My Track part 4

I haven’t forgotten that I never finished the breathtaking account of my nightly track. Here it is mixed with closing night/final performance stuff.

When last we saw our hero he was flailing feebly about during Big Battle, throwing up on Hilary Wright and making highly inappropriate comments to poor dead Travis Clark.

As soon as the lighting shifts to Queen’s Chamber I discreetly slip off stage behind the parapet ladder. The caring-for-the-dead and wounded continues on stage for several lines in low lighting, but I have to make a complete costume change so I’m out of there.

As an extra added attraction closing night there was a shiny aluminum extension ladder leaning against the inside chapel wall. I saw it right away when I pushed the beams down in Arrival but what the heck to do?

Nothing, that’s what. Keep going. There were plenty of jokes during Fishnet about it. I called it God’s Holy Ladder.  How the heck can all of the people involved in the intermission scene change have missed the big stupid ladder in plain sight? Jeez.

I make my way to the dressing room unsnapping and untying my cassock. In the dressing room Jessica is there and tosses my Depression robe over my head, snaps me up and adds a shawl and a scarf – unless Brett (Borden) needs assistance, which he sometimes does. John Borden is the Hero and fights and maims and kills a lot in the battle. A few times he has bonked his head and had some vertigo – other times he is smeared with Indian paint, which of course makes the costumers squawk and bustle about. They’re so cute. If Jess need to attend to him I dress myself cause I’m a big boy! It is not really a quick change but there is no time to waste either. I finish by putting on my gloves and head out, picking up my crutch from stage right props.

I grope my way to the entrance behind the Indian Stage and wait briefly. Pyro Steph is there to press the fog button and inquires how my ailment-of-the-night is proceeding (for the final show Father Martin was fine, in fact he has been faking it all summer). Stage Manager Mick O’Neil’s voice comes over the walkie “Lights and fog go” and I follow Eleanor out into the dark.

If it is dark – you all remember that three times each summer we go through the moon’s cycle of waxing to full so for several nights we’re not in the dark (unless its cloudy), but we walk out and freeze anyway.

We are on the Indian Path. Me, Eleanor and several Choir members. Over on the opposite stage Sir Walter is undergoing his transition into the Historian. This is Director Robert Richmond’s spin on the Historian. He’s really old Sir Walter who has been reminiscing about his Colony on Roanoke Island in the New World! At the end of Chamber he slowly starts to revolve. Three black-shrouded persons dart out and put the Historian’s robe and hat and handcuffs on. We call these mysterious costume-changers “the ninjas.” One night this summer the door they enter from (tavern door) was jammed shut. Raleigh revolved. They tried to force the door open for awhile – no go. Raleigh revolved some more. Those of us in the freeze were wondering what was going on, but we stayed frozen. Finally the ninjas ran around and out the Queen’s Path to change him.

When the lights come up on us on the Indian stage it is what we call “Baby Funeral” which has also been known in the past as “Mad Marge.“ The Choir sings “Adam Lay Ye Bounden,” Father Martin prays, and they lower a little coffin into the shrubbery next to the path. Eleanor goes down the path to the stage and I hobble after her on my crutch. There is a lot of narration so I pause to catch my breath and be feeble a couple of times but finally reach the pot as the narration and music end.

And thus begins my only scene where I actually talk to someone else. Scripted, that is. I have plenty of off-mic non-scripted blah blah throughout the show but the only time I have a scripted scene is with Eleanor at the top of the Pot Scene. Father Martin by this time is wretched and whiny” “It is ninety days till April,” he cries!

The main impression I take away from my one scene is standing almost nose to nose with Sydney on the really hot nights and watching the sweat visibly oozing from her face and dripping off her chin. I know I looked the same way to her.

Early on in the run I realized that as sick and old Father Martin I was being my father in his last couple of years. It was a little scary at first and I backed off from it but later I gave in and let my father come forth and make his appearance in The Lost Colony. Dad never approved of his son the actor. I was supposed to go off into the corporate world like him and his father and live the 1950s model, but I went into the show business instead. I recall my first year in the Colony my whole extended family did the beach house thing and everybody came to see the show…except Dad. It was very painful for me. A couple of years later he did come to see it.

When that brief scene is over I got helped up to my cabin by Chris Kiley, except a couple of times during the run it would be Korie Blossey, and thus I lay me down in my carefully arranged bedding and for all intents and purposes go to sleep for about ten minutes while Small Assembly – Pot Scene – Old Tom’s Parapet speech went on. I always tried to not move and figured out that I needed to have my head tilted a little so that the sweat could run off my face and not pool in my eye sockets. Sometimes I would have to move to swat mosquitoes that were landing on my face, but I tried to be as discreet as possible. I always kept my upstage eye open so that I wouldn’t actually fall asleep.

When the Runner (Travis Clark) starts screaming off stage is when I rouse, feebly at first and as people start entering for Large Assembly I turn over on my side to watch the proceedings.

The Runner this year comes on from the Queen’s Path. In the 1990s whoever played the Runner would wait all the way back by the nurse’s shack and get a signal light to cue him to start yelling “Captain Borden,” and would run all the way around the men’s dressing room and on to the stage. I remember one year when I was Old Tom and either the signal light failed or the actor wasn’t paying attention and there was no yell. I was standing on the parapet being A Man and….beat…beat…beat. Finally (as I later learned) Hunt Thomas, who was ASM, handed a rifle to Mike Campbell and said “Go.” Mike had played the Runner before and charged right on and did the scene. It was highly entertaining as we all coped with the unplanned replacement. Mike was perfect on the lines and timing, by the way.

