SHARING STORIES: Gene Thomas (right) videotapes a conversation with Barbara Leibert in San Rafael. He prepares videos for families who want to preserve their elders' stories

By Beth Ashley
IJ senior feature writer

When Gene Thomas was still a teen-ager, he took photo portraits of old folks in his neighborhood in South Philly.

“Listening to their stories interested me as much as the photography,” says Thomas, now 55 and a resident of the Greenbrae Boardwalk.

The link-up of pictures and stories did not become a passion until 10 years ago. “When I got out of film school and had to make a living, the idea got set aside for a long time,” Thomas says.

He became a director, commercial video producer, and acting teacher. But about 10 years ago, he had a dream – a dream in which he was taking videos of old people and interviewing them about their lives. “I dreamed a whole business in one dream,” he says.

Thomas began to shift his attention from corporate work to making videotaped conversations with elderly people. He calls this part of his business “Lifespan.”

He not only prepares videos for families who want to preserve information about their elders, but also works with the Marin History Museum to capture testimony from old-timers about former times and institutions in Marin.

His enthusiasm keeps growing. Not only does he see the value of such work – “there were people in my own family I wished that I had filmed” -- but he is also increasingly moved by the memories of those he has interviewed. “It gives me a sense of community,” he says, and attachment to prior generations and the way Marin used to be.

His videotaped “conversations” are far from a once-over lightly, he says.

Usually hired to film someone’s parent or grandparent, Thomas encourages family members to get involved – to think about the questions they want him to ask. “I’m facilitating a family process,” he says.

He gives them written guidelines and tells them to ask themselves, “What do I want to know about this person? What are the family stories we want on tape?”

“I spend a lot of time with the children before we begin to film, so I know a lot about the person beforehand,” Thomas says.

The subject knows that Thomas is an emissary of the family, which helps put him or her at ease and opens the door to an intimate conversation. “ Sometimes I can ask questions that the family is reluctant to ask face-to-face. I don’t pressure the people I’m filming, but sometimes I get them to tell me things they might not otherwise say.” Thomas spends most of a day on the interview itself.

He forewarns families that he works best without them being present. “This day is entirely about the person I am interviewing. No one is going to interrupt the person. No one will be there to say ‘no, that’s not how it was.’ “ He has the family prepare food for the interviewee, so it’s not necessary to halt filming at mealtime and throw it off course.

He takes about an hour to set up the camera and the lighting – “I’m a director and a producer by profession” – and then he begins.

He says the person being interviewed soon loses any fear of the camera, which he has set up in such a way that he can monitor what’s being taped while still keeping eye contact with his subject.

“I end up doing three to four hours of taped material,” he says. He delivers the unedited tape to his clients, either to keep as is, or to use as part of a larger family project. With new, do-it-yourself technology, he says, people can add pictures, interviews and other voices to his tape.

If asked, he will produce a supplementary video with family photos and music that is meaningful to the family or individual subject. (The original interview cost $2,000; there’s an additional cost for supplementary editing or interviews.)

Sometimes, as part of the video, he will take walks with the subject, touring the neighborhood, or visiting the home where the subject was raised.

Thomas’ dark eyes shine when he speaks of the process.

“There are some wonderful moments, “ he says. One woman took him to Larkspur to the site of the old Rose Bowl dance floor, scene of outdoor dances half a century ago. “I interviewed a man in his 70’s who had lost his sister when he was 4. Suddenly he was back in that moment, in that room, seeing his father sitting in a chair, unable to speak. It was the first time in 70 years he had gone back to that moment, and I was there with him when it happened.”

“It’s exciting, it’s a privilege. It’s mysterious, too. I do everything I can to allow that kind of thing to happen.”

He says often a person will be reminded by his question of something no family member had anticipated – and volunteers an unexpected memory.

“The process is a double gift. The family in honoring the subject by having the video made, and the subject honors the family by giving them information.”

Thomas says much family information is fleeting and when the elder dies it is irretrievable. He quotes a Middle Eastern proverb: “When an old person dies, it’s like a library burning down.”

“Information is lost forever if you don’t remember to ask, “ Thomas says.

Thanks to an interview with his mother’s brother, Thomas recently visited the small town in Italy where his ancestors had lived. From his uncle, he learned that his family’s original name had been Solimando; he located a town where there were 32 families by that name, went there and met many of them. In America, the Solimando name had become Solomon, he says, and “If I had not interviewed my uncle, I would never have had that experience.”

Events of Sept. 11, 2001, gave new impetus to his work. “People suddenly wanted to connect in some special way. Family became the first thing in people’s minds, “ he says. Until then, he says, he made family videos if people requested it, but “I didn’t believe it was as important a part of my work as I have now come to see it is.”

Thomas, who holds a Master of Fine Arts degree in Television and Film from Temple University in Philadelphia, first worked for PBS as a program designer. He moved to Marin 20 years ago and worked for a company in San Francisco before launching his own business, Grayfox Productions, Inc. Among many video projects, he has developed corporate communications programs for VISA, Wells Fargo, Toshiba, Pacific Bell, Apple and Novell; He was director and co-writer of a live-action video game, Critical Path; and has directed dozens of live satellite broadcasts worldwide for a variety of clients.

For American Conservatory Theater, Young Conservatory, he teaches acting for the camera. In addition, “one of my specialties is helping corporate clients deliver their messages in their own voice, and to come across well when speaking on camera.”

While discussing Lifespan videos for an audience at Villa Marin, he learned that the Marin History Museum had obtained a grant to make oral histories of Marin residents for its archives. The Villa Marin activities director urged him to make contact.

The result: He has embarked on several history videos, the first of which was with Barbara Leibert of Villa Marin, whose father, Roy Brown, was first publisher of the Independent Journal (a merger of two newspapers). He has done others and hopes to do more.

Interviewing elders has enriched his life, he says, and gives added meaning to his other work in the community – for the Novato Theater Restoration Committee, for instance, and for the parent-supported YES Foundation in the Ross Valley School District, which fosters student theater.

“It’s a win-win situation,” he says.

No matter how reluctant initially, most of the interviewees tell him afterward that they had fun. “People really like to talk about themselves, and to be listened to.”

The families, perhaps, gain most.

A video creates a likeness that shows how a person really is, he says.It also creates an invaluable record. Sometimes when I mention what I do, people will burst into tears because they missed the opportunity, he says.

He remembers a particularly poignant happening. He was interviewing a woman in her 80¹s, and she began to sing. Her nephew, watching the video afterward, observed that their family used to sing all the time; but we never sing any more.

Weeks later, unexpectedly, the woman was unconscious on her deathbed.

The nephew came and sang to her; she woke up briefly and sang with him, and then she died.

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