North of Sixty

North of Sixty Blog

More Light: Solstice 2023

Dunkirk, NY – Every year at the winter solstice I post this video. This Northern Exposure clip comes from the 4th season episode Northern Lights, which explores the theme of light during the winter solstice.

Goethe’s final words: “More light.” Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that’s been our unifying cry: “More light.” Sunlight. Torchlight. Candelight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier’s Field. Little tiny flashlights for those books we read under the covers when we’re supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet.” “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” “Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom; lead thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on!” “Arise, shine, for thy light has come.” Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light. -Chris in the Morning

Another dark winter. There may be a few more on the horizon. Winter is primarily about survival. There is light at the end of this tunnel, and while it may not come as fast as one would wish, we will be marking out the days until the equinox. In the meantime, please feel free to enjoy my Solstice Podcast.  -twl

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, North of Sixty

The Summer Theatre Died – Part Four

Dunkirk NY – At first, I thought this next post in the series was going to be about the future of theatre as I see it. But it occurred to me that writing about the future is somewhat pointless if one does not have as a reference point the present state of theatre. So with that, here is a short but sweet post about the present theatrical situation as I see it.

As a prelude, let me say that I will be writing in broad generalizations and considering apparent trends. Some of what I will mention will be extrapolated conclusions from the 2022 SPPA. Other observations will come from news stories I have read. Little of it will come from direct experience, as my personal experience comes from my work in the Buffalo theatre community, which surprisingly continues to survive and even thrive (the last Artie Awards ceremony this past June sold out a 600-seat theatre). Real data is truly scarce in the theatre world, and so I will make do with what my limited resources allow me to perceive.

To begin with, I think there is no question that in 2023, theatre is struggling. Beginning in March 2020, when the pandemic hit and institutions everywhere and of every kind shut their doors, theatre was hit with a perfect storm. The pandemic closed theatres and thus their source of revenue; the social movements for diversity and inclusion began to infiltrate theatre at several levels, and the nature of theatre leadership began to change. It was an onslaught that nobody was prepared for, and it hit like a ton of bricks. Taking these three broad categories as our entry points, we can dig a little deeper into each category and check out how these events induced change and the struggle it wrought.

First, money. This one is easy. Once theatres closed and ticket sales vanished, theatre organizations were forced to cut staff, reduce shows, and beg for financial support (to the tune of millions and millions of dollars). This situation is ongoing. Most theatres today are struggling to re-capture their level of ticket sales from late 2019. Many have only gotten to the 50% mark. Many other theatres have outright closed shop. Several went into hibernation, suspending their operations until their finances could catch up. Other theatres have survived only because they have been able to raise large sums of money. Oregon Shakespeare Festival raised $9 million dollars over two campaigns to keep its doors open. Recently TheatreWorks Silicon in the San Francisco Bay Area raised $4 million to keep its doors open. But not all theatres can do that. It is becoming more and more apparent that the cost of producing a show continues to rise, as do ticket prices. In this inflationary period, however, less and less people can afford the cost of a ticket, and the breaking point where ticket prices are too expensive for all but the top 5% of earners butts up against the inability to earn enough income to meet costs of production is close at hand, if not already here.

Second, the cultural movement behind the notions of inclusion, diversity, equality and accessibility (the acronym IDEA) began to infiltrate every aspect of theatre. The theatre was perceived to be run by the white patriarchy, and those people who had previously felt excluded began to push for more IDEA in theatre. Actors’ Equity is an example of a theatre-adjacent organization that was forced to re-consider itself as an organization that had contributed to the exclusion of minorities in its membership, and so chose to open its membership to all actors who basically had ever been paid to act. Casting shows so as to provide more opportunities for minorities to perform became a larger trend than it already had been, but apart from that, placing minorities into positions of leadership became more and more prevalent. The content of plays also began to have a different shape. Plays telling stories from many other cultures and traditions began to appear on stage. Plays by African-Americans, Hispanics, Asians, Native Americans, and other people of color started appearing in theatres.

Lastly, theatrical leadship structures began to change. Broadly speaking, the theatre went from a leadership structure where one person, deemed the “Artistic Director,” decided everything about a theatre’s season, from which plays were done to who directed which plays and what actors might appear in them. Essentially, the Artistic Director was viewed as a (hopefully benevolent, but not always so) autocrat whose word was law. Over the past few years though, that model is being consigned to history, as more and more, leadership at theatres consists of committees of panels or some other communal structure where everyone’s interests are at least heard and considered, if not always put into practice. Artistic directors are not quite ruling the roost as they once did, having in many cases now to answer at least to a panel of some sort so their ideas can gain buy-in from all stakeholders.

None of all this can be said to be the cause of people no longer choosing to attend theatre, but given the large decreases in theatre attendance as surveyed by the SPPA, we should at least understand that all these forces probably play a part in creating a situation where people choose not to attend theatre. Theatre is expensive, and so young people tend to be priced out of the market. Seniors who endured through the pandemic have found other means of entertainment, and with so much entertainment available at home, they are choosing less and less to go out. Seniors are also dying, and young people are not taking their places in the seats. People who view theatre as an opportunity to escape their lives and seek some enjoyment do not want to see IDEA-based politics reflected on the stage. And for the most part, theatre is inaccessible, mostly located in geographic areas where people do not wish to travel or are difficult to get to. Put another way, theatres are generally located in “cultural” areas, and not “community” areas.

I think the best way to describe the present landscape of theatre is that it is struggling. It is struggling internally in terms of finances, leadership, IDEA, and content. It is struggling externally to find an audience that will sustain it financially and culturally. The analogy for my current relationship with theatre is that of two people drowning in the ocean. One is doing their best to calmly stay afloat, while the other is thrashing about in the sea. The one calmly floating is keeping a wary distance from the thrasher, because they know that if they get close and try to save the thrasher, both will drown. Even though I have spent the better part of 50 years participating in the theatre, right now I am keeping my distance for fear of getting caught in the struggle and drowning.

