"What we have here is a lack of..."

Word has reached us that we have two matinees coming up. This Friday and next Monday at 9:30 am we are doing Act I only for school kids. There is a lot of grumbling. But the grumbling isn’t so much about having to do the matinees; the grumbling is about the lack of communication between the Powers That Be and the Company. First we heard some rumors about the matinees and at the Company meeting last night after the show the stage manager told us that he had just learned about them. He had heard the rumors and called Powers That Be to confirm.

This lack of communication seems to be SOP this year. The same thing happened with the Fred Chappell visit and dedication. A lot of people might have shown up to greet and honor Fred if we had known about it longer than two days before it happened. And that too started as a rumor that had to be tracked down and confirmed.

But what the heck do I know? I’m just an actor here.

Dogs and Bags

We had a dog in the Plymouth scene for one rehearsal. It was a chocolate Lab, but did not want to be there. A Colonist brought him on but the dog spent the whole scene straining at the leash and staring at his owner who was standing just offstage. He was cut.

Of course he reminded me of Harley, a black lab who was in the show for years. He was owned by Steve Winemiller.

In those days they would pass out evaluation sheets to some audience members. One of the evaluations was to list favorite characters from the show. Harley and I (as Old Tom) would see-saw as favorite character.

Never share the stage with an animal.

Last Thursday at final dress I noticed a paper bag in the Chapel. It is a common grocery store paper bag. There are some votive candles in it. I believe the candles were used for a couple of rehearsals in Lullaby before they got the battery powered ones. The next night – Opening – I saw the bag was still there, on the floor in the corner. As of last night it is still there. Now I’ve recruited some of the screaming chapel choir girls to join me in watching the bag to see if anyone ever bothers to clean it up.

We have designers, associate designers, assistant designers, technical directors and their assistants, crew chiefs, a props crew, three stage managers and twenty-eight Actor Techs. You’d think someone would strike the anachronistic paper bag.

I’m rooting for the bag.

Local Color

I lived in Manteo for eleven years from 1995-2006. Lisa and I operated the toy stores in Manteo and later in Kitty Hawk, eventually closing the Manteo location because we had accidentally gone into competition with ourselves and Kitty Hawk did better than Manteo.

When we moved here Alice was in fifth grade at Manteo Elementary and Max in seventh grade at Manteo Middle school. Getting my kids out of Durham Public Schools and into a good public school system was a prime factor in our decision to move to Manteo. It was our ten year plan – live on the Outer Banks while the kids made their way through school; operate a retail business to support ourselves.

A couple of years after Alice, the youngest, had graduated and gone off to college Lisa and I realized that our plan had expired, we were going on momentum alone and not really enjoying it.

So we sold out. We sold the one store in Kitty Hawk to an employee. Our little cracker box of a house on one-third acre in Manteo had absurdly tripled in price. This was at the height of the housing bubble. We priced it to sell and sell it did for what seemed to us an unbelievable amount. The Catch 22 of selling your house at that time was that you couldn’t afford to buy anything else if you were looking to upgrade. Too expensive.

So we bade farewell to Manteo. My sister and her family had lived for many years in Moore County NC and we had visited numerous times. We did some house hunting and snagged a place in the country near Carthage which is the county seat of Moore County north of Pinehurst. It was a bigger nicer house and five acres of land, much of it landscaped. For what we got for the toy store and Manteo house we were able to buy the Moore County property free and clear with no mortgage. There was local theater for me to dabble in and Raleigh and Fayetteville and their theater scene were in striking distance.

For three years we visited Manteo once a year but it wasn’t a big deal and we were happy to go home to Carthage. Then one time I went to visit Manteo by myself and suddenly it felt like going home. So I visited again and made some reconnections with old friends.

Meanwhile Alice had not only finished college but had completed two years of graduate school and bagged her Master’s degree. She moved back in with us in Carthage for a few months but no jobs in her field (or any other field for that matter – the economy crashed) were available and she had no friends there. So she decided to move back to the outer banks where she had been offered a job in retail.

I sensed my chance to get back to Manteo and helped Alice house hunt. We found a very nice condo in Pirate’s Cove that we couldn’t really afford but we leased it anyway. Alice went to work and enjoyed life at the beach with her friends. I spent all of last summer commuting once a week, half the week in Carthage, the other half in Manteo. I did nothing at all except visit the beach everyday and hang out in downtown Manteo with my friends. And while doing that I constantly was running into people I knew when I lived here and many others who were just visiting, many of them former Colonists.

(Don’t think I always live such a wastrel life of ease. The past two theater seasons, September – May, I have worked six shows each, sometimes producing, sometimes directing, sometimes acting, and frequently all three. But summers are dead in the theater world mid-state which accounts for me having the summer to play.)

Over the course of last winter Alice and I decided that we needed a cheaper place to live and I frankly needed to have some income during the summer to pay my share.

So here I am in Manteo, and really in the town, not out on the causeway. I’m doing the Colony for enough money to pay my rent here. True, I can’t spend but one night a week lounging in downtown, but doing the Colony is its own reward.

I had not intended to get all autobiographical here. I am required to spend at least an hour a day writing and sometimes when I sit down I have no idea what BLAH will spill from my brain.

My little house backs up to a church. One night about ten days ago I was sitting at my kitchen table tippy-tapping on the computer writing a journal entry at 2 am when I heard some noise outside. I stepped out on my tiny back porch to see what was going on. A terrifically drunken man was lurching his way loudly through the church parking lot. He went to the door of the church, knelt down touching the door, and loudly asked for forgiveness. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he slurred over and over. Then he puked and staggered away.

Every few years this hot issue comes up for a vote in the town of Manteo: Whether to allow liquor-by-the-drink to be sold in restaurants. It has never passed – the last time around it lost by only a few votes. This is strictly a local option matter, you can drive over the bridge and order a cocktail but not in Manteo, beer and wine only. You have to live in the town limits of vote. It is coming around again. I’m thinking of reregistering so I can vote this time. But which way would I vote? Both sides of the issue are well known. On the one side NO – we want Manteo to stay the small family-oriented village and don’t want it given over to bellowing drunks. On the other side YES – the restaurant business is mostly seasonal and the huge extra income would assist then in making it through the off season and besides, people already get bellowing drunk on beer and wine.

Over the past fall and winter my trips to Manteo to hang out became few and far between as I was heavily involved in the mid-state show business but I did manage to make it at least once a month. Finding an open restaurant was sometimes difficult and you can fire a cannon down the main street of Manteo with no danger in February.

Last Friday I went out to run some errands and was startled to fine the roads jam packed with cars creeping along. What was going on? Of course it dawned on me that it was the Friday of the Memorial Day weekend and the tourists were flocking to the beach, bicycles, cargo carriers and surfboards strapped to the tops of their cars and minivans.

