"Oooh, you want to do a profile on David Miligan?! He keeps to himself and he'll never agree to talk to you. But if he does, we all need to know if: 1. He eats! We never see him eat anything. 2. If he has a home. Only one person has ever been to his home and she has disappeared."

Before I debunk one of the myths associated with David, I need to rewind three years back. The very first time I saw David was at TheatreWorks' final tech run through of "Tinyard Hill." He was perched in the last, dimly lit row of Lucie Stern Theatre in Palo Alto. His face was illuminated by a single halogen light, which he was using to study something in one of his many binders. Only his glasses were really illuminated, which gave him a very eerie appearance, since I could not see his eyes. I waved to him, but without moving, he said nothing, and didn't seem to notice my friendly gesture. I decided to go about my business.

The second time I encountered him was during a publicity shoot in TW's studio. He came in before the talent arrived, muttered a few words to Ev Shiro, said something gruff to Jim Gross, paused, looked me up and down, and left the area. When he returned at the end of the session, he simply looked at me and then looked down at his wristwatch. Over the next year this very same scenario played out time and time again during final tech run-throughs and publicity shoots. What changed were my verbal "Hello David" greetings whenever I encountered him. He would pause, look past me, and say "Hi, Tracy it's nice to see you again." Obviously the handwriting was on the wall.

So on one fateful day, Tracy and I arrived at TW's former offices in Menlo Park, and on the side of the building I spotted David taking a smoke break. Tracy went up the stairs into the office, and since there are only five people in the state of California who still smoke, I decided it would be good to light one up and get to know David, even if that meant I would irritate him for 10 minutes.

So I sat down with him and struck up a conversation.

"Hey David, I notice that whenever we are in our publicity sessions, you check your watch quite often. What's that about?"

"I am checking to see how long you take to shoot the session," was his response.

Curious, I thought to myself, so I asked, "Well how long do we take?"

"You average between 15 to 19 minutes."

At that point he got up, put his cigarette butt into the ash can and walked into the office, saying "See you in 15 minutes."

"Ah!" I thought, "we finally bonded!"

David was born in Saginaw, Michigan, the middle son three boys; his brothers are Bob and Steve. Since his brother Steve is 6 years younger, I asked if Steve was a "mistake." David laughed and surmised that he was the mistake, and his parents waited a little while to have his younger brother. Fair enough! When he was six months old, he and his family moved to Glasgow, Montana, where his Air Force father was assigned. Prior to his Air Force career, David's pop attended and graduated from the University of Michigan, where he played football and met David's mother. He mentioned that his maternal grandmother, who was full German, supported the pre-WWII Hitler doctrine. Of course, whenever I hear the name Hitler I am a bit shocked. I have never met anyone of German ancestry who even acknowledges his name, due to the historic atrocities.

So I simply asked, "Why did she support his views?"

David explained that she felt his ideas about how to run Germany kept that country secure and safe.

After his stint in the Air Force, David's dad moved the family to Evanston, Illinois, for two years, then on to Crystal Lake, Illinois, where they lived for four years before a tornado completely destroyed their home. From there they moved to Lombard, Illinois, where David went to school until the 8th grade, before moving to Rolling Meadows, Illinois. He later graduated from Wheaton College in Illinois. From there he took an internship and moved to Weehawken, New Jersey, where he worked for New Dramatists and Playwright Horizons for 11 years.

David's own words about living on the East Coast, "I hated it!"

To put his disdain for the right coast into perspective, David lived most of his life in suburban areas. His residence on the East Coast was just above the Lincoln Tunnel. Enough said ...

David eventually made his way to the left side of the country when he accepted a job as production manager for Intiman Theatre in Seattle, where he remained for 15 years. I laughed when he described the job of production manager.

"When everything I do is done correctly, my job is invisible. When something goes wrong, regardless if it is my responsibility or not, it's the fault of the production manager."

It's interesting to note that David's position serves two very different masters: the managing director, and the artistic director.

In 2009, David made his move to TheatreWorks. His very first production was "Tinyard Hill," where I first encountered his steely, wordless, glowing glasses in the darkness.

And therein lies part of the mystery, David is a modest and relatively quiet person. Sure, there are times when he can spurt out volumes of words, but in general, he keeps to himself.

Let's get to the juicy details.

David is a self-professed confirmed bachelor. In his own words, "I have lived alone for so long now that anything anyone does that is out of my routine would be a deal breaker."

Fair enough Dave, but I said the very same thing before Tracy magically appeared in my life. Never say never.

What does David makes room for in his life? Formula One, baby! Yup, he's more than smitten, he's a whole hearted race fan. We talked at length about F1, and he rattled off several stats:

  Pit stops on average take 2.7 seconds to complete during a race.

  New rules don't allow refueling during a race.

  Red line on current cars is electronically limited to 18,000 RPM. (That is insane; we thought 14,000 on a motorcycle was beyond the laws of physics back in the day!)

  The down force aerodynamics of F1 cars is so efficient that at only 60 mph, if the car was traveling on the ceiling, it would stay stuck up there.

  My concept of drafting doesn't apply in F1. Too much turbulence behind the car.

During breaks from the F1 season, David enjoys classical music, primarily the romantics. As he was describing his love for the classics, I was reminded of Anthony Hopkins in the movie "Silence of the Lambs." Maybe it was David's steely calm expression, combined with his love of fava beans and chianti.

He's also a movie buff. His two favorites? "Brazil," directed by Terry Gilliam, and "Moulin Rouge," directed by Baz Luhrmann.

Golf? Really? Why, yes please, although he describes his handicap level as "A hack."

David's a dog lover and former owner, but sadly, his canine friend passed away several years ago. Will he get another? Only time will tell.

His other passion and happy habit are crossword puzzles, specifically the New York Times crosswords. He explained that as the week progresses the puzzles get more and more difficult. On the Sunday we met with David, he was struggling (and using profanity) about his (lack of) progress at the task. He has much disdain for those who flip the pages to look for answers, have a crossword puzzle reference book, or use Google to look up anything. He is old school.

So, back to the mysteries which puzzle his co-workers: "No one has been to David's home. David does not eat."

I asked David if he lived in his car. "No!" was his immediate answer. I can confirm this, since I inspected his vehicle and there are none of the common signs of living in a car. Although my assessment may not be accurate, since I find most of my female friends seem to live in their cars with all the shoes, clothing and makeup strewn about their interiors. Hmmm, now that I think about it, maybe it's their own version of a walk-in closet.

When I mentioned that I needed photos of him in his own environment at home he said, "No way! My house is a mess and we're not going there today."

So, I can neither confirm or deny if David has a home.

When I confronted him with one of the perceived mysteries of his co-workers, his response was, "Meredith (McDonough) has been to my house."

Interesting. A few weeks back, Meredith moved to Kentucky, to accept a position as associate artistic director, so I can't ask her about it.

In terms of David consuming food, I can confirm he does indeed eat. We met at Hobee's in Sunnyvale, David's cafe of choice most Sundays. I watched as he consumed the special, tamale pie and eggs, so one mystery has been put to rest.

Like everyone who works behind the curtain, David is both passionate and committed to his job. His steely glare is indicative of who he is as a person -- determined and committed. In many ways he goes about his sometimes thankless job, making it look effortless. He reminds me of my uncles who could always be depended upon and made their jobs look so easy, I thought I could do it. That is the true mark of someone who's got it down to a science. And that about sums up David Milligan.

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