What will become of this struggle? That, I think, is the subject of the next post. If we have at least a broad contour of the present situation, we are in a better position to consider what the future may bring. Hint: I don’t think it will be pretty.  -twl

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, Entropy Chronicles, North of Sixty, Theatre

The Summer Theatre Died – Part Three

Dunkirk NY – If you’re one of those persons eager to bootstrap a theatre company, let me just say this – I admire you, and wish you luck. Seriously. The push is on in theatre journalism to report some good news, and there have been a few articles in the major national newspapers from New York, DC, and Chicago touting some good news. American Theatre magazine is also doing its part to paint a rosier picture of the theatrical landscape as we head into 2024. So maybe your plans to start a theatre with some of your friends and colleagues may not be such a bad idea, after all. But please be warned: the odds of starting and sustaining a viable theatre are just as long and just as against you as the odds are of becoming a sustainable working actor.

In this post, I want to examine more closely the relationship between a theatre and its audience by digging just a tad deeper into the demographic information contained in the NEA’s Survey of Public Participation in the Arts (SPPA). A deep look at this data should reveal to us in some measure what the demographic is for a successful theatre, and by extension what the market is for one. Not to give away the ending, but one thing should be immediately clear – theatre is a niche product. It appeals to a small and select group of individuals, and anyone contemplating starting a theatre has at least two choices: tap into the niche demographic, or grow and develop a different one. What we will find in the end is that there is no broad market to tap.

The two charts below will provide us with the data we need. Take a look at them.

Source: “Arts Participation Patterns in 2022: Highlights from the Survey of Public Participation in the Art”, National Endowment for the Arts

The charts compare the numbers from the 2017 SPPA to the 2022 numbers. The first thing you will notice is that, in the column labeled “Percentage Point Change”, every row has decreased, with the unusual category of ‘Highest Level of Education:Grade School” in the non-musical plays chart going up 0.6 points, from 0.9% to 1.5%. In short, and as noted in Part 2, the market is declining at all levels.

Looking at specific categories and their decline, the ones that stand out most are as follows. Let’s start with attendance at musicals:

  • Females dropped from 19.9% to 11.5%, a -8.4 percentage point (pp) decrease.
  • Whites dropped from 20.2% to 12.9%, a -7.3 pp decrease.
  • Adults 65-74 years of age went from 20.2% to 9.6%, a whopping -10.6 pp decrease
  • Adults with graduate degrees dropped from 34% to 20.9%, a -13.1 pp decrease, the largest in this category.

When it came to attendance at non-musical plays, the numbers paint a similar picture:

  • The only category to drop double digits was the Graduate Degree category. Those with graduate degrees attending plays went from 21.6% to 10.1%, an 11.5 pp decrease.
  • In the Race/Ethnicity category, whites dropped from 11.6% to 5.3%, a -6.3 pp decrease.
  • The three sustaining age categories (and by this I mean people who probably have the means to afford theatre tickets) also saw significant drops. 45-54 went from 10% to 4.4% (-5.6 pp); 55-64 went from 9.7% to 3.8% (-5.9 pp); and 65-74 went from 11.5% to 5.2% (-6.3 pp).

And across both musicals and plays, perhaps the most troubling decreases are among college-educated people. I won’t list the numbers here; you can find them on the charts. But the numbers are staggering in their percentage decreases, among the highest percentage point decreases across all categories. College-educated people seem to have stopped attending theatre in droves.

So, if we go down the charts using the 2022 numbers, and pick the highest percentage number out of each category to determine who the best demographic target is for your new theatre, we would want to at the very least try to attract the following audiences:

  • For musicals, we would want to attract white females age 25-34 with a college degree, preferably a graduate or professional degree.
  • For non-musical plays, it would be a white female age 35-44 with a college degree, preferably a graduate or professional degree. Of significant note, though, is that white females are only one-tenth of a percentage point higher than Black females statistically, as the race/ethnicity category shows African Americans at 5.2% of attendance, and whites at 5.3% of attendance.

In short, if you want to start a successful and sustainable theatre, your best bet is to appeal to professional women age 25-44, programming content that speaks to their lives and issues, and (although I don’t have any data at all for this) also appeals to their children, should they have any. It will pay to be inclusive and diverse in your content and casting. Occasionally it will also pay to produce content for female senior citizens (Menopause the Musical serves as the prime example).

You can, of course, extrapolate from this data, but it’s risky at best. Would rom-coms help bring in more males on dates with their partners? Would LGBTQ+ content expand the audience (one category the SPPA has not seemed to want to touch at all is sexual preference. That data would be most interesting)? Should children’s theatre be an element? Would after school activities that can serve as a daycare service help sustain the bottom line? All these extrapolations, however, maintain the female-centric nature of your theatre. You’re not doing David Mamet any time soon.

As to the actual data itself, there are some things to take into consideration. The first is that the data does not concern itself solely with professionally-produced art. If you went to see your child in their university production of The Glass Menagerie, you could truthfully answer “yes” to the question “did you attend at least one arts event in the past 12 months?” Plays and pageants presented at houses of religious worship count. In short, you did not have to attend a professionally-produced play or musical to answer “yes.”

Another aspect of the survey is that it does not indicate how many people who answered the questions are themselves artists. I have always been interested in trying to find a data set that removes from the data any artists who attend arts events. As an example, in an average theatre audience, if you remove any audience members who are also theatre artists, as well as members of the production’s families and their friends, how many people do you have left in the audience who have no relation at all with anyone connected to the production or the art form? In other words, how many people with no connection at all to the production or the art form professionally bought a ticket? That’s the data I would like to have, and if we had it, I believe the picture would be far more disastrous than it already is. I suspect the largest category of people seeing theatre is theatre people and their family and friends.