Last night was my first night off after getting the Colony open. I went downtown and hung out on the patio of the Full Moon Café with friends and greeting others as they passed by. There were two weddings in town last evening. Weddings are big business in Manteo. We were treated to not one but two freshly married couples making their way to the waterfront for photos. The brides were radiant. Brides always are.

Home again.

There were bellowing drunks.

Colony Connection

Many years ago I met Clark & Melissa Nicholson at the Lost Colony and then they hung out working the shows I was producing and living in my TV room and Clark made Alice’s little crutch for the Colony and then Clark & Melissa went to Harrisburg PA and opened their own theater and hired Melissa Anne Blizzard who I knew at the Colony her first year but she didn’t know Clark & Melissa at the Colony but being a Colony veteran helped her get the job with them. Alice & her crutch retired from the show and her brother Max was working props one year and found her crutch on the burn pile and fetched it home where it lives in the umbrella stand by the front door. A few years later back at the Colony again I met young Robbie Gay who continued to work at the Colony and met Melissa Anne Blizzard when she came back to the Colony a few years later but I had thrown in the towel and moved away from Manteo. And then Melissa Anne Blizzard went to Myrtle Beach to be a costumer at some school and I was starting yet another doomed small theater start-up (my specialty) in Southern Pines NC and Robbie Gay came to direct it and live in my TV room. And we needed a costumer so he suggested Melissa Anne Blizzard and I said ‘I Know Her’ so she came to Southern Pines and while hanging out we discovered our Colony connection to Clark & Melissa in Harrisburg PA so one day on my way to rehearsal I grabbed Alice’s little crutch out of the umbrella stand and took it with me and asked Melissa Anne Blizzard to stand outside holding Alice’s little crutch over her head for a picture and she thought I was strange but she did it and then I emailed the picture to Clark & Melissa. So this picture exists only because of my Lost Colony connection with Clark & Melissa and Robbie Gay and Melissa Anne Blizzard and Alice’s little crutch.

Welcome to my brain.

Eternal Opening Night

            When I was a young man working in Equity dinner theater  I met a veteran actor named Sidney Breese. He was eighty years old at the time. We had a mad frantic anxiety-filled rehearsal period. I was Technical Director and a brand new Equity Stage Manager. I don’t think I have ever had such a terror-driven experience as getting that show open (it was “Everybody Loves Opal” with Martha Raye who was, shall we say, difficult).

            After the successful opening I was having a drink with some of the cast and expressed my relief to Sidney and my disbelief that we had actually pulled it off.

            “It’s always a miracle when you get a show open,” he told me. “When I was in radio we got used to having a miracle happen every week. And doing live television was pretty much a miracle every second. But stage work – that’s always a miracle when it opens on schedule and goes well.”

            Last night we opened the 74^th season of The Lost Colony.

The miracle happened.

It was an excellent show. Some very minor flubs and technical glitches, but nothing out of the ordinary or that the audience was aware of.

This season is dedicated to former director Fred Chappell. There was a reception for him in the Gardens but I didn’t attend. Instead I snuck out of backstage and hung out at the alumni table by the front gate with Gail, Maggie, Doc and Mike and watched the audience stream down the path from the parking lot. The audience – the final element.

At half-hour I went back and got dressed, then wandered the back deck. The smoke from the nearby wildfire was not too bad last night and frequently blew away altogether. It was a beautiful evening looking over the sound, enjoying God’s Green Room.

           Come time travel with me.

Colonists in costume, Indians in full paint, the Queen being trussed into her massive dress, frantic walkie talkie chatter, Pavannes standing in a clump well away from Indian paint, props laid out on both tables, Brendan (Historian/Sir Walter) pacing the lower boat deck muttering lines, Sydney (Eleanor), Brett (Borden) and a few others in depression rags which they wear in Prologue jarringly juxtaposed with much of the company in their Queen’s Garden finery, the smell of freshly charged pyro devices, the children sequestered on one bench with a couple of parents (Valerie Medlin!) in charge of keeping them quiet, a backstage tour shuffles through, costumers bustling back and forth, stage manager calls echoing over the backstage PA system.

            I had a hunch and went to the backstage Queen’s Path and there I found General Manger Michael Hardy with Fred Chappell, waiting to enter for the dedication. Fred looks just the same. A warm greeting ensued; he was unaware that I was back in the pageant.

            After the dedication and other opening night recognition of major donors, blah blah blah, we started.

            And it went.

            You alumni know what it is like backstage during a performance. For those readers who don’t – it is a carefully choreographed         set-piece in itself as over a hundred people go about their business, each following their individual tracks. And the choreography isn’t planned, it just happens, and once established it rarely varies.

            Red soldiers frantically making the change from Amadas and Barlowe into Queen’s Garden, armor clattering to the ground, different armor being slapped on; Dancer Indians charging off to the showers to reappear as Buskar dancers in Plymouth;

“Clear!” as the huts are struck and stowed; the vendor carts for Plymouth being wheeled into place for their entrance, during the Ralph Lane scene the foliage is struck – “Clear!” The Plymouth ramp contraption (which hasn’t changed in all my years, it is still the same pieces – the way it wobbles when you make the turn) hurried on stage while medicine man Uppowoc (Jimmie Lee Brooks) cries to the gods, just seconds before the lights come up for Plymouth; the scurry up the ramp at the end of the scene and the even faster exit down the back stairs (hold up your capes); the intermission scene change – “Clear!”

            I won’t go into Act II because I rarely leave the stage during that act except for my change into depression garb during Queen’s Chamber – hurrying to enter from the Indian Stage for Baby Funeral/Mad Marge/Pot Scene. Also I leave briefly for a mad costume change behind Father Martin’s Cabin to enter in vestments for Christening, and after Small Skirmish I sit on the steps to the parapet and put on my knee pads because I’m about to start keeling over in the sand.

            Last night most tracks were highly focused, it was only the second time we’d gone through without stopping. As we get comfortable these tracks will get to be such second nature that we’ll barely think about them.

            Final March.

            You alumni know exactly what I’m talking about

           

            After the show was the opening night reception at the Lost Colony Building. You want to know how to attract a crowd of show people? Free food and drink, that’s how. And my, don’t we all clean up nicely. After three weeks of only seeing each other in grubby work apparel, covered with dirt and sand and sweat, it was a shocker to see everyone cleaned and dressed up.

            I had a chance to talk some with Fred and Agnes Chappell, and there were many other familiar faces of people from years gone by, and so many of the local folks that I knew from my decade of living in Manteo.

           

            When that affair wound down most of the company went back to The Grove for skits and M-M-M-Amoeba. I did not attend, my old arthritic knees were giving out.

            But Slaughter is tonight. I’ll be there.

            And so will you.

Opening Night Tonight!

            We had a fairly smooth full dress rehearsal last night. There was an audience of maybe 200 people which to me and most others meant that last night was opening. After the stop and start tech rehearsals of this past week it was a joy to run the whole thing straight through.

