Black-Irish Setter

Mystery writer, playwright, and part-time actor Bill Stackhouse has a Bachelor’s degree in Industrial Engineering from General Motors Institute in Flint, Michigan, and a Master’s degree from Wayne State University in Detroit. At Ford Motor Company and later, as Director of Quality Assurance & Training at a large automotive parts supplier, Bill became involved in the development of instructional manuals and training films. In the throes of a mid-life crisis, he decided to pursue the most enjoyable aspect of his job on a full-time basis-writing. Bill’s scriptwriting credits include training films and promotional videos for NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center, the U.S. Army Aviation and Missile Command, and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, to name just a few. He has also written numerous radio and TV commercials. Branching out from technical writing into the arts, four of Bill’s seven stage plays (The Best Laid Plans, The Early Bird, To Serve and Protect, and A Tradition of Service) have won contests-a local, a statewide, a regional, and a national. In addition to playwriting, Bill has directed many productions for various community theatres. For a very brief time, he even had a theatre company of his own. After filling his gas tank at a truck stop on I-65, Bill entered the station and slipped on the wet floor. While in a dazed state, he thought he heard the ghost of John Barrymore say, ＂If you offer it, they will come.＂ Thinking that the late, great actor was referring to theatre, Bill promptly formed Road Show with the Vagabond Players and set out to tour six mid-size cities in Northern Alabama and Southern Tennessee. After an initial 5-play season, meager attendance, and a debt of many, many dollars, RSVP folded. Only then did Bill realize that the voice he had heard was not that of John Barrymore’s ghost, but that of Bubba Barrymore, the fry-cook at the truck stop. Bubba, of course, had not been talking about theatre, but about tractor pulls and monster truck rallies. Only rarely does Bill wake up anymore in the middle of the night, haunted by the sound of one hand clapping.