I worked at The Old Globe Theater under the great baton of Craig

In the reflective words of Jeffrey Tambor, we hear the voice of an artist looking back upon the foundations of his craft: “I worked at The Old Globe Theater under the great baton of Craig Noel. One of the great theater heroes that we have. He was so great and so inspirational. I think I did ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ and ‘The Taming of the Shrew.’ I lived in Ocean Beach, and my rent was $140 a month.” Though these words seem like a simple recollection, they carry within them the fragrance of gratitude, the humility of apprenticeship, and the reverence for mentorship that every true artist must feel. For Tambor is not merely recounting his early days in the theater; he is invoking the sacred memory of beginning, when passion burned bright and art was pursued for love rather than for acclaim.

At the heart of his quote stands the name of Craig Noel, the guiding hand who shaped generations of actors at the Old Globe Theater in San Diego. Noel, a figure revered in the annals of American theater, devoted his life to nurturing talent and building community. Tambor’s words, calling him “inspirational” and “great,” are not formal praise but the utterance of reverence — the kind of reverence a pupil feels for the master who first opened his eyes to the truth of his craft. In ancient Greece, actors gathered under the guidance of philosophers and poets to learn not only performance but the soul of storytelling. So too did Tambor find in Noel not merely a director, but a teacher of spirit — one who showed him that art, to be great, must be human first.

When Tambor recalls performing “Antony and Cleopatra” and “The Taming of the Shrew,” he invokes the timeless power of Shakespeare — a power that transcends centuries and cultures. These plays, born of Elizabethan England, are not just dramas but meditations on love, ambition, folly, and fate — the eternal conditions of mankind. By performing them under Noel’s direction, Tambor entered into that ancient lineage of storytellers who have, since time immemorial, used the stage as a mirror for the soul. His remembrance is not nostalgia, but a testament: that great art is never truly old, that tradition, when carried forward by devotion, remains forever young.

The mention of Ocean Beach and the modest rent of $140 a month anchors this reflection in the reality of the artist’s early struggle — a struggle as old as artistry itself. Every creator, from the sculptors of Florence to the playwrights of Athens, has known this period of quiet poverty — when one’s wealth lies not in possessions but in purpose. To live simply, to survive on faith and passion, is a rite of passage for the creative spirit. In that humble apartment by the sea, Tambor was not merely living cheaply; he was living richly in dreams. The smallness of his means only magnified the greatness of his calling.

The meaning of his words thus lies in their juxtaposition — the grandeur of the theater beside the simplicity of living; the brilliance of mentorship beside the vulnerability of youth. It is a reminder that greatness begins in gratitude and that no artist, however celebrated, is self-made. Behind every achievement stands a teacher, a guide, or a place that shaped the soul of the artist. Just as the Roman sculptor Phidias apprenticed before creating the gods of marble, and just as Mozart learned beneath his father’s hand before composing the immortal symphonies, so did Tambor grow under Noel’s tutelage before becoming a voice of his generation.

From this story arises a universal lesson: that one must honor the roots from which one’s greatness grows. The modern world, ever impatient for success, often forgets that mastery is born from apprenticeship, and that inspiration flows from humility. To find one’s own Old Globe Theater, one must first be willing to serve within it — to learn, to listen, and to labor without vanity. For it is in those early, unseen seasons that the artist’s true character is forged.

Therefore, let Tambor’s memory be a teaching for all who dream. Remember your mentors. Cherish the places where your journey began, no matter how small. Measure your worth not by wealth or fame, but by the depth of inspiration you carry forward. Whether your stage is vast or modest, your rent high or low, create with the same passion that burned in those early days — the passion that makes every line, every gesture, every note sacred. For in the end, it is not luxury but love of craft that sustains an artist, just as it did Jeffrey Tambor beneath the steady, guiding light of Craig Noel.