            After the run we gathered in the house for notes. We thought we were done but ATs were held to have a scene shift rehearsal. It started at midnight and I don’t know how long it went. Principals and some others were excused.

            I don’t have too much to say today, I’m very focused and rather jittery about official opening this evening.

            Thanks for all the “break-a-legs.”

            See ya out there in the sand.

Urinal Commandments

This evening when I went into the men's dressing room bathroom I encountered the following instructions:

It reminded me of the sign that used to be over the urinals in the old men's dressing room bathroom:

No Fireworks

     And that says it all.
   

Someone Is Watching

            It was a late, late night last night into this morning.

            We ran everything in real time with no stops all the way through Big Battle and then screeched to a halt so that we could tech the second half of Act II. Big long waits while the shift into Queen’s Chamber was engineered. Ditto the top of the Pot Scene (also referred to as Baby Funeral or Mad Marge) with fog and snow. My section of the Pot Scene has the only dialogue I have in the show – “And you will stay with John Borden” etc. – so that was moderately fun. Most everything else I say is prayer monologues. Final March – well – we ran that umpteen times.

            When you go that late everyone gets a bit giddy, even me. I know the difference between me giddy and me, well, asleep, is slight, but giddy I was.

            We finished up at about 2 am.

            I’ve discovered the secret of happiness.

            Happiness is comfortable shoes.

            The Colony supplies shoes for Principals (and others but not everyone) but they are the cheapest most ill-fitting footwear ever made. I think they date from Soviet Union Made in Yugoslavia days.

            After suffering greatly on Tuesday night I went off to Rack Room yesterday and found some footwear that closely matches the supplied shoes. I was a good boy and cleared their use with the costume department. I won’t say that my feet weren’t killing me by about midnight, but it was just normal feet-killing pain, not the horror of the night before.

            Happiness.

            Former Colony director Fred Chappell is coming to town. They are dedicating the season to him. I am eager to see him. I’ve now worked with four directors here, but Fred is my first and I always think of him as “my” director.

            Everything I know about acting in The Lost Colony I learned from Fred Chappell.

            Some of his most oft repeated notes:

            If you take a dramatic pause between lines and you think the pause is just exactly right – it’s too long. The audience is way ahead of you. Pick it up.

            Bigger, louder, faster.

            One of the favorite notes he, or any director, has ever given to me personally. It was an Old Tom year and the production as a whole was fairly sluggish. He took me aside and whispered:

            “Don, I don’t care what else is going on. I need you to drive this mother. Drive it! Push it through to the end or we are fucked.”

            I did my best for him.

            Bigger, louder, faster.

            The most important note he ever gave. Fred would work extensively with the Crowd. You alumni know what I mean when I refer to the Crowd. For you uninitiated an explanation is in order.

In many scenes there are lots and lots of people on stage. They are the Indians in the opening Amadas and Barlowe scene; they are the party-goers in Queen’s Garden; they are the townspeople and departing Colonists in the Plymouth scene; the Colonists on Roanoke Island in Act II.

Do you alumni remember the years when the Crowd would ad lib? That’s gone and has been gone for years.  And a pity it is. A few mumbles is what we get now.

But the heaviest loss has been the individual stories that members of the Crowd used to tell. And this was Fred’s note:

No matter how many people are on stage, there are a thousand-plus people in the audience on any given night. Someone in the audience is watching YOU. Someone is following YOUR story. Who are you? Are you getting on the ship for the new world willingly? Did you just get out of prison? Are you married? Are you and your spouse happy or at odds about departing? You – apple seller – are you having good sales today? Are you getting over an unhappy love affair with the fishmonger? When you get to the New World are you happy you came or do you think you’ve been duped into this mad adventure? Are we sorry to see you killed in the battles, and do we root for you to join the exodus from the fort, or be disappointed that you are a traitor at the end? What is your story?

            Someone is watching you.

            And if you are standing there with your mouth open (watch out for bugs flying into your mouth), unfocused or thinking about the upcoming party or your chances with so-and-so, or cutting up and playing onstage games – someone is watching you and you have shattered the illusion. You have failed. Find another line of work. You don’t belong on stage. You are a waste of space and there are a few thousand other young actors who will audition next year for the chance to be in the Crowd.

            Someone is watching you.

            And of course - bigger, louder, faster.

Tech Night II

            Last night was technical work through of Act II…well almost.

            We congregated at the usual 7 pm call time and were informed that we would go at 9 pm. There was a lot of grumbling about having to sit around for that long. There were a few little spot rehearsals but most of the company sat around griping about having to sit around. So it goes.

            For me Act II is way more interesting than Act I. Father Martin is onstage for almost the whole act (excepting Queen’s Chamber when I am madly changing clothes). Granted, he spends a whole lot of time standing around and lying in his bed – but at least he’s there. So I was busy instead of aimlessly wandering backstage for hours.

            It was the same stop/back up/start/repeat/repeat/repeat as the night before but we were ready for it.

            When we got to Yule Log “Noel, Noel, Noel” I lit the log. Yes, I actually get to play with fire! A stop was called. The Choir repeatedly ran through “Noel” while the sound designer set levels. Oops! The Yule Log actually caught on fire. There is a hollowed out, metal lined opening that the audience can’t see which is where the flammable materiel that I light is stashed. But it isn’t meant to burn for so long and the log caught fire. I was going to douse it with sand but others ran up and did it before I could bend my aching back over to do it. Anyway – Log saved.

(Time travel – when we were waiting to carry in the log in my Old Tom with Stacy as Agona days she would lead us in singing the log song from the “Ren & Stimpy” show. “It’s Log! It’s Log! It’s big, it’s heavy, it’s wood!” Also in those days my daughter Alice would ride on the log waving.)

It was now about midnight. A ten minute break was called.

How fast can a whole lot of people shed their many layers of authentic wool and leather costumes?

Really, really fast. And furthermore they can reappear fully dressed ten minutes later, but oh – those few minutes of relief…

Smoking is not allowed in costume, except for tights and show tee shirts. There are three of us male Principals who indulge in the filthy, nasty, blah-blah-blah habit. Me, Terry (Governor White) and Louis (Old Tom – all the best Old Toms are smokers). We disrobed in record time and trooped out to the smoking area in our tights and tee shirts. A truly lovely sight but who the hell cares it had been nearly FOUR HOURS. Standing room only in the smoking area, it was packed with members from all departments, all of them in a similar state of undress. Ah – bonding.

            We had just reassembled on stage when the wind kicked up. We were informed that a huge thunderstorm was bearing down on us and we were to take shelter in the dressing rooms. Out came many smart phones and radar was consulted. Monster storm!

            (Note to self: At some point write a long piece about how the evolution of cell phones with web access and texting has changed life at the Colony.)

            They called rehearsal at about 12:30. We changed, turned in microphones, struck props. Then a long wet sprint to the parking lot in the pouring rain.

            There was some jubilation about canceling, but it just means that we’ll have to finish teching the thing tonight instead of having a quick final dress.

