Today we take a moment to honor and remember Greg Pugh, a talented actor and good friend who passed away at far too young an age this past weekend. An autopsy will surely reveal the cause of death, but it will never answer our more fundamental questions: Why Greg? Why now?
Greg was part of Pegasus Theatre from the day we opened our doors in October 1985. He was in the very first show we produced, “The Coarse Acting Show” by Michael Green, and he continued to feature prominently in season after season of new and original comedies. Who can forget his cross-dressing tour-de-force in “Brother Truckers” by Charles Busch as the sweet roller-skating waitress?
Accents were a speciality of Greg’s, especially when he could sink his teeth into a juicy role as a Nazi scientist. Many of the Living Black & White shows drew upon this skill, and he appeared in countless Harry Hunsacker adventures, including the very first one, “A Trifle Dead!” by Kurt Kleinmann, produced in April 1986.
Greg’s talent was such that he worked at numerous theatres in the area, most recently at Richardson Theater Center. I don’t know how many times he played the lead in “The Foreigner” by Larry Shue, but that role was tailor made for Greg’s talents!! Greg’s acting skill had such breadth that it seemed he was always in something.
But Greg took breaks from acting on occasion, and he always left a hole behind when he did. Once we were tearing our hair out over how to cast a particular role that would have been perfect for Greg. With nothing to lose, I called Greg and told him that unbeknownst to him, we were casting him in the new Living Black & White show and could he please be at rehearsals in two weeks. I held my breath, there was a long pause, and he said “I might be able to do that.” Success!!!! And he was of course brilliant in the role.
Due to Greg’s amazing cooking skills, there was always a side benefit to casting him: food at rehearsals, food in the green room during performances, food at cast parties. Fabulous food that Greg had just “thrown together”! Of special note were his canned sweet and hot jalapeños, the recipe for which was a deep dark family secret that I could never pry out of him.
I think Greg’s love of cooking was tightly interwoven with his love of people. Because ultimately I’ll remember Greg for his ability to form deep and abiding friendships with a wide range of people. As long as you didn’t shove football conversations down his throat, he was the sweetest, most accepting, most amiable person I’ve ever met. When I looked at his Facebook page the day after his death, it was flooded with posts from people expressing their grief. The most commonly repeated phrase was “my sweet friend Greg”. And that he was, above all else.
I like to imagine there’s an afterlife and that Greg is there right now, cooking up a storm and keeping everyone in stitches. I hope so. And I hope he has a big plate of sauerbraten ready for me when my time comes. Because I’d rather not envision a future in which I never see this dear man again.
Farewell for now, sweet friend. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.