Prairie Theatre Exchange began life as the “Manitoba Theatre Workshop” in the early 70’s having started, a decade earlier, as a theatre school initiated by the Manitoba Theatre Center. There! That’s PTE’s history in a very small nutshell. By 1981 it had acquired its present name and quickly became a bastion of theatre focused on telling Canadian stories by Canadian playwrights. In 1989 it moved from the historic Grain Exchange Building on Princess Street (pictured left) to new digs (pictured right). There had always been, at least to me, something slightly “granola-ish” about PTE’s environment and playbills. It felt homey and somewhat hippy-ish and up to this point, I had only seen theatre in the old building, never having had the opportunity to perform there for one reason or another. Seeming to belie its origins and mandate, they were now moving into a gigantic shopping mall on Portage Avenue and I got my first chance to be in one of their shows.
“Village of Idiots” is a play by John Lazarus based on “Yiddish folk wit and wisdom” – think “Fiddler on the Roof” without the music … or the drama for that matter – and centered on the daily life of the citizens of the old Russian village of Chelm (pronounced with a back-of-the-throat “ch”). As one review put it, “(the characters) operate by a logic so dizzy it’s a wonder they don’t spin off the stage”. Example: “Why are you pulling that rope?” “Have you ever tried pushing one?” Bah-dum-ba! Our rehearsals took place in the old building, the new space still a ways from being completed. The floors creaked. The doors squeaked. Sorry for the “Oklahoma” reference, but they did! The labyrinth of hallways, the smell of old paper and aged wood that hung in air of the huge rehearsal room gave our environment an otherworldly feel, as if we were working somewhere in Europe in an ancient and venerable theatre space.
The rehearsals were wild. Our director, the always generous and considerate Kim McCaw, had paced the production like a series of vaudeville-like sketches and it was a constant challenge not to lapse into complete silliness. In this play there is a very fine line between silliness and honest comedy and that sense of balance was always put to the test. Gags would get out of control going one or two steps too far and the “bit” became the focus rather than its place in the story. The temptation to go for the “obvious” and “send up” (make fun of) the material had to be resisted and we were always reminded that playing the truth of the characters was our goal … one not always achieved. While I admit to being guilty of breaking up a time or two because of some discovery about a moment in a scene during early rehearsals (the noodles-on-my head episode in “How The Other Half Loves” documented earlier in these pages comes to mind) there were too many times during “Village” rehearsals when folks would get overly amused by their own or someone else’s work, and their tendency to dissolve would drive me nuts. I know my short-comings. I tend to get imperious and curmudgeonly at times, impatient and anxious, and those reactions might be based in my own insecurities. But the foundation is always the work and the incredible of amount of thought and energy it takes to get something happening that is believable and real. So drifting away from that purpose usually sets me off and I get pissy. At least, that’s my excuse. Fortunately, and “bit” by “bit”, things were brought into proper perspective and we finally left the old theatre and moved into the new space which was still being worked on. It was a jolt! The echo-y noise of the mall was a constant reminder of where we weren’t! It was a major trek from the third floor theatre to the outside world for some fresh air. But the Food Court was certainly a bonus at meal breaks. We found ourselves making some major physical adjustments to the blocking (not to mention psyche adjustments to our surroundings) while contending with the pervasive and on-going construction noise and upheaval all around us. Plaster dust, which hung in the air thick and white, caused throats to seize up. But, as performers are prone to do, we ploughed on.
I find something deliciously organic about rehearsing. By “organic” I mean the visceral intuition fueled by one’s technique or approach to forming a character. Robbie (Paterson) and I had long conversations about this during breaks. How much of the creation and development of a character is informed by internal or external influences? While I considered my approach over the years to have been mainly external, our talks started me thinking again about the “how” of acting. Needless to say, I always reveled in my pre-rehearsal work which gave me most of the parameters while learning the lines; but getting those first bits of information from a designer about the set and costumes usually served to confirm my initial thoughts about who I was in the world I was about to inhabit. For me, a character was fleshed out and fueled by the environment, the physicalization, the vocal idiosyncrasies, the costumes and make-up, while Robbie found that internal explorations propelled him. As time has gone on I‘ve landed on a combination of the two, but I’ve found myself still under the spell of the outside-the-character elements. It’s an on-going and exhilarating challenge each time I approach a role.
We were a large cast for a PTE show – a total of ten mostly from Winnipeg although there were a few Torontonians brought in – and had bonded as “family” almost immediately. The quirky “Chelmniks” began to live in us as we moved toward Previews. Despite the fact that an Occupancy Permit shouldn’t have been issued for the first showing (the Theatre Lobby was still under construction), the City waived the requirement because of all the municipal and provincial government officials attending. The first purpose-built theatre in Winnipeg in decades was a really big deal! We played our first preview to a packed media/invitees audience. The response was a bit more tentative than we had anticipated but as far as we were concerned we were still rehearsing. John Lazarus (the playwright) was there and came up to Robbie and me afterward and told us that our naturalistic performances were the way he wanted to see his play done. Nice! Once open, it actually took a while for the subscription audiences to warm to the piece. PTE audiences had, over the years, grown used to topics that were “pertinent” and maybe a bit edgy, involving the “prairie experience”. “Village” was a bit semi-commercial “in-your-face-slapstick”, a big departure from their regular fare and we were constantly aware of their hesitancy to get involved. That response made us hesitant too and there were nights during the run when our self-consciousness compounded the awkwardness. However, the reviews had been great (“Heartwarming Housewarming” said one) and once the subscription audiences ran out and the “civilians” started buying tickets, we began to enjoy ourselves and the run settled into fun and laughter. This was the start of a years-long relationship with PTE that found me in several astonishing and indelible productions.
During the latter part of “Village” rehearsals, I became somewhat pre-occupied with writing another show for Jack Timlock and Chimes Dinner Theatre. It was to be a book show and I had three months to get 15 songs written. This process was to be somewhat more challenging because I wasn’t writing satirical one-off material as I had for “Peg”. There was a storyline to be followed with songs either advancing the plot or giving insights into the characters and what they were experiencing. Or at least that was the plan. We had concocted a vague outline concerning the marriage of two young people with difference cultural backgrounds (Jewish and Irish-Catholic) and the complications that arose as the families tried to get to know and understand each other. The problem was that Jack had no clue how to write a play! “How hard can it be to write a show?” he said. I was amazed at that statement as he had had first-hand experience watching what I had gone through during the workshops of “Now You’re Talkin’”. He was a crackerjack as a Production Manager but had never really been connected with the actual creative process and it became apparent very quickly that he seemed to have little practical understanding of the intricacies of writing a through-line and dialogue! I was writing songs based on the bare-bones outline and not an actual script and he was writing a script based on my songs! And very slowly at that! It drove the cast (Stan Lesk, Karen McDonald, Linnea Pearson, Andrew Stelmack, Joanne Parker-Gibson and Robbie Paterson) and director (Kimberley, again) to distraction and resulted in a lot of frustration, not least of which was Jack’s own. The pressure to produce something, anything, of substance weighed heavily on him and things frayed a goodly amount the closer they got to opening.
I don’t write