            And we didn’t even get to Big Battle.

Prologue?

           Mayhap I spoke too soon about the cutting of Prologue. Today’s rehearsal schedule includes a couple of hours of Prologue rehearsal with The Historian and Choir.

            I and others assumed that once we had teched the opening without that sequence it was set in stone. I guess the director lost that battle and is putting it back in.

Tech Night 1

            Last night was technical rehearsal for Act I. Costumes were added and costume changes were rehearsed.

            Mostly the night was about lights. The designer and crew have been playing with the lights the past few nights, but last night belonged to them. Our Tony winning Broadway designer has brought in a Tony winning lighting designer this year. New lighting equipment has been going up, and down. They’ve removed the front row of seating and are trying out footlights. I’m assured that the flooding problem that used to be prevalent down by the stage has been solved, but…

The lighting is going to be brilliant.

            We started the evening under the heaviest smoke from the fire near Stumpy Point that we have had to deal with so far, thick blankets of peat smoke and a constant rain of drifting ash. Pompeii jokes were made. (Fire update: A couple of days ago the fire was “85% contained” but after some high winds it is now only 65% contained and yesterday jumped the firebreak. The town of Stumpy Point is under a voluntary evacuation. There is real danger to the town.)

We were sent into the dressing rooms to get into costume. (Note to self: boxer shorts don’t do well with wearing tights).

            It was a kick to see the costumes and the company in them. The Indians did not paint except for the leads, but they were in their costumes and wigs.

            We all were pretty excited when we started. The Indians made their entrance and…

            Hold.

            Friends, we started the work through at 8:30 pm. When we were dismissed at 2 am we had reached the top of Plymouth.

           

This is as good a place as any to announce that Prologue has been cut. We rehearsed it a lot, but a couple of days ago a rehearsal was held and ‘Snip!’

 It’s gone. The show starts with Indian Dance. When they are half way through the dance they stop and freeze. The Historian takes place on the Jetty and begins: “In the time of Queen Elizabeth I many…blah blah….incantations and rites before their gods.” The dance resumes and Amadas and Barlowe storm in down the aisles (the lead character in said storming is of course Father Martin, although he doesn’t storm, not in the dress he’s wearing, rather he strides quickly yet piously).

            Along about 10:30 we were blessed in that the wind shifted slightly and the smoke blew away. We had a very light rain for awhile but the remainder of the night was smoke-free.

            After my star turn in Amadas and Barlowe I knew that at the pace we were going it would be a long haul before I made my next entrance in Plymouth so I shed my costume and went to street clothes (wearing my tights under my jeans and my show tee shirt). No smoking in costume! I spent some time at the top of the hill with Robert Midgette discussing years gone by, time traveling. At one point there was a solid 45 minute hold to figure out the engineering of the scene change and Red Soldier costume change going into the Queen’s Garden scene. We finally moved on.

            I wandered the backstage at about midnight. The earlier excitement was gone. There were Colonists sleeping everywhere, on the benches, on the decks and on the stairs. In one clump Allison (Mrs. Manteo), a headlamp attached to her head, was reading aloud to a dozing group.

            By the side of the women’s dressing room, facing the sound, I discovered Lynda Clark, our Queen, still in full costume perched on a bench, her dresser Olivia was attempting to massage Lynda’s neck, which was cramping and seizing up from wearing the heavy crown. The enormous wisk (whisk? I can’t find any reference to that item of apparel) was also still in place, preventing her from leaning back. Lynda is one tough cookie but she was close to tears.

            Now, dealing with, or at least observing, Queens in costume for many years I was stunned that Lynda has been wearing that get up for nearly four hours! I finally decided to have a minor hissy fit which, as those of you who know me are aware, involves raising my voice to an audible level. I had Olivia inquire up the chain about allowing the Queen to remove her crown and wisk. Permission granted, and after backing up and running the Crossover scene one last time, Lynda was allowed to take off the dress as well.

            Also greatly suffering were the female Pavane dancers in their enormous costumes. They were also allowed to shed.

            We were getting close (sort of) to Plymouth, so I went in to get into my next costume, mainly because it was something to do. Then I wandered some more. Most of the company was sleeping now.

            My knees were giving me fits. I have arthritis in both knees and sometimes they pain me a lot, especially late at night. I made my way to the top of the hill and sat in the top row, close to nodding off myself.

            When we reached the top of Plymouth we stopped. Costumes off, a later call time was given for today, and out of there at 2 o’clock.

            We never did reach my second entrance.

Scarred For Life

            Waiting to enter the Plymouth departure scene we were talking about the battle sequence. One of the Actor Techs remarked that he saw the show when he was a child and was terrified by the gunfire and carnage that takes place. He said it scarred him for years.

            I think this might be a catchy new advertising hook:

            “The Lost Colony – Scarring Children Since 1937.”

How It Works

            I’ve been remiss in explaining to non-alumni just how this pageant works.

            Auditions are held in February and March in several locations including South Eastern Theater Conference in Atlanta, Institute of Outdoor Drama in Chapel Hill, UPTA in Memphis, and of course local auditions in Manteo.

            Out of this mish mash of seeing hundreds, if not thousands, of auditioners, approximately one hundred are chosen, as well as technical staff (stage managers, lighting crew, property crew, and others).

            The cast breakdown is:

            Dancers. They obviously dance, but are also part of the crowd scenes and are given minor speaking roles (which are auditioned here after rehearsals begin).

            Choir. The same – they sing, and lead the crowd in singing, and are also minor characters.

            Actor Technicians. There are the cast members who do all of the technical work. They are the hardest working members of the company. I remember someone describing what an AT does: “We lift heavy shit and stand in the crowd.”

            Principals are the leading characters in the show. They don’t really do anything except perform, and offers to help out are generally rebuffed. “Stay out of the way of the people doing the real work backstage.” That’s our motto.

            During the day in the rehearsal period you’ll generally find the Choir practicing in the administrative building, the dancers will be dancing in the Gazebo (which is an enclosed rehearsal hall backstage), the Actor Techs are doing a hundred different things all the way from digging trenches to run underground cables to freshening up paint on scenery, rebuilding old scenery, helping the lighting crew, pounding down nails that have popped up on the stage during the winter and a million other things. The properties crew are freshening and repairing old props or building new ones. The sound and light departments are working on their projects. The Principals rehearse their scenes on the stage, with minor characters being pulled off their other duties on join in.

            In the evenings the full company comes together in the theater to rehearse from 7 pm – 11 pm.

            One department I haven’t mentioned yet is the costume department. Those people are working the longest hours of the company in the costume shop. There are over one thousand costumes in the show. About four years ago the costume shop burned down in the middle of the night in the off season taking not only the costumes-in-use but also seventy years of historic costumes and many props, costume bibles, and a wealth of irreplaceable memorabilia. Massive fundraising drew over a million dollars (I’ve also heard the number was closer to two million) to replace the costumes and the entire show was redesigned and built in time for the following summer.

