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.