The following can also be found in the book Chicago Stories 2001-2004. Click here to learn more, and to download a free electronic copy.

I was first exposed to Defiant Theatre in the winter of 1995 by Linda Gillum, who happened to be my boss at the time for a temp agency where we both worked. Linda was, in fact, the very first real friend I made in Chicago, after moving here six months previous, and the first to start inviting me out on a regular basis to go do things around the city. One day at the office she started telling me about this small local theatre company of which she was a member, and how they were about to start the run of a new show, and how I should come out and see it if I had a chance. "You'll like it," she told me. "It's based on a Stephen King story. You like Stephen King, don't you?"

The play was called "Apt Pupil" and it ended up giving me nightmares for the next three days. No, seriously, I don't mean that as a symbolic statement - I mean that for the next three nights after seeing that play, I kept waking up in these moments of panic, pushing myself off these hoards of naked, mud-streaked dead Jews I was dreaming were clutching me and pulling me into the ground. ...Fuck! I like many others had been exposed to almost no live theatre before moving to Chicago, and had no idea that the medium could affect me in such a profound and moving way. Of course, I also didn't realize that you could get away with having two dozen nude, mud-streaked actors popping out of stage doors in live theatre, either. My love affair with Defiant had been born.

"Apt Pupil" would not be the last case of Defiant causing me nightmares; a particularly horrifying production of "Red Dragon" the following year would have me spending a week dreaming of a naked, erect Chris Thometz coming at me with a knife while dressed in a clown outfit, a fact which caused no end of pleasure to Chris when he found out. At the same time that I was being horrified and grossed out, though, I was also being entertained by the sheer audacity of such productions as "Ubu Raw" and "Action Movie -- The Play," provoked into new lines of thought by such plays as "The Ugly Man" and "The Skriker," and simply awed by such spectacles as "Godbaby" and "The Mystery of Irma Vep." Show after show, year after year, I learned that I could reliably count on Defiant to provide me laughs, chills, intellectual challenges, gunshots, more gunshots, and as many hot naked 26-year-olds simulating sex on a live stage as eight bucks can buy you.

Defiant Theatre was the first group to teach me the great secret about the arts in Chicago: that this really is a city where the old punk motto of DIY still applies, that this really is a city where a bunch of kids can yell, "Let's put on a show!" and actually do it. Defiant to me has always been about much more than simply mounting entertaining and thought-provoking productions; it has stood for me as well as a living embodiment of how artists should be. If no one will give you opportunities, go and make them yourself. If given the choice between safe and dangerous, always be dangerous. If people don't get it, tell them to go fuck themselves, because there will always be someone else coming along who will get it. For ten years, Defiant was a daily reminder for me of how artists in this city can make it, if they're smart and original and believe for themselves and don't crumble in the face of adversity. They were an inspiration for me in the years I was struggling to make a name for myself as an artist, and the accomplishments I now have in my own life wouldn't be there if not for them.

I understand why Defiant had to die - frankly, I'm surprised that it got the chance to live for as long as it did. I also understand the tendency of artists to define their pasts not in terms of where they succeeded but rather where they failed - the money never raised, the plays never produced. As a simple fan of Defiant Theatre, however, I wanted to take a moment and tell everyone gathered in this room - you will be missed. Your influence, your impact on both Chicago audiences and artists is hard to quantify, because it's of a more ephemeral nature. It's not measured in terms of ticket sales and newspaper articles, but rather more intimate, more personal benchmarks - the audience member who was inspired to read Shakespeare after seeing a Defiant production, the audience member who changed their opinion about a touchy subject after seeing one of your plays, the audience member who had nightmares about clowns with erections chasing them around circus tents with butcher knives. These are the measures of true artists - not the money, not the fame, but the small, quiet moments of change you produced in your audience, one person at a time, many times without you even realizing you were doing so.

All of you in this room, the individuals who collectively created Defiant Theatre, are true artists, and I can't think of a much higher compliment to pay someone than that. Your professionalism, your creativity, your boundless enthusiasm and your eternal optimism about the arts are all traits to be admired, to be emulated. For over a decade you provided Chicago audiences with a wide variety of memorable moments, from the sacred to the profane, and you provided Chicago artists with a model for behavior that will be your real lasting legacy, once the newspaper clippings have gone yellow and your website starts hosting hardcore pornography, as we all know it eventually will. From a patron to a group of artists...from a theatre fan to a theatre company...let me thank you a final time for all the things you have added to my life over the last ten years. Thank you for sticking with it as long as you did, and thank you for never lessening the quality of your shows one ounce, no matter what obstacles you faced. Thank you for the laughs, for the nightmares, and for the surprising amount of times your productions got me laid. Defiant Theatre may be dead to the outside world, but it will always live on in me. In here.