            All of us in the cast have been in for a costume fitting at least once in the past two weeks but other than that we don’t see the costume department very much. This will change tonight.

            I also need to mention the administrative staff. They work all year long to prepare and execute the many things that must happen to get this monster lurching into motion in May. As busy as it is on the north end of Roanoke Island during the summer it can be a long, cold and lonely slog through the winter for these people.

            All of these elements having been working, separately and together, to cook this feast. It all must come out done at the same time.

            Last night was the last full run for actors that we’ll have until Wednesday night. The next two nights we add costumes, lights and sound.

            A Monster.

            

Commenting Made Easier

     A reminder that I've fiddled with the "commenting" settings and made it easier. You don't have to register. Also on the right side of the page below my picture you will see a list of recent comments.

Moon Not Come Big

This year they’re once again trying to let Manteo and Wanchese speak better English. They do this every few years and they think it’s a radical break with tradition, when in fact it’s been done before, and before, and before…

            I’ve noticed this loss of collective memory. The other night the director spoke of another “tradition” that’s been altered this year, the “tradition” that the entire company (excepting Indians and Principals) participate in the intermission scene change, when in fact that “tradition” is only about five years old. It used to be that the Actor Techs and technical staff would do the scene shift, and damn proud of it. They are back to that this year.

            Of course my memory only goes back 19 years. It could be that this cycle keeps rolling around every few years.

            So when evil King Wanchese threatens the Colonists he no longer says “When moon come big, white men be gone!”

            Now he says: “By the next full moon all you white people will be gone!”

High Barbary

Here are a few seconds of "High Barbary" from the top of the Plymouth scene. The quality is not good. Just used my iphone.

Fighting Words

     Here are some words that are sure to stir up interest:
     This afternoon we are staging the curtain call.

Time Tripping Again

Tonight I came unstuck in time again during rehearsal.

I have a long break in Act I between Prologue and Plymouth so I went up to the breezeway for a smoke. Soon enough I’ll have to keep myself backstage so I wander while I can. I sat on the bench across from the house right gift shop kiosk and listened to Queen’s Garden.

Flash – I was back in time to 2004. That year I was not in the show, but I worked the gift kiosk almost every night. Usually I worked the house left kiosk and most nights my house right kiosk co-worker was Beth Jones Kraft. We always sat and smoked during Act I.

I sat there tonight as I did many nights smoking with Beth. Lots of people joined us, as they did in ’04. Fred Murray was one. I think he was board president at the time.  This was the year that it was discovered that a long-time trusted employee had been embezzling funds for years, so that was always a hot topic of conversation. We discussed the various shortcomings of the 2004 production and all agreed that the show wasn’t as good as it used to be. Highly original.  

My entrance for Plymouth was approaching. I bade farewell to Beth and Fred and went to my place. They’ll be waiting there for those who can see them.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

            Father Martin has an alter boy in the Christening scene (stop that snickering).

            There are two children’s casts that alternate performances (except Wano).

            One of my alter boys is a tow headed kid named Eli. He is about three feet tall and maybe six years old.

            A couple nights ago we were working through Act II and we worked through Christening, then we went back and worked it again. And then again.

            The third time he came to stand by me Eli gave a great sigh and said:

            “Why is this so long?”

"Comment" Changes

     I've finally gotten around to exploring blog gimmicks and have made some changes that will make it easier to comment as well as view recent comments without having to recheck all the entries.
     I have opened up the comments so that anyone can comment without having to register. Sorry for the hassle. One thing I have left is that you have to retype the wavy letters/numbers. It really cuts down on the spam. Let me know if commenting is easier.
    Also, if you scroll down below my lovely face on the right you will see a little of the most recent comments that have been made. If you see something interesting click on it to go to the post and comment.
    Also if you want to contact me without commenting you'll see my email address on the front page up at the top (I think).
    Yesterday (Friday) I recorded 226 page views, the highest yet. Who are you people?
    Thanks for reading.
   

Safety Nagging

Yesterday morning bright and early (9am) we all made our way to the theater and were treated to a firearms safety presentation. Pyro tech Stephanie nagged us about being careful and threatened to fine our asses if she caught us fooling around with weapons. Then Jon Bender and Tom Filkens proceeded to shoot the usual balloons and water jugs to illustrate that blanks are still dangerous. Stephanie scolded us about being careful with torches.

Message: Fire is bad and don’t shoot anyone.

Father Martin does not use firearms. During Big Battle he hovers in his cabin acting very concerned about the whole thing and helps some injured Colonists. Then he cowers and whimpers with Hillary Wright.

The only year I handled guns was in 1999 when I played Captain Dare. I carried a loaded weapon into Yule and used it to dispatch an Indian at the top of the battle. Then I ran off, grabbed another loaded gun and reentered to fire as part of a volley. Then I milled around for a few seconds, then bought it.

Yes, I’m one of the very few Captain Dares that didn’t get it from an arrow at the top of the battle (which is how Ananias gets it this year). What happened was that evil Wanchese picked up a rifle from a downed Colonist and fired it at John Borden (Brandon Smiley). But Captain Dare bravely jumped in front of Borden and took the shot in the gut. This all happened upstage. After getting shot I would stagger all the way down center holding my guts, turn to face Eleanor, scream “NOOOOO!” and dive face first into the sand. Also in that year Eleanor (Ellie Brown) would pull the loaded pistol conveniently stashed in my belt and use it to finish off Wanchese. At the end of the battle John Borden picked me up and carried me, Pieta-like, off the stage.

Anyway, the safety lecture was the extent of my rehearsals yesterday.

Three days ago I broke a tooth. There was no pain, but the filling was loose and I went to a local dentist to have it looked at. He recommended that what was left of the tooth be pulled. (Gruesome details – the filling was at least thirty years old and the tooth under the filling was severely decayed. By the time all that got fixed there wouldn’t have been enough tooth left for a crown. Aren’t you glad you asked?) He gave me a referral for an oral surgeon.          

So I called the surgeon’s office. I assumed I would be given an appointment three weeks from next Tuesday, which is what happens when you call a doctor or dentist back in the area I live. Imagine my surprise when the receptionist said “Sure. You wanna come over right now?”

So I did. The surgeon was Dr. Bald. (Colony connection – he’s the ex-husband of Barbara Leary). Half an hour later I staggered out with a big hole in my teeth which is going to take me a while to get used to. The tooth was one of my back molars so my charming-yet-roguish smile won’t be affected.

Anyway – I was excused from rehearsal last evening (Act I – I am barely in it). I spent my night off dribbling blood-flavored sputum down my front to the accompaniment of pain killers.

Tonight is a full run through.

A Crisis

            It has been an eventful couple of days here in the goodliest land under the cope of Heaven.

            Night before last we worked through Act II. I worked on the timing of keeling over face first into the sand. Ah, Art!