I was specifically blocked to not rise from my bed until the end of Large Assembly this year. I sit up and gesture when the Negatives/Traitors run off stage but remain seated. When John and Eleanor go down to the jetty and kneel all the assembly kneels (except the Runner and Sentinel Joe Mallon). That is when I rise. As all go down I rise up, lean on my crutch and make my way onto the sand. Mrs. Manteo (Allison Arvay) is on the steps holding Wano/Wally. We have a very brief moment when I pass them. Early on it was a genuine show moment that later turned to blah but the last few nights reverted to genuine emotion. Closing night I said to them (as I did to most of my interactions) “It’s been a pleasure.”

I crutch my way through the kneeling crowd. Every night the placement of the people shifts a little bit and I have to avoid bumping into people.

If you have been in the show you know what closing night Large Assembly/Final March is like.  This year we did 74 performances (74 in 74!) and it seemed at times (as always) that it would never end. But the end came. John Borden intones: “And down the centuries that wait ahead, there’ll be some whisper of our names, some mention and devotion to the dream that brought us here.”

If there was a Colonist who wasn’t crying by that point…well there wasn’t. If only all the performances had that depth of emotion.

A moment. In the first row behind Borden and Eleanor is my young friend Juliet Eden. She is from the town I live in and we have done a bunch of shows together here (and in fact we two start rehearsals for “Guys and Dolls” this evening). I’ve known her since she was fifteen and a couple years ago I sent her off to be a dancer in the Colony. I don’t meet her at all during the show so had no moment with her until early on when I discovered her kneeling there as I pass through the crowd, so I made a moment. Each night as I pass her I give her a little bump with my crutch. For closing I let the bump linger for a second and she leaned into it. She is 21 and thinks I’m a sentimental old poop (which I am) but she puts up with me.

As Borden says: “And now into the hand of God we commend us,”  I hit my mark at the top of the green, a light comes on, the quiet choral underscoring ends bitter sweetly, I raise my hand and say: “Amen.”

The crowd scatters as we prepare for Final March. In the days leading up to closing extra people have been joining the march – you know – technicians and actors who are out before the end, everyone wants a chance for the moment that define the story. They were all welcome. For the last show, however, there were no extras, just the people who have done it all summer.

I stand center in front of the Chapel as the Colonists line up. T.J Pass stands down right with the tattered flag and begins the song in a quavery voice. Every prop and set piece that can be carried is taken up by the company. My moment in that has been Will Heckmueller who strikes the cross from the chapel. As he passes he pauses for Father Martin to kiss the cross, then he joins the line.

(Note: For the final performance Terry Snead (Governor White) was out of the show by pre-arrangement (a wedding) and Will went on for the Governor and did an outstanding job.

Note to the Note: That was the first and only time this season that a Principal actor was out of the show. That’s right – no Principal went out all summer, which I never remember happening before in all my years with the show.)

Final March was a weepy mess. Father Martin went face first into the sand one last time and the Runner gained redemption by helping the Father up the ramp.

John and Eleanor with the baby, the flag over the Chapel fluttering in the breeze.

Into the dark at the top of the ramp, where Lindsey McKee is nailing the high note that ends the show.

The curtain call went a few seconds extra as we all turned to applaud each other and we enjoyed a standing ovation from the audience.

After we all finished out after show tracks the clippers came out and beards were shaved. I wasted no time, I haven’t enjoyed looking like Santa Claus and/or God for the whole summer. When I came out of the dressing room people were stunned to discover that I wasn’t really eighty years old. As others emerged I was stunned to discover that so many of them appear to be twelve years old! Baby faces!

I almost forgot to sign the wall. I went back in to the dressing room to get my bag of random stuff I had taken in and left at the theater all summer when it hit me. Sign the wall! Leave a scribble!

“Don Bridge

Old Tom 1992 – 93 – 94 – 95 – 96 – 97.
A. Dare 1999!
Gov White 2003.
Fat Mat 2011.

Damn Everything But The Circus!”

Scribble 2011

Babies!

Last night was Baby Night. Having that element in the show brings a new level of excitement to Act II. Its funny – the twenty-somethings of course disdain babies and parenting and they’ll never go down that road, they’re too young and hip! (is “hip” still a word?) From my perspective the babies and the twenty-somethings are approximately the same age. When they go on about hating children I want to smile indulgently and pat them on the head. But even most of them had shining eyes during Christening. As for Father Martin – well – he could barely keep his shit together. The Christening Baby was a bright eyed smiling little girl who didn’t mind being christened Virginia. I found out later that her mother was also a Virginia Dare baby.

There was only one baby who cried, but it couldn’t have come at a better moment. During Large Assembly John and Eleanor knelt on the jetty, the rest of the Colonist kneeling behind them. When Borden started his line “Down the centuries to come there will be some mention of our name,” the baby cried briefly, but Sydney bounced her and she quieted.

 Paul Green couldn’t have written the moment any better.

Because everything old is new again.

From the journal I wrote in 2003.


