Trudy’s corner

Bill needed to get back to Taos. So my daughter, Felice Knox, drove to Carson City and helped him pack for his return to the place he loved. Bill became her mentor about writing, as he did for others. He gave her a book that he said was his bible, “The Elements of Style” by Strunk and White.

Upon Bill’s return to Taos, he started his own newspaper, the HorseFly. He gave me the opportunity to write by giving me my own column, “Trudy’s Corner.” I wrote human interest stories about our people of Taos and he would make me notorious.

Shakespeare’s Macbeth was playing at the TCA about the time three of us women were getting into Taos politics. Bill must have been inspired by the three witches of Macbeth stirring the pot, because he mischievously deemed us “Las Brujas.” I grew up in Ranchos de Taos and a bruja was not necessarily a good thing! But Bill made us famous for our political activism. Women from all over New Mexico wanted to know how to become one of Las Brujas

(a political activist).

My husband, Ed, my family and I will miss him dearly. We know in our hearts that Bill’s last trip on The Mountain was okay with him.

Trudy Healy

So, all of a sudden, boom, Bill’s gone. Damnit. I thought for sure he’d outlive me by many years. Once we were as close as brothers. But that was a long time ago. I was hoping — well, I was pretty much assuming — that we would have plenty of time left. We had a rift to mend. Now I must live with the rift, and I am in some bit of grief about it.

I live in Española now, so it’s not like Bill and I ran into one another here and there as happens in Taos. No, we didn’t run into each other. I saw him twice in recent years. Once by chance in the Plaza at a children’s fashion show. And then again, by design, at the Elevation Café one pre-pandemic morning. Our talk was friendly, it was warmish, but the thrill was gone.

Bill was my comrade and co-pilot on one of the most exhilarating rides of my life — the brief, magical existence of the Minimum Security Theater of Taos, of which I was the founder and director. It’s all a blur now, sometimes it feels like a dream. Who remembers? The Old Breed remembers.

We remember TCA Backstage — a brilliant idea, turning the proscenium stage of the old community auditorium backwards to create an intimate boutique space where we did David Mamet’s “Sexual Perversity in Chicago” and his odd little less-known “Reunion”; Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal” (before the movie of it was made), and Jean Genet’s “The Maids,” played on the most beautiful stage set ever seen in Taos, built by Taos’ greatest woodworker, the late Ed Paul.

We remember our largest and most spectacular production — Jean Anouilh’s “Antigone” in the amphitheater-like courtroom of the old District Courthouse, thanks to the risk-taking, radical generosity of District Judge the Hon. Joseph E. Caldwell.

And finally, in 1987, we did our most transgressive, dangerous production: F. X. Kroetz’s “Through the Leaves,” a neo-realistic sexually-charged play in a space so tiny the audience could probably have smelled the actors.

And all along the way there was Bill, opening doors, keeping watch on my recklessness, pulling money out of the air, putting on the director’s hat when he needed to, wielding both wrecking bar and fine tweezers, drinking coffee and arguing with me night after night. He was a born theater man. His touch was unerring, his instincts were accurate. He was a master at building relationships — he knew everyone, it seemed, from shady Plaza characters, to the town and county political operators, to the artists great and small. He was an intimate of the mysterious Saki Karavas, in whose fascinating company I would not have spent one minute if not for Bill.

After “Through the Leaves,” Bill wanted us to go pro. He had a vision: he wanted to buy (or was it to lease?) Anglada’s Building, make a little apartment in it for me to live, and have our own performing space. He tried and tried and tried to talk me into it. But I got scared, and left Taos. I knew it, I felt it: Bill was beyond disappointed. I moved to L.A., where I did exactly nothing for 20 years.

I came back to New Mexico 10 years ago and settled in Española. I couldn’t bring myself to look Bill up. A “roadnot-taken” moment had come and gone. So adios, Bill. And saludos to the Old Breed. You know who you are.

Jonathan Gordon