            I haven’t been in the Final March sequence which ends the show since I played Old Tom back in the 90s. We worked it several times and the emotion of the scene with the music swelling at the end with Our Heroes posing while the flag flutters above the chapel is getting to me. I’m such an old softie.

            We were all gathered up under the breezeway after running it one last time and got the call to come back down to the stage. I moved out of the shelter in the middle of a crowd of Colonists. Suddenly a girl, an Actor Tech, started to have a seizure. She fell down on the concrete divide in the house. Other Colonists scattered, calling for Stage Management. I am not a physician and wouldn’t dream of diagnosing her ailment, but it appeared to be a grand mal epileptic seizure. I knelt and used my hands as a cushion so that she wouldn’t hit her head on the concrete. Several people knelt with me. Terry Snead (Governor White) ran up. He’s a trained EMT. We were doing the correct thing – not restraining her, just keeping her head safe. After a few minutes she calmed and appeared to focus and be aware. A  Colonist was on the phone with 911.

            We thought she was past the crisis when she began another seizure. Someone passed a rolled up sweatshirt to me to cushion her head and I withdrew my hands.

            I don’t want to draw this story out – the ambulance pulled right up to the front gate of the theater and the EMTs took over. I watched for awhile. There was nothing I could do. I made my way out through the ring of people surrounding her. I struck my props and went home.

            She was transported to the hospital in Chesapeake where she is resting. There has been no word on her condition, but it seems unlikely that she will rejoin the company.

            She will be remembered.

The Jetty

This is the runway. Actually it is referred to as The Jetty. It was added last year. There is a trap door in it and by a feat of legerdemain an Indian pops out of it during Prologue. How does he get in there? Is he there from the time the house opens? Is there a tunnel?

I won’t tell.

When The Historian or The Queen stands on it there is a very definite in-your-face presence.

            I haven’t made up my mind whether or not I like it. Not that my opinion matters.

          

Unstuck in Time

            I really should rename this journal “Unstuck in Time at The Lost Colony.”

I noted in a recent entry that sometimes I feel like the lead character in Kurt Vonnegut’s novel “Slaughterhouse 5.” That character keeps coming unstuck in time and ricochets back and forth through his life.

            This evening I had a lot of free time at rehearsal. It turns out that Father Martin has not been in Queen’s Garden since the fire a few years ago and thus there is no costume for him for that scene. So I’ve been cut from Queen’s Garden (which is fine by me). Tonight’s rehearsal was a work through of Act I so I had a couples hours to kill between the end of the Prologue/Amadas & Barlowe and my next entrance at the end of the Plymouth departure scene.

            I wandered through the dressing rooms, looking at the scribbles that Colonists have left on the walls and ceilings over the years. I came unstuck in time and hurtled back to the early 1990s and then 1999, and then 2003 – and other years that I was not in the show but lived in Manteo. I saw through the scribbles people like Eddie Garcia and Robbie Gay and Chris Chappel go up the ladder over the years from Actor Technician or Choir or Dancer to Principal. I saw children who grew up and returned as adults. I went boing through time and was hanging out on a part of the old Choir Dock or the concession stand with Stacey Maxwell and Gail Hutchison and Hunt Thomas walked briskly by calling Half-Hour. Then I went into the old nurse’s shack and Olivia (or was it Pat?) rubbed some balm on me because a bee had flown up my shorts and stung me on the ass twice, and pinging forward in time to the new, now burnt and rebuilt costume shop. I wander the breezeways and remember the old rain shelters and the old bathrooms and the way the septic system (which runs through backstage – or used to) would frequently groan and rumble some nights when a thousand people flushed at intermission, and one time the back deck actually rippled like an old monster movie where the creature is burrowing towards you underground..

But I digress…

            The men’s dressing room has been expanded. The bathroom now has two poopers and two pissers! Huzzah! The male Principal dressing room has been widened and at first I despaired that I would not find my own scribbles but I did, up on a cross brace near the ceiling. I dragged a bench over and stood on it. My scribble says:

“Don Bridge Old Tom 1992-93-94-95-96-97 – A. Dare! 1999 – Guv White 2003 – Damn Everything But The Circus!”

That last is my general motto of life, the ‘circus’ meaning live theater, any live theater.

            Wandering to the other side I peered down the hallway of the women’s dressing room. Empty. No sounds. I went in and down the hall to the end dressing room where the female principals dress. I scoured the walls looking for signs of Lisa. I couldn’t find her marks so I called her on the phone and she and I we located them together. Down at the end where Dame dresses we found what she wrote in 1992: “BAAAA – Dame 92.” That’s all, her name isn’t there but it is her handwriting and once I said it she remembered. And unstuck in time again as I saw the names of Jenny Warne, and Mary Ellen Baker and others who have played the Dame.

            Down at the other end of the table by the door where the Queen dresses I ran into Liz Mills, she of the beautiful red hair that needed no wig. It was a delight to see her again as I caromed through time. Likewise Katherine Burke, who played the Queen the year I was Ananias Dare. And other names that I don’t recognize but I saw them onstage when they played the Queen. I didn’t see Barbara Hird’s name but she is there as well.

            Lisa and I continued our scouring of the walls and there it was, tucked under a 2 X 4 beam:

“The August Queen – Lisa Bridge 95, 96, 97……I’m Back! 2001, 02, 04, 04.”

“The August Queen” refers to the year that Lisa came in to assume the role when Barbara went to the Edinburgh Festival.

As I wandered out into the hallway I was confronted by Ashleigh Herndon, a dancer. Caught! Busted! I explained what I was doing and she understood. She has done the show off and on since 2007 and says she feels like an old timer herself and feels the echoes of former Colonists all the time.

In the hallway of the women’s dressing room are two glass display cases with some photos taken in 1994 or 95. I showed them to Ashleigh and pointed out a shot of me, David Miller, Robert Midgette (with hair), Marie Evans and Pete Peterson. As I stare at the image of myself I come unstuck and I am standing there on the dock with those people, looking out through the glass of the display case at the older me. We lock eyes. I am simultaneously then and now and eternal.

Also in that display is a picture of male Indians getting into paint. At the center is my son Max, all painted up except his head, which is shaven. He stares at the camera with a half smile that I know so well. Unstuck again I travel to one late night when we lived in the Beehive and Dad decided to give Max a haircut whilst drinking, which is how he ended up with his head shaved. He was pissed at the time (he turned 12 that summer). Little did he know that a shaved head would become his favorite hairstyle later in life.

Other people in the photos: Marcia Kay Thompson, Jimmy Darmo, Brenden Medlin, others whose names I’ve forgotten but whose faces are familiar. I pass them as Ashleigh and I exit the dressing room in 2011.

Ah ha! It is almost time for me to make an entrance. I go up the Queen’s path to wait with the others who are part of Raleigh’s party entering Plymouth to depart for The New World. John Borden and Simon Fernando are fighting. Borden wins! And we start down the ramp in front of the Queen’s Stage.