Way back when this Company met in May, with our hair much shorter and stubble on our faces (and those were the girls), seventy-five percent of us were new, wondering what this Lost Colony deal was about. We called them Virgins. They were given little tasks to perform, got gifts from their Gods, went through a ritual that welcomed them into the very special extended TLC family and had the time of their lives at a party called Slaughter. They thought that was the end of it. They were in. They were Slaughtered.
Wrong.
Then came the next eleven weeks. There was freezing cold, crushing humidity, energy-draining heat, terrifyingly dangerous thunder and lightning storms, drenching rain that always miraculously stopped before show time, light rain that didn’t stop the performance. More sweat produced than can be believed; and what’s that smell?
There were mosquitoes chomping on them, more mayflies than I’ve ever seen, which don’t bite but never fail to fly into your mouth, or your ear, or down your shirt. Bees (we had a girl out for allergic reaction to a sting the other night), and some dillies that we don’t know what to call.
Cramped living conditions, crappy water (when there was any). Roomates you either came to like or despise. Love, hate, sex, frustration (sometimes all in the same day). Too much drinking. Sleeping all day. Going to work hung over.
They got sick, and the plaque spread through the Grove and the Show. As soon as they got better, a new plaque started its rounds. It was a bad year for a certain job-related affliction that I won’t mention except to say that the Company has gone through a lot of Gold Bond this year.
The PTW monster swallowed them, giving a microcosm of all of the above, and on top of all of the above.
Here, take these brochures, get into costume and stand out in the sun handing them out to tourists for several hours. You don’t mind, do you?
And doing the pageant. Endlessly. Waking, sleeping, sober, hung over, sick, itching. Do it till you know everybody’s lines, till you know every second of every scene and it goes off like clockwork – this, and this, and that, and (2…3…4)that! And you know it so well that you really only are aware of what’s happening on stage if the sequence is off. Love the Show one night. Be indifferent the next. Hate and despise it the next. And if you have to listen to that jackass make that bad adlib one more time you’ll scream!
Now it is the end of eleven weeks. The run is finished.
Slaughtered yet?
Nope. Now they have to leave here, get back to their lives; be it school, the next job, auditioning, or unemployment. Wherever they end up, in a few days or weeks they’ll suddenly be overcome with homesickness for this goodliest place.

Slaughtered.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

My Track part 3

Once I’ve trussed myself back into my costume and don my fur coat I go and stand in the wings stage right, ready for Act II. Lindsey is there and we try to decide what my illness of the night is. Sometimes there are many choices and we can’t decide. One of the criteria is that Lindsey has to be able to give clues so that the complaint can be guessed – but I’ll get to that. We are joined by Michael Murray who plays Simon Fernando. He always has highly graphic suggestions. As the music fades and the Dare Patrol enters the stage Stephanie Sexton passes through the scene dock and pauses to find out what’s the matter with Father Martin that evening. When we are in a quandary I’ll present the choices to her and let her decide. Once that very important decision has been made we continue to stand around shooting the shit with whoever passes by. Sydney Mitchell joins us. She is in her second year as Eleanor Dare and when she joins us she is very pregnant and we get to play with her baby bump. Old Tom is out there breaking his heart entertaining the audience with his Arrival monologue.

I am unable to be objective about how other actors portray and perform Old Tom. I was him for six seasons in the 90s. Brian Rooney is our second Old Tom this year and played him in 2007 – 08. He is good and so was Louis Butelli who started out the season.

In a conversation with Brian a few weeks ago he said something that describes my ambivalence about watching other Old Toms. When he came in at midsummer he sat out and watched the show several times and said that his muscle memory kept objecting to how the show had changed and not just about seeing Louis perform it, but the whole thing. But that pretty well describes how I can’t be objective – it should be done THIS way, there is a great bit HERE that’s being missed, if the scene were staged like THIS it would highlight THAT piece of business and WHY do they all have to scream the line “Roanoke, oh Roanoke, thou hast made a man of me?” It should be the quietest most poignant moment of the show.

See? I can’t let it go.

The way I handle this is by absolutely refusing to comment or kibitz on how other actors perform the role. I just offer encouragement.

In a conversation with Louis early in the summer he complained that the director kept telling him to do “something funny” with the sand in the Arrival monologue. He (and Brian) came up with some funny bits. I told Louis that there used to be a whole bible of funny Arrival sand bits that were passed down from generation to generation – but they’ve all been lost and nobody ever asked me.

Anyway…

Eventually the monologue nears its end with some business with Wano (Wally McCown) and Michael and I take our place behind Governor White and we all charge on. I go to the dead body (which is a skeleton now), kneel and mutter a prayer over the bones and get up when the Dare Patrol re-enters down the Queen’s Path. I move up onto the steps and look around. On cue I push the beams blocking the entrance to the chapel with a loud bang. Everyone kneels in the sand and it is finally time for me to speak. “Blah Blah Blah, Amen!” I say and the scene moves on.

I’ve mentioned this before but this scene is a source of major out-of-body déjà vu time traveling for me. I’ve been Governor White and I’ve been Ananias Dare and I’ve been Old Tom and when they speak in Arrival I am them and I’m talking to me as the other characters talking to each other – and they are me also. It’s quite the experience.

I stand in front of the chapel and make appropriate ad libs.

Speaking of muscle memory – I pretty much give the same ad libs that I’ve always done in that and all the other scenes, no matter which character I’m playing. They’re the same ad libs and they just pop out of my mouth with no thought. It’s all I can do to keep myself from doing them in Old Tom’s voice.

On “Mount the guard” John Borden (Brett Bolton) runs up and takes the flag from the Red Soldier standing near me. The soldier is Jamie Schor and we have a few seconds of conversation together, in theory about getting started cleaning up the wreckage but we abandoned that on about the third rehearsal and now talk about food, beer, sex, drugs and frequently blah blah gibberish. It’s a moment.

And we’re on to Transition and Fishnet! I don’t have any duties in Transition so I go into the chapel and pray at the altar for a few seconds while we’re singing “Sir Walter Raleigh’s Ship,” after Korie Blossie and Harrison Grant strike the beams. Then I go to my cabin. Red Soldier Thad Walker has set the desk, put the cross on the wall and unrolled my bedding. Miss Laura Long hands me my bible and we freeze for narrative blah blah.

