Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Blow Out Your Candles, Laura


The audience applauded vigorously and the house lights were coming up. The cast for Edgewood’s production of Urine Town was making its way off stage and people were starting to chat happily and head for the doors. I sat quietly for a moment marveling again at the power of the theatre. A couple hundred people had just spent two hours thinking they were watching a comedy before realizing the joke is on all of us.  Only the theatre can present such a bitter pill with so much fun and laughter. I love that Cassie enjoys performing and was part of this show. It’s hard for me to remember all of the times I have been moved by plays either as an actor, a director, or a viewer. But I can remember the very first time a play worked its magic on me.
            Being a farm kid in southern Wisconsin in the early 1960’s had lots of advantages, but access to excellent theatre wasn’t one of them. Access to any performing art, excellent or not, was limited. We had a few country western bands and the church choir, but that was about it. I grew up doing farm chores and playing in the woods. In school I had learned to hide my insecurity behind the mask of the class clown. My handwriting might have been embarrassing and my clothes might have smelled like wood smoke, but if I could make people laugh things were ok. I had a loud voice which often got me parts in some skits and programs we did at school and in 4-H. I even got to play the lead in our Junior High production of  The Little Man Who Wasn’t There. I think I was a Martian who was invisible or something. To me “a play” was a little show that made people laugh. Was I in for a surprise.
            One day during the summer before I started high school, my older brother Glen suggested we drive to the big city of Milwaukee to see a play. I want to remember this as a spontaneous act, but in retrospect, Glen must have had some plan. I do remember being excited as Glen, my mother, my sister Karen, and I packed into the car. (I don’t know exactly why my dad didn’t go, but he wasn’t along.) Somewhere along the way I came to understand that we were headed to the Fred Miller Theatre* in downtown Milwaukee to see a production of Tennessee Williams’ play The Glass Menagerie. I had never heard of Tennessee Williams or his play, but I was up for anything. The Fred Miller Theatre was a rather small, reconverted space, but I clearly remember the stage surrounded by the audience. (I would not know it was called “theatre in the round” until much later.) As I said, I didn’t know anything about the play, but when Tom Wingfield, the young writer who feels trapped by his life, stood on stage in his pea coat and watch cap smoking a cigarette, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I was a thirteen year old farm boy who wanted more than shoveling manure and feeding cows. I understood when Tom shouted about hating his job and hoping for something more. I understood  how guilty he felt for wanting to leave when others might be left behind. It was like Tennessee Williams was reading my thoughts. When Tom comes to the end of the play and says, “ I didn’t go to the moon. I went much further - for time is the longest distance between two places”, I wept. I was too young to understand then, but watching The Glass Menagerie that night would change the course of my life. It helped me understand why theatre is so valuable in our society and why studying this art form is a worthy pursuit. It gave me the courage to tell my father – a factory machinist and a farmer who wanted me to be a lawyer – I wanted to study theatre in college. What a night!
I came to know Amanda, Laura, and Tom Wingfield much better as the years went on. Also Stanley Kowalski and Blanche Dubois and many, many others.  I even directed a production of The Glass Menagerie at Parker High School. I tried to help my students feel the power of the theatre the way I did so long ago. To this day I can’t walk into any theatre without seeing Tom in coat and cap centered in a pool of light with cigarette smoke swirling around his head. I believe he is still talking to me.  We all are trying to make sense of the world we live in and the life we are leading. How lucky I was to find Tennessee Williams on that summer night so long ago.

*The Fred Miller Theatre would become the Milwaukee Repertory Theatre in the mid 1960’s.

 

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