Summer Theater on a Shoestring
By Sally Pomeran
from THE CHRISTIAN SCIENCE MONITOR, 1952
It is a summer evening. The dog lies panting at the large barn door. Within minutes the activity will begin. Moving figures will cast dancing shadows on the walls as they swing into the cowstalls carrying bits of colored fabric. Lights will be switched on, and the barn swallows will flutter about their nests. The hum of motors will fanfare the arrival of the cars; bright headlights will illumine the large red building.
People will casually amble toward the spark in the vast redness. They will congregate and chat under the old straw hat. They will sit in a circle under the rafters. The music will start as the lights dim. A hush falls, and the actors enter. The audience will laugh and weep and exclaim en masse, but few will be conscious of the excitement which heralded the creation of the phenomenon only 10 short days before.
The idea was born when a small group of us, deploring the commercial stage, realized the need to spread good theater to small towns. There seemed present the need to decentralize the theater, and in so doing provide the starved movie-fed audience with a quality of production above the average run-of-the-mill stock play.
Previously, I had considered using our own barn at Long Island for such a venture; I had even planned out an entire project, complete with blueprints. A stage would have to be built, lights and plumbing installed, insurance obtained, and scads of other details which would run into capital we could not possibly obtain. However, we felt our idea was a sound one, the project a needed one.
We had three willing people and an empty barn with which to start-why not try? With this incentive, we proceeded.
We drove from Illinois to Bellport, N.Y., our destination. From New York City came the fourth to join our group; we wired Kalamazoo for the fifth. Thus, with a prospective company of five, we launched out. The first two days we scouted around town getting local merchants interested in advertising in our program. We sent out hundreds of letters to organizations who might be interested in sponsoring benefit performances.
We chose a play to open with-the Shakespearean comedy, “The Taming of the Shrew,” which we decided to produce in-the-round-arena style, thereby eliminating the cost of stage, sets, and curtains. Arena style would also provide for the informal actor-audience contact that we wished to establish.
We would rehearse the play in the mornings, wait on tables and do outdoor work at noon to pay room and board, rehearse some more, and then jaunt off to town to have posters printed, props collected, fliers and handbills made, and answer mail. In the evenings we would rehearse again.
The cast of almost 25 had been cut to 14, but even doubling in parts, we only had half the required number of people in the cast. Thus one day when we were attending to the details of purchasing burlap and painting props, the director decided he could not possibly go on in this manner with rehearsals in such shape. Opening date was only a few days off. It looked like no theater for a while.
The posters had been printed, however, announcements distributed and we couldn’t disappoint the public at this stage. That night we found four volunteers helpers. The next day another local community actor volunteered and still another who could commute from the city and rehearse with us in the evenings. The next day our Kalamazoo partner arrived and we were set.
Since we had no scenery, a necessary and important item for color was the costuming. We could not possibly, even with all our enthusiasm, sew 14 costumes in four days. A Broadway costume house gave us a special rate of $110 for the complete rental… which we promised to pay as soon as we had our first audience.
Thus we arrived at our last day: grand opening. The hay was removed from the rafters, the walls were decobwebbed and sprayed: mirrors and make-up were installed in the modified cowstalls, and a box-office sign was placed over the tool shed. Straw hats were placed over the light bulbs and glossy photos of the actors were placed on a bulletin board in the makeshift lobby.
The actors were climbing into their costumes when we suddenly realized that no one had picked up the programs and the printer’s shop had closed at 5 o’clock. A coat was thrown around a costumed actor. As he drove frantically to the printer’s home, we quickly patched and stitched the leading actor’s tights, which had split in dress rehearsal.
Our mascot puppy, now weary after 10 days of running in and out of rehearsals and yapping at each activity, yawned and fell asleep at the barn door. As the volunteer usherettes folded the last of the programs, the cars began to arrive. The Gateway Theater was an actuality.
Much to our gratitude we received a grand response and carried on the rest of the summer with “The Importance of Being Earnest,” “Marriage Proposal,” “Physician in Spite of Himself,” and “The Skin of Our Teeth.” Toward the end of the summer, we were turning away cars. Needless to say, we covered all expenses.
We found that working for a good production demanded that many people work together cooperatively to achieve a common purpose. When so many differences were dividing the world, we found unity in oneness. We realized moreover that theater possesses the influence and power to link larger groups of the world’s peoples.
This summer we shall open the barn doors for our second season using the theater not only to entertain, but as a medium for world understanding. We welcome with open arms those who feel as we do to join us.
