Roger Putnum Prine - Online Memorial Website

Autumn said it best when she said "Roger could turn an ordinary activity into an extraordinary experience"... so this small memory fits this.  Roger, Linda, and I were working hard on the last Shakespeare at the Ruins.  We were all riding over with a load of stuff in Linda's 1970 pickup and we were hot and sticky and fussing about the lack of help as we are turning in Roger demands she stop the truck... You would have thought something was wrong...it was serious whatever he wanted us to stop for.  He gets back into the truck with a big smile on his face with his "witches finger's" on his hand  that he had snagged off of a vine. He played the witch for a second til our childlike nature kicked in and we were putting em on and being witches too.  We were all 8 or so again and not slaving for Four County Players. 

I am stunned by the loss of Roger. He was a dear friend with whom I spent much time during our years at Mary Washington College. I was always in awe of his brilliant directing, acting, and set designs. I, too, recall a poem his collge girlfriend wrote, entitled, "Putnam's Hands". It spoke of the strength of his hands and the beauty they created. Roger and I used to laugh about how we naturally understood each other because he was the only boy in a family of girls and I the only girl in a family of many boys. After 20 years of being out of touch we renewed our friendship when I moved to central Virignia in 2005. I saw him at FCP at the production he directed. As I sat in the audience I was once again in awe of Roger's talent. His direction was the work of genius. The last time I saw him he came to my house to help me move a piece of furniture. Something in his eyes spoke of struggle yet, he kept his word to help me. I am deeply saddened that his life ended too soon. He will be missed always as there is only one Roger.

Page and I knew Roger for years during the Barboursville years.  From the time he first showed up at the doors of the theatre until we moved away in 97 with a brief return visit a few years back.  Like others we got to know Roger -- a friend who helped us move, trimmed our trees after negotiating for the wood, drove our old truck with his dog patiently waiting in the back while Roger reset lights just one more time.  Out of many memories, three specifics.  *  Roger's calls out of the blue to Page asking her to write references as he applied for teaching jobs -- long after she was in the school systems.  They shared a love of literature. *  Early mornings at the Allard hotel - otherwise know as Mumps Ha afer a late night cast party or set work.  I would come in the door to discover Roger with coffee in hand reading the morning paper and avidly wanting to talk about anything. * and lastly, Camelot where a patient but persistent professional worked his subtle not so influence to insure the actors in final act of the last showed we worked together could be seen.  As the Director I looked for a dim moody obscure mist.  Roger aiming the lights and controlling the light board insured the actors could be seen --  In a way that epitomizes my memoires -- a person always helping others to see, to feel included and to feel important.  We will with all of you miss his ways.

Memories of Butch have flooded back, wishing we'd spent time together more recently. He was there almost every day of our childhood, it seems, playing basketball, stickball, kickball, sledding, swinging on monkey vines, playing board games, arguing, and sitting and talking. Navigating through the sewer system along Cedar Blvd, riding bikes down Glaids, and the fierce tennis. Roger was as intense as he was calm, somehow. He competed so much but knew how to make everything fun.

I'm glad for the brief visit some years ago now, and look forward to seeing Chuck at Covenant. Love to all.

Roger was my nephew, but really a brother.  We shared a passion for theatre, laughter and a cold beer.  When Papa John, as Roger called my dad celebrated his 95th birthday, Roger was there was a smile on his face, laughter filling the room and stories to share.  I miss you my brother and feel your presence in my heart, which brings a smile to my face.

 

     Love,

     Uncle David