I cannot with any degree of certainty say that there are not other niches out there that would do as well. At the community-based level, it is absolutely critical that you do the necessary marketing to find what that niche is. It is not enough simply to say “I want to start a theatre doing XX.” You need to know what the market will support. Personal example: at one point in I believe the mid-90s I was approached about starting a Shakespeare company in my region. The first thing I told the proposed financer was the need to do a market study. We discovered that the region would only support a Shakespeare company if it were located in some proximity to Chautauqua Institution (10 minutes away or less), and we could convince the people there to leave the grounds and attend the shows. I also worked up a first-year capital investment budget, which paid the actors and accounted for technical needs, that came to $30K. The idea soon died, because the market was not there, making a $30K investment (or any investment, for that matter) a waste of money.

In conclusion, there is no broad market for “theatre.” The data points this out quite clearly. The data also points out that the success of building a sustainable theatre that has the capacity to support artists at even a modest standard of living is slim, given the low demand. Your odds of starting and sustaining a theatre are about as great as becoming a Broadway star, which makes either path viable once seen through this prism.

In Part Four, I will speculate as to “what comes next.” The short answer is I’ve no idea. With the data as dismal as it is, with major theatres closing and crumbling, and with interest in theatre within the divided culture we inhabit about as low as it can get, I believe whatever comes next will take several generations to produce. I’ll leave you with this quote from the 2022 SPPA:

At the same time, one should gravely view the overall declines in visual and performing arts attendance, based on the activity types that are listed in the survey. Those activities include art museum or gallery visits, and attendance at jazz, classical, or Latin/salsa music performances, musical and non-musical plays (emphasis mine), craft fairs and outdoor performing arts festivals, opera, and ballet and other dance forms. Ramifications of those declines were still being felt in the summer of 2023, when the closing of many regional theater organizations and shows began to make national news.

-twl

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, Entropy Chronicles, North of Sixty, Theatre

The Summer Theatre Died – Part Two

Dunkirk NY – Of all the pieces of data that exist relative to attendance at performing arts events, none is more comprehensive than the National Endowment for the Arts’ Survey of Public Participation in the Arts (SPPA). Begun in 1982, the SPPA has undergone some changes over the years, and has added categories as new types of arts (mainly digital) were created. Their core “benchmark” categories, however, have remain largely unchanged, and theatre is one of those core benchmarks. What I’d like to do here is give a rough overview of the information contained in the SPPA; I hope a deeper dive will follow once all the supporting data is released. It’s my belief that the data available in this report, which is usually released about every five years, is the most ignored data set among theatre practitioners and theorists today. The NEA just released its summary findings this past October detailing the years from 2017-2022, and as usual, the news is sobering.

One look at this table might be all you need to grasp the issue:

Source: Arts Participation Patterns in 2022: Highlights from the Survey of Public Participation in the Arts 2022

The basic question asked of participants goes something like this: In the past year, have you attended at least one (insert art event)?. As the table makes clear, from 2017 to 2022, attendance at musical stage plays fell from 16.5% of respondents attending one musical, to 10.3%, a -6.2 percentage point drop, and a -38% rate of change. Non-musical stage plays went from 9.4% to 4.5%, a -4.9 percentage point drop, and a -52% rate of change. People continue to abandon theatre-going as a cultural activity.

Now, I realize these numbers are raw. They tell us attendance is dropping, but they do not tell us why. And we also know that this survey data takes in the worst of the pandemic years, when theatres across the country shut down. So the data might possibly be skewed a bit, and may not be representative of actual trends.  But you can also look at these two timeline graphs, which show the percentages from 2002-2017:

Musical Stage Plays

Non-musical Stage Plays

The numbers were always low, but with the 2022 data, the numbers have never been lower. 2017 was a banner year that seemed to stop the bleeding a little bit, but the trend has always been downward.

What to make of this broad data? If we think of theatre as a marketplace commodity, then the most obvious conclusion is that, for whatever reason, the market is drying up. If theatre is to be sustainable, and if we want artists to be able to create sustainable lifestyles through their art, then there must, first of all, be a market (and hopefully a growing one) for their product. But the data says, at this point in time, there is virtually no market, and whatever market is left is shrinking rapidly. If you don’t have a market for your services/theatre, then the question of building a sustainable theatre endeavor is moot, or at the very best, foolhardy.

To put it plainly, theatre is dying because the market for theatre is dying. All the theatres that closed or reduced their seasons over the summer have clearly seen the writing on the wall. Theatres that have remained open have, on the whole, yet to recover to their pre-pandemic numbers. In a stagnant and shrinking market, it is clearly an immense challenge to think about creating a sustainable career in theatre, no matter how you go about doing it. Theatre is in an entropic spiral, and usually when that occurs, it’s best to let the spiral take its course, much like the best option when fighting a forest fire is simply to let itself burn out.

I want to keep this post relatively short so as to lay a foundation for a closer look at the SPPA data. Probably after the Thanksgiving holiday I’ll get another post written that will take a look at the demographic data contained in the report. In the meantime, if you’d like to get a jump on that post, you can find the 2023 SPPA Summary report on the NEA website.  -twl

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, Entropy Chronicles, North of Sixty, Theatre

The Summer Theatre Died – Part One

Dunkirk NY – Recently, I went down a rabbit hole of theatrical news and information. I did so because the news of theatres closing and shrinking across the country was front and center this past summer, and I wanted to see if I could find out more about the causes. Down somewhere at the very depths of this particular rabbit hole, I found a Substack written by a former collaborator and theatre blogger from back in the 2000s. His name is Scott Walters, and his substack has the same name as his former blog – Theatre Ideas. I was also at that time writing my own blog entitled A Poor Player, and we started corresponding. We found we had similar interests and background, as we were both academics who had come to believe that the academic model for theatre departments was, to put it bluntly, based on a collection of myths and outright lies. We decided to collaborate on a presentation for the 2014 (I believe) Southeast Theatre Conference. Our presentation was based on facts and statistics we had collected demonstrating the statistical odds against a theatre student becoming a successful actor, and why theatre departments should pivot away from the “pre-professional” model of training and begin to develop educational models that emphasized personal empowerment for theatre artists in creating their own work and creating a smaller, sustainable career model that emphasized, not stardom, but a sustainable creative life and lifestyle. After that presentation, though, we drifted apart as I retired, and then he went on to pursue other interests until he retired as well. It has only been recently that I discovered he has begun writing again about theatre, and basically putting forward many of the same ideas we suggested in that presentation.