I interact with Dame Coleman a bit as she looks for Old Tom and the water and we exchange a bit of disease-of-the-night small talk. When she goes down in the sand for the scene I cross to the other side of the stage and stand chatting with some guys in front of Eleanor’s cabin.

Again – a major time traveling moment for me. I’ve been in that group of men as two other characters and I keep seeing Eric Green as Fat Mat and Ethan Oulton and others. The group this year is T.J. Pass, Korie Blossey, Will Sanborn and Ben Panther Skaski. Maddie Arthur is there as well washing something in a bucket. We have a moment when we all laugh and point at someone. Sometimes it’s Maddie, sometimes it is Ananias, who is having his portrait done by Governor White, sometimes we’ll point and laugh at the sound booth – we’ve pointed and laughed at everyone and everything as the summer has gone on. It’s a moment.

Then it is back to my cabin where I peer at my bible and faithfully run the Christening prayer lines twice.

After Old Tom announces the baby I step center and intone “Oh Lord save this woman blah blah” and exit to behind the cabin where costumer Jessica Daniels quick changes me into my full priest robes.

I recall in the days when Jimmy Darmo played Father Martin the entire onstage Colonists would crowd in to the chapel and Jimmy would put on the white cassock concealed by the crowd. The cassock was stashed in a hollow bible and in fact that bible still exists and is on the altar – but the costume design has changed and I have to get most of my costume off and Jessica has both the black and the white cassocks bunched up for me to put my arms through and over my head. She ties and snaps the huge ruff while I adjust my microphone. The cast is singing “Once long ago blah.” There are two verses. Sometimes the quick change goes swiftly, sometimes not. I get tangled up or can’t find the arm holes or some damn thing. Sometimes I make it back on to the stage for the whole second verse, sometimes barely in time for “Amen.” But Jessie and I haven’t missed the cue yet!

I go out there to christen the baby. Father Martin has a little alter boy (stop that snickering) who stands by me holding the bowl of water. Monday – Wednesday it is Noah Gross. Thursday – Saturday it is Eli Nissley. One performance this summer I was speaking and heard a clang, saw the Colonists (who are seated with their backs to the audience) all crack up and knew that Eli had dropped the bowl. But he picked it up and we just went forward. Another night the AT who pre-sets the bowl was out sick so there was no bowl. Eli freaked out. There was nothing to do but go out and christen the baby with no water. Of course that was the night that Lindsey’s husband Steve, who is a real priest, watched the show and I got no end of grief from him about it. What was I supposed to have done? Spit on the baby? Steve said yes I should have.

As soon as I have done that I go back behind the cabin to loose the white cassock and Jessica snaps and ties the black one and I go back out for Christening Dance. Most of the Company joins in but I don’t. I stand with Chris Tedrow who is the Tin Man meaning he is wearing some armor and will shortly be brutally killed. He and I laugh and clap and he points out that it is a Blessed Day and I absolutely agree with him.

I stand with him and the Dame during Governor’s Farewell and I say the same ad libs I’ve been saying for nine seasons.

When he leaves it is time for Small Skirmish (which used to be called Little Battle). I stand in front of the chapel with Tin Man and AT Amanda Forstrom. We freeze for Historian blah blah and then the Indians attack. I get the wooden pitchfork from the chapel and bravely wave it around. Three Indians kill poor Tin Man and I run to the front of Father Martin’s Cabin and poke the pitchfork at evil Indian Axle Burtness. AT Kristin Shoffner joins the fray. I fall back onto my bed, feeble old guy that I am, while they tussle. Sometimes he stabs her, sometimes he doesn’t. I flail around on the bed.

What I really am doing on the bed is arranging the bedding, which consists of a very thin mattress and two more layers of fur and blanket. When it gets unrolled during transition it is always a mess. Later in the second act I have to lie on it for ten minutes and if it isn’t arranged right it is very uncomfortable. So I have a few seconds during the skirmish to start to arrange it. I complete my arrangement during Big Battle. So – yes – that’s what I’m really doing during Small Skirmish and Big Battle. I’m trying to arrange the hodgepodge bedding so I’ll be comfortable later.

There is a blackout after the skirmish. I grab my fur coat and exit left into that little area with the steps that lead up to the parapet. I retrieve the knee pads which I stashed there at intermission and sit on the steps to put them on and get myself all arranged and brow mopped while Eleanor and the ladies sing the Lullaby.

When poor old Father Martin re-enters for Yule he is noticeably feeble. Choir member Liz (who is not in the program) sits him on a bench and wishes him a Peaceful Yule. We have a moment generally about taking some shots behind the cabin later.

Back in the 90s the Yule log was much bigger and daughter Alice rode on it for several years. Now it is smaller. They place it center stage. I get a torch from T.J. and light it. Yes – they let me play with fire! It is pre-loaded with kerosene-soaked stuff so I never have any trouble lighting it although one windy night it was a close thing.

When Father Martin starts “Sing Oh Heavens and Be Joyful Oh Earth” he falls face first into the sand center stage (knee pads). A couple of the boys pick me up by my arms and carry me to my cabin and lay me on the bed. One of them is Panther and – shame on me – I have no idea who the other one is. This is where the Dame gives a clue to Panther as to the nature of my distress. He almost always figures it out and I hear him pass the word to others while Eleanor is going on about “Zion” and “Her waste places” (which I think is a bit offensive).

