Barter Theatre (Cont.)
Playing a Variety of Character Roles Has its Difficulties
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After playing the butler in "Caught Wet," I had the role of Michael O'Shaughnessy, an Irish burglar in "Bob Tailed Nag" by Frances Gregory. Then I played Nick Dominick, an Italian seaman, in "Salt Water." (This fast-moving comedy was later made into a successful movie in which Slim Summerville and Zazu Pitts played the leading roles.)

One of the difficulties of acting in summer stock companies is that during the same week an actor is not only playing one role in a play at night before a live audience, but is also rehearsing an entirely different role each morning - a role in the play to be presented the next week. This is especially tricky when various kinds of character roles are involved. Such a difficulty caught up with me the week I was playing the role of an Irish burglar in the evening and rehearsing each morning as an Italian seaman. Accidentally confusing my dialects, I said, "Ave Maria, atsa too bad," along with the appropriate hand gestures of an excited Italian, when I should have been saying, "Begorra, me lad, 'tis a bloody shame."

Next came my portrayal of a Kentucky mountain boy in Tom Powers' "Monkey Hat." Then during the final two weeks of the season, I played Mr. Dill, a seventy-year-old man, in "East Lynne," a popular melodrama by Mrs. Henry Wood. Changing suddenly from a mischievous and ignorant mountain boy of seventeen to a sedate, wise, and very serious old man challenged my still immature histrionic ability, but I survived it all and enjoyed every minute of both roles.

One night when we were presenting "East Lynne" in a small high school auditorium at Big Stone Gap, Kentucky, we had a production problem -- a serious one -- but the ingenuity and quick action of Mr. Porterfield and Mr. Abbot solved it. Just before curtain time --the audience was already beginning to assemble with armloads of farm produce -- all electricity in the auditorium went off, leaving the entire building and surrounding homes in total darkness. When our company electrician checked with the utility company, he was told electric service to that part of town could not be restored for at least four hours! "Why not use kerosene lamps as footlights?" Mr. Porterfield asked the play director. "Yes, why not?" Mr. Abbot answered, adding that lamplight would be just perfect for this particular melodrama.

So Mr. Porterfield made an announcement from the stage to those already seated. (I remember he held a lighted match above his face to be seen.) And Mr. Abbot went quickly to the box office window where "barter" customers were in line. They both explained the situation briefly and said we could put on the play only if we could get some kerosene lamps, "the same kind many of you use in your homes," Mr. Porterfield added. "If you will help us get fifteen or twenty of these lamps, I think we can put on this play."

The response was immediate and gratifying. Scores of persons, both young and old, rushed out in all directions to search for lamps. Within thirty minutes we had plenty of them -- between twenty-five and thirty, I remember. Already filled with kerosene (those coal-country folks called it "coal oil"}, they were lit and placed along the apron of the stage to serve as footlights. Some were also placed at the exit doors and backstage to complete the "lighting plan."

The light on stage was of course less bright than what we had been accustomed to, but its somber flickering seemed to add to the effectiveness of this gripping turn-of-the century melodrama -- especially when the black-cloaked villain was being hissed and booed by the audience for his cruelty against the heroine. It turned out to be a great success. The audience loved it, and we responded with a better than usual performance. Oh yes, I was about to forget to tell the reader the lights came on again while we were loading the truck after the show!

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