"You can't park there," the Valet said as I locked my Honda. "Sorry," I mumbled, "Bill told me to park down below.'" "Down below's down the driveway," he instructed, "Take a left at the palm." I nodded and retrieved the keys from the too-small suit jacket I was wearing. The Bill he referred to is Bill Buerge, owner and operator of The Mountain Mermaid in Topanga, and I was already feeling out of place knowing I'd gotten a complimentary press pass to a $250. a plate evening.

My fish-out-of-water feeling swam away, however, as I bellied up to the bar and ordered a pro bono Cabernet. It wasn't the alcohol that imbued me with the sudden sense of well-being, it was the throngs of dapper men and women assembled for one selfless purpose -- raising money for Will Geer's Theatricum Botanicum.

After mingling with several of the hundred or so guests (most of whom have large amounts of discretionary income), I found a seat at one of the ten tables in the Mermaid's main room. I took a moment to admire the beauty of the space before turning to the woman seated next to me and complimenting her coat. I wouldn't normally, but this was a gorgeous patchwork of recycled fabrics that truly beaconed the eye. She told me she'd been collecting comments all evening -- which was a boon for her -- because this was Linda Loudermilk, a clothing designer who uses only recycled fabrics. "How'd you come to be here?" I queried, quaffing champagne that had miraculously appeared. "We've donated an original outfit for tonight's auction," she said, pointing to a sleek ensemble hanging nearby (this may ruin my standing in the ranks of heterosexual maledom, but I'm often rather jealous of the pretty things women get to wear).

This prompted me to rise and examine the table designated for the silent auction -- wares and services of all kinds donated by the likes of Megan Rice, Stewart Moskowitz, Claudia Gold, and the Howell Green Gallery. I was in the midst of being struck by Topangan's generosity when Mr. Buerge kicked the evening off from the center of the room. He mentioned the beauty of the night, just as the sun's last rays danced through the arched windows, but then quickly got down to business. He spoke of the importance of the Theatricum in our community and how he's personally driven to support it.

He introduced James Avery, a classically trained, African American actor with a commanding presence and stentorian voice. I'd seen this guy before, wasn't sure where, but I knew it was both stage and screen. Mr. Avery shared stories of the early days of the Theatricum, explaining that after arriving in Topanga in his last-legs car, the Geer's had given him his very professional acting job. He also quipped about the difficulties of being well trained, for he's had some disgruntled directors during his career that have actually asked him if he could "act more black."

He then announced dinner, which was provided by Chanterelle's, a catering company whose offices are located at the Theatricum. Nepotism had nothing to with their gig, however, as the food was delightful: from the truffle oil drizzled asparagus crustini, to the spinach and goat cheese stuffed chicken. The table of strangers I belonged to got to know each other as a warm sense of united purpose -- maintaining Topanga's art community -- settled over the room.

After plates were cleared, Ellen Geer spoke. She thanked everyone for their support and segued smoothly into my favorite part of the evening: a cabaret-style collection of performances -- glimpses of the four plays set to make up the Theatricum's 2005 season.

She reintroduced James Avery, who rose to drop a soliloquy from Othello on the crowd. I've often wondered what the difference is between a good actor and a bad one -- I believe it's a balance of very delicate ingredients. Whatever the mixture, Mr. Avery had the ability to enrapture the contemporary crowd with words written centuries ago. You could've heard a business card drop in his pauses as we all stared -- deer in headlights style.

He finished to a round of applause as Marshall McDaniel and Matt Keating began bowing accompanying cellos as Lexi Pearl and Will Watkins danced down a nearby staircase. The pair performed some powerfully sensual choreography with the acumen and ease of seasoned dancers. A few audience members had to dodge a foot or hand here and there, but it was a small price to pay for the beauty.

Next came a funny piece, as four actors dressed in 19th century clothes (Octavio Cardenas, Willow Geer, Mark Lewis, and Melora Marshall) sang songs and, a seemingly hilarious play set to open July 2nd at the Botanicum. I was impressed by the tautness of the singing and acting as I mused over how stressful it would be for some professional in another line of work, say accounting, to provide highlights of a presentation months in advance.

America lost one of its most talented and beloved playwrights months ago when Arthur Miller passed away. Best known for The Death of a Salesman, Miller was exceedingly prolific -- which was highlighted by Theatricum company members as they read the names and dates of his works. Once the vitae was finished, a strong cadre of performers situated throughout the room created a medley of some of Miller's best and most moving writing. I recommend you catch Miller's "The Ride Down Mount Morgan" opening July 2nd.

With the glimpse into the summer 2005 out of the way, volunteer servers delivered huge strawberry shortcakes to each table as The Betties took the floor. I've no idea how long these four young ladies (Vinessa Shaw, Inara George, Megan Geer-Alsop, Willow Geer) had practiced, but their 1940's a capella sound was seamless and enchanting. It may have been my fifth glass of Shiraz, but I could easily have believed I was in some speakeasy the night before being shipped off to the front -- here's hoping this wasn't a one-time thing and they treat Topanga to another show.

Tom Allard then rose to turn up the volume on some of the silent bidding. With costume-changing speeds approaching super-heroes, The Betties reappeared wearing original outfits to be auctioned off. Between Mr. Allard's deft auctioneering and the generosity of the crowd, each frock quickly found a happy home.

For me, the most shocking part of the evening wasn't seeing Annette Bening in attendance (although that was cool), it was watching Steve Carlson toss a gilded gauntlet at the feet of his fellow philanthropists by announcing a $20,000 matching grant on behalf of himself and his wife Leslie. For every dollar up to that amount that folks donate to the Theatricum, the Carlson's will provide an equal monetary gift (couldn't help but imagine that they could make short work of student loans!).

The evening was capped by Bill Burge and Gail McDonald Tune presenting three impromptu, Topanga-style tributes from the Theatricum Board to three public servants who helped convince the County to transfer land immediately west of the amphitheater to The Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy. In recognition of her tireless devotion, Susan Nissman received a plaque mounted on a block of wood from the old stage called the "Mountain Mama Award." Since the trademark symbol for the theatre is the oak tree, the second tribute was mounted on a section of fallen branch from a Theatricum oak -- it went to "Ginny Kruger, Earth Mother." The final award was inspired by the now famous rock that fell onto Topanga Canyon Boulevard - the "You Rock Dude! - Boulder Vision Award," read "to Zev Yaroslavsky for having a boulder vision of theatrical arts in Topanga, and for various contributions and efforts on behalf of Theatricum Botanicum for so many years. Zev, you are our Rock"

As the final round of clapping abated I realized I needed to wait a while before getting behind the wheel; nothing goes to one's head quite like an open bar. There are far worse places to sober up than Topanga's Mountain Mermaid, however, and I lent a hand folding chairs and cleaning up -- making myself feel a bit better about having been treated to such a wonderful evening.