Autumnal Virginia

"October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came-
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses Maple
In scarlet looked their best;
All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky."

-George Cooper


Heading north again, back into the rolling hills of Virginia, we were a quiet lot. After finishing our fourth performance of the week, most of us were keeping to ourselves as the serene scenery whizzed by outside. We were headed to Charlottesville, VA, a town which had no special significance to any of us, but was merely our destination, the last stop on our first five-show week.

We had been on the road for a few hours and were nearing our journey's end. I was at the wheel, Erin navigating, and we had listened to every song with 'Virginia' in the title that either of us could find on our ipods. I wondered aloud where Monticello was, as I was a big fan of Thomas Jefferson and had always wanted to see it. Erin said she thought it was near D.C. somewhere, and someone chimed in that they thought it was near the Maryland border. While Erin tried to look for it on the map, I noticed a sign floating by that read: "Monticello, home of Thomas Jefferson, 2 miles."

What luck! The house was just two miles from the venue we were playing the next morning, and we decided to check it out after the performance. We arrived at our hotel, situated directly on the campus of the University of Virginia. The hotel was abuzz with new arrivals, most of whom were athletes from other schools in town for tournaments and such. Across the street from the hotel was the school's football field, where the marching band was practicing.

After dinner, I was relaxing with Kate and Peter, when Meg comes running in looking happier than a four-year old on Christmas morning. She hastily explained that she had just been for a run and saw the marching band, and that they were AMAZING.

"They were doing moves and tricks and the drum line was booming . . . !!!!"

It was the coolest thing she had seen in a long time. I had seen the band practicing earlier and hadn't thought much of it. Come to find out, it was the first time Meg had ever seen a marching band. Ever. Without a football team, her high school had no need of a band, and she had never been to a college game so had somehow missed out on one of the great Americana traditions. We were glad that she finally got a taste of it, and by all accounts the UVA band seems to have made a big impression.

After hearing reports from the other cast members that the campus was nearby and worth seeing, I took a late night stroll that direction before heading to bed. I was rewarded with the most beautiful college campus I had ever seen. Endless colonades, ivy wrapped-everything, amphitheaters and sky bridges all trimmed in red brick. A classic library with wood-paneled reading rooms, and all set in the rolling pastoral surroundings of the Virginia countryside. It was truly an impressive place. UVA had been Jefferson's pet project in later life, and it is a stunning testament to the taste and integrity of its benefactor.

The next morning we set out for the Charlottesville Performing Arts Center, to load in for that morning's show. This was a bit tricky for Erin, since she was driving Lenny the Truck to the venue, and was having trouble finding a route that would admit his 13'6'' bulk. We arrived at the PAC, which shared the lot with the local high school's practice field, and were greeted with fresh bagels and coffee from the house crew (oh sweet sustenance!) as well as the sounds of their marching band's morning rehearsal. Meg was ecstatic once again for the band, and we enjoyed the musical accompaniment while loading in.

Despite the theater's lack of air conditioning, which made for stifling on-stage conditions (refer to blog entry 3: 'The Harrowing' for more on the sweaty/slimy-ness) Erin said the performance was strong and she was pleased. After load out, Martin and Erin took the truck and headed on the road while the rest of us piled into the van and headed for Monticello.

Winding the circuitous mountain road on the approach to the manor makes one fully appreciate the estates natural surroundings. Beautiful trees rich in the colors of autumn made a canopy of gold, bronze and auburn as we neared the house. After buying our tour tickets and taking a shuttle bus to the top of the hill, we wandered the grounds and the gift shop for half an hour before the tour began. We were greeted by our tour guide, a stately older woman with the soft genteel Virginia accent. Her first sentence began:

"Hello ever-bahdy, and wellcum to Mahnichelluh."