Big Battle starts with Ananias (Sam Kinsman) getting the arrow in the chest. It has almost always been done that way. In fact I may be the only Ananias who didn’t get the arrow in the chest. When I played him in 1999 I was very active in the Battle, shooting off guns and running around and fighting Indians. Near the end evil Wanchese picked up a shotgun from a fallen Colonist and aimed it at John Borden. I bravely stepped in front of Borden and took the shot in my guts, then staggered all the way down stage, gurgling “Blah!” and keeled over in the sand. At the end of the Battle John Borden (who was played by Brandon Smiley that year) carried me off in his arms. Sniff.

When the Battle starts this year Tshombe Selby runs into the cabin and tells me to get up, the Indians are here. Tshombe is a local guy who graduated from Manteo High the same year Alice did. He is a power tenor and leads most of the songs.

Then Panther staggers into the cabin with an arrow in his leg and collapses by the wall. T.J. Pass runs in, tells me to lie down and goes to help Panther. Hillary Wright and Liz bring injured Ross Neal into the cabin and put him on the bed. The cabin (back of the stage left prop cabin) blows up. There are flames and smoke! Gary Gatling jumps out of the window and Hillary puts him on the bed, too. He keeps going on about us needing to save his wife but we remind him that he doesn’t have a wife. There are gunshots and Ross and Gary run out of the cabin. Hillary consoles Panther while I stagger around (arranging the bedding). I collapse on the left wall until Hillary comes to save me, and here it is folks – the longest moment I have in the show this year with another person. I’ve been going on in this recitation about my nightly track about the dozens of moments we all have in the show. Most of them are very brief. My longest moment this year is during Big Battle with Hillary.

Hillary Wright turned 19 this summer. She and her family have been involved with the show in one way or another for a long time. Hillary’s sister Kelsey is in the show too as a child. Hillary started as a child when she was eight years old and has been in the show every year except one since then. She spent the last three years as an intern and this is her first year as a full fledged AT. She (and her family) is all that is good and enduring about The Lost Colony. When I go on and on about my family’s history with the show in the past I can point at the Wrights and say “It lives.”

So Hillary and I scream and yell “Blah!” while the Battle rages. Lately we’ve been throwing up on each other. We chat, make rude comments, and she holds me up when my feebleness overcomes me. We think the Battle is way too long, but that’s just because we have to stand there and watch it every night. Sometimes we are on Manteo’s side, sometimes we root for Wanchese.

Eventually it ends. Hillary goes off to help the fallen in the sand. I stagger towards center, pausing to throw up or pass my disease of the night to Panther. Poor Farmer in the Dell Travis Clark is lying dead in front of the chapel and Old Tom and I kneel over him and make lewd and rude comments before I stagger off stage.

I've been writing this since 2 o'clock this afternoon and haven't even made it through the second act. And now its time to go do the thing. I'll try to finish up tomorrow.

My Track part 2

At the very beginning of this year’s big show I enter with The Historian (Brendan Ragan) and two Red Soldiers (Willem Krumich & Colin Thelen). We march the handcuffed Historian down the Queen’s Path to the jetty where he is to be beheaded (the audience has no clue what is going on). The priest (me) mutters some nonsense (I am not on mic so it doesn’t matter what I say). Usually it is “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” but if I’m bored or not really there I say gibberish. Brendan gives me a forlorn look as I bless him. Then the Soldiers and I march out, leaving him to start the Prologue. This is the only moment in the show that I share with Brendan.

As soon as I exit I walk all the way around the backstage and up to the side gate that leads into the breezeway, where I sit during the first part of Indian Dance. There are six or eight Red Soldiers, Simon Fernando and Governor White and myself waiting there to enter. Most nights there are late comers to the audience who need to get to their seats but are held there by the house staff. Often these groups come hurrying up and screech to a halt when they see all of these well armed costumed characters blocking the way. Kids especially are slack jawed.

The dancers freeze while the Historian intones “In the time of Queen Elizabeth the first many blah blah,” and when the dance resumes we enter and sneak down the aisles, the Soldiers aiming their rifles at the stage. We always get some startled reactions as the audience notices us.

At the gunshot we storm down the rest of the steps to the stage. Well, I don’t storm. Father Martin holds his cassock up and sort of skips down the steps.

As we confront the Indians I generally have a brief moment with Michael Murray (Simon).  We sometimes confer about which of the Indian women we want to claim, or I ask him if he is my mother, or some random nonsense. It is very brief. Then I move up the steps to see what Governor White (Terry Snead) is doing. I glace at his sketching and compliment him on his caricatures. Look! It’s Goofy! When the Soldiers bring up the trunk of baubles Terry helpfully informs me that it is a trunk of baubles. I never fail to be surprised at this revelation. There are about four times during the scene where the tension grows great and Soldiers and Indians threaten each other, rifles and spears point to point. I make general guttural “Wait! Hold” noises, flapping my arms wildly, my bible clutched in my downstage hand.

Amadas and Wingina sort things out, shake hands, and we are invited into the village. We stick very close to the periphery because the Indians resume the dance and if you get too close they run into you. I share a couple of brief moments with Red Soldiers Chris Tedrow, Austin Dolan (who is my understudy), Jamie Schor and Thad Walker. These are also verbal gibberish but the feeling conveyed is “Wow, look at them dance,” and of course we indicate our preferences as to which of the scantily clad Indian girls we are going to carry away as conqueror’s booty. Ashley Herndon is the one dancing so close that she almost knocks us over so she is of course a popular choice.  Thad and Jamie and I are then entertained by Axle Burtness who tries to get us to join in singing “Hey Ya!” We are delighted and amused.

