Some of the achievements Santo is most proud of is being a former Marine Paratrooper and a member of the Screen Actors Guild. He’s been an extra in a number of large productions ranging from Heat to Bone Collector While living in California he performed historical reenactments in Old Town playing a Mexican bandito. Santo started stand-up in clubs around San Diego and LA, where he met a writer for the Drew Carey show. He then spent the next three T.V. seasons in a steady gig as one of the local bar patrons drinking near beer all day. Supplementing the Drew Carey work, he took parts as a stand-in in other productions around the industry town. He honed his stand-up routine around LA where audiences greeted him like a Pollack/Dali painting with variations of Lenny Bruce and Bukowski until he decided to “move East young man”. In NYC he performed in a few feature films driving as a precision driver. There was also a stint on Sopranos. He was then given an opportunity to work with the New York City Opera in Lincoln Center. Santo performed an understudy role as a bumbling waiter in La Boheme as well as being part of the stuntmen team in Macbeth. He also claims the right to being the only actor to be hit on stage by a car in any production of New York City Opera. While working for New York State Theater he was a supernumerary for Universal Ballet’s production of La Bayadere. When Sept. 11 occurred on tech dress night and he had “an epiphany,” and returned to good ol’ New England after the season finished, reconnecting with family. Locally, Santo has performed his own one man show on stages at Club Passim in Harvard Square, Milky Way in Jamaica Plain,and other smaller venues. He’s performed spoken word competitively on stages such as the Cantab and the Lizard Lounge and also visits many open mics throughout New England. With the Salem Theatre Company, he performed a principal role as Greg in A.R. Gurney’s Sylvia. At the popular Prince Pizza he was part of a Delvena dinner theatre company production.

Here’s a piece I performed for The Old South Church during their leaders luncheon.  The first female pastor in the history of the Boston Tea Party church is Nancy Taylor and she’s the most lovely person you’ll ever meet.

Colors of Copley

Hey John, Check this out.
She radiates in brilliant hues, you should see her
Reds, yellow, green, and blues.
Like a song, she can be a simple melody.
Notes of mind, to quill I find, discovery.
Starting with one, two, three,
Or as complicated as a symphony.
To touch her is to bless my hand
Imagine if I were Chopin… John said, try harder.
She’s an international potpourri of colors
Blending orange, hazel, high yellows, red bone and purple colors.
Paintings on Newberry St. sidewalk
Watercolors that run deep into each other like oils
Black iron handrails against a mocha brown skin
Contrast sharp red brick buildings.
Against a brown chipped stone step
She’s a cocoa, copper, caramel, cappuccino, cognac skin – a burnt almond.
Throw a little orange on that white canvas Charlie.
Make it warm, give it some value.
Descendants of the Mayflower mixing with flower power and lots of wallflowers
Generation X to Y, there’s a texture warm and solid about her
A black matte with an ornate frame around it
You can’t escape the drapery.
The purple in the trees coming out we see there discovery. Oh dang’, I thought I was green.
Women named Miss, strange and curios, a yellow golden brown winter harvest.
More like honey plentiful and lean jazz playing softly
She’s a subdued hue of colors; she’s magical and tricky, something queer
You can’t guess.
She could be European, African, Latin, Indian, Asian, Island, Arabian,
But she’s all American colors that play on my perception of beauty at best.
Pure complementary colors are placed next to each other to create harmony of impression
Her colors communicate nuances of expression type colors.
It’s the composition of behavior that screams surreal. She’s no hospital green.
She has great sense and sensibilities. She’s a descendant bohemian gypsy
A rich color of blueberry and strawberry.
John said, She’s not monochromatic, more complementary in fidelity.
The contrast in visibility on this palate of Dolby. There’s a nice space around her, shadows glow.
Is she strong like a brownstone building? As majestic as the Old South Church.
Is she cerulean blue water that flows through your hand in the tropics as refreshing as a warm island rain?
Yea, she’s a blond ray of sunshine on this city corner of pain.
I like the blues, does it matter? She’s a tall glass of water.
He said, is she thick like chocolate milk or would you say water over wine?
I said, A thick mist that saturates the taste on a hot city day. No, she’s soft light linen on a summer day with long wavy hair.
He says, Like a warm park bench on a sun filled fall day?
I said, Yea – she’s a flannel shirt under a merino wool sweater with corduroy pants on an Indian summer day.
I’m trying to describe the holy Braille to you man. I’ll see you later.
John says, not if I see you first.Did I mention, John’s blind?