We were led through the entry way, complete with a compass attached to the weathervane and a weight-operated clock with the days of the week as well as the hour, into the entry hall and beyond. The house was moderately sized, and very tasteful. The library was impressive, especially considering the fact that Jefferson donated all of his books to the library of congress upon his passing. The museum had acquired the exact same titles that were in the library, and the original editions (!!), so that the books were still the same as the ones Jefferson read.



He had loads of interesting gadgets, including a polygraph machine that would make duplicate copies of his writing while he journaled. A gorgeous parlor in the shape of an octogon with french doors all around, and on and on. Every room of the house exhibited the exquisite taste, and progressive nature of one of our nation's foremost thinkers.

The gardens surrounding the house were also well worth the visit. Flowers of all nature and variety flourished, and the endless countryside vistas of the idyllic setting made every aspect of the visit a delight. On top of all this, the trees had all started to turn, so there was color everywhere.

Thoroughly delighted with our visit, we took our leave of Monticello, and headed for the open road . . . but not before seeing an "Apple Cider" sign a mile down the road and pulling off to checkout the local orchard. Little did we know, the orchard was not just off the road, but rather at the end of said road, at the top of a mountain. After ascending for ten minutes, amid serious misgivings about Matilda's capabilites in mountaneering, we eventually reached the summit. We were greeted by a giant red barn, and apple trees hugging the slope for a hundred yards all the way to the regular treeline. And if the views at Monticello were impressive, the outlook from the Carter Mountain Orchard was absolutely commanding. We could see for miles, and there was plenty of cider to be had. The best part by far though, was the wooden cutout of an apple with a worm in it that you could take your picture with. MUCH fun was had.

Afterwards we did finally get onto the road and head for West Virginia. The drive was supposed to take 3.5 hours, and ended up taking the rest of the night. It began with a heavy rain, then construction, then heavy rain + construction. This of course led us to getting lost and taking a frightening detour through Beaver State Park, where we could only manage 20 mph because of the winding curves. The road eventually came to a dead end, at which point we were all going bonkers, afraid we were going to end up stranded in the hillbilliy wilds of W.Virginia. Meg Mark was at the wheel and upon reaching the empty parking lot at the end of the road, spun Matilda in a full 360 donut (just for good measure) before we stopped at a gas station, got directions and found the hotel.

Beaver West Virginia is everything we had expected from the name, and aside from eating at Biscuit World for breakfast, not much else to say. We departed the next morning for Lexington, and the drive through the mountains was a study in the splendor of the season. The interstate wound through mountain passes all bedecked with trees in a wild riot of fall colors. As we soared ahead, Erin put on some great neo-mountain music to accompany the scenery. Without a cloud in the sky, the morning passed swiftly and soon we were crossing into Kentucky to land at the hotel and celebrate the weekend.

Saturday evening we found an international market (inside a building deceptively called the Liquor Barn), and bought fresh baguettes, meat, cheese, and olives, to make an evening repast. Afterwards most of the gang hung out at the hotel while Meg and I went to a party thrown by some of her friends from the Pioneer Playhouse, the theater she worked at over the summer, which was just twenty minutes away. Libations were poured, new friends were made and a good night was had by all.

Tonight I'm signing off in Memphis, as we head in to performances throughout Tennessee for the rest of the week. From the blue and rainy blues capitol,

-ICHABOD

Coasting in Carolina

October 17, 2007

"Abused mortals! did you know
  Where joy, heart's-ease, and comforts grow;
    You'd scorn proud towers,
      And seek them in these bowers,
        Where winds sometimes our woods perhaps may shake,
          But blustering care could never tempest make,
            Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us,
              Saving of fountains that glide by us."

-Sir Walter Raleigh



It's a scene out of a storybook: rolling hills of green, winding country roads, street signs instructing the traveler to be mindful of the horse-and-buggies. Amish country is renowned for its handcrafts, soft pretzels and peaceful inhabitants. The venue we played last Friday could not have been a more pristine example of this quiet area. A beautiful new high school, run by the Mennonites. It's theater was resplendant with glistening white walls and polished pine benches. The students were infinitely polite, helpful and disarmingly innocent. There was a chapel service going on in the auditorium while we set the stage behind the main curtain. There was an air of prosaic wholesomeness about the whole morning. We thought surely we would have a quiet, tranquil end to our otherwise tumultuous week. 'Twas a vain hope, and we were soon learning that our bad luck was not going down without a fight . . .