Freeze. Historian says “Blah blah,” and we exit. I am the closest to the stage right wings and squeeze past the hut and scurry out first, using my rear view to watch out for the thirty or so other people also exiting, many carrying totems, huts, and assorted props.

I’m not on again until the end of the Plymouth scene. I go into the dressing room and shed my cassock. This leaves me in a black tee shirt, black tights, and a pair of black basketball shorts.

(At the beginning of the season we all were just going outside in our tights but it was decreed that we had to have something more than that, hence the shorts.)

I go up to the smoking section for the nightly meeting of the Ten of Nine Society. This consists of myself, pyro goddess Stephanie Sexton, Sharkbait (Rob Jenkins), Troy Folkner, and Jimmy Lee Brooks, who joins us after he watches the Pavanne dance. We are usually joined by Joe Veale. He is a Dancer and understudies Uppowoc. Lee, as dance captain, sits out to watch the show every now and then and Joe goes on for him. The first time this happened Joe was told that part of Uppowoc’s track was to go to the smoking area for Queen’s Garden, and has been joining us ever since. Other people wander in now and then and sometimes we even get some of the house staff join us. At the start of the season there was contention about the name of our group. Some wanted to call it the Midnight Society, but I persistently pointed out that it wasn’t midnight, it was only ten minutes of nine, so we became the Ten of Nine Society. We smoke and shoot the shit.

When that breaks up at the start of Crossover I go back to the dressing room to hang out. The guys who were in Queen’s Garden come in and we all get ready for Plymouth and make fun of the dialogue on stage, which we hear through the monitor. Our favorite line is Eleanor’s when she says of John Borden: “He leads the men, and…” In most years Borden cuts her off, but this year the “and…” just hangs there for a few seconds. We suspect that there is Acting going on, but it drives us wild.

“And…” what? What? We fill in the blank, usually with something obscene, unlikely, or anatomically impossible.

I exit the dressing room as Old Tom is getting the shit kicked out of him by Dame Coleman at the end of his mini-scene with Sir Walter. The poor guy gets beat up a lot this year, first at the end of the tavern scene by The Landlord (Paul Major) who wails on him. The reason for this is to kill time while the Red Soldiers are madly getting their armor on.

During Ralph Lane and the first part of Plymouth I sit on the benches and wait. Monday – Wednesday I’m over by the women’s dressing room and chat with The Queen (Lynda Clark) when she comes out of the dressing room having shed her fifty pound dress. She calls it the Buick. Thursday – Saturday I generally sit on a bench canter with Melissa Rock and Valerie Medlin. They are Official Moms and their job is to gossip, make lewd comments about the Indian boys, and occasionally make sure the Colonist Children are dressed and ready for their scenes.

Meanwhile on stage John Borden is facing down Simon Fernando. When he taunts the pilot by saying he is “a Spaniard with a Spanish name!” the fight begins.

I put on my massive black fur coat and make my way to join Raleigh’s party which consists of Raleigh, The Governor, Ananias, Eleanor, myself, Manteo and Wanchese, and a Red Soldier who carries the Sign and Symbol from The Queen. We enter down the Queen’s Path, all except Raleigh go down the steps stage left and cross in front of the stage and up the steps on the other side stage right. The others cross in front of me and I park myself by the foot of the ramp and trade pleasantries with Madeline Arthur who is tending one of the carts. She generally confesses to the Father that she has sinned. I forgive her and then she turns right around and covets the Sign and Symbol. I boast that I have twelve of them and might consider making her a gift of one of them if she will consider further sinning (usually this includes spanking).

Then it is “Farewell England” and we scurry up the ramp to sail for the new world.

Believe it or not I don’t smoke at intermission. I lose the massive fur coat and top part of my costume. Sometimes I give myself an extra dousing of bug spray if the mosquitoes are especially ravenous. I get my knee pads and take them over to stage left where I stash them under the steps that lead to the parapet. Then back to the dressing room where I put on my microphone. My old mic gave up the ghost a couple of weeks ago and now I share a mic with Chris Kiley (Master of the Queen’s Ceremonies). I miss my old mic.

Thus sprayed, pre-set and ready for amplification I go hang out on the benches. Sometimes there is more of the Moms, but always I go hang out with Lindsey McKee.

Let me tell you about Lindsey. She plays Dame Coleman and is my best friend in the show this summer. We connected early on in rehearsals. We are of similar age (50s), and represent the Very Married Forever demographic. She and her husband Steve are married 28 years and Lisa and I are celebrating 30 years next month. Lindsey and Steve have a 25 year old daughter and I have one of those as well. Steve is an Episcopal minister in Tulsa Oklahoma and I am an Episcopal vestryman at my home church in Southern Pines, so we have that in common too. I sometimes call Lindsey “The Vicar’s Wife.” She is a power soprano of operatic quality that is mostly wasted in The Lost Colony. She has connected with local churches and visits some of them to sing.  She did so last Sunday and when we all did the Full Moon thing Sunday night and the place was empty late (9 o’clock) I cajoled her into singing The Lord’s Prayer in full power voice. The walls shook and the staff was a bit alarmed but it was beautiful (and somehow erotic.) Back at July 4^th when we sat outside watching the fireworks and started singing patriotic songs she led us, backed by Lisa’s alto.

