For most of my newspaper career, I've been "the other guy." As in, when it comes to people in Tulsa writing about the arts, there's David MacKenzie and the other guy.
Which is perfectly understandable and natural, because of the figure Mr Mackenzie cut as a person and a writer. As the world became increasingly casual in its dress, David MacKenzie continued to wear suits and bowties. As the world sought to establish all manner of politically correct behaviours and attitudes, Mr MacKenzie kept his own often defiant counsel: He would smoke, he would drink, he would curse in such a way that he make a kind of poetry out of profanity.
And he would tell everybody in no uncertain terms exactly -- and I mean EXACTLY -- what he thought of them, especially if they had put themselves on display on any of Tulsa's stages, from the PAC's Chapman Music Hall, to tiny store-front theaters.
Because, during his time at the World, Mr MacKenzie was "the competition," just about all I know of him is what I read in the newspaper -- the reviews, interviews, and feature stories that he wrote during his tenure with the Tulsa World.
You learned very quickly there were some artists who, in his estimation, could do no wrong. You also learned that there were some people who, as far as Mr MacKenzie was concerned, might well consider another field of endeavor. These people know who they are, because I'm certain the lashings they received in some of Mr MacKenzie's reviews continue to sting.
How can they not, when they were often presented in some of the most memorable imagery that's ever appeared under the Tulsa World flag? The only review my own father remembers from memory is one of Mr MacKenzie's, about a Tom Jones concert in the 1970s. One long-time World staffer still is reduced to helpless laughter when he mentions how Mr MacKenzie described an ensemble as "tuning (their instruments) according to some grass roots referendum."
Mr. MacKenzie worked in the days when newspaper reviews appeared the morning after a performance, which meant that his concise, cogent, literary allusion-studded pieces about an opera, a ballet, a symphony performance, a play, were often composed on deadline -- less than two hours from performance's end to finished review.
You try it some time. It is NOT easy.
But that is because Mr MacKenzie was at once a true critic and a true newspaperman. He also possessed a finely tuned sense of what he liked and didn't like, an impressive knowledge of the subjects he wrote about, and he was able to express it in a most effective way.
Most importantly, the acid of his tone toward many local artists and performers was not vituperation for its own sake. It reflected his belief that making art -- visual or performance -- was serious business and required equally serious assessment. Art mattered, and anything less than a striving for perfection (even if that standard was one of his own making and not in accord with that of the majority of the world's -- or World's -- population) needed to be pointed out. So the work those artists did the next time might be better.
His reviews were often angry because he cared about Tulsa and the arts, and thought both deserved the very best. That is why, to my mind, David C. MacKenzie will always be "The Tulsa World's fine arts critic." I am quite content to remain "the other guy."
