Vereen, community toast Morris

Editor's note: This story originally appeared March 20, 2000. The Tribune is republishing it as part of its coverage of the Morris Performing Arts Center's centennial in 2022.

The great old lady is back, and you know what?

She has a pretty good sense of humor. Of course, with her history, she's needed one.

"I am thrilled to be standing before you all tonight. Frankly, I'm thrilled to be standing at all," quipped narrator Jilline Ringle, in whose person the spirit of the old Palace Theatre was resurrected Sunday. "You know, a lot of old dames like me wouldn't invite their friends to inspect the latest face lift right away. But hey, my self-esteem has always been about as high as my second balcony."

While previous "opening" events at the Morris Performing Arts Center have celebrated the restored theater's new look and sound, Sunday's Community Grand Opening ― two shows featuring Ringle, entertainer Ben Vereen and a small army of performers from across the area ― celebrated the theater's soul. An estimated 3,600 people attended the day's events.

Between acts ranging from classical music to modern dance, from a snazzy young magician to a swing-dancing mayor, Ringle recounted the checkered past of the Morris in the theater's own words. (Her narration was composed by Tribune staff writer Bill Moor.)

"When I opened my doors in 1922, they called me the Palace ― a twinkling light on the Orpheum Circuit," Ringle said, working the crowd like a platinum-haired Rosie O'Donnell. "And brother, I was really built. In fact, you might say I was the Mae West of man-made structures."

Ringle recalled the theater's struggle to retain audiences during the Great Depression, and later when television took over the nation's evening hours. By the end of the 1950s, she said, the city was ready to tear its Palace down ― until Ella M. Morris intervened.

"That saintly woman stepped in front of the wrecking ball and purchased me herself--then turned around and sold me back to the city for one dollar," the narrator said. "You think that made me feel cheap? Are you kidding? I was the luckiest auditorium in the universe."

Thanks to a new generation of benefactors, the old Palace has gotten yet another lease on life. Vereen celebrated this rebirth in a series of musical numbers, starting with a slightly recast "This Is the Moment" from the Broadway show "Jeckyll and Hyde":

"This is the moment when I know South Bend's on its way," he sang, flashing his brilliant smile to the rafters. "Yes, this is the day ― just see it shine./Because all we've lived for has become divine."

For Drucilla Frost of Cassopolis, attending Sunday with her husband Eartley, Vereen's tribute struck an emotional chord.

"I felt as though South Bend was more than what I realized it was," she said, smiling. "I had no idea other people would feel the way I did about it."

One person sharing her enthusiasm was Mayor Stephen J. Luecke, who stomped with some other local hep cats to "In the Mood," performed by the Tom Milo Big Band. World champion swing dancers Annette Dumke and Uwe Fl?schel brought gasps, cheers and laughter from the audience with a series of improbable stunts.

"You could feel the energy in the auditorium ― the audience was so responsive," Luecke said. And while there have been other events celebrating the long-awaited Morris restoration, the mayor added, "I think today means the community owns this building again."

Also working up a sweat Sunday were the South Bend Symphony, Southold Dance Theater, Celebration of Faith Gospel Choir and a large community choir featuring singers of all ages.

"This place was alive," said Roger Klauer of Granger, recalling especially Alexander Korsantiya's performance of Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto, Op. 23, "Allegro con fuoco."

Alexander Toradze was scheduled to perform but had to back out when an old arm injury flared up, Morris officials said. So Korsantiya, a faculty member of the Toradze studio at Indiana University South Bend, sat at the theater's shiny, new, boat-size Baldwin (donated by the Roth family of Shirk's Piano and Organ Co.). Klauer called his performance electrifying.

"You're not going to get that in virtual reality," he observed, adding that his 11-year-old daughter Crissy had her own moment to shine during the show's Broadway medley. "This is the real thing."

And for a moment, as Ringle told her tale of survival, one almost felt as if the spirit of the Morris were really standing there on stage.

"I'm still here," she said, her eyes moistening. "God bless you all."

This article originally appeared on South Bend Tribune: 2000: Ben Vereen helps to reopen South Bend's Morris after renovations