What to Expect

If anyone has a particular favorite, prepared or otherwise, they’d like to read, they go first. Otherwise:

1. All readers take one monologue each from the top of the stack and take a moment to look them over.
2. One by one, in order, readers “speak the speech.”
3. Between each speech, the group responds, explores the character.
4. Readers may read the speech again, “with feeling.”
5. When everyone has read, we pick again from the top of the pile.

And may a good time be had by all! 

Background

Spoon River Anthology (1915), by Edgar Lee Masters, is a collection of short free verse poems presented as post-mortem autobiographical “epitaphs” of 244 former citizens of the fictional Spoon River, Illinois, in which they tell the truth about their lives “with the honesty no fear of consequences enables.”

In 1963, Charles Aidman selected 75 for his stage adaptation, originally performed by 4 actors and a folk quartet.

These are the ones in the stack.

Remember the Mint?

Many of you were among the cast of 75 (a local actor or celebrity actor for each role) who performed Spoon River twice, once in the venerable Golden Circle Theatre-in-the-Round (rained in the first weekend), again in the meadow outside, across the stream (despite occasional drizzle).  I was a most memorable occasion.

Among the cast, all three local critics, (Larry Toppman, Tony Brown, and Perry Tannenbaum, the latter of whom read Barney Hainsfeather (brought down the house) and wrote the rave review that appears below.

Coincidentally…

My first college acting class assignment was Roscoe Purkapile.

Spoon River was the first play I directed out of college, in the Army overseas, in a quonset hut I turned into a theatre in my spare time (Agfnes Morehead saw my Streetcar there.)

In my first year teaching, I staged it on a hillside across a creek from a meadow, where the audience picnicked on the ground.

I’ve assigned the monologues to every student I ever taught, from teens to, most recently, the geriatric group that has become Cold Reads.

And of course, the character that bears my name speaks to my insecurities…

I have studied many times

The marble that was chiseled for me—

A Boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.

Questions?

Please comment below.

Tannenbaum Review

We Had ‘Em

Surrounded

 

By Perry Tannenbaum

 

The sky was gone, but we still had the night.

A special benefit performance of Spoon River Anthology was washed off the front lawn of Mint Museum last Monday evening as flash flood warnings swept across the state. But a hardy band of theater professionals — and a critic or three — upheld the old showbiz adage: the show must go on!

Really, there was no other choice. George Gray, founder of the Stage One umbrella organization, had rounded up over seventy performers to bring Charles Aidman’s stage adaptation of the Edgar Lee Masters poetry classic to life under the stars. Each one of us had been chosen to portray a unique character in Masters’ colossal group portrait of smalltown Americana. Most had devoted considerable effort to memorizing lines and assembling costumes (both were optional). And all of us had committed to Gray’s annual fundraiser for one night only.

Advance sales were phenomenal — so phenomenal that they nearly blew Gray’s contingency plans to smithereens. The Van Avery Forum, the indoor theater at the Mint, has a capacity of 160. Ticket sales totaled 175, despite the rainfall lashing the city. So portable seats were rushed into the center of the doughnut-shaped hall.

I wandered among the audience at intermission, already in my tailor’s rig, and asked people what the big draw was. Was it Spoon River, the rarely performed piece — or Van Avery, the rarely-used space?

None of the above. Keith Kusterer was there to see his dad, Gene, drama teacher at Providence High School. He and his mom were perched right next to the stage.

“He’s about to come up in Act 2,” Keith said, “and we’re here to see him.”

“We’re here to support him and all the other players,” Mom mildly corrected.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen my dad on stage,” Keith went on. “He’s been onstage, but that was before I was born.”

Across the hall, Bob and Pat Sailstad said they had come to support a worthwhile cause.

“We’re theater fans,” added Pat.

Bob nodded agreement with his wife. “It’s good to see so many of the people whose performances we’ve enjoyed,” he observed. Sailstad reminded me that he had acted in Charlotte Rep’s A Man for All Seasons, the first Rep offering ever at the Performing Arts Center. He especially enjoyed seeing actor Scott Helm again since Helm was a fellow alum of that show.

That made me feel a tad guilty. I had missed the CL Actor of the Year’s rendition of “Rosco Purkapile” toward the end of Act 1. Totally absorbed in my own characterization, slated toward the very end of the evening, I had been in the restroom running my lines for merely the 43rd time since dinner.

I also chatted with three ladies who were enjoying the show and the atmosphere immensely. All were fairly amazed that no group rehearsal had taken place before the performance.

Cathy Moore was visiting from Greenville, S.C., “finding out how wonderful Charlotte is.” Sissy Gottlieb and Beth Folic were showing her around.

Gottlieb said she was at the Mint “to see all the wonderful talent in Charlotte — and it’s a good cause.”

“And then,” Folic spoke pointedly, “I’m also looking forward to seeing our critics perform!”

Whoa. So much for feeling guilty. I zipped back to the restroom, slicked down my hair, and resumed my obsessing.

But hey, I wasn’t alone. More than a few of Charlotte’s best were to be seen pacing the hallways surrounding the Forum, running their lines and rehearsing their gestures. Others were huddled over scripts in the middle of the floor or on the dark staircases at the back of the museum. When I entered the men’s room, lines of poetry would be wafting up from the toilets.

Suddenly, the reason for all this tension came clear. It certainly wasn’t the size of the audience or the mystique of the place. We were performing in front of the largest group of Charlotte actors that has been assembled in recent memory – perhaps ever!

Actors ringed the circular theater sharing their jitters, encouraging each other as the moment of truth approached, and congratulating each other when they were done. Except for Jerry Colbert, who emceed, once you had done your monologue you could relax: the evening’s work was done.

Most of the actors stayed to watch their peers and return for a final curtain call. They stood in the four doorways of the Forum and sat in the aisles. Most of them were probably marveling as much as Cathy Moore and Sissy Gottlieb at all the wonderful talent onstage. The feeling of camaraderie and festivity grew stronger as the cavalcade grew longer.

As the show marched deliberately past the two-hour mark and I still hadn’t presented my nine lines, I felt just slightly inclined to strangle all those loosey-goosey performers who had begun enjoying themselves back when the evening was young. While a cloud of anxiety floated before my eyes, they were watching a pretty nifty production.

Yup, it was a good cause and a good shew. Normally this theater piece is presented by four very versatile actors. What is gained in consistency is somewhat lost in variety. There’s no possibility of seeing over 70 costumes in an orthodox Spoon River, and the virtuosity of four actors might gloss over the individuality we might see in those 70+ characters.

Gray is toying with the idea of taking a second shot at staging his Spoon fundraiser outdoors at the Mint, possibly in late September or early October. There’s certainly some positive momentum building for the Stage One concept.

TorchBearer Productions started up under the umbrella back in the spring with a new Judy Simpson Cook comedy, Cerulean Blues, and another area premiere from that group is slated next spring. VisionStages brought new excitement to the summer scene with an audacious Richard III.

With last week’s sellout at the Mint, Gray may have found the silver spoon he’s been hoping for.*