I mention all this because Scott has recently released an ebook entitled Building a Sustainable Theatre: How to Remove Gatekeepers and Take Control of your Artistic Career. I read it, and it made me – well, the best word I have found to describe my reaction is sad. I became sad when I realized, upon finishing reading it, that the book is 10-15 years too late. If it had come out in 2010, it would have been revolutionary. In 2023, however, the book has no relevance, not because it’s a bad book with bad ideas – far from it. It’s just that theatre, as an art form, is dying, and despite the book’s good intentions, its fundamental premises and suggestions don’t apply to the 2023 realities of theatre.

I am hoping with this series of essays (and I don’t know yet how many I will write) to explain why I think theatre is an art form on serious life support, and perhaps should have its plug pulled. I am extremely pessimistic about the short-term viability of theatre, and I have no idea at all where theatre will find itself in the long term. There is clearly an entropic spiral taking place at the moment, and the unrelenting news over this past summer detailing theatres reducing offerings and/or closing altogether was stunning in its scope. I don’t know what to say to people anymore who ask me about theatre and the state thereof, and I also don’t know what to make anymore of my career as a lifelong theatre artist.

I don’t think I am going to shed any new light here. Rather, I think this series of essays will more like a purge of thoughts, feelings, and observations about where theatre is at today. I don’t have solutions. I don’t intend to look for any. Whatever solutions lie out there will probably come to fruition after I’ve passed on. The issues in theatre are inextricably tied to the cultural climate we find ourselves in now – divided and uncertain. I can only say this for certain – my continued interest and participation in the theatre will only happen because I don’t know how to do much of anything else. I’ve been on stage since the age of 8, and I really never learned any other skills besides teaching and doing theatre. And there’s really not much more for me to pivot to at my age. What you’ll be reading will be a purging of a life spent in an art form that has lost its cultural relevance. In a sense, I think it’s time to say goodbye and godspeed.  -twl

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, Entropy Chronicles, North of Sixty, Theatre

RIP Gerry Maher

Gerry and me – Romeo and Juliet 2015

Dunkirk NY – Yesterday I attended the memorial for one of the finest actors – and finest people – I’ve ever known. If ever there was a person who fully embodied the Stanislavski quote “There are no small parts; only small actors,” it was Gerry. He was no small actor. He turned every role he ever got into a masterpiece. There was nothing small about Gerry: not his roles, not his talent, not his heart. You might get me to concede he was small in stature, but that only made everything else about him seem that much bigger.

As Henry IV in Henry IV, Part 2

I cannot recall exactly when I first met Gerry, but my first strong recollection of him was in the audition session for the production of Henry IV Part 2 that I directed for Shakespeare in Delaware Park in 1999. He spoke the language eloquently, with a clear affection for it. He was not someone I had initially conceived of for the part of Bolingbroke/Henry IV, but there was something about his bearing on stage that echoed Henry IV as an older man, years apart from the person who deposed Richard II. “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown” is the last line of Henry IV’s opening monologue, and it seemed to be living in Gerry. So I cast him in the role, and he, of course, delivered, as he always did. His embodiment of an older king, regretful of his past, worn down by his obligations, and concerned for his seemingly miscreant son, was exactly what I wanted, without clearly knowing it at the time.

From that point on we developed a great friendship, one steeped in a friendly rivalry. Both of us are character actors, and often we were up for the same roles, but he always had so much more “character.” Gerry had a far more interesting character face that I’ve ever had. It looked like a face that had been dragged through 100 miles of bad road. He had a craggy look, with character lines on top of character lines. And he could turn that face into a thousand different emotions, from the sorrows of an old man whose life had been hard, to the impish joy of a sly devil who just pulled a fast one on you. I always thought he was the re-incarnation of the famous Irish actor Barry Fitzgerald. His mastery of Irish dramatic literature was well-known in Buffalo, and as I learned yesterday, he appeared in 45 productions at the Irish Classical Theatre Company in Buffalo, several of them as the classic Irish character down on his luck whose ambition was always just a little out of his reach.

Trinculo/Sebastian -The Tempest 2008

Trinculo/Sebastian – The Tempest 2008

He was a fan favorite at Shakespeare in Delaware Park as well. Perhaps our biggest “rivalry” was who could play the Gravedigger best. We’d have a good time throwing barbs at each other after seeing one another’s performance of the role. We failed, however, to achieve our shared dream of playing the two gravediggers together, alternating Gravedigger 1 and 2 each night. But we did have great fun playing Sebastian/Trinculo in The Tempest, and Pistol/Fluellen in Henry V. I think he enjoyed just a little too much giving me that leek to bite into every night in that show.

What went unspoken at his memorial, however, and which was a love shared by us both that went beyond the theatre, was our mutual love of baseball. Gerry was born in Philadelphia, and was a die-hard fan of the Phillies, dating back to the Whiz Kids era. I grew up with Mantle and Maris and the NY Yankees, so we both had baseball memories that stretched far into the past. He didn’t much like the Yankees, but he didn’t hold that against me. After a time we got into the habit of wishing each other a Happy Opening Day as each new baseball season began. During the 2009 World Series, which featured the NY Yankees against the Philadelphia Phillies, we spent the entire series texting with each other as the games were played. Last year, when the Phillies played against the cheating Houston Astros, I lent him my full support, became a temporary Philly Phanatic, and texted with him as the games were played and I ducked in and out of rehearsal to check the score. My final communication with him was just this past April, as the Yankees opened the season with their second series against the Phillies. The Yankees took that early series, two games to one. We texted a bit, and of course I had to get his opinion about the pitch clock, which he did not like at all. Here’s his response:

You can watch on YouTube game 7 of the 1952 WS (Yanks Dodgers) and to a man no hitter stepped out of the batter’s box between pitches. It was and should be the way the game is played. Fuck rules that screw with the game’s natural rhythm. Television took care of that. I think I mean that “they” keep trying to make it a TV sport when it just ain’t.