With each step I come unstuck in time, walking down that ramp I am Ananias Dare in 1999, then I am Governor White in 2003, I ping briefly to the present (what year is it?) and I am Father Martin.

The ramp stays the same.

I stole that bit from Alice

At the end of the show all the Colonists, wretched and starving, march out of the fort into the vast wilderness and build America…or something. This sequence is called Final March.

Father Martin is the most wretched of them all. He’s spent most of Act II sick in his bed, only hobbling forth to say “Amen” now and then. Then he collapses in the sand and is carried back to bed. We don’t know what his ailment is and the director told me to decide for myself just what ails the Father. Lindsey (Dame Coleman) helpfully suggests that he suffers from severe syphilis. By Final March he is using a crutch to get around on and that is how he exits up the ramp.

As the scene and march is staged we enter, cross the stage, make a u-turn and cross back, and exit up the ramp. Father Martin is at the very end of the line so that he can dramatically go face first into the sand one more time before being helped up the ramp.

When my daughter Alice was in the show back in 1992 or so (she was 6) the props department made her a little crutch for that scene. She would limp out with the crutch under her downstage arm so that the audience would still see it and know how wretched she was. When she made the u-turn she would switch the crutch to her other arm, thus keeping it in view of the audience. That’s my Baby!

And folks – when Father Martin hobbles through the u-turn this year he switches his crutch to the other arm too!

I only steal from the best.

A few years later my son Max was working props and discovered his sister’s little crutch on a pile of discarded props scheduled to be burned. He retrieved it and brought it home. It resides in the umbrella stand by the front door.

Hic

I didn't post anything last night because I indulged in a moderate amount of carousing.

Smoking

In my early days at The Colony, in the 1990s, smoking was allowed anywhere backstage, and it had only been recently that smoking had been prohibited in the dressing rooms. Back then every wall had an orange painted butt can attached to it and other cans were on the benches. You could even puff away as you waited on make an entrance, dropping your butt into the can next to the assistant stage manager's desk as you entered. I used to stash my cigs and lighter in the stage left scene dock where they were convenient when I ran off stage.
Along about 1999 smoking was restricted to the long benches and for some reason you had to sit down to smoke. No smoking standing up! Later the smokers were relegated to a corner behind the costume shop.
Nowadays smoking is not allowed "backstage." This means that the past 2 or 3 years smokers had to stand just outside the back gate.
This years the actor techs, under the direction of the maintenance staff (who smoke) have built a little shaded smoking area just outside the gate area.
Smoke em if you've got em.

More about the fire

The fire near Stumpy Point continues to send heavy smoke across the area. Rehearsal tonight was a real choker. Officials state that it is now 80% contained but will smolder for quite some time.
For more info click here.

Prince House

In case you haven't heard The Prince House and the Bee Hive have both been condemned because of a combination of erosion and all the septic systems have failed.
The PH is such a powerful memory for us old timers. To lose it is a blow. I want to go over there for Frothy Drink night hosted by Robbie Fearn and Pete Peterson and watch the sun come up.
Sigh.

Grove Doings

I don't get to Morrison Grove (the company housing) very often. I'm too damn old for that level of carousing. No - not too old - just "been there, done that."
The big news is that The Grove now has wi-fi internet service.
I know, I know - there are readers who remember when  The Grove was built in the 1960s and there wasn't even cable television until around 1990.
The interesting thing is that the kids expect things like wi-fi to be provided. Like the right to wi-fi is in the Constitution or something.
Love my wi-fi.

Run in circles, scream & shout!

A few seconds of Big Battle rehearsal as seen from Father Martin's cabin where I spend the battle looking very concerned. Fight director Robert Midgette is down center yelling.

Director's Chair

During rehearsals the director, Robert Richmond, sits in his elevated director's chair.

Your Host

Ain't I holy?

Smoke!

Busy, busy, busy today. Too busy to write although I have a lot to write about!
I was in and out of the theater starting at 9 am today and got home at 10:45 pm.
We are apparently ahead of schedule. We've blocked and worked all the way through the Big Battle sequence in the middle of Act II.

I'm exhausted.
My arthritic knees are killing me.
Ouch - my back!
Like a dumb virgin I forgot bug spray and the mosquitoes feasted on me.
My friends I AM HAVING A BALL!

The schedule for tomorrow just popped up in my email and I will have time to write some longer posts tomorrow.

A few days ago I told you about the wildfire burning in southern Dare County. Today the wind shifted and all that smoke is here now.
Cough, hack.
A picture taken this evening of the light tower seen through the smoke.

What to do with The Historian?

The narrator of The Lost Colony is known as The Historian and what to do with him is a decades old problem for directors.

In the early decades of the show (as I understand it) he stood at a podium to one side of the stage and read from a great book.

It was Fred Chappel in the 1980s that decided to take him from behind the podium and make him part of the show. The Historian became “Everyman.” He would be part of the crowd and then step out to give his narration, and also played minor characters like explorer Phillip Amadas and the Queen’s messenger.

After Chappel was three years of severe foundering about The Historian. One year he was a portly older gentleman in a light blue suit. He would just wander jarringly into scenes and start talking. The next year was the infamous “Greek Chorus.” There was no character of The Historian. His lines were broken up among all the cast. Prologue started with the entire company (including The Queen) streaming out in a wide half-circle across the stage and up both side stages. Lines were randomly distributed and we spent a lot of rehearsal time learning to whisper/echo the narration. From then on it got weird with, for example, Mrs. Manteo suddenly speaking Paul Green’s unctuous narration.

Other notable attempts at doing something different with The Historian that come to mind include having him be Native American in jeans and buckskin jacket. One year he was an archeologist who dug things like a red soldier helmet out of the sand. Once they went to great lengths to make his costume the color of the sand in the hope that he would seem to appear out of nowhere (didn’t work).

The current director Robert Richmond has a pretty good gimmick going (in my opinion). The Historian and Raleigh are played by the same actor and there is this thing that happens. If you’ve seen it you know what I mean, and if you haven’t seen it I won’t spoil it for you.

Busy, busy

Yesterday was a very busy day for me.

At 11 am we met in the breezeway to block the Pot Scene. Father Martin is sick and wretched in that scene. I asked the director how far he wanted me to take that and he replied for me to take it as far as I want. License.

I ran out of that rehearsal and Alice and I moved some more stuff out of the old dwelling and into the new. We are almost finished with our move.

Then I scooted back to the theater…..and I had misremembered the schedule and was an hour early so I wandered off for a while. Then back to the theater to block Arrival.

Once again I am having this eerie sort of déjà vu. Ananias Dare, Old Tom and Governor White are all in that scene and I have played all of those roles. I know their lines better than I know the one line I give in the scene. Odd to be interacting with them.

After that I went home for an hour…and back to the breezeway for First Christmas. I coughed and hacked and was wretched some more. Easy peasy.

I went back home for dinner then back to the theater at 7 o’clock for Prologue – Tavern.

