For a guy who plays a silent clown, Gale LaJoye answers questions as if he hasn't spoken to another soul in years. It is that passion and drive that have sustained him through setbacks and trials.
When LaJoye opened his solo show, "Snowflake," at the Southern Theater in 1990, he fervently wanted his wordless, Charlie Chaplin-esque work to find an audience. But his hopes were punctured.
"The critics panned it because we put it up so fast, we weren't ready," he said. "But we knew we had something."
A native of Marquette, Mich., who studied clowning in Florida, LaJoye (lah-JOY) worked on "Snowflake" over the next two years, and that "something" turned into his life's work. The tender show, fashioned from discarded objects and centering on marginalized characters, has been a hit around the globe.
Now, LaJoye is opening a run of the show at Children's Theatre, in whose scene shop it was created. And "Snowflake" may be coming home to rest as he is seriously thinking of hanging it up.
"I stopped counting how many performances I've done at 1,500," he said. "But we're somewhere between 1,800 and 2,000. And it's hard to see doing it much longer, and definitely not another 25 years. Not in this body."
That body is 64 years old, although LaJoye moves with the agility of someone decades younger.
"Snowflake" had an odd beginning for LaJoye. In 1979, while returning home late at night from a nightclub he ran on Michigan's Upper Peninsula (he's had a hundred odd jobs), LaJoye veered onto a sandy patch and wrapped his car around a tree.