To list the mishaps of that particular performance would be impossibly exhaustive; here are some of the highlights: the curtain was installed sideways, which made it extremely difficult (read impossible) to close. Our local crew, comprised of the enthusiastic high-schoolers, seemed incapable of doing anything but get in the way. The dam broke when, at the end of Sleepy Hollow the scrim refused to be pulled out, and the Headless Horseman was forced to enter by scurrying underneath said scrim while it was held aloft by two frantic actors. I of course was not aware of this, since I do not look back at the Horseman until the end of the scene when we are supposed to exit together--at the precise spot where the scrim was still hanging. So after our elaborate disappearing stage-trick, Ichabod helped the Horseman underneath the scrim and then both scurried off together. So much for dramatic tension.

The calamity only escalated from there. Mustaches flew off, curtains were caught on scenery, mics failed and performances were lackluster. All of which was received by the audience with absolute silence. We did not hear so much as a peep out of them for two solid hours. While we did appreciate their respectful attention, it's never fun playing for corpses.

It makes sense, I suppose, that after the ridiculousness of the week's begin, it should end with a bang. Suffice to say that by the end of the performance we were all disgruntled, tired, and simply glad that the nightmarish week was over.

We stowed our gear, tied down the hatches, performed our cross-checks and fired up Matilda's engines.
I found myself for the first time in the truck, navigating for Erin. We jammed out to the 'Across the Universe' soundtrack and busied ourselves deciding on a proper eponym for our as-of-yet unnamed truck. After some deliberation we settled on 'Lenny'. This came from the truck's similarity with the abonimable snowman from Looney Tunes, and because it sounded good in concert with 'Matilda'. The rest of the troupe also found it fitting, and as quick as a wink, our caravan was complete.

We stopped in Harrisonburg, VA for the night, and rose the next morning to push on to North Carolina.
Already we could see that a good night's sleep, and the prospect of two days off had done wonders for our spirits. It also helped that we had biscuits and gravy that morning on the breakfast buffet (a first for some of our cast members) Welcome to the south!

At the wheel was Metro Meg Mark, who got us on the road and settled in to the five hour trip while our superb soundman Nate played DJ and navigated. After lunch, Nate switched with Meg, put on his driving gloves and prepared to supercharge us through the Appalachians. To accompany our descent through the mountains, he popped in the new Radiohead album, 'In Rainbows', which had just come out a few days before. The rolling drumbeats and distortion mixed with Thom Yorke's vocals created the perfect soundtrack for Nate's expert piloting. The whole world opened up outside the windows with endless mountains vistas as Matilda hugged the curves and screamed through the hills, Lenny trundling faithfully behind.

We arrived that evening in Hickory, NC, where the accents are as thick and sweet as the syrup they serve in the mornings. The hotel clerk was terribly excited by the presence of traveling actors. He was something of an actor himself he told us, and had been in over 12 community theatre productions. (!!!) He was assisted by the sweetest southern queen imaginable, by the name of Tatiana. She was all smiles and elongated vowels, happy to supply information about the area. I was so fascinated by her accent that I would ask questions I already knew the answers to, just to see what she would come up with next. The gentlemen of E3 absolutely adored her and she was a common conversation piece over the next two days.

Other than the accents and the fried chicken, not much to say about Hickory. A general malaise settled upon us, as the hotel was not near anything of interest, and the van was in use half the day running errands for the tour. It was an incomparably beautiful day, with plenty of sunshine and white poofy clouds, so we did what we could to enjoy it, ending the day at Cracker Barrel for some soul food.