Once again I am in a lot of scenes but don’t say anything. Not that I am complaining.

This morning we sketched in Small Skirmish (which used to be known as Little Battle – it follows Governor’s Farewell).  Father Martin gets to defend some women with a pitchfork. I grapple with an Indian who knocks me back onto my bed, is about to impale me when he’s struck from behind by a woman and the two of us dispatch him. Father Martin – Death Priest!

4 pm 

The first Breezeway rehearsal for Large Assembly. The Crowd was split up into what has been variously called positives/negatives, pro/con, go stay, etc. This is the scene at the end where the Colonists, faced with being captured by the Spanish, must decide whether to surrender or fight! Oddly, staying and fighting means abandoning the fort and wandering off into the wilderness. It is a very emotional scene. Father Martin staggers out of his death bed to say "Amen!"

Grumble

Blogger (which hosts this journal) has been having issues today. All my posts since Wednesday have disappeared. They claim that this issue will be resolved soon and all will be as it was.
But until the full journal is restored I'm not going to post anything new.
Grph. Grumble. Curse.

Into The Fray

This week has been very easy for me because Father Martin does not do a lot in Act I. In fact he doesn't speak. He stands around and looks pious in three scenes. Tonight we staged Plymouth with that old north wind blowing off the sound. Glad I had my leather jacket and furry hat in the car!
My sloth time is over. Tomorrow we start blocking Act II.
I'm there from 11 - 11.
Can't wait to try out Father Martin's Irish accent.

Fire!

How interesting. There has been a wildfire burning in Dare County near Stumpy Point for several days. We aren't getting any smoke here but the winds are carrying the smoke into Moore County, which is the other place I live.
Sorry about that.

The Lost What?

It occurs to me that since I’m trying to expand the scope of this journal I should explain to the general readership what exactly The Lost Colony is about.

A Brief History Lesson

By the 1580s the Spanish had established a firm presence in the western hemisphere in what we now call Central and South America and in the Caribbean. “Presence” might be too light a term – they were in fact exploiting and looting the place.

The English under the monarchy of Elizabeth I wanted a piece of that action. Privateers were sent out to raid Spanish shipping. It was quite a lucrative business. It was thought that the raiding system could be expanded if an independent settlement could be established in the New World. This settlement would supply fresh food and other supplies as well as providing a safe haven for English pirates. Exploratory expeditions were sent out and in 1587 a consortium organized by Sir Walter Raleigh was sent across the ocean. Investors in the project were to receive large plantations.

The plan was to establish a colony in the tidewater area of the Chesapeake. In fact 30 years later the Jamestown colony would be so established.

There is no firm explanation as to why they ended up on Roanoke Island. The common explanation is that the pilot didn’t want to waste time. He wanted to get back to raiding. Also hurricane season was nigh and he needed to get his ships out of there.

Whatever the reason, he dumped the 117 men, women and children on Roanoke Island. It had been well charted in previous expeditions and was protected by the barrier islands we now call the northern outer banks.

A few weeks after they arrived the first English child was born in the New World. She was christened Virginia Dare. (Note: the entire New World at that point was named “Virginia” in honor of Elizabeth I – The Virgin Queen. Virginia Dare was named after the land, not the other way around as many people believe.)

That much is fact as recorded by John White who was governor of the colony. But shortly after Virginia’s birth (White was her grandfather) he left to return to England for more supplies and colonists.

It would be three years before he returned. It was the time of the Spanish Armada’s attempted invasion of England and no ships or men or supplies could be spared. Finally White got some supplies and set off – only to have his ship taken by pirates. Raleigh had long since lost interest in the project. White finally got another expedition together and made landfall on the Island.

The colony was gone, nothing but an overgrown fort. The word “Croatoan” was carved in a post. It was a prearranged signal to communicate the intention of relocating the colony to the Native American village of Croatoan (modern day Buxton on Cape Hatteras). But bad storms prevented the expedition from reaching Croatoan and they returned to England. No further attempt was made to locate the lost colony.

There are three theories about what happened to them. The first, of course, is that they did in fact relocate to Croatoan. Artifacts have been uncovered in that area that are of English manufacture dating from the 16^th century.

The second theory: the modern day Lumbee Indians claim that the colonists merged with them and went with them when the tribe moved inland.

The third theory: When the Jamestown colonists arrived 30 years later they were told by Chief Powhaten (Pocohontas’s father) that the lost colonists had been living among the natives in the Chesapeake Bay area but that he had “cruelly slaughtered them.”

A common sense fourth theory is that the lost colonists split up and all three of the other theories are true.

“The Lost Colony”

Among subsequent settlers on Roanoke Island the oral history of Raleigh’s failed expedition was passed down through the generations. It was always known that the old fort was had been located on the north end of the island and that it was the birthplace of Virginia Dare. In the 1920s a local teacher spearheaded the production of a silent film commemorating the colony. The film featured local people in all the roles.

As the 350^th anniversary of Virginia Dare’s birth approached the local citizenry decided to produce a pageant depicting the historical events that occurred on the island. Paul Green, a Pulitzer Prize winning author, was commissioned to write the script. An amphitheater was constructed on the north end of the island by the WPA. The four hour long pageant opened on July 4^th 1937. On August 18^th, Virginia Dare’s birthday, President Franklin Roosevelt attended.

The pageant, named “The Lost Colony,” was only supposed to run that one summer but was so popular that a second season was produced. It has been produced every summer since, with the exception of three years during World War II when the coastal blackout was in effect.

This summer marks the 74^th anniversary season of The Lost Colony.

The Script

Paul Green’s original 1937script was a long meandering hodgepodge. A lot of it still survives but a lot is long gone. Examples: In the original script young William Shakespeare shows up entreating Raleigh to let him go to the New World. Raleigh denies him because Will has a great future in England. The original script made reference to the Catholic/Anglican schism. The two soldiers taunt Old Tom as one of “Pope” Phillip’s minions (a reference to Catholic Spanish King Phillip). Paul Green tinkered with the script over the years and in the 1971 finally issued the authoritative script.

As the decades roll on there have been many opinions about the influences on Paul Green that produced this script. This year I have been hearing some absolutely inane observations and conclusions. To me it is very simple.

The author wrote this piece in the 1930s. His influences were the movies of the time. The leading characters were, in his mind, to be played by Tyrone Power or Errol Flynn with Maureen O’Hara or Joan Fontaine. Old Tom is Walter Brennen or Monty Wooley. Bette Davis as The Queen. Stylistically it is a melodramatic swashbuckler with a healthy dose of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. The big battle sequence in act two is a direct steal from Buffalo Bill.

Thematically the script is a reflection of The Great Depression and Green’s own socialist politics. Once Governor White departs to England all facts disappear from the script. The play ends with the survivors, failed and abandoned by the ruling class, under the leadership of the honest working man, leaving the fort and marching into the wilderness to create a socialist paradise.