BY CHRISTOPHER RAWSON - Hot off the fourth run of his celebrated portrayal of Steelers patriarch Art Rooney in The Chief, the dean of Pittsburgh actors Tom Atkins takes on a decidedly more inscrutable subject in Chief II, G. Ogden Nutting, the mysterious principal owner of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Rob Zellers and the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette's Gene Collier, authors of The Chief, also penned the new show, and Ted Pappas is back directing. Atkins' honest performance, such as it is, can scarcely be faulted, but Zellers and Collier just can't find a way to shine a light on the reclusive newspaper tycoon. This is especially disappointing given their near-perfect concoction of warmth, nostalgia and humor in The Chief.
Chief II is set in a plush board room in Wheeling, West Virginia in the summer of 2003 where Nutting is preparing for an emergency meeting of the directors of the Pirates. The elderly man strolls on stage in a pinstripe suit and plops himself in a chair as far from the audience as possible. That is where he sits for the remainder of the show, neither moving nor uttering a single word.
It may seem counter-intuitive, but there is a sort of drama to it all, with an emphasis on "sort of." One imagines the kinds of fascinating exploits that someone like Nutting conceivably might relate if he would deign to speak. The wheeling and dealing in the rough-and-tumble newspaper industry; the yearning to pass on a legacy to his sons; the penny-pinching to squeeze a profit from the Pirates. The mind conjures up all manner of possibilities for the hour and one-half we sit doing nothing but staring at Atkins.
Finally, about three quarters of the way through the second act, Nutting's son, Bob Nutting, played with relish by local scene stealer Tim Hartman, strides on stage and engages his father in a private discussion to which the audience is not privy. Bob then approaches the audience and briefly explains that "my father prefers to stay in the background." The sound of the spoken word is somewhat jarring after so much silence. In any event, based on what we have just witnessed, Bob Nutting's statement seems to be the understatement of the century. Bob proceeds to assure us that the Nutting family is "serious about fielding a quality baseball team in Pittsburgh." Then, in what is apparently supposed to be the show's emotional high point, Bob turns to address the unseen Pirates' CEO Kevin McClatchy (we know he is addressing McClatchy because the program says so) and yells at the top of his lungs: "FIRE SALE, KEVIN! FIRE SALE! DUMP ARAMIS RAMIREZ'S SALARY! DUMP IT!" Ramiriz is one of the Pirates traded under the Nutting regime for whom the team received little, if any, talent in return. Immediately after this pronouncement, Bob dashes off stage. A few minutes later, G. Ogden Nutting rises from his chair and, without acknowledging the audience in any manner, thankfully exits.
Given the talent involved, it is regrettable to report that this one is strictly for die-hard Atkins fans. Ted Pappas advises that a video will be produced to preserve Atkins' performance for future generations (it is beyond comprehension that WQED supposedly cannot come up with funding for a production of the Rooney play but somehow got it for this). Pappas also notes that Zellers and Collier have been retained to author Chief III, a one-man show based on the life of the person, identity not yet known, who eventually will purchase the Penguins.
