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WELCOME BACKSTAGE
In the Buckingham Performing Arts Center’s backstage prop room, there are shields from Pippin, blankets, nets, cacti, and a fake telephone. There are spears and a stuffed lamb, vodka bottles and dolls. There are wrapped presents, furniture of all descriptions, cardboard trees, and fake flowers. On the wall, there is a poem.
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
If it wasn’t for women,
Our ding-dongs would rust
PS – Shakespeare did not write this ha ha
This wall boasts years of writing shown by layers of ink, spray paint, and obscured words. “When dreams become reality, reality becomes a dream,” claims someone from ’96. Another signs his name “the parking lot leaning machine harlot.” Yet others leave email addresses behind.
This is the space that the stage crew inhabits. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When backstage, make sure you don’t say the name of the Scottish play (Macbeth) in front of them. Or else you’ll be forced to run backwards around the building five times.
“It’s a good thing it’s a small theater, or we’d lose a lot of actors that way,” jokes Holly Bruer, the stage manager. “[Actor] Mike Saba has fallen victim to saying the M-word three years in a row. We’ve sent him out there even when it was cold and drizzling.”
The Macbeth tradition is only a hint of the quirkiness that the stage crew embraces. Over time, and in such close quarters, they have grown into their own close-knit community.
MR HOPKINS
The ruler of this group depends on whom you ask. “There’s a power struggle between H and the senior tecchies,” says Jamie Brainard, a stage crew member. Although Donald Hopkins, “H” to the crew, is the faculty member in charge, the students have a lot of control over the finished product.
“Working with Hopkins is a blast,” says Holly Bruer. “There’s excellent banter. His job is to make sure everything works during practice, but during the performance, I’m in charge. It’s a lot of responsibility. We learn so much, just on a day-to-day basis. It’s fun to be with him, even if he’s a control freak sometimes.”
“H will tell you to do things then forget about you. A few hours later, he’ll check up on you to see how you’re doing,” says Jamie Brainard. “He’s got this thing about screws though. You’ve gotta make sure you don’t grind the screws. He’ll be anywhere in the building and if he hears you, he’ll get jumpy and start screaming, ‘Stop stripping it! Stop stripping it!’ We think he can hear us even when he’s at home.”
Mr. Hopkins, the husband of English teacher Mrs. Hopkins, has worked at Wyoming Seminary for three years and College Miserecordia for six. Before Seminary, he worked for the local public Dallas High School. He has also been affiliated with the Theater on the Green, an outdoor Shakespeare festival held in the summer.
When asked about his stage crew, he laughs, grins wryly, and says, “God love us... We don’t have as many strange traditions as we do strange people.”
THE STUDENTS
“Tech interferes with my family life,” light manager Jennifer Campbell says. “My baby is in detention right now. It has been for several days now. Motherhood is hard. Sometimes I don’t get home until midnight.”
She is sitting backstage with her boyfriend, Jamie Brainard, who is petting her hair. “She’s in developmental psychology,” he explains. All the students taking the course are required to be parents to eggs for the week. Stage crew takes up so much of her attention that she needs someone else to egg-sit.
Fellow stage crew member Arielle Waite walks in and complains, “We need a turn of the century wingback chair.”
They launch into an animated discussion on what turn-of-the-century wingback chairs are and what, ideally, the one for their set would look like. They decide on a huge, chunky one of cherry wood.
“We’re a pretty unorthodox group,” Jamie Brainard says. “But I promise our conversations aren’t usually like this.”
THE WORK
“It’s about four days a week – not Fridays – for about two hours right after school, sometimes at night or on weekends, when it gets closer to the show,” says Wesley Mech, a sophomore who does set construction.
“This had better be your second home; if it isn’t, you’ll go crazy,” says Jen Campbell. “It happens so often that you go into the theater during the day and come out and it’s dark.”
“Heavens,” Hopkins laughs, “if students aren’t interested, they’re not here.”
Everyone has their own unique contribution to the final product.
Amber Oberholzer is a girl who works on lights. “I’m a light individual,” she jokes. “You can say I’m enlightened.” She attempts to regain her composure, but fails. “I’m crucial. You can’t put on the wrong lights. Green lights can kill acting.”
“Me?” Jamie Brainard asks. “I’m the grunt. I’m the jack of all trades. There aren’t many guys, so I do heavy physical labor. I basically run the pulleys. Scrim goes up, scrim goes down. Over and over.”
“The girls hold more leadership responsibilities,” Jennifer Campbell says. She is in charge of the lights.
“I’m the stage manager,” Holly Bruer says. “I basically make sure everything’s running smoothly. It used to be Sarah [Killian]’s job, but she’s doing ice hockey this term, so she’s doing sound. We got a new sound system that works with a computer. We just program the computer and she can jump right in even if she’s missed practices. It’s a real promotion after being the prop mistress. I was the one who had to clean up that prop room.”
Arielle Waite smiles. “My job is shadowing Sarah,” she says.
THE ACTORS
“I get along fine with the actors,” says Wesley Mech. “The crew sometimes says stuff like ‘oh the actors broke something’ as if they were an entirely different group. But you can’t have one without the other.”
“I get headphones when I’m stage managing,” says Holly Bruer. “Sometimes I miss cues because we’re so busy goofing off or making fun of the actors... It’s a great little rivalry. We say, ‘Have fun!’ and they say, ‘Don’t drop a light on my head!’ ”
THE TRADITION
Preparing for a play is touchy business. Not only must you avoid saying “Macbeth,” but you also can’t piss off either the actors or the stage ghost.
“We have a light with a cage over it that’s called the ‘ghost light,’ ” Holly Bruer explains. “We never like the leave the ghost in the dark, or else he’ll mess around with your set. Over the summer, stuff disappears and gets moved around. That may be because of the ghost, but it may be the PAI [summer] kids.”
Before they leave, each actor and member of stage crew signs and dates his or her name and the performances of which he or she has been a part.
Holly Bruer signs her name under the résumé of a girl who performed on the day she was born. “Who would have known that on that fateful day, that girl was performing on a stage I was going to manage,” she says.
Even after the students are gone, they take their stage crew experience with them.
“This is a learning experience for anyone, male or female, who wants to learn the basics,” says Donald Hopkins. “They learn to work with equipment like drills, screwdrivers, and measuring tools... These are skills that they will take with them. They can pursue [stage crew] as a hobby, a sideline in real places like their homes and local community theaters.”
He adds: “I like to keep in touch with a few to see what they’re doing.”
Jamie Brainard grins. “The people who quit are pansies.”