Monday began a new week, and a fresh start to the performances. The first positive indication was the lack of technical difficulties, and the extremely responsive crowds. The audience was laughing and reacting to the shows, and it was certainly a welcome change.

Tuesday saw us in Pfafftown (pron. Pahf-town), at an out-of-the-way high school with a tiny house. Although it was a trick adapting our production to the space, the audience was lively and our hosts were gracious and helpful. We even got a free meal out of it.

With two more notches in the proverbial belt, we headed into the state's capitol: Raleigh.

Although we knew we would be performing in a proper venue this morning, most of us were not prepared for the grandeur of the Raleigh Memorial Auditorium. Situated downtown just a few hundred yards from the capitol building, it is a majestic white stone structure, gleaming in the morning light, and exuding the august austerity of a world-class cultural institution. Upon finding myself inside the building ten minutes later, I was amazed to see that the reality surpassed even my own romantic imaginings.



We were greeted by an extremely competent union crew, in a pristine and totally state of the art loading dock. There were uniformed personnel everywhere and as we headed on to stage, I was immediately overwhelmed by the size of the place. The stage itself was huge, but even more impressive was the house, with thousands of red seats cascading back three levels up and more. There were two enormous chandeliers, suspended stories above the seats. Upon asking, I learned that they were each fifteen feet tall, twelve feet in diameter and made of real genuine (pron. gin-u-WINE) Austrian crystal. Magnificent.

With the crew's help we had the set loaded in record time. We each had our own dressing rooms, and I was amazed to see that there were two coffee pots with gilded brass legs that curved gently to the table below. Even the coffee pots were classy!

Verily, our performance rose to meet the superior standards of the theater, and we had our best run yet. The audience was excellent, and our show was spot on. After last week, it felt so good to load in like a bunch of pros, and bang the boards with a performance we could all be proud of.

We performed there again the following morning, and the house was filled almost to capacity. They were a rowdy lot, cheering raucously and commenting on the shows, but still very energetic in the best sense. We rocked out one again, and after a quick and painless load out, said our goodbyes to that beautiful building.

We then took our leave of Carolina and rolled along northward, knowing that we had left many young hearts and minds lightened by our passing.

Our next installment of adventures takes place in Virginia, and is full of ivy wrapped columns, dead presidents, and our own rock-solid theatricality! For now we depart our second full week on the road, and await the solace of a weekend well earned.

-ICHABOD

World Weary

"Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed
 
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
 
But then begins a journey in my head
 
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expir’d:"


-Shakespeare, Sonnet 27


Monstrous! The only word that can describe the rigors of the last 48 hours. I almost regret that I have already used the word 'harrowing' for a blog entry; for this day it would certainly have been apt. We were party to a number of misadventures, which I shall chronicle for you now:

'The Purloined Performance'

We launched into our first public performance Tuesday morning with hopes and spirits high. We arrived at the high school, with our stage already set from the previous afternoon and relaxed into our warm-ups and wardrobe. The facilities at the school were sumptuous, with a proper stage and 2,000 seat house. The real jewel of the venue was the presence of the fourth largest theater-organ in the world. It was a beautiful piece of machinery dating from 1928, that took up almost a third of the stage space. Bob, the director of the theater, proudly displayed to us the keyboard station itself, resplendent with hundreds of effects and buttons, all with a 20's vintage charm. We were able to go up into the machinery itself and see the different instruments attached to the organ; everything from a marimba to a tympani to a cowbell, each with corresponding keys. Bob said it was the 19th century equivalent of a synthesizer, and he was right. Incredible that we now carry that many sounds and more in a hand-held device.

We were also lucky in that there were two large dressings rooms, one on each side of stage. So the gents settled into one, ladies in the other. We each had our own bathroom as well, which opened into hallway of the school (much to our chagrin). We were assured that these doors were locked, and Chamber had even hired a security guard, unbeknownst to us, for the event. That should have been a sign . . .