Early in the summer Lindsey and I agreed that walking on the beach would be fun but that never really happened because, first, the arthritis in my knees has been bad all summer and I can’t walk like I used to and, second, Lindsey goes walking at like 8 o’clock in the morning when all decent Colonists are still asleep. So that was a bust, but we still hang out being middle aged and Very Married, kind of a mutual defense pact amid the hormone storm that is the majority of the 20-somethings. Her husband Steve has been here a couple of times, as has Lisa, and we hang out. Lisa of course has ten years in the show and knows the score, but Steve gets that what-the-hell? look that outsiders get when exposed to the Colony Company and their conversation. It’s all good.

But I digress…

So I go hang out with Lindsey during intermission. We generally discuss what Father Martin’s ailment is going to be that night. If it is very hot we talk about that of course. It being Lindsey’s first year she is adamant about the need to air condition the dressing rooms. I nod and smile and absolutely agree with her while knowing that it will never happen.

When we started the run we had 20 minute intermissions but now we are down to 15. This limits bench-chatting time and before we know it Costumer Jennifer Mohrman is lurking around and when we get the 5 minute call she marches Lindsey into the dressing room to get ready for act two. I head the other direction.

Up to this point my total time on stage has been about ten minutes and I haven’t uttered a word of scripted dialogue.

Rituals

Last night when I exited stage right after mic check I found an Indian maiden using her finger to inscribe the numeral 10 in the sand in the wings. She traced the number 10 times.

Yup – it’s that time. We’re in the countdown of the final ten shows. We’re all performing our little rituals.

I told you about my little leather bag of sand. I performed my ritual of emptying the old sand on to the stage the other night. I was joined by the Chief, Bob Midgette, who thinks I’m odd but understands about the magic. We stood there for a few minutes and talked about Heather Vaughn, a Colonist from the early 1990’s who passed away from cancer recently. We couldn’t remember her specifically. You know how that is – “that Dancer,” “the AT with the dark hair and beard,” “what’s her name who was in the Choir.” After so many years they all blend together into a generic Colonist, even if at one time you knew them well. So the Chief and I celebrated Heather even though we couldn’t quite place her. Her essence was in the sand in the bag, and now she is back in the sand forever.

I lifted my heart when, after my entry last week about the sand in the bag, that so many readers confessed in the comments that they too have their little keepsakes from their Colony days. The Dream Still Lives.

Other rituals – it could be that numbers are being discreetly worked in to the designs that the Indians paint on themselves. I wouldn’t know and if I did I certainly wouldn’t tell. I’m just saying….

The biggest ritual comes closing night, of course. The shaving of the beards. Since May I have been looking forward to August 20 at 11:05 pm. I’ve got my clippers all oiled up and ready. I’ve been pretty good at keeping the face trimmed back (not really – too much trouble) but the past couple weeks I’m letting myself go full ZZ Top.

Do you readers have any memories of countdown-to-closing rituals?

Potent Magic

When I came here in May to do the Colony I gathered up random stuff that I thought I would need or want while I was here for the summer, including about a dozen ragged old Company tee shirts, but I forgot one thing. Buried in the back of my sock drawer at home was a little box containing various Lost Colony anniversary medallions. I had Lisa mail it to me in time for Bob Knowles’ memorial service in June. In the box are three medallions, two 50^th Anniversary ones and a 60^th anniversary one.

The 50^th Anniversary medallions were worn by many Colonists in my early years with the show. The 50^th was 1987. I wasn’t in the show until 1992, but received a medallion as an opening night present from Robbie Fearn. The medallions were bronze and cheap - $5 I think, so they were affordable even to underpaid colonists and giving them as gifts was common. They were also available in silver and gold. The medallions were numbered. Mine is # 299. The other 50^th medallion I believe belongs to Lisa.

I also have a medallion from the 60^th anniversary. It is silver. Since one could request a number I got # 299.

Wearing medallions was very common in those days – the 90s. At Bob’s memorial I saw that only David Miller and I were wearing ours.

Along with the medallions in the little box that Lisa mailed to me was something I had forgotten about. A little leather bag with sand in it.

I at times go a little mad in my sentimentality about The Colony. Perhaps you’ve noticed. Here follows a tale of sentimental madness.

We came to The Colony as a family in 1992. Lisa had been there in 91 and I brought the kids to visit, watched the show a few times, and said: “Hey – I could do that.” So we did. I auditioned at locals and landed Old Tom. Lisa was promoted from Joyce to Dame, and the kids were kids. Max was eight and Alice was six. We lived in the Beehive; pretty sweet - a sound front cottage a short walk from the theater.

We did that for two summers. Lisa was bored being Dame and did not return in 1994. I was there by myself with the kids. Then in 1995 Lisa returned mid-summer as The Queen.

So this story takes place in either 1993 or 95 because Lisa was there. I know it wasn’t 92 because my sentimental attachment to the show didn’t happen the first year I was there. It grew on me over the course of time. You don’t really get it if you are only there for a year, it takes time to start to understand the Thing. The history – not only the story we tell but the history of the show; a history play that, in itself, has become a part of history. The thousands of people who have worked on it over the decades. The blood, sweat and tears that have been shed into the sand by those people. And you are linked to those people as surely as if they were family. It is a mighty Thing! You either get that or you don’t.

Also I had fallen in love with being Old Tom. He is probably the best role I have ever had and Waterside Theater is the biggest venue I’ve ever played. I played him for six years and all my life was dedicated to the role. My life revolved around it. What I ate and when I ate it, when and how much I slept. What I allowed myself to imbibe. Everything I did all summer revolved around hitting my peak between 8:30 and 11 every night.