He had a deep respect for the timelessness of the game, its rhythms and flow – a reverence that matched my own. It was the last message I received from him – classic Gerry.

It’s rare to find someone in life who shares the same depth of passion for the things you revere as well. Gerry’s passion for the theatre and its rituals, and baseball and its beauty, were what we shared together. I shall miss Gerry tremendously. The knowledge that I’ll never see him on the stage again, or work with him in a show again, or text “Happy Opening Day” to him again, weighs heavy on my spirit. The greatest hardship of getting older is not the aches and pains of the body, but rather the heartaches of the soul as, one by one, you begin to lose those deep friendships that matter, knowing that they can never be replaced. My solace will lie in the fact that, when I come to work at the Irish Classical Theatre Company again in 2024, I will be able to see the ghost light that was gifted to the theatre in Gerry’s memory. It’s a fitting tribute to a man whose light shone on so many others and gave to them the gift of theatrical joy. To paraphrase Stanislavski, “There are no small lives; just small people.” Gerry’s life was a shining example of how all of us should live, taking whatever smallness we have measured against the vastness of this dark universe, and giving it a great bright light.  -twl

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, North of Sixty, The Joy of Baseball

On This Rainy Day

Dunkirk NY – I had thought over the past two days that I might write a baseball essay, something on the state of the Yankees at the mid-point of the hot stove season. But after watching the Monday Night Football game on January 2, 2023 between the Buffalo Bills and Cincinnati Bengals, wherein Damar Hamlin, a 24-year-old backup safety for the Bills, playing due to an injury to starter Micah Hyde, suffered a death-threatening injury, it seemed more appropriate, on this rainy day with AML still laid up, to write about why I seldom watch football anymore.

It’s my bad luck to live in the Buffalo region, where the Bills reign supreme. Not to be able to discuss the Bills’ season is tantamount to having nothing to talk about (of course, there’s always the snow in a pinch). The Bills are the pinnacle of culture in the area, and the so-called “Bills Mafia” is known nationally. So I keep tabs on the Bills for the sake of having the ability to make small talk about them when the occasion requires it.

But I am not the football fan I was back in the 60s and 70s. Although I grew up in the NY metropolitan area, I became a Dallas Cowboys fan, partly because I went through a quick “Western” phase of my life as a teenager, and partly because I admired “Bullet” Bob Hayes, billed as the “fastest man alive.” Speed was my one great skill as an athlete, and Bob Hayes had come to the Cowboys from a track and field career where he had won Olympic Gold in the 100m dash. I watched the Dallas Cowboys to watch Bob Hayes do his thing, and that carried over into becoming a fan of the team under Tom Landry. But now, under Jerry Jones, the Cowboys are something of a clown show, and as they became “America’s Team,” I dropped out and became less and less a fan of both the team and the sport.

The phenomenon that finally turned me away from the game, however, is what I call the “cult of celebration.” It is now common in the NFL for players to celebrate every single thing that happens on the football field. Get a first down, celebrate. Get a touchdown, celebrate. Hit a player especially hard, celebrate. But the most galling celebrations of all are the ones that come after hard and punishing hits by defensive players. The sack of a quarterback calls for shows of strength by flexing arm muscles, growls, screams of fierce pleasure, and all other sorts of displays of “emotions.” It is expected. It is not conceivable to fans or players alike these days for a lineman who has just sacked a quarterback to get up, perhaps adjust a helmet or pad, and simply walk back to the huddle, having accomplished his objective. The requisite intimidating gestures and rituals must be performed, intended to show the opponent (but mostly the crowd) how fierce and tough the player is.

To me, it is the fact that attention and praise is heaped upon those who commit the fiercest violence that is at the heart of what’s wrong with the NFL as a sport. The hypocrisy on display right now by all concerned is blatant. You can’t have it both ways: you can’t glorify the vicious hits, the level of injuries, the crippling aftermath that happens to retired players later in life such as CTE or other debilitating conditions, and then turn around and feel bad for one player whose heart stopped while on the field of play, and lies in critical condition in a hospital. If the NFL, its players, and its fans are truly serious in their concern for Mr. Hamlin, then they all should immediately cease the mindless celebration of the violence inherent in the game.

Football is a violent game, and if you choose to play it or watch it, all well and good. But the excessive glorification and celebration of the violence is unnecessary. The game was a fine game when Bob Hayes played it. The violence was there, but not unduly celebrated. I don’t remember Bob Lily or Jethro Pugh or Randy White ever performing excessive displays of celebration while they played. It’s a mindset that only feeds on itself and demands ever-increasing attempts to top that last hit. Eliminating the celebration of the inherent violence in football lies at the root of creating a mindset where the game can be played well and skillfully, but without any undue reveling in the violence.

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, North of Sixty, The Joy of Baseball

2023 and Me

Dunkirk NY – I’m not one to make resolutions. At my age, resolutions are rather pointless. As Popeye used to say, “I yam what I yam,” and for the foreseeable future I don’t see that changing all that much.