The performance went smoothly enough, despite the fact that the audience was entirely unresponsive. Our adventure really began after the show, when we gents returned to our dressing room to realize that we'd been robbed. It turns out someone forgot to lock the bathroom door leading into our dressing room, and some enterprising Ecoliers decided to profit from it. Though I myself came off rather lightly, only losing my cell phone, Peter and Brent both lost ipods, cell phones, a digital camera, flashlight, jump drive and 77 dollars between them. Where was the security guard during all of this? Sitting in the house, watching the performance. Vigilance!

This part of the story actually ends better than we could have hoped. After giving descriptions of the lost items to the school's detective, and descriptions of two youths I had seen in our bathroom at the beginning of the performance, the powers that be were able to recover all of our cell phones, and everything else besides the ipods and the cash, in a little under two hours. All things considered that's some pretty solid police work. I had concocted the scheme of spreading the word to the teachers to maintain silence in their classrooms while we called my cell phone . . . and whichever student's pocket exploded with the sound of Queen's "Fat Bottom Girls" would obviously be the culprit. Although the detective liked the idea, he did not think it was feasible, and went about his work the old fashioned way.

'Monsoon Move-Out'

After all of the identifying and gumshoe-ing we had lost a lot of time for the load out. To complicate matters, it was our first time to load the truck without help from the production manager, and unfortunately (due to a busted printer) without pictures of how the truck was supposed to be packed. So the regular hour-long job of loading out became a three hour ordeal, that was punctuated by a torrential downpour that endured for the last two hours and finished abruptly five minutes after we were done. Soaked through and bone weary, we trundled back to the hotel to get some rest.

Erin warned us that evening that the next day's performance was going to be difficult. There was to be no loading dock, and we would have to nix about a third of our scenery because the stage was too small. They did not have proper lighting, so we would have to install our own (adding significant time to our already early call the next morning). We figured things couldn't get much worse, so we bore it bravely, and much to our surprise we actually loaded in faster than normal. The civic center we were playing had a four-man union crew who had installed the show before, and they had it up in no time. The crowd was rowdy and responsive, which made our job that much easier, and the load out was far less painful than the day before, thanks to competent help and freshly printed pack-pictures. Despite our worst expectations, the second performance went off right lively.

'Bed Bug Blues'

Thinking the worst behind us, we dashed back to the hotel to cleanse ourselves, enjoy a hearty repast (Chili's had never sounded so good!) and to share some liquid libations in an attempt to forget our misfortunes of the day before. We were quite successful in all of these pursuits, and E3 finally crashed out Wednesday night, world-weary and glad the worst was behind us.

The first mishap at the hotel that night involved Meg and a slug (doubtless a relative of the one that tried to steal Peter's thunder weeks ago). She had gone outside to make a phone call, comfie in her nightgown, enjoying the indian summer evening. No sooner had she sat down on the edge of a planter, she lost her balance, and went back first into the soil, landing upon an errant slug. As a final deed, the unfortunate creature certainly left his 'mark' on the world, as seen by the giant green splotch that he permanently imprinted on the rear of Meg's nightie. Thoroughly grossed out, Meg returned inside; but this would not be the end of pesky critters this night . . .

It was around 11 pm however, that Erin and Meg came yelping out into the hallway after a close encounter with some of the Hotel's most unsavory occupants. Erin had discovered bugs in her bed, and one of them dive-bombed Meg in the mouth, which was the last straw. The ladies demanded to switch rooms, which the front desk did promptly, but not before Erin had born the brunt of the attack. At breakfast the next morning, she was displaying the marks of this conflict, covered from head to foot in red bites. And we thought it couldn't get any worse . . .

To say that our first two days on the road went less well than expected, would be a generous understatement. Amazingly enough however, our company has come through it all proving we are made of tougher stuff than most. In spite of everything that had happened, we had a relaxed car ride to Pennsylvania today, accented buy a break at the most idyllic rest stop I have ever seen. It was off the highway in Delaware, and was a delight of old growth trees, formal gardens, and clean restrooms. They offered free coffee and tea to weary travelers, and best of all . . . a see-saw!



