Eric Simonson, once an active presence on local theater stages, never expected the email that came to him in California a couple of years ago. It was from Steppenwolf’s casting director, JC Clementz, saying in part, “We know that you haven’t acted in a while but thought it would be fun to ask.” He was being asked if he would play the role of Dr. Dorn in a new production of Anton Chekhov’s “Seagull,” adapted and directed by ensemble member Yasen Peyankov to be the inaugural play of the Steppenwolf’s new in-the-round performance space in 2022. Even though it had been more than 30 years since he acted, he said yes. He came and acted in a show that my colleague, critic Chris Jones, did not think much of, writing in part, “The show struggles to … exorcise the demons of the last two years, to calibrate Chekhov’s interest in what the theater can do if it curbs its self-destructive tendencies, especially for those who choose a life therein.” Actor and director Yasen Peyankov, left, writer and director Eric Simonson, and author Mark Larson attend a reading and discussion of Simonson’s book “Between the Lines: Steppenwolf’s Seagull and A Reluctant Actor’s Journey Back to the Stage” at Chicago Dramatists on Nov. 11, 2024. (Armando L. Sanchez/Chicago Tribune) But Simonson’s return to a Chicago stage compelled him to remember his long ago years here and, as he writes, “a whole slew of other thoughts and memories came flooding back, about acting, writing, directing, and theater in general.” What he first envisioned as an online post or perhaps a magazine article has resulted in a slender but compelling new book, “Between the Lines: Steppenwolf’s Seagull and a Reluctant Actor’s Journey Back to the Stage.” He writes, “Returning to acting also meant returning to Steppenwolf, where I am a company member, and Chicago, where I started as a young artist trying to make my way in, around, and through what turned out to be the golden age of Chicago theater.” He pins that “golden age” to the years 1980 to 1995 and offers ample reasons and people for making that claim, telling me, “This was when everything was new, everything seemed to be happening at once and it was all so exciting.” He came here at age 21. Raised in rural Wisconsin, fresh from college at Lawrence University, he arrived with “two hundred dollars in my pocket (with no) real options or plans. I had virtually no skills.” But he was able to find work, make friends and become part of a vibrant theater crowd. And he appeared on stage, even though he suffered then and is still afflicted by stage fright. He writes movingly about his friendships with Larry Sloan, the charismatic producer and director, and Scott McPherson, the playwright of, most memorably, “Marvin’s Room,” both gone from AIDS by the mid-1990s; about all manner of shows and theaterfolk; and being part of the cast of “The Grapes of Wrath,” the 1988 Steppenwolf play adapted by Frank Galati from John Steinbeck with music by Michael Smith, and traveling with that show to Broadway. Five months into that show’s run on Broadway he would leave and, he writes, “never set foot on the stage again.” He was true to that and has fashioned a successful career as a playwright of such works as “Lombardi, “Magic/Bird” and “Bronx Bombers,” all of which made it to Broadway. Always drawn to innovative projects that integrate music and drama, he staged the premieres of the Tony Award-nominated “The Song of Jacob Zulu” and its follow-up, “Nomathemba,” at Steppenwolf in the 1990s. He regularly directs opera in addition to plays and films and even the titles of some non-musical productions hint at this affection: “‘Til the Fat Lady Sings,” “Work Song: Three Views of Frank Lloyd Wright” and “Bang the Drum Slowly.” He has made documentaries, including “A Note of Triumph” about Norman Corwin, the writer-producer-director often called “radio’s poet laureate, ” which won the 2006 Academy Award for documentary-short subject. In 2009 came his “Studs Terkel: Listening to America,” a very fine piece of work, not marred at all by my minor on-camera inclusion. Steppenwolf ensemble members, from left to right, are Rondi Reed, John Mahoney, Martha Plimpton, Eric Simonson and Tom Irwin circa 2000. (John Bartley/Chicago Tribune) Lindiwe co-director and playwright Eric Simonson looks on during rehearsal for the upcoming Steppenwolf Theatre production on Oct. 17, 2019. (Chris Sweda/Chicago Tribune) This book does not focus on this considerable accomplishments but rather explores what’s behind these words, as he writes, “The most valuable of Chicago theater lessons being this: go ahead and take a leap into the dark.” He was here last Sunday at Steppenwolf in conversation with fellow Steppenwolf ensemble member Francis Guinan and Monday at Chicago Dramatists with Yasen Peyankov, both conversations moderated by Mark Larson, author of 2019’s “Ensemble: An Oral History of Chicago Theater.” Earlier this week Larson told me, “At Steppenwolf, Eric talked vividly about those early days when anything seemed possible and artistic risks were the norm. He said that Chicago theater was his grad school, saying, ‘I didn’t need grad school because of what I learned during that time.” “At Chicago Dramatists, we opened the discussion to the audience, many of whom shared their own memories from that period, as well as their own experiences with stage fright. (The late Tribune critic) Richard Christiansen’s name was evoked a number of times as having had a significant impact on the developing theater scene. Eric said, ‘Without him, I don’t think I’d be here.’” At Steppenwolf, Simonson said, “We talked a lot about ‘ensemble,’ which is one of the themes of my book. I was glad Fran was there, because as one of the earliest ensemble members, he could add to what I’d written in my book, and we both felt Steppenwolf acting is essentially jazz with words, intentions and actions.” [email protected]