This doesn’t mean there aren’t things I can’t change. As I look forward to 2023, there are a couple of things I see changing. In no particular order, here they are:

  • I believe my active acting career has come to an end. I do not foresee any theatrical opportunities coming my way, and I don’t intend to search for any. I simply think my time is up. As an old white male, the current theatrical zeitgeist has no use for me; and to be perfectly candid, I have no use for it. I have nothing really useful to contribute to the current political and social justice conversations taking place, so I believe the best thing I can actually contribute is to step away and let others have their opportunity to create the theatre they want to see. I’ve had my fun, I’ve had a good career and a good run, and now it’s time to let others have their careers and fun (although I think theatre as “fun” has all but disappeared; it’s all too serious at the moment). This is NOT to say I might not consider a fantastic opportunity should it materialize. In this business I don’t think you ever actually, completely “retire.” But on the whole, it looks like the end has arrived. I’m OK with this.
  • I will be looking for more creative opportunities in the following areas:
    • Podcasting. I enjoy doing my podcast for the 1891 Fredonia Opera House, but I’d like to do at least one more that has more of my own interests and concerns at heart.
    • Local theatre. If I do any theatre at all, it’s probably going to be of a local nature. And my preference will be to direct, not act.
    • Writing. I’d like to get this blog a bit more active (doesn’t every blogger say that on New Year’s Day?). To do this, I have to get over the psychological hump I have about “having something to say.” I think I need to leave that more to the reader, and perhaps change my perspective to “having something someone wants or needs to hear.” I would like to write a short book on acting, as I believe the Stanisalvski method is not ideal for the 21st century anymore. I’d also like to write more haikus. To do this, I need to get out more.
    • Get moving. I am not a workout freak by any means, but I need to get out more and get moving. The pandemic had me walking a lot more, but as other situations that needed my attention came about, I lost the rhythm and routine. I need to re-capture that this year. 30 minutes of walking at least every other day should not be this hard to build into the day.
    • Traveling. I am not at this point what that might mean. As AML’s foot continues to heal, most thoughts about traveling will have to take into account how much she is capable of doing. I do not think international travel is on the horizon yet. Travel is always difficult because the worst thing about traveling is the actual traveling. I do not like the process involved in getting on flights and flying; everything about it completely sucks, and serves as a discouragement against traveling. But perhaps next year things will ease off a bit, or I just might have to suck it up and take one of those pre-arranged tours. Maybe at my age they are not so bad after all.
  • I have to spend some time considering where I want to spend the final years of my life. Right now, and for the next few years at least, where I am is fine. But it will not be fine in another 7-10 years. There are a lot of factors to consider, and unfortunately the final decision will no doubt involve a lot of compromise. This is all in the nature of long-term planning, but at this point, 5 to 10 years is now considered long term

I think that’s about it for now. AML won’t be out of a restrictive leg device until around St. Patrick’s Day, and in the meantime I’ll be mostly in the house attending to her needs, cooking meals, doing wash, etc. It will be dull, but there is no escape from it. Generally speaking, I am hoping that 2023 will be able to offer a bit more freedom in my life, a bit more of doing what I’d like to do, and less of doing things I am obligated to do. And perhaps that’s the 2023 goal in a nutshell: more freedom, less obligation. -twl

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, North of Sixty, retirement, Theatre

Year in Review – 2022

Dunkirk NY – This year I did not write a holiday letter for friends and family. I put out a call for end-of-year blurbs, but no takers. Everyone wants to edit what I write. So I decided – fuck it. I’ll just write my own update here on my blog, and whoever manages to find it and read it, well, I hope you had a good holiday. Here’s my 2022 in review.

I started the year off by taking a job delivering flowers with the local flower shop. They needed someone as a replacement driver to deliver flowers for one of their employees who goes to Florida every winter. AML happened to be in the flower shop and overheard the conversation, so she told me about it. I decided to take it because I thought getting out to go to a job would be mentally helpful, and it was. The schedule was easy because there are two drivers, and we work five days on and five days off. I worked until the first week in May. Some days it was difficult due to weather conditions, but it forced me to engage winter a little bit, and when you can go out and experience the day, you feel better. At least I did. I was all set to do it again this winter until AML had her surgery (see below), so taking care of her has meant giving up the job this winter. But I enjoyed the people and they seemed to like my work, so hopefully the 2023-24 winter I can take the job again.

My 70th Birthday Poster

I turned 70 in February. It has felt like a significant number. I think it may warrant its own essay. Suffice to say there seem to be aches and pains that come with turning 70, as well as a noticeable decrease in the ability to do and recover from physical labor. It’s not as easy as it used to be.

A Full Dumpster

In March I cleaned out my office and threw away a lifetime of books. I filled a huge dumpster almost 3/4 full with books alone. Some of them were Tony’s books as well. I did not want to throw out the books, but I felt in the end I had no choice. No one wants books anymore.

Me, Marion, AML, Rocco

In May we went to LI to celebrate AML’s sister’s 75th birthday as well as attend a memorial service for her cousin Joyce. It was actually quite fun. AML caught up with a lot of her family, and we also caught up with our old neighbors from Woodhaven in the late 70s, Rocco and Marion. They were the best neighbors we’ve ever had, and they looked great! The 75th party went off very well, and Jackie felt very special. It turned out to be a pretty good trip.

I had two theatre gigs this year. Shakespeare in Delaware Park returned to doing two full shows, and I began rehearsal for Midsummer Night’s Dream, playing Bottom. This was a role I was supposed to do in 2020. I hung on to the part through the pandemic, in the belief that this was also going to be the last show Saul Elkin would direct. However, he turned 90, and he decided that working in the conditions on the hill would be too much, so he backed off from directing the show and turned it over to someone else. I decided to stick with it.

“I have had a dream”

Rehearsals began in mid-June, and the first real rehearsal nearly killed me. I was completely out of shape and unprepared for how exhausted I became. I think ordinarily you don’t want a 70-year-old Bottom, but since I felt committed to the role, I stayed with it. Working in Delaware Park is quite an exhausting task even under normal circumstances. For me, it’s an hour commute one way, so basically 100 miles of driving six nights a week. There is one day off, as the shows run Tuesday-Sunday. And unfortunately for me, about halfway through the run, just when I felt I had actually broken through the fatigue factor and my body had become acclimated to the physical routine, I slipped slightly on stage at the end of one performance and pulled my right hamstring muscle.

