Catching up with Mr. ChachiI first met Art Schram on the fore-deck of the schooner The Dubliner skirting the coast of Southern Maine in 1998. Watching the sun crest over the bleak horizon of a wintry Atlantic, gripping in either fist a canteen of coffee and a canteen of whiskey, I stumbled upon the final ruminant survivor of an evening of ceaseless carousing. Barefoot in the cold, but impeccably-styled from ankle upward, a slim man in a stylish v-neck traipsed his way across rigging and strewn handles of Black Label. Hair recklessly salted and velour sports coat fluttering in the rampant gusts, he had the air of someone who didn't give a damn about the weather. As I stood shivering, awed by the grace and ferocity of a New England February morning, this modern day Hemingway sipped a mug of steaming English Breakfast, extended towards me an orange, pink, and purple cardboard box filled with glazed crullers, and suggested that I go below decks, as he had "some thermies, to keep your arse warm and your pecker working." It was in this way that I became acquainted with Arthur Schram.
 |
It would be three years before I had the opportunity to meet with Art Schram again, but the image of him that dawn, a silhouette in slight repose against a stark, blustery sky was etched into my memory. So it was quite a contrast when a 1966 Ford Mustang convertible rolled to a near-stop at Feralito, a popular burrito joint in San Francisco's Mission, and Schram popped over the passenger door before the blonde in the driver's seat squealed off into the San Francisco hills. "Day's hot, car's hot, girl's hot," Schram said with a winning grin as we strode into the restaurant.
"Mr. Chachi, Mr. Chachi!" was the delighted scream of the adoring Mexican counter-girls as we looked over the menu. Schram, apparently of no two minds about his burritos, quickly strode away from the counter with a neatly wrapped steak and guacomole fiesta and a Negro Modelo, both gratis, while I waited behind a coven of thin, leather-panted, and mustachioed gentleman escorting mild-mannered, khaki-wearing consultants. Schram turned to me in the door, nodding that he would be at a table outside, and proclaimed laughingly, "These men are gay!"
 |
"Here, here, Chachi!" and "Right on, Art!" were the exuberant responses from the cue before me.
Finally, having acquired a nachos platter and a very tasty margarita, I settled down across from Schram at an outside table to talk about his recent adventures in fiction, dance, Peru, women, gayness, and the art of cool.
Q: Art, you have been a writer, actor, comedian, film-maker, and director for over five years now. Each year you have been enormously productive, consistently raising the creative bar for all your peers. How do you maintain such a level of artistic stamina?
AS: Well, it comes naturally mostly. I was blessed with a certain genius, I'd have to imagine. And I work hard. Damn hard. Some of it comes from France. I'm part French, you know.
Q: Is that right? Have you spent a lot of time in France?
AS: Bonjour means good day.
 |
AS: Hard to say. Girls are Mexican, gents are gay. Can't figure either of those lots. By the way, I spent the last half of last year learning dance. Do you dance?
Q: Do I dance?
AS: It's quite fascinating really. Very masculine. Very sexual. Not predatory though. Pure fun. I find dance to be like an amusement park ride that I have made myself, for my enjoyment, and the enjoyment of others. I don't wear tights, though. I feel you should know that.
Q: I understand that you are quite the outdoorsman.
AS: I have captured a few bear. Mostly beaver and a good deal of fishing. I'll cook the fish as well. I eat everything I catch, except the bear and beaver of course.
Q: Those must make for quite some stories! Hunting bear, I mean.
AS: Well, the hunting, that's not exactly right. Mostly it's one-to-one combat. I wrestle the bear down, and then I let them go.
Q: And you paint, as well, isn't that right? Naturalistic scenes?
 |
AS: Yes. I paint landscapes, and I like to paint pictures of fish. I think fish are the most radiant creatures. Salmon. Trout. They are beautiful. Their mouths are like diamond mines. South African diamond mines. Full of darkness and glitter and money. I think that in a fish's eye you can see your soul. I have.
Also, I paint nudes. Nude women. I find that quite a lark. With the naked chicks, and everything.
Q: You've spent sometime in South America recently?
AS: No. Had planned on it: Peru. But I didn't feel like going in the end. Had a few good things going with a couple of birds here, if you know what I mean. I find the Incans fascinating, really. I'd like to meet one. See what they say, you know, ask a few questions. How do you like the mountains? Can you talk to your goat? Would you like my pants, if I were to give them to you?
Q: Thank you for indulging our readers, Art. You're a fascinating man.
AS: Right. Cheers, then.