During his years as a touring puppeteer, Ralph Kipniss had some uncanny run-ins with strangers. Like the time in the winter of 1963 when he was driving from Chicago along the Pennsylvania Turnpike to meet his William Morris agent in New York City. He was supposed to arrive that afternoon but was delayed by weather. “It was snowing like you wouldn’t believe,” he recalls. “I said, ‘God, I hope we get there.’” All of a sudden a man appeared and, according to Kipniss, he said, “Follow my white truck; I’ll get you through the storm.” Kipniss made the passage safely with the man’s help. And then the man vanished. There was also a time he was on his way to San Antonio, Texas, and a multiple-car pileup left his vehicle marooned in a gully. “Three or four guys lifted the car and got it back on [the road],” he recalls. He wanted to thank them, but they were gone.
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He and the building’s landlord aren’t on good terms, and it’s a touchy subject for everyone involved. Lewis has become a conduit between the two men in the hopes that they can strike a deal. He’s made it his mission to rescue “the lost marionettes of Ralph Kipniss,” as they’re referred to in the Kickstarter campaign he’s helped spearhead.
“When you build a marionette, just like when you paint a picture, a bit of your soul is in it,” Kipniss says. “It sounds odd to people.” It didn’t sound odd to Lewis.
It’s visibly difficult for Kipniss to talk about this period, Ennis’s illness and death in particular. “When Lou died, it was quite a thing,” he says quietly, shifting his weight in an armchair in his living room. “Lou and I had been together for 37 years, worked very, very hard, built many, many puppets and many, many shows.” They had met in the late 60s at the Bryn Mawr Theatre. “He was working at Belden Wire at that time and he told me what he was interested in, liked to do creative things. He was also an excellent artist.” They also had in common failed marriages, two apiece. Besides being business partners, Kipniss and Ennis lived together. Kipniss refers to him as a roommate.
Not long after they met, Giedraitis became Kipniss’s performance partner. He calls her the vice president of his company, which elicits a groan. But she has a lot of respect for the art. “As I progressed into knowledge of marionettes, I realized it’s a very challenging discipline,” she says. “It’s something you really have to give a lot to to give a passable performance.”
“It’s up to God and up to Joe,” Kipniss says. “I don’t know what will come.” But he can only hope that help materializes once again. Stranger things have happened.