Injured hammy

I had to do about two weeks of the run now carrying a walking stick for support on stage, and icing in between scenes, not to mention taking a lot of ibuprofen and Motrin. I got through it each night, but in the end, I had mixed emotions. It was fun, yes, but the sheer physical effort took a good portion of the fun out of it. I came away with the belief that the summer of 2022 was my last summer on the hill. Even if any offered role was a relatively easy one, just the thought of 6 nights a week of a 100-mile commute on top of a nightly performance seems too much. I think it may be time to pass the torch to the younger generation and call it quits.

I did receive a Career Achievement Award at the Buffalo Arties in June, which was wholly and completely unexpected. I was honored for both my 30-year career in the community and also my career as an educator at Fredonia. It was kind of a shock, to be honest. I’m not a fan of awards, and I am not good being at the center of attention, but I got through the ceremony OK. It’s always nice to be appreciated for your work.

 

Cabin in the Woods

I made a lot of improvements on the land as well. I now have a new Amish-built shed which I will be using as a cabin in the future. It came in early July, but of course I was usually too tired and busy to enjoy it much. I did manage to get a floor installed before winter came. We also had the loft area of the RV repaired, so that makes the RV in better working condition than it had been. No trips, however. We got the RV up to the campsite for the summer, but it remained mostly unused. I just don’t have the physical energy or capability to do both a show and the work on the land. So the land remains as it is, but it’s now in much better shape I think. Unfortunately I ruined the Kodiak Canvas tent by leaving it up and letting the grass around it get too wet, creating bad mold. It was a stupid decision, and I regret it a lot. I want to replace the tent, but it’s too expensive, and I have made a resolution not to buy any more camping gear unless I absolutely need it. I have been buying things I think I will need, but then never use – a waste of money. I am attempting this coming year to avoid doing that, only buying items when I absolutely need them. I have plenty of outdoor gear as it is, and I need to put that to good use first before buying any more.

The Chosen

In late September I began rehearsals for my second show of the year – The Chosen, at the Jewish Repertory Theatre of Western NY. I played Reb Saunders, a Hasidic tzaddick whose son befriends an Orthodox Jewish boy in Williamsburg in 1942. I had played the other father, David Malter, a yeshiva teacher, 20 years ago. It had been the very first show of the JRT, and they were celebrating their 20th anniversary season with a remount. Saul Elkin co-directed the production; he had played Reb Saunders in the first production. Saul had offered me the part in March, and I had to grow my beard out as much as I could for 7 months. It got to be quite good sized, and I toyed with the idea of keeping it, since the look was so unique.  But in the end I returned to my low-maintenance look, which I guess I prefer. A bit neater, and it’s easier to eat.

The show itself was very successful, but it was beset with a few issues. We had to cancel opening weekend due to two cast members getting Covid (as well as during rehearsals), so we lost performances there. Then Snovember 2.0 hit in Buffalo, which wiped out 2 performances. I had to get an AirBnB in Buffalo to be sure I had any chance of getting to performances. Because we lost all the shows, we added one more Sunday matinee just before Thanksgiving, a performance not originally scheduled, but which did sell out.

It’s also apparent that Covid-19 is still out there, as a planned Thanksgiving week in Oneonta with Brian and his family was ruined by Brian getting Covid. Then his partner Marisa also got it. Jenna had flown out from WA state, and Eric was with us in the AirBnB we rented for that weekend. The plan was to have Thanksgiving dinner all together, but once Brian got Covid everything was done via Zoom. We watched cricket matches and World Cup matches and movies via Zoom, as well as shuttling food back and forth. Not at all what we were hoping for. Brian was pretty devastated, but we just all worked through it as best we could. So I had a lot of exposure to Covid over the fall, but did not get it. I got all the latest boosters, as well as shingles shots and pneumonia and flu shots, so I am immunized up the wazoo.

We also dealt with Eric moving to Brooklyn to take a job in May, but then by November he was back home, as the job didn’t suit him. He is trying to open an acting studio in Rochester NY, and just recently he got a full-time job in a Rochester hotel, so he is moving there and will be trying to build up his studio while doing the job. I am scheduled to do some teaching for him, so it looks like some commuting to and from Rochester is in the offing for 2023.

I am also continuing my podcast (see sidebar on the right), which I’ve been doing for 18 months now for the 1891 Fredonia Opera House. I enjoy it, and I would love to think of some kind of podcast I could create that would have a wider audience. Podcasting is fun and not too difficult, and for me would pass the time as well as some other type of craft. I have been trying to create a baseball podcast with Eric, but he is too scattered and busy with his own projects to do anything on a regular basis. I think that’s the biggest problem with a podcast – it requires a schedule, and I am not sure I like having a schedule. One of the best aspects of retirement is no schedule. I enjoy getting up and having nothing to do, but some days the time is harder to fill than others. The podcast schedule is not difficult, but it has to come out every other Wednesday no matter what. I can’t push it off. But once it’s complete and ready to drop, I feel great having produced another one.

I am ending 2022 being AML’s live-in health aide as she recovers from some voluntary foot surgery. She had three pins put into her left foot which will allow her to stand and walk much longer once she fully recovers. She had the surgery Dec. 7th, and she’s currently in a cast and can’t put weight on her foot at all. So she’s wheelchair-bound and forced to sleep in one position with her leg elevated all day. Eric has been doing the cooking while I have been taking care of getting her about the house and seeing to her daily (and nightly) needs. She will get a walking boot in January and be in that for another 6 weeks before that comes off, so hopefully by St. Patrick’s Day she will be ready for physical therapy to get strength back in the foot and leg. It’s a long process, but the end result should be worth it. I must say, between my daughter, my brother, and AML, I am becoming an expert in home health care.