I wanted to save the experience. I wanted to have something that would keep my passion for the show and the role alive in my heart and soul during the endless times between seasons. I wanted some of the Potent Magic of the Colony to carry me through the winter living in the mundane world. I cogitated for some weeks before deciding what to do.

Before the costumes were redesigned in 2007-08 Old Tom wore leather leggings that one would wrap around the legs and tie down. They were an endless bother, between every scene, and sometimes on stage during the scenes, retying the leggings. Because I have skinny legs the leggings wrapped almost twice around my legs. There was lots of excess leather. So one night after the show I cut a small piece out of it.

The costume shop manager that year was Carl Curnutte. Hey Carl! I willfully mutilated my costume. I’m sorry.

I stitched the piece of leather I had pilfered into a small bag and waited to see what I would do with it.

One morning (about noon) Lisa woke me up to tell me that an evacuation had been called because of an approaching hurricane. The big show was cancelled. We hurried to the theater and helped out with a hurricane strike: the lights were removed and placed in the rain shelter bathrooms, most set pieces and props were put in the gazebo or the dressing rooms, and all the costumes were packed into a u-haul truck which was parked at the LCB.

Most of the company evacuated. The Colony had bought out most of a motel in Greenville.

The Bridges didn’t evacuate. I don’t recall what my reasoning was but I decided that we would stay at least until the power went out and then skedaddle if it looked like it was going to be bad. I sent Lisa to the store to buy emergency supplies in case the power went out and we couldn’t leave. She famously brought back bags of microwavable frozen dinners, not realizing that if the power went out we wouldn’t be able to cook them or keep them frozen. Hey, it was her first hurricane.

So we waited. That’s mostly what you do when a hurricane is approaching. You watch the Weather Channel and wait to see what happens. Watching as a storm waxes and wanes in strength, keeping a close eye on the projected track, knowing that just a little shift in the strength or the track means the difference between a rainy windy day and RUN!

So we waited for two days, watching the Weather Channel and eating our microwave dinners. I recall going for a walk with some other Colony souls who didn’t evacuate. Julie Richardson, Steve Winemiller and Neil Ferguson were among them, Max and Alice were with us. We checked in on the theater. The wind was gale force by then. We all walked the parapet. Lisa and I had already descended the ladder and were standing in the sand when we had a heart stopping moment as the wind caught Alice and she almost got blown off the parapet, but she caught herself and we continued our walk. We went along the path that leads from the LCB circle to the west end where the old bridge leads to the mainland. I have a vivid memory of Neil screaming “Flee!” at the cars that were speeding their way to safety.

There were various hurricane parties that we attended but mostly we hung out at the Beehive.

When the storm made landfall it hit below the northern Outer Banks and tracked inland to our west. We only got the edge of it, a lot of wind and not even a lot of rain. Ironically its inland track took it over Greenville and the Colonists in the motel lost the power and suffered the brunt of the heavy rain, flooding and wind damage. We continued to sit in the Beehive watching TV and microwaving our food.

It was at about 2 am when the wind was at its highest that I took my little leather bag I had fashioned from my costume and walked to the theater. I was by myself because Lisa thought I was crazy. Not so – just high as a kite, which I guess can qualify as crazy.

I went to the stage and sat in the sand for awhile in the pitch dark and howling wind. I filled my little leather bag with on ounce or two of sand from the stage.

The sand from the stage - Potent Magic.

You will recall that at strike every year the sand gets boxed up in a makeshift plywood enclosure where it sits all winter and in the spring it is released, spread out and replenished with fresh sand. But it is the same sand. The sweat of everyone who has spent a summer doing the pageant is in that sand, along with all the passion and soul of The Lost Colony. All the generations of the Company are in that sand and every year the new members of the Company add a bit of their souls to it. If you’ve been in that sand a part of you is there.

I closed the bag with a bit of leather and hung it on a string and I wore it, along with my 50^th Anniversary medallion, every day through the endless mundane fall, winter and spring. When the foolishness of life crowded in on me I would touch it and roll it between my fingers, feeling the Potent Magic of the sand crunching inside.

Near the start of the following summer’s run I emptied the sand back onto the stage to mingle with the new Company, to be recharged by the love and work and dedication that would take place. At the end of the summer I refilled the bag, retied the strap, and hung it back around my neck.

Seasons come and go, cycles turn and time moves on. The Bridges ended their run at The Colony with the 1997 season. I was done, done, done with Old Tom. Six years as him was enough. A new director came in and Lisa got the ax. Only Max continued in 98 as a props assistant. The following year I got called in to play Ananias. I don’t think I did the sand in the bag thing that year. That season is not good in my memory.

But, again, cycles turn. Lisa came back for another four years with Terry Mann as director and I played Governor White in 2003. I definitely performed my little ritual of adding the sand back to the stage and refilling it at the end, although I was a little embarrassed by it.

The kids grew up and went their ways. Lisa and I moved away from Manteo. The little box with the medallions and the leather bag of sand were lost in the back of my sock drawer until I had Lisa dig it out and mail it to me a couple months ago.

Finding the bag brought memories and passions crashing back at me. In a way it frightened me, I have left it in the box on the shelf all summer, wondering if I could write about it, if I could revisit those glory days of The Bridge Family in The Lost Colony, if I could withstand the passions that caused me to mutilate Old Tom’s costume and make my way to the theater in the howling wind to capture some of the Potent Magic that signified that time of my life.

Tonight after the big show is the Dance Concert in the Gazebo. I’m taking the bag with me and after the concert I’m going to empty it in the sand on the stage, letting all the souls of all the generations join with the present, and on closing night I’ll fill it again so that I can take the Potent Magic with me when I rejoin the world.