On a snowy Thursday in early March, as another promising storm descended upon a winter-worn Island, the stage lights at the Martha’s Vineyard Playhouse were burning brightly in preparation for the rehearsal of a reading of Twelve Angry Jurors.

I had invited the Peter Luce Play Readers, who primarily reside at the Tisbury Senior Center, to share their talents with the public on our Patricia Neal Stage. (Side note — Peter Luce and Patricia Neal had both performed in this very theatre!)

The maestro of this particular dramatic endeavor on this particular snowy day was my longtime friend, director Leslie J. Stark. He had arrived at the theatre early, very early, armed with yellow cards meticulously numbered for each juror; and scads of pads of white paper for each reader/ juror to thoughtfully jot down their notes while deliberating.

Leslie, said I, the snow is really coming down now! Yes, said he, but this is our only chance to rehearse. Do you think, I asked, that anyone will show up in this weather? Of course, he replied. Well at least, I suggested, let’s try to end rehearsal before dark and before the roads get really icy!

Leslie and I hunkered down to await the readers. On the stage, we set up tables, we set up chairs. We discussed sight lines and entrances and exits. And one by one, almost every one of the Play Readers arrived on time, in the snow, to rehearse.

Hours went by, the snow continued to fall and still Leslie and the Play Readers held forth. From my office below, I listened to the rehearsal — Leslie was passionate, he was forthright, he cajoled and he was bossy (as directors must sometimes be). His readers listened and agreed and argued and laughed; all in all it was a fine rehearsal that ended when it was supposed to end, which was long after the sun went down. The next night, the sold-out public reading ended with a standing ovation. Outside it was bitterly cold and treacherous; inside the room was filled with light and pride and applause and in the center of it all was Leslie J. Stark.

I’m thinking Leslie is standing now, center stage, in the light, beaming broadly and taking his final bow. His death last week left an awful lot of us bereft and wondering how such a man could touch us in such a profound way. I personally had the privilege and pleasure to work with him for many years in the Martha’s Vineyard Cancer Support Group and also at the theatre. Our relationship went beyond our volunteer efforts and dramatic endeavors, though; he was always there for me, and also for Paul, through many rough patches. My heart is filled with gratitude for such a friend.

Many tributes have been paid to him this week and they are true: Leslie J. Stark helped and inspired people, old friends and new acquaintances. He listened carefully; he was wise and kind and a man of his word. He was a survivor and an amazing husband, father and brother. He loved theatre and jazz and Shakespeare and music and literature. He reached out and encouraged so many with thoughtful cards, phone calls and emails. It seemed like everyone on the Island was his best friend. At least that’s the way he made you feel. He was outgoing and friendly and lived every moment, one day at a time, right to the end.

At the playhouse, I directed Leslie three different times in It’s A Wonderful Life: The Radio Play. He voiced many characters in this production, including Mr. Bailey and Mr. Partridge, the school principal who gleefully jumps into the gymnasium pool. But I’ll always hear his voice as the radio announcer, his deep, booming voice starting the play with “Broadcasting live from . . .” and ending the play with “Signing off for the broadcast day! Good night and . . . happy holidays!”

Good night to you, dear friend. And thank you for recycling those pads of paper from the reading last March — they will last a long, long time in our theatre office; but of course not as long as our memories and love for you.

MJ Bruder Munafo is artistic and executive director for the Martha’s Vineyard Playhouse.