You see? Its not where one goes, but rather how one gets there. And we're sure to have many more adventures right around the corner. We're in Amish country tonight, and bringing our tales of horror (both onstage and off) to the gentle environs of a Mennonite high school in the morning. And there's plenty more where that came from! The road goes ever on and on . . .

Underway!

October 8th, 2007

"The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say."

-J.R.R. Tolkien


Like a band of gypsies we roll down the highway. Barreling through New England, across New York and into the Garden State, we've finally arrived in 'the first state' . . . DELAWARE! I felt the need to capitalize the name, since there seems to be little else to capitalize on in our present location. Sadly, the "diamond state" has thus far left much to be desired, aside from its geographic proximity to other more notable cities. More on that presently.

However one major improvement to our outfit, and much to our surprise would be the upgrade in transportation. Considering our fears of appearing like a parade of mediocrity, we were overjoyed to find that not only did we receive a brand new, top of the line Ryder truck (only 6,000 miles, cd player, and an extra ft. of height which pleases me more than the others) . . . we have also been blessed with company decals! Yes folks, that means that we are now cruising the countryside in style, with the emblem of Chamber Theatre Productions proudly emblazoned on the side of our 'Matilda', the loving appellation we bestowed upon our van.

So with our shiny new stickers and outfitted autos, we flew down the highway, leaving Boston and our month of hard-fought rehearsals behind us. The final week of which was emblematic of the entire process: intense, exhaustive and exhausting. Every last second of rehearsal time was put to use, and although our final two dress rehearsals went splendidly, by the end of it our morale was at an all time low. True to our company's character though, E3 didn't let things go south. Taking a page from Cool Hand Luke, we put the fun back into loading out the set on Thursday afternoon.

While Peter and Brent learned how to load the truck, the rest of us scuttled the set pieces in one by one, while I was regaled with tales of Godffrey de Chevalier, the theater's namesake, by Dick the Ancient Stagehand. He told me of Chevalier's early days in Medford as an athlete and a scholar, his service in the navy in WWI, where he single-handedly saved 20 men from drowning, and a ship from sinking on another occasion. Continuing with his herculean feats, Chevalier became a navy pilot, while aviation was still in its infancy. His crowning achievement was being the first man to land a plane on a ship underway, which he did in 1922. It was also his undoing, as he died landing a plane three weeks later in the same manner. So it goes. Luckily, there was a destroyer named after him that served in WWII. Unluckily, it was sunk by the Japanese in 1943. However, the theater was dedicated for him in 1940, and it turns out that Dick was there to work the opening when he was just 16, a job that he has maintained since. Hence, 'ancient'. Isn't storytime fun?!


Luckily we all had a free Friday to gather ourselves for the coming departure and tie up any loose ends in Boston. While most of us spent it packing and scurrying around the city, Peter and Kate took time to experience Monster House 3-D at the Imax. By all accounts, an experience like no other.

Saturday Kate made the rounds, retrieving each of us from our various dwellings, and filling Matilda to the brim with baggage, Barnstormers and a sign reading: "Delaware or Bust."

Peter and Brian Lovin' Life


The six hour journey passed pleasantly enough, with the front half of the car playing the alphabet game (we got as far as 'D' on fruits and vegetables, before Peter was stumped and determined to come up with something . . . ), or singing along to Bohemian Rhapsody. Meanwhile Brent and myself made up the back half of the van, he plugged into his laptop and I devouring a new fantasy novel. About three hours in we cut across the Bronx and caught a beautiful view of the City at sunset as we crossed the bridge into New Jersey.

An hour after darkness fell . . . "DATES!" cried Peter as he resumed the alphabet game, 3 hours late, proving himself the master of 'D'-named vegetables/fruits . . . we arrived in Delaware and were rewarded with pizza and beer (courtesy of the producer) as a thank you for our hard work and to celebrate the journey's begin.

