February 03, 2008

Performing during a magical time for theater arts

By Gene Krider

Recently I have been reminiscing with friends who participated in a very special time for dramatic arts in Statesville. I got inspired and wrote most of a column comparing this time, from the mid 1950s to the mid ’80s, to Camelot with our artistic endeavors being dragons slain by knights and squires, but it just did not work. I am not a writer of fantasies or magic. I can only write about my personal experiences during the times I grew up in.

Sometimes our thespian efforts seemed like there was some magic going on. I recall that after every dress rehearsal, Martha Cline would give her obligatory speech to the cast and crew before the curtains parted on opening night. She always declared that somehow we were going to have to “pull this out of the hat.” With very few exceptions, that hat did bring forth magic.

I know most about the Statesville Little Theater because I was usually involved in some part of the plays we did. Anyone who knew anything about dramatic presentation would say that particular play should not, in fact could not be done considering the primitive conditions we worked in.

I think that not only did we have some very talented people in front and behind the stage, but we had audiences who were willing to “suspend normal belief” that they were not in a real theater. Every play we did, we truly believed — like Peter Pan — that we could fly.

Just imagine doing a Neil Simon play on a stage bounded on three sides by brick walls with one opening on stage left (audience right) that led down several steps to an outside door. In clement weather we could easily walk outside to the dressing room in the museum’s “Mummy Room” (that had the only bathroom) but in inclement weather the cast was required to walk through the wet grass under umbrellas to stand poised on the steps until they heard their entrance cue.

The lighting system was one 600- watt commercial dimmer with ordinary flood lamps. We added other lights and controlled them by plugging and unplugging extension cords. When “Thurber Carnival” was produced, one scene consisted of Thurber on one side of the stage reading a letter he was writing to his publisher. On the other side a secretary was transcribing a reply to Thurber’s letter. To create the illusion that they were in two separate places, we rigged up a spotlight for each actor that would be turned on when each was speaking. One night the lighting operator got the extension cords mixed up and was lighting Thurber while the secretary read the reply in darkness. When Thurber started to speak, the light went off him and lit up the secretary. The lighting operator could not see the stage and was unaware of the mix-up.

Eventually we got enough donations of money, time and materials to build a “green room” about 12 feet wide that extended from the exterior stage door to the Mummy Room door. A restroom for the cast and crew was installed. Soon the museum’s restroom became inoperable and we were back to the audience, cast and crew using the same restroom. Intermissions were hectic.

Even under these conditions, we did plays that required a cast of dozens plus many props and costume changes. But we were putting on a play and the audience was suspending belief and magic was conjured up.