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I remembered Dillenburg. I first wrote about Dillenburg—brought him to the attention of Chicago, I’d like to think—the following March, when Dillenburg was a young Turk who’d just launched a movement he called the National Association for the Advancement of Time (NAFTAT). He aspired to stamp out the 60s, and by 1989 it was hard to argue that it was still too soon. Dillenburg said he’d found allies in the Neo-Futurists, and had even contributed to their repertoire of two-minute plays.
Dillenburg was immediately the subject of a searing exposé. “Is this the same Eugene Dillenburg who was given a grant by [Columbia] college to explore the ‘Paul Is Dead’ rumor he so fervently and loudly expounded?” a couple of readers wrote me. “Is this the same Eugene Dillenburg who then took his ‘Paul Is Dead’ lecture act out on the road for further fame and profit? Is this the same Eugene Dillenburg who, at the drop of a hat, would launch into discourses on the Beatles with any fellow students who cared (or had) to listen?”
Phil Ridarelli, she reported. What I remember best about the first time I saw Too Much Light was discovering he was in the cast and thanking him after the show.