As we fell to, sating ourselves on meat lovers and Pilsner, Erin tossed me a Delaware guide from the hotel and suggested we all go to the Renoir exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art on our day off the subsequent day. I turned to her with a patronizing smile, saying:
"Ha! Silly girl, don't you understand that we are in Delaware, and nowhere near such places! What could you possibly be thinking?"

She tossed the atlas at me and pointed out that Wilmington, DE is a mere 32 miles from Philly. It would seem my geographical knowledge of the northeastern United States is about as expansive as our President's vocabulary, and I had just proven the point.

I was previously under the impression that we would not be near Philadelphia until December, but much to my surprise, I found myself surmounting the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art (made world-famous by Stalone in Rocky) along with Nate, Erin, Meg and Brent, and meeting up with the lovely and talented Jessica DalCanton, one of my best friends from the university, who happens to live in Philly.

We spent the afternoon bedazzled by the beauty and majesty of the museum; Meg paid to see the special Renoir exhibit, and later said it was worth every penny.




The Gang Rockin' out with Rocky!

I took a quick trip through Philadelphia with Jessica, and caught up over capuccinos. Then at five o'clock we caravaned down to infamous South Street, where Jess led us past the sex shops and street people to Jake's Steakhouse, the best place in Philly (and subsequently on the planet) to have a Philly Cheesesteak. A mountain of chopped beef, cheese whiz, onions, peppers and mushrooms on a hoagie roll and washed down with Philadelphia's own Juengling Beer. It made for the perfect end to a perfect day trip.

Our bellies full, we took our leave of Miss DalCanton and headed merrily back to Delaware for a brief company meeting and then to bed.

And now we're back from loading our show in a day in advance of our first public performance tomorrow morning.


Eager young minds of Delaware: "PREPARE YOURSELVES!"

The Harrowing

September 30, 2007

"Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,

That motley drama!--oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased forever more,
By a crowd that seize it not."

-Poe

'Twas a long and arduous week, the likes of which E3 had ne'er seen. After beginning on Monday last (which seems a lifetime ago) for our second-to last rehearsal at Uphams Corner, we spent Tuesday afternoon loading all of our theatrical trappings into the two conveyances that comprise our caravan: our dun-colored 15 passenger van and the hulking white Ryder truck.

Being the final company to depart from Boston, it is our unfortunate lot to get stuck with the leftover equipment. This extends to our vehicles as well. We had hoped to tour the countryside in sharp-looking machines emblazoned with 'Chamber Theatre Productions', to announce our purpose to all those we trundle past. Sadly, such is not the case. We are left with a non-descript, dust-colored van and a 26' monstrosity clumsily labeled 'Ryder'. This gives us more the look of impoverished college students who are moving across town, rather than the stunningly talented and honed virtuosos we really are! But my friends, fear not; we are already putting our creativity to the task of customizing our transportation (or in the lingua vulgare: 'pimping our rides'). Look for details and pictures coming very soon . . .

Thus we bid farewell to Uphams Corner and moved into our new home, the grand Chevalier Theatre in Medford, MA:



There is a special kind of magic that arises from the transition of a rehearsal hall to a theatre space. You start to feel and fill the space more fully; it informs the way you move, the way you relate, and your attitude to the work is completely different. Things begin to fit together . . .

. . . and then tech rehearsals begin and everything falls apart. Our case was no different.

The first real surprise is seeing everyone in costume. This show is particularly intense because we all play so many different roles, and thanks to wigs and costumes, look radically different from scene to scene. Since none of us had had a chance thus far to see one another's costume pieces, every entrance during the tech rehearsal brought an almost cartoon-like surprise effect upon seeing each other for the first time. All of a sudden Brent had outlandish mutton-chops, or Peter appeared with a belly and a mustache. The wigs also helped to push our hilarity to the absurd, and each scene brought out some new outrageous hairstyle.

We spent most of Thursday and Friday running the show and adjusting to our costumes, wigs and makeup. The biggest adjustment for the men has been dealing with prosthetics and faux facial hair.

