Beloved Stage Actor Sam Mossler Passes Unexpectedly

In twenty-plus years of writing stories, you tend to run the gamut in terms of the tales you tell. You write about people and their accomplishments, social issues, inequities, injustices and so much more. Ultimately, you write about life. From time to time, however, you must write about death. As fate would have it, a considerable portion of my stock and trade has come by way of chronicling the sum total of a human life at their passing. Sometimes, it makes sense–a tribute to the natural order of the way things shake out in this reality we share. Other times, the author is not as fortunate as was the case when I learned that, Sam Mossler, my favorite local actor, had unexpectedly passed in his sleep this week.

I fell in love with the stage when I was a very young boy. It was third grade, and I'd landed a small part in the class Thanksgiving play, a space opera about a crew of humans marooned on an uncharted planet during the holiday. While the play itself was a steaming pile of turkey dung, the idea that a cast of 9 year-olds could take a manuscript conceived by someone they'd never met and hold an admittedly-captive audience's attention for 45 minutes did seem oddly intoxicating.

About halfway through my journalism career, someone discovered that a public policy analyst and novelist who used to be a professional prizefighter also had a soft spot for playacting, and I was invited to cover a season of the FSU/Asolo Conservatory for Actors Training. In the years that followed, I began to cover other companies, including the Asolo Rep, Urbanite, and the Florida Studio Theatre, giving me the opportunity to not only see hundreds of first-rate productions but to meet and befriend some very talented artists.

After one of my first FST reviews, I received a lovely thank you note from Sam, a company regular whom I'd lauded for an exceptional performance in a supporting role. It was beyond sincere and sparked a conversation that lasted for years, brief but meaningful exchanges between two people that shared an unflappable belief in the beauty of humankind–even when it required that you look extra hard for it.

Sam had this unique, uncanny ability to straddle the line between the melancholy an artist always seems too good at sniffing out and the jubilant sincerity that can be afforded to those best equipped to see true beauty in this world wherever it might present itself. Some people say artists are sensitive. I think that’s true in the sense that they seem to feel more deeply than the average person or at least have a talent for expressing those emotions and turning them into something–whether it be their art or even just an observation–that can bring others to the fold.

I reached out to Sam at the beginning of the COVID shutdown to see how things were going and how he felt they might shake out if and when live performances became a thing again. Sam pointed out an aspect I hadn’t even considered in that many local artists supplement their meager earnings with gigs in the bar and restaurant industry, which had also been shut down, placing many who relied on a combination of the two in further financial peril. Nevertheless, in typical fashion, Sam found something beautiful to look forward to.

"As difficult as all of this is and as worried as I am about our futures," said Sam, "as actors, I'm so glad that we have a short-hand and a collective empathy that will serve us well and keep our community intact. I've also noted among us hope and pragmatism and, in spite of our fears, a giddiness about what sort of new world we're going to be met with when we come out the other end of this."

Sam saw that future as a better place.

"Things are not going to be the same," he said. "And a lot of the new reality is really gonna suck and we'll pine for the old days, but this whole thing, I suspect, will change things in very positive ways, too. Our perspectives will be better honed. Our priorities, as well. The new world will need us–actors, artists, musicians, writers, filmmakers, teaching artists–to help society land smoothly and keep things real and warm and human. And we're gonna be so exquisitely ready to heed that call."

Sam’s words may indeed prove prophetic, but there will nonetheless be a giant, gaping hole in the local theater scene when things ultimately return to normal.

Sam Mossler was the kind of guy that left you scratching your head at how in the world you had the opportunity to see someone so talented performing in a small, local venue instead of on Broadway, television, or the silver screen. He didn’t act, so much as completely inhabit the character he was playing. He did it so well that no matter how many times you’d seen him perform or heard him speak out of character, you were nevertheless drawn instantly and effortlessly into the suspension of disbelief required of the artform.

You weren’t watching Sam Mossler playing Larry the Liquidator in Other People’s Money or real-life Civil Rights attorney and activist William Kunstler in his last lead role before the shutdown. You were watching those characters, almost as if Sam were merely a vessel through which they could completely come to life, which I suppose is exactly what is supposed to happen even if it’s an ambition not often so fully achieved, at least to such magnificent effect. He was born to play supporting roles and while Sam had the awareness not to steal a scene and could magically seem to match whomever he was sharing the stage with, it was still always his character and performance I found myself thinking about in the days that followed.

Sam spoke of playwriting and literature with an almost spiritual reverence, as if perhaps other things did matter, they just didn't matter as much. A gifted playwright, who had several of his works produced over the years, Sam taught local workshops for aspiring writers, always eager to pass along whatever he felt he’d learned about his craft, the same of which has been said by many less experienced actors who had the privilege of working with him. The hilarious, self-authored bio on his website is not only an insight into his life and accomplishments but his wit and sense of humor.

More than anything, though, Sam was just a beautiful human being, the sort of person you not only failed to ever hear a negative word about but one that people genuinely went out of their way to laud for his unshakable kindness and the positivity he passed forward, something that was on full display this week as friends and colleagues issued reverential remembrances following his passing. He was the sort of guy who seemed almost out of place in a world that can be as dark and depressing as the one we call home. In that sense, he will be missed more than I believe he could have ever imagined. Godspeed, Sam. Thank you for leaving this artistic community of ours a much more beautiful place than you found it.

Dennis "Mitch" Maley is an editor and columnist for The Bradenton Times. With over two decades of experience as a journalist, he has covered Manatee County governmentsince 2010. He is a graduate of Shippensburg University, where he earned a degree in Government. He later served as a Captain in the U.S. Army. Clickherefor his bio. Dennis's latest novel, Sacred Hearts, is availablehere.