So there are your 2022 highlights. It’s hard to plan these days for anything, so 2023 does not have any major events planned yet outside Brian’s wedding to his partner in Oct., and a trip to the World Baseball Classic with Eric in March. I think my acting days are done, as I don’t expect to receive any offers, so perhaps this is the summer of true relaxing on the land, and a nice fall trip with AML’s healed foot. Those are our hopes, at any rate. Life, as it always does, will throw a few curve balls my way, but like any good hitter, you look for the fastball, and adjust to the curve. Happy New Year!  -twl

 

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, North of Sixty

RIP Stephen Sondheim

Dunkirk NY – We were in the midst of rehearsing our high school production of Guys and Dolls, in which I was playing Nathan Detroit. Somewhere in the month of May 1970, our director took me and the kid playing Sky Masterson to New York City for dinner and a show. The show was Company, which had just opened. The role of Bobby was being played by Dean Jones, so that’s how I know it was sometime between the show’s opening on April 26, 1970, and when Jones left the production on May 28, 1970, to be replaced by Larry Kert.

I was, at the time, unaware that Stephen Sondheim had written the lyrics for West Side Story, so for me, this felt like a show from a brand new composer. I was in awe of the show. When you consider the moments in life that influence you in a profound and lasting way, this was one of those moments. I can still see and hear most of the show in my head, and I think that may be the reason why it remains my favorite of all his shows. It was also the first experience I had with the idea that two opposite ideas can be simultaneously true at the same time – “Sorry-Grateful.”

I am just slightly too young to have experienced the musicals of the late 40s-mid-60s, but I grew up listening to their sound tracks. With the arrival of Andrew Lloyd Weber in the late 70s, musicals for me became superficial and largely uninteresting (exceptions are there, of course). Sondheim came along just at the right time for me, an 18-year-old intellectual wanna-be who was just heading off to college to become a high school English teacher. Sondheim, to me, wrote musicals for intellectuals; people and artists who understood that the deepest emotions and the most soaring philosophical questions are best captured with the most profound words and the most poignant music. A little dissonance goes a long way as well.

Sondheim is his own theatrical era. From 1970-1990, no one mattered more in the musical theatre realm than Stephen Sondheim. As musicals in the 80s and beyond grew to nothing more than entertainment and spectacles for tourists, Sondheim was the last man standing who wrote musicals that had something to say about the holistic nature of the human experience. Instinctively, at 18, I understood that. As with Shakespeare, Sondheim was interested in the depths of human experience, something I’ve always searched for in my own journey through the theatre as well. Sondheim gained fame, not as a popular composer whose tunes were hummable, but as an artist of incredible nuance, complexity, and depth.

Over time I developed a reputation for disliking musicals. Truth be told, I probably cultivated that a bit. I could sing fairly well as a youth, but I never took singing lessons, and so never pursued musicals as a career choice (much to the disapointment of my mother). I was pretty vocal about my dislike of musicals while in college. When people would ask me if I liked musicals, I would often answer “no – except Sondheim.” The truth really stands in the middle, though. I do not dislike the musical form. I dislike bad musicals as I dislike bad plays. It always seemed, however, that people wanted to talk about bad musicals more than good plays.

I became obsessed with Shakespeare, and doing his plays became my life’s artistic work.  Shakespeare and Sondheim are, to me, kindred spirits, working at a level that no one else could possibly match. When I had to direct a musical, I always looked to a Sondheim title first. Often those titles were turned down because they had no dancing, or they wouldn’t draw enough of an audience. There were always more reason not to do Sondheim than to do him. But his work was always my first choice.

My one appearance in a Sondheim musical was as Fredrik Egerman in A Little Night Music. I was cast primarily because the director felt the role required an actor who could sing, not vice-versa. It was challenging, to say the least, and I am sure that my performance lacked the high level of musical deftness the role required. The music did not come naturally; nothing about it was like singing a folk song or a Rogers and Hammerstein composition. I had to work at it and pay attention to it, which no doubt took away any easiness in the performance. When the production closed, I came away with a new, deeper appreciation for Sondheim as a theatrical talent. I also came away knowing I could never do that again, that it takes a certain type of talent to perform in a Sondheim musical.

I also had one opportunity to direct a Sondheim musical after years of trying – Into the Woods (I’ve directed three productions of West Side Story, but I don’t count them as Sondheim works, as he “only” wrote the lyrics). I was better at directing Sondheim than acting in his work, because I understood the work at an intellectual level and had enough ability to get my ideas across to the cast (I had a marvelous cast for that production as well). The cast pressed me to write to Sondheim and invite him to the college to see the show and maybe do a master class. I thought this was a fruitless exercise, but I managed to get his NYC address, and did write the letter. To my astonishment, he wrote back, using a little monogrammed notecard. Apparently he was famous for answering every single card or note he received. He expressed his regret at not being able to attend. I had written a gushing little “fanboy” sentence or two about how I saw Dean Jones as an 18-year-old in Company, and how taken I was with Ann Reinking’s performance of the Tick-Tock Dance. He politely corrected me, letting me know it was Donna McKechnie, not Ann Reinking. The card is one of my most cherished possessions.

Not surprisingly, he stands in his own world as an outsider. His work never achieved “popular” acclaim, being deemed “too deep” or “too intellectual.” You had to think when you saw a Sondheim musical. He was introverted and solitary. He never caused a scandal, was never known to berate other artists, had a reputation as a tough but gentle teacher. He never flaunted his fame, nor does it appear he ever did anything in his artistic career to attract attention to himself. If he supported any causes at all, he did so quietly and without attention. He accepted his accolades with generosity and humility. If he was in a room he was always the most prominent person there, but he had an apparent knack for disappearing into the background as the event took place. It was never, ever about him – it was always about the work, the art, the questions about living.

Stephen Sondheim’s work, like Shakespeare’s, will stand the test of time because it delves into the timeless questions that haunt life itself. His death brings the curtain down definitively on an era; there will be no more curtain calls. And in my opinion, no one is there to pick up the hat.  -twl

Posted by poorplayer in All Posts, Essays, North of Sixty