For the past few days, I’ve tried and failed to put together fitting words to express my feelings about the sudden passing of Chicago actor Ben Veatch, whose face has graced the digital pages of The All Worlds Traveller this past year several times—in Blank Theatre Company’s production of A Bright Room Called Day and Promethean Theatre Ensemble’s production of The Book of Will, in which Ben also appeared in the poster image.
New Friends
Ben and I were of a similar age; we moved to Chicago within a few years of one another, around the turn of the century, and we started out in the Chicago improv community; we were both Rogers Park residents with many mutual friends.
Despite those commonalities, we had only just met in late 2024, so far as either of us could recollect, and yet because of them, by our third meeting during The Book of Will’s production photos, I felt a kinship with Ben, an interest and investment in the future as friends, neighbors, and members of the Chicago theatre community. As we gradually got to know one another, I found that Ben was warm and kind and funny.
I looked forward to what future good times our budding friendship might hold in store. We’d started to run into one another while attending plays and begun to see the work of one another’s family. Ben saw Elizabeth’s show The Sporting Life at Factory; we saw Ben’s wife Anne Smith (who played Rebecca Heminges in The Book of Will) in Titus Andronicus at Redtwist and A Christmas Carol at the Goodman. One day, Ben mentioned he was looking for work, so I connected him to a friend in staffing. This is all to say that while our friendship was new, by the end of the year, we’d collaborated on some art we were proud of, and I felt invested in our future collaboration and conversation.
Remembrance
And so it was that news of Ben’s sudden passing last week struck like a bolt of lightning. I mourn the loss of all the future conversations and collaborations we will not get to have.
I will think of Ben Veatch and remember his warmth and kindess, and I will never forget his performances—in particular a scene in The Book of Will where he moved me to tears in a speech about grief and the life-affirming power of performance. Last week, I saw that scene play in my head as I watched Ben’s wife Anne Smith perform A Christmas Carol for an audience similarly moved by the story as Anne herself flawlessly performed her part in spite of what had happened—the greatest feat of human resolve I have yet witnessed. My heart goes out to her and to Ben’s family and to all who loved Ben, just as my thoughts have been with them every day.
And my thoughts will ever remain with Ben Veatch, whose heart and good spirit I will think on just as I remember Erin Myers and Jason Chin and John Walski and Linsey Falls and Rich Hein, aka Liz Lauren, to name but a few from this community with whom my acquaintance felt all too brief; I remember their intellect, their fire, their warmth, their brilliance, their spirit, their art.
Pictures help me remember, so I will leave some here. I love these alternate takes from The Book of Will portrait session; after having worked together a couple times previously, Ben felt comfortable enough to clown around, spontaneously snapping through a variety of looks, the last of which was his favorite.
I knew Ben for just shy of 30 years. He was one of two people I considered to be my best friends. He was all those things you said and more. Thank you so much for this remembrance.
Absolutely, Jeff. Thank you for this, and I’m so sorry. He was the best.