The Story Behind the Story: An Evening at Dave’s Sauna

Or: How a cult musical about a weird place in Maine came about

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It all started one cold February night in 2019 when a ridiculous little song lyric got stuck in my head: “I’m Just a Jewish Refugee.” What began as a bizarre earworm quickly snowballed into a full-blown musical obsession. Within weeks, I found myself in weekly writing sessions at House Lorax (a collective creative space in Norway, ME from 2017-2023) with my old friend and resident piano whisperer, Dawson Hill—freshly returned to Oxford Hills after a decade in North Carolina. The project took off like Donald Trump after a 13-year-old.

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By April, I had cranked out thirteen original songs, compiled them into a songbook, and was halfway through plotting a full musical script. Fueled by cannabis and creative mania, I reached out to Portland theater companies for support. In response, I received a chorus of... crickets. And ghosting.

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Still, the script was done by May, and I launched the search for collaborators who wouldn’t run away screaming. Then, in early 2020, the stars seemed to align. A local theater group—put out a call for original Maine musicals written by Maine writers. I thought, finally! My people! I sent them the script and a demo CD.

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A few months later, they sent me back a rejection letter so condescending it deserves its own frame (which now sits in my top desk drawer as a reminder). They called it a “labor of love”, which I’ve since learned is theater-speak for “Nope.” Apparently, my show didn’t quite fit with their usual fare of nostalgic retreads and wholesome Jesus-in-Disneyland content. (I have kept the letter in my desk as a reminder of how small the vision of many local community theater gatekeepers can be).

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Clearly, if this thing was ever going to hit the stage, I’d have to make it happen myself. I began planning a performance at the UU Church in Norway for May 2020… and then, like everything else that year, the pandemic showed up and wrecked the party. We pivoted to recording the soundtrack at Acadia Studios in Portland, where Dawson and a lineup of Portland’s finest musicians, worked their magic transforming my rough tunes into legit showstoppers.

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By February 2021, rehearsals resumed for five shows at The Gem Theater in Bethel in April. But the COVID gods had other plans. Postponed. Again. We regrouped for an October run… only for the owner of The Gem to cancel the week before opening because some of the cast refused to rehearse in masks (even though we had the whole place to ourselves). Things escalated when the cast was accused of forging vaccination cards — an accusation so dramatic it could’ve been in the actual show. Irony alert: that same theater owner pocketed $125,000 in COVID relief money.

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Not to be deterred by cowardice and nonsense, and losing only a drummer in the shuffle, we moved the show to the Franco-Gendron Center. Two performances in October 2021 proved what we already suspected: audiences loved this weird little show about a legendary Maine hotspot.

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The buzz built. By December 2021, we held a secret, invite-only performance for a couple hundred people in the ballroom of Portland’s vacant Time & Temperature Building. The night ended in peak chaotic glory when the smoke machines triggered the fire alarm, and the Portland Fire Department burst in expecting a disaster—only to find a disco ball spinning over a sweaty cast mid-song, and enough illegal activity to satisfy a Roman emperor.

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In 2022, we pitched the idea to Deertrees Theatre, which, under new leadership, was looking for a show with a little edge. They took a chance. And it paid off. In both 2022 and 2023, An Evening at Dave’s Sauna sold out multiple shows at the new venue with raucous, cheering crowds.

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I directed the first year but had to step back in 2023 due to a life-threatening blood clot that shut me down for months. Gail Phaneuf, Deertrees' Executive Director, took over as director and kept the momentum going in 2023 while battling an intern revolt. Gail even wrote that she planned to make the show an annual tradition. And why not? After all, she had already benefited from four sold-out shows, record concession sales, and a brand-new audience.

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In January 2024, we hit a major milestone: a grant from the Maine Community Foundation Theater Fund! With actual funding in hand, we hired a professional composer (Christopher Cho) to turn my tunes into a full piano/vocal score that would help make future productions more attractive to theater companies and easier for pit bands to do the songs justice.

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Riding high on that success, I started writing an even more inappropriate sequel: Holiday HiJinXXX: Another Evening at Dave’s Sauna, set in 1985—five years after the original. It premiered at the Hill Arts Center in Portland in December 2024 to rave reviews, and enthusiastic audiences, who were delighted by gay elves, cross dressing cops, and all new naughty versions of holiday song classics.

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But just when everything seemed to be going our way, the plot took a turn. Gail (yes, that Gail), the ED of Deertrees Theatre, (which had served as the fiscal sponsor for the Maine Theater Fund grant), refused to release the final score unless her theater got first production credit and cold, hard cash.

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The catch? Deertrees wasn’t our first production of the show, and the only contribution she had made to show was changing one of my lyrics from “…like a white Peter Tosh…” to “…like a hairy Sasquatch…”. So… no. After a tense standoff (and threats of a lawsuit), I finally received the score in June 2025 — sans apology.

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That same month, my book, Memories of Dave’s Sauna — chronicling the thirty-year history of Dave’s Sauna’s, was published. Offering an additional look into the famous (or infamous) legacy of Dave and his unique life/venue.

 

And in July 2025, a Letter of Intent was signed for a six-show run at Good Theater in Portland in 2026, where we would finally have an opportunity to present it with a full production budget and the best talent that Maine has to offer.

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What started as a quirky lyric has now become a grassroots theater phenomenon, complete with fire alarms, endless drama and hurdles, and a stubborn refusal to die.

 

If that’s not Maine theater at its finest, I don’t know what is.