The humanity of storytelling: One stage + 6 brave souls = a night to remember at the Shaskeen
Tales from the Queen City was an inaugural event concocted by Rob Azevedo as a way to bring community together around the city we all love.
MANCHESTER, NH – Good stories will capture our shared human condition. Through these stories, we learn about history and culture, as well as what it means to be a human being inhabiting this wild rotating globe.
Storytelling is an art form with roots in oral traditions and performance. From bards traveling from village to village, wielding lutes and telling tales of love and war; to the American author Mark Twain standing on a stage, dazzling audiences with witty yarns, people have always been compelled by a good story.
But over the years the oral tradition of telling tales to an audience ceded to technology, a byproduct of centuries of inventions like the printing press, the record album, the motion picture and, more recently, the internet and social media.
So gathering a crowd into a single spot and asking them to listen to live performers tell stories might seem—to the cynic, at least—slightly archaic.
Yet it didn’t stop Manchester’s sultan of the entertainment scene Rob Azevedo from booking six performers and trying it anyway[1].
“I find Manchester to be endlessly entertaining,” Azevedo said. “That’s the thing about Manchester: we are overridden with stories. You just need to listen for them. Stories are out there, and they just need an ear to fall on.”
And those stories found their ears for an enchanting evening at The Shaskeen Pub in downtown Manchester on Saturday, Feb. 11.
With Azevedo as the emcee, the evening kicked off with Kaitlyn Mastacouris, a Manchester native and “daughter of The Queen City,” who shared her story of a concussion in 2021 that inadvertently led to securing her current role as a co-host on “The Morning Show with Peter White,” which airs weekdays from 7-9 a.m. on Manchester’s FM radio station 95.3 WMNH.
A third-generation Manchester resident, Mastacouris’ “deep roots” and immense heart provided an apt introduction for the evening’s show.
“Manchester is both continually the same and ever-changing at the exact same time,” said Mastacouris, 30, and a Central High School alumnus. “I’m a Manchester girl, and the stories about our city can really bring people together.”
Mastacouris was followed by Anthony Tone Payton, who was raised in Brooklyn before moving to Manchester, which he considers his home.
Payton told the story of slipping into a life of crime, despite growing up in a two-parent home that stressed education.
Arrested after a drug bust on Valley Street, Payton was sent to jail, and three days later found out he was going to be a father. He kept the picture of his daughter’s ultrasound hung up in his cell for inspiration after being sentenced to 10 years in federal prison—he served nearly seven years.
Payton’s story was one of redemption and an individual’s capacity to change courses in life for the better.
“I felt that [my story] could likely help others who know of someone incarcerated. There is hope,” Payton said. “Also, they may have a child or teenager walking down the wrong path, and I’m sure that an explicit story from me will help set them straight. Not to mention the power of story can be therapeutic.”
Shifting gears—and not for the last time in the evening—A.M. Moura, 46, a native of Lowell, Mass., who works as a writer and manager of a security team, spun a scatological tale that he said “spans the whole 19 years [he’s] been in Manchester.”
His misadventures began at the old Bomb Shelter, a former heavy-metal club on the West Side, and brought the audience to date using humor and candor. It was a cautionary tale of sorts, expertly woven. “No matter how large, the city is small, and it remembers everything,” he warned.
For Moura, who was performing the story for the first time on stage, the nerves went away when he heard the first laugh. “The crowd was fantastic,” he said. “It was a great turnout, and everyone was engaged with what was being said. It was a great experience.”
After a brief intermission, Mike “Gonzo” Gonzales took the stage carrying a handful of drawings he did of members of the audience then preceded the pass them out to their rightful recipients.
“It’s hard to be an artist,” he quipped.
A full-time artist, Gonzales then told a quick yarn—which Mark Twain would’ve appreciated—about an alligator in Manchester, then ceded the stage to Chris Micklovich for what would be the emotional climax of the evening.
Micklovich told the story of a beating he incurred by four off-duty Manchester policemen in an alley outside the Strange Brew Tavern in March 2010, following an incident inside the restaurant.
Micklovich suffered $20,000 in medical damages and related his own story to the recent events surrounding the death of Tyre Nichols, a 29-year-old black man beaten to death by police officers in Memphis, Tenn, on Jan. 7.
Passionately, Micklovich implored the audience to remember three things about the city of Manchester. “We are resilient. We can make a difference, and we are tough,” a teary-eyed Micklovich told the crowd.
He said that Manchester rallied behind him and that he “could not thank this city enough.”
The show concluded with the eccentric Manchester native Ryan Gorman, an artist who has worked in video and radio production, as well as gigged as a stand-up comedian.
Gorman invited bassist Benny Bass and deejay SP1 to join him on the stage and delivered an erratically electric set where he pushed performance boundaries. Gorman said that there were “organically spiritual” things involving a good friend in the crowd that left him “glowing” and guided his set.
It was a fitting end to an evening of the stark truth-telling and a madness that perfectly encapsulates the collective of The Queen City ethos.
Azevedo agreed.
“It was a success,” he said, admitting that he wasn’t completely sure what to expect from the event. “The storytellers did something that’s not easy to do, and they all pulled it off. I hope it was cathartic to some and inspiring to others, with a touch of crazy thrown in at the end.”
In other words, it was entirely human.
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[1] I had laryngitis while covering this show on Saturday, which puts a reporter in a bit of a proverbial “pickle.” But Rob and the six performers were incredibly kind and patient with me, and I’d remiss not to thank them.
