The Road Here
Where the Story Began
Playing in the Wings
I grew up in the theatre, in the city Broadway calls home. Some of my earliest memories are of playing in the wings of summer stock stages and leaving Manhattan each year for another summer at another theatre — another town, another group of people, another adventure.
I loved all of it. The rehearsals and scenery, the actors and musicians, the strange little worlds that formed backstage. But most of all, I loved what happened when the house lights went down, and the stage lights came up.
For a few hours, a room full of strangers got lost in a story together.
From The Stage To The Page
New York City, with the West Already in the Picture
I was eight when I stepped onto a summer stock stage myself, playing Jerome, Emile de Becque’s son, in South Pacific. Before long, I was doing children’s theatre in New York and traveling with productions around the Northeast and into Canada. In my twenties, I studied acting with Robert “Bobby” Lewis and took modern dance at STEPS.
Eventually, I found myself drawn more to writing and film. I attended Hunter College and then Columbia University, where I earned my B.A. with honors in the Writing Program.
I never stopped telling stories. I just kept finding different ways to do it.
Twenty Years, One Thread
A Lot of Unlikely Rooms
Over the years, that thread pulled me through a lot of unlikely rooms. I turned an empty upstairs floor of an 1848 building in Connecticut — once a vaudeville stage, once a roller rink — into a working arts center. I wrote the plan to save eleven historic buildings and 3.8 miles of nineteenth-century tunnel in the Nevada desert. I ran communications for a small Colorado town, produced festivals, made films, and helped more than one place figure out how to tell its own story instead of someone else’s version of it.
It may look like a winding road on paper. To me, there has always been a fairly simple thread running through it.
What Makes A Place Matter
I like discovering what makes a place matter.
That interest has taken me from New York theatres to Colorado mountain towns, from performing arts centers to historic buildings, from ski mountains in the Catskills to an old mining tunnel in Nevada. I’ve spent a good part of my life around places with stories embedded in them — and around the people working to keep those stories alive.
Along the way, I began to realize that many of the stories that interest me most aren’t the famous ones.
They’re found in the bones of old buildings, on back roads and front porches — places quiet enough that a small detail finally gets to matter: a name on a stone, a mark left in a doorfra
Looking a Little Closer
Then Buddy Came Along
Looking a Little Closer
Two years ago, I drove from Colorado to California to bring him home. Since then, we’ve driven more than 50,000 miles through twenty-six states together. We’ve crossed deserts and mountain passes, wandered through towns we’d never heard of, followed roads simply because we wondered where they went, and stopped more times than I could count because something outside the window made one of us curious.
Usually me.
Although Buddy has been responsible for a few detours of his own.
And Then Came Six Legs
The Stage Gets Bigger
Somewhere in all those miles, the idea for SixLegs began to take shape.
SixLegs is a return to something I’ve been doing since I was a kid standing in the wings of a summer stock theatre: following stories and seeing where they lead.
Only now the stage is a little bigger.
We go looking for the person behind the building, the history behind the town, the reason a road goes where it does. Sometimes we set out knowing exactly what we’re looking for. Sometimes we find something entirely different.
Either way, we get out of the car and walk.
Georgetown
Coming Back to Colorado
In 2026, I came back to Colorado to lead Historic Georgetown, Inc., in the Victorian mining town I now call home.
During a short, intensive tenure, I reopened and strengthened Hamill House tours, implemented online reservations and payment, reorganized and rewrote major portions of the organization’s website, and improved visitor information, marketing, and public programming.
Georgetown also put me inside the kind of landscape I had been drawn to for years: historic houses beside ordinary homes, old industrial buildings, mining roads climbing into the mountains, and history that is not sealed off behind a museum wall.
Here, the past is simply part of the street you walk down.
