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Neon Prophecy Shines On
Wednesday April 13,2005
Buckaroo Sawyer
It’s early morning, only thirty days into 2004 and Mark Jamison is
heading skyward on the tiny platform of his cherry picker.  Jamison,
35, known fondly as the Neon Man, is suspended on the metal
elbow thirty-six feet above the city. It’s doubtful that he can smell
the usual fumes from the diesel lift.  The wind is especially strong,
verging on dangerous. When Jamison picks up his sign a gust of
wind pushes him into the safety gate. He pauses and catches his
balance. Mill Mountain looms in the distance. A moment later,
another gust lifts the platform pushing Jamison into a high voltage
power line. He dies immediately.

Word of Jamison’s death spread quickly through Roanoke Virginia’s
business district and artist community. Hundreds of people, some
who were more familiar with Jamison’s signs and neon shop than
the artist himself, came to the funeral. Upon the neon-rich marquee
of Roanoke’s prominent Grandin Theater, the city’s loss was evident.
Its homage read, “Now Playing, Shine on Neon Man,” the same
phrase which would eventually find itself inscribed into Jamison’s
gravestone.
Many weeks later, word of Jamison’s death reached his best friend, Slash Coleman who
was living in New England and teaching at a massage school. Coleman said he drove to
Roanoke to support Jamison’s family when he found out and while on the road began to re-
examine a mysterious prophecy that Jamison had left with him.
“Mark told me that a woman from his church pulled him aside one day and said she had a
vision of him and me playing in front of millions of people.”

Eighteen years earlier, Coleman and Jamison met as musicians at Radford University.
Coleman played the piano and Jamison played the tenor saxophone. They formed a jazz
band and toured through Abingdon, Radford, Blacksburg, Christiansburg, and Roanoke,
playing in many area restaurants, bars, and cafés. After college, when Jamison went onto
pursue a career in neon and Coleman went off to graduate school to study writing, the two
often mentioned the prophecy in jest.
“We joked that we’d maybe pick up our instruments again at the age of eighty and go on one
of those “this-is-really-our-last-tour” tours.”
When Jamison died, Coleman decided the prophecy was a mistake. Then, because of
Jamison, he moved home to Richmond, VA., after being away for more than a decade.
Playwright/ Performer
Slash Coleman
“This past year, when we were going through our divorces, Mark was always encouraging me to come back to the south to be
amongst my people. I kept saying no, no, no. It’s funny how when someone dies it can really make you evaluate what’s important in
your life.”

Coleman went to work in Richmond as an upholsterer at, Tinkers, his family’s furniture business. Life went on as usual, until he read
an article about his friend. One that, he says, changed his life forever.
Nine months after Jamison’s death, an article which first appeared in the Roanoke Times and was later carried in the Richmond Times
Dispatch, told of a surprising discovery by Jamison’s girlfriend. She was pregnant with Jamison’s child. The article not only
chronicled the profound home birth of their son, but also speculated that the ghost of Mark was in the room during the birth. The child
was named Mark Jamison Jr..

“The day I read the article, it was like a cold chill went through my body. I immediately started putting together a care package for
Mark Jr.. I gathered everything I had saved from his father - old letters, a poem, some photographs, and even a tape of our jazz
ensemble. I figured when he was ready, these things would help him get to know his father better.”

But reducing their introduction to a cardboard box full of things just didn’t seem right to Coleman. He abandoned the idea and says he
began writing a children’s book, which after a while seemed limiting as well.

“I kept seeing myself speaking to this little man, a version of my best friends son, and that’s when I knew I wanted to write something
that would actually speak to him.”

Coleman wrote “The Neon Man and Me,” a one-man-show consisting of seven first-person narratives interspersed between four
original musical compositions. The show draws on Coleman’s eighteen year friendship with Jamison and includes stories of their
travels through Virginia, their work as jazz musicians, their struggle as artists, failures as husbands, and their unique connection to a
spiritual life.  

“I mean for the show to take the place of the care package to Mark Jr. that I never mailed,” Coleman says.

Over the next few months the playwright/actor will be giving free talks at schools and community centers about their friendship, the
play, and his writing.  He’s hoping that the publicity will garner both sponsors’ support and invitations from theaters, churches, and
schools to perform his one-man-show. His first talk is scheduled at The Governor’s School in Richmond, Virginia on April 8. Speaking
to high school writers, Coleman will talk about how using humor to write about serious topics can help facilitate the healing process.
With an impressive soundtrack to the show already released on CD and a notable director, Lee Ross, (former Cirque Du Soleil lead
and screenwriter behind the film Downloading Nancy), scheduled to help direct the show, Coleman can’t help but make reference to
the prophecy.  

“Everything about this process feels so right and so guided,” Coleman says. “The show has essentially taken on a spirit of its own.”
While Coleman is in the process of setting up a tour, the show is currently in consideration for both the Philadelphia Fringe Festival
and the Berkshire Theater Festival. Coleman’s father, an artist, is making a painting of Mark that will be presented to the Jamison
family at the Roanoke premiere this summer. An important aside is that all profits from ticket sales will go toward an educational fund
for Mark Jr.. For more information visit www.slashtipher.com.
© Slash Coleman 2008