, the other home games." And he said, "That's all right. Just take care of it." Now, before hearing the rest of Kathy's story, let's hear how that day actually went down. Janet Clark told this story in the Twin Cities too, but the theme of that night was adventure. Here's Janet live at the Moth. I'm Janet.
And if you look at me, you can see that I have dark hair, slim build, expressive facial features, and let's face it, big hands. I was destined to be a mime. The year is 1993, and I'm wearing a striped shirt and white-faced mime makeup. I'm standing in the infield of the St. Paul Saints baseball team at Midway Stadium. A famous producer,
has hired six of us mimes to do what he calls Silent Night. His idea is that we're supposed to do Mime-O-Vision, which is instant replays of plays, or instant, yes, instant replays, because they don't have a video screen. Me? I am totally out of my element. There are 5,000 rowdy fans here. Me? I mime at church. But our group has decided
that we, even if MIMOvision isn't the most entertaining, we are going to give it our best shot. We are going to entertain these folks and win over their hearts with our artistry. So we've put together this little sketch. It's a
sort of an improv on a baseball game and we're doing it in the infield to warm up the crowd. And it's got all the best mime bits in it. It's got walking against the wind and the moonwalk. We are rocking it and we start to hear the crowd chant from behind home plate. They're chanting, "Kill the mimes, kill the mimes, kill the mimes."
So we finish our sketch, and then it gets worse. Instead of going into the crowd in pairs so we can do mimo vision together, they say, no, we're going to send you each into a section. You get to improv with strangers alone. This is not my skill set. So I go over there, and I just resolve, you know what?
I'm just going to keep a low profile, avoid the drunks, and just avoid more humiliation. So I sit and watch the game. And I feel guilty. So I get up and I brush off the seat next to me and offer it to somebody. And I get a smile. I'm like, okay, maybe I can do some of this.
So I move through the audience. I sit there, I watch, and then I interact with people, and I start getting smiles. I'm like, okay, keep a low profile, avoid the drunks, and don't get humiliated. And it's all going pretty good until the end of the game. It's the last inning, and bang, a fly ball comes arcing over to our section, and this little kid, about eight or nine, puts out his glove to catch it. And just as he's about to get the ball, whoosh, boom.
This big galoot has run down the aisle and snags it out right from in front of him. The crowd is incensed. I hear people muttering, "That jerk. Kid should have had the ball." And he walks back up the aisle and sits down with the ball. And nobody is doing anything. And something deep down inside of me wells up. This is a job for a mime.
So the next thing I know, I'm running down the stairs, I'm kneeling in front of the kid, his chin's quivering, I commiserate, and then I reenact what just happened. It's the only time MIMOvision made any sense. So I end with a gesture of, wait here. I walk up the steps to where the big guy is sitting with the ball, and he's gloating with his friend, and at his feet are a bunch of empty beer cups. Uh-oh. Regardless, I get his attention.
I review what replayed, just what just happened. And I end with, "And the child was sad." And I put out my hand for the ball. And he goes, "Pfft." Turns away. And I wait. And the crowd starts to chant. Only this time they're not chanting "Kill the Mime."
This time they're chanting, give the mime the ball. Give the mime the ball. Give the mime the ball. And boom, he gives it to me. And I run down the aisle and I give it to the kid. He's all smiles. The crowd around us starts to clap. I take a little bow. I go back to my seat and I'm going, what just happened? And all I can think is, in that moment, artistry begins.
overcame humiliation and I didn't get killed. That was Janet Clark. We'll tell you more about Janet in a bit, but first let's hear the rest of Kathy Gassiorowicz's story. Remember, she just left the city to do summer stock and didn't know how the Mimovision night would actually go. Here's Kathy.
My roommate's boyfriend and a couple of his friends came up to see the show. And after the performance, we were sitting around. They said, oh, my God, you have no idea. Two nights ago, we were at the Saints game. And they were like, all these mimes, just like all the mimes in the stand. And by the third inning, people were like throwing their hot dogs at them.
And then, wait, and then by the fourth inning, they had to send the security detail in to pull them out because the whole crowd was chanting, "Kill the Mines! Kill the Mines! Kill the Mines!" Like, so we were all kind of laughing and I'm thinking, totally dodged a bullet on the one hand. On the other hand, I'm thinking,
That probably is going to just kill my summer of bank. I mean, there's no way VEC is going to bring me in. So anyway, got back to Minneapolis and I started calling Mike VEC. Just want to make sure that, you know, the mime gig was still on and was not returning my calls. And I kept calling and I thought, this is so rude. And finally he called me back and he said, Gaz, you steered me wrong. You told me this would be a great idea. And I said, Mike, I just...
Agreed with you. I wanted the money and he said anyway, so yeah, the gig is off. Which was disappointing but sort of understandable and then a while later I think it was maybe a couple years later I read in the paper there was sort of an article about all the cool things that the Saints do with the exception of if there is a bad idea that's tossed around kind of in the promo room they have, anybody has the right to invoke the mime clause.
Which is an indication of a really bad idea. A few years later, like long after I had given away my berets and my clown white and most of my striped shoes, shorts, I mean, shirts, I got a call from the marketing director at the Saints. And he said, you still doing mime? And I said, under duress, but sure. And he said, all right, I got a gig for you. A couple weeks later, in my outfit,
I pulled up to a house hid behind a tree and then when a giant limo pulled up with Mike Vec and his new bride celebrating their wedding, I jumped out from behind the tree and started doing the mime, the whole thing, and it was delightfully, gave me a huge hug and all was forgiven. Thank you. That was Kathy Gassi-Orowitz.
Kathy is a Minneapolis-based marketing writer, recovering mime, and storyteller who's performed at the Minnesota Fringe Festival, The Moth, Patrick's Cabaret, TEDx, and Story Club. She first went public with her mime misadventures in Confessions of a Mime, The Yoplait Years. And Janet Clark...
who you heard just before Kathy, is a creative communicator who discovered her voice through MIME. She currently coordinates customized community education classes in the Minneapolis suburbs and aspires to make space for people to be inspired. To see photos of Janet and Kathy in their MIME getup, head to themoth.org slash extras.
And surprisingly, these aren't the only stories from the Moth that involve the phrase, kill the mime. I told a story a while back about a mime that actually deserved all the hate. But when he got two feet away, I lifted my can of pepper spray and I sprayed him in his face.
To hear the rest of that story, we'll have a link in this episode's extras. Just go to themoth.org slash extras. That's all for this episode. We hope you'll come with us as we continue to take a look back at some of our favorite stories from The Moth's 25-year history. From all of us here at The Moth, have a story-worthy week. Sorry, I tried to mime the credits, but that doesn't really work in audio.
Phyllis Mary Beaudoin, a Bronx-born artist, jewelry designer, and griot, captures her people stories through her writing and her art. She was a teacher trainer for the New York City Department of Education, crisis intervention counselor for the Marble Collegiate Church, and coordinator of daytime casting at ABC. Phyllis told her mime story all around the country.
This episode of the Moth Podcast was produced by Sarah Austin Janess, Sarah Jane Johnson, Davy Sumner, and me, Mark Sollinger. The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Jennifer Hickson, Meg Bowles, Kate Tillers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Cloutier, Inga Glodowski, and Aldi Kaza. All Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by their storytellers.
For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story, and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org. The Moth Podcast is presented by PRX, the public radio exchange, helping make public radio more public at prx.org.