Mustaches, sideburns, mutton chops, mustachios . . . name it and we've got it in the show somewhere. Everything from Charlie Chaplin to the full Abe Lincoln look makes its way on stage at some point. On top of this I get to wear a fake nose for the role of Ichabod, which absolutely refuses to stay affixed more than twenty minutes. It's become a game to see how long I can go before it oozes off my face.

Brent and Peter were having similar shenanigans with their facial hair. At the top of the show Brent walked out in his inspector outfit for Tell-Tale, and got about three words out before Peter and Kate's giggling and general hilarity broke the moment. We had another such incident in Monkey's Paw that day, which consisted of dueling mustaches. I entered as the Factory Man to deliver the news of their son's death, and none of us could keep a straight face as my mustache began flapping while I spoke. In trying not to laugh at me Peter stiffened and his started coming off as well. We got about three more lines out before it all fell apart.

You might be wondering why none of the facial hair and prosthetics were sticking to our faces. The answer is simple, though not very genteel. To begin with the theater is not air-conditioned. Add theatrical lighting, nerves and heavy period costumes, and our sweat glands are pumping like Niagra all the time. By the end of the first act, any one of us could give those slugs from the party last week a run for their money in a slime trail contest. Oh yeah!

Saturday afternoon was photo call, which meant even more elaborate wigs and makeup than normal. So by the time we got in front of the camera we all looked like a million bucks, and spent the next four hours making faces and improvising scenes to get the right looks for the promo material. By far the best was when Brent and Meg had to do shots for the Necklace. Brent was whispering constant taunts into her ear while she had to face out and pretend to love every moment. Brent didn't hesitate to antagonize her every way he could think of:

Brent: (sotto voce) "Everything is so beautiful . . . except for you"

Meg: (barely audible) "I hate you"

Brent: (sotto voce) "What a lovely necklace! It looks terrible on you, but the necklace is really lovely . . ."

And so on, and so forth. The best part was, that it continued for close to five minutes. One more notch in the belt for Brent, and one more axe to grind for Meg.

In other news, there was some excitement in my neighborhood last week. I got on the train Friday morning and the headline read as follows:

"Shooting Steps From T Station--One injured, three arested in latest bout of violence."

-Hrm, thought I . . . sounds like some violence went down. Wonder what unfortunate part of town that was taking place in?-

Imagine my surprise when I read on and noticed the T station mentioned was Forest Hills, the exact one where I had just boarded. The article went on to explain that a shooting had taken place on Woodlawn avenue the previous day, in broad daylight at 2:00 pm. Why did I find this so troubling? Because Woodlawn is the street where I currently reside. (!!!) Here is a copy of the picture from the paper, with a bit of flavor text:



Needless to say the excitement has been at a premium here in Boston. Add on top of this the fact that Red Sox won their division, and Beantown is really going crazy. Personally I'm not too worried though, because while strolling through the park yesterday I found a chestnut on the ground. According to Ze Germans, the first chestnut of the season brings good luck to the bearer; so no worries folks, for the moment I'm benefiting from the Universe's good graces. :)

Its been an exhausting week of meandering moustaches, lightning fast costume changes, interminable tech rehearsals and general on stage shenanigans. Off stage Kate received a visit from her Beau this weekend, and was otherwise engaged. Brent spent an idyllic day off picking apples in the countryside with his ladyfriend; MightyMeg hit the gym and then vegged out with a fun flick. And Peter munched on white bread and ramen while trying to avoid the spider lady downstairs and simultaneously keeping the creepy alive . . .

So we conclude our last weekend in Boston. This week we gear up for a final barrage of dress rehearsals, load outs, tie-downs, cross-checks, etc., heading out Saturday for the open road and the wilds of Delaware. On the verge of departure, we will hopefully abscond with the approval of the powers that be, and sally forth into the next phase of our journey!

Rambling On,

ICHABOD