JW: Were there any other early juggling influences on your life?

DD: I was 13 and a member of the Long Beach Mystics magic club when we were commissioned to perform at Abbotts Magic convention in Michigan. I was conspicuous as the only juggler in the club, so they asked me to do the convention. We stayed on a lake in Harry Blackstone Sr.'s old house, found a ceiling panel and some old papers, and imagined they were written by Harry Blackstone Sr. It was great to be staying in a house with such a story behind it.

 

Well, Airjazz was also performing and they were staying just down the road a little. I had met Peter in Santa Barbara, but had never met Jon. You know how kid jugglers are obsessed with different tricks, well, I always had a silicone with me because I was working on head rolls. One day Jon shows up at the Mystics house and we went out for a walk and somewhere in the course of things I asked him if he could kick the silicone up to his head. Being humble, he said, "Well, I'll try," and he did it the first time. Smooth, no bounces, a picture of grace.

 

If I was to see it now I might not think much of it, but to a simple 13-year-old seeing Jon Held, a mysterious character himself, in the woods kicking a silicone ball to his head was amazing. It was the epitome of

grace. I went home and started practicing my kickup with the silicone ball.

 

JW: What about your IJA history? What was your first festival?

DD: It was in Santa Barbara in 1982. I was 12 and the experience was what you'd expect. The very first thing I saw was Jon Beckner doing seven balls, and I had never seen anyone do more than five before. I got to know Neil Stammer and he and some others talked me into competing in Juniors. I competed and was amazed I finished fifth, and so I kind of got the bug.

 

I've been to every IJA festival since except Denver and Montreal . I won the Juniors in New York . I was blown away because winning was the last thing in the world I expected. I did a three ball routine and juggled five balls. Then I stopped and did some talking about my club routine and told some jokes about my height. I think I did the only talking act. The clubs were probably my strongest, I did a lot of kickups. Those were the only two times I competed.

 

I did the benefit show in Atlanta and had a great time. I remember Jon Held in a WW II flier's helmet running around the stage blowing a cracker between his fingers and making an airplane sound... I also did the benefit show in Vegas, and I emceed the Juniors for three years. Then I did the public show in San Jose and New York after I won the Juniors. I don't think I've ever done Club Renegade, but I've been there plenty of times.

 

JW: Whats the latest routine you've developed?

DD: I'm learning to play the trumpet with ping pong balls in my cheeks so I can be a Dizzy Gillespie character. And Bob Mendelsohn suggested I catch a ping pong ball in the trumpet and play the trumpet to spit it out, so that might be a possibility. Like a lot of my ideas, I come up with a general idea and then

practice with my friends to try to develop some fresh ideas with it.

 

JW: The fact that you're secure enough to do it in front of peers seems remarkable. Others might feel like they're going to get ridiculed for their new material.

DD: One person I practice with is Dan Holzman, and he's good for me in watching my ideas and commenting on them. I don't present things to my friends with the idea, "this is really great, how do I make it better?" I just explore different possibilities. Sometimes when they tell you it's stupid it's a compliment, and other times they really mean it!

 

JW: Do you worry about being able to come up with new material?

DD: Lately I've been thinking that I haven't come up with much original stuff, but I'm concentrating on my movements. That's one thing I admire about Michael Davis - his economy of words and economy of movements. I'd like to become a little more formal and conscientious in my movements. The things I do distinguish me as a character, but I'd like my movements to exude a crazed genius character as well. I'd like to create that aura on stage more than I do now.

 

JW: So do you videotape what you do to try to improve that?

DD: No, I don't videotape and I don't practice in front of a mirror. Mainly I just concentrate as I perform, trying to think of the simplest and most appropriate way to do something. When I produce the fork, should I grab it like anyone would grab it, or do something different? I have to ask myself why am I doing this, and let each movement contribute to a biography of my character's life.

 

JW: Are you working on any other "life challenges ?"

DD: I read recently that there are two types of people in the world - those who can tell jokes and those who can tell stories. I can tell jokes, and I don't worry about being funny on stage. But lately I've been doing a lot of writing, and the idea of writing stories, which is something that really interests me, is an incredibly humbling task compared to writing jokes. I read a lot, but when I attempt to write a story or a play with a beginning, middle and end it's a difficult task. It's easier to write one-liners

 

JW: Where's your career headed?

DD: Sometimes I get tired of lugging props around airports. It's hard to admit because it's such a frightening prospect, but in my dreams I'd like to be a writer. I spend most of my time reading. I like American literature - Willa Cather, Theodore Dreyser, Mark Twain, Gorstein Bevlin... I just love going to the coffee shop, sitting with a good book and reading. It's such a pleasure.

 

But it's so humbling because there are so many great story­tellers out there. I can write pretty decent dialogue, though, and I've written a play. But it's so much more demanding than just being an entertainer. Because of that I work hard on it, I write every day and I read every day. One reason I go to the coffee shop is to listen to the way people talk and try to delve into the phenomenon of subtext and rhythm. It's sort of like music to me now.

 

This is the first time I've written for pleasure. I'm fascinated with the difficulty of the task. Performing is attractive because you don't have as much responsibility. How many performers are completely happy with their show? But they're willing to make a living doing it. That's the way I am. But with a writer it's different, it's like building your own house, it's something you're going to live in, an extension of yourself. Performing is sort of an occupation to me now, a straight job until I can finish my novel or whatever.

 

Now that I've been doing so much reading of literature, sometimes I walk away from a comedy club and feel diverted, not as fulfilled as I do after reading a well-written novel or reading a play. I don't want to try to change anything through writing, I just want to create stories. Stories are a way of defining our lives. That may be a more noble thing than being a comic. If anything, my esteem for great performers is greater than it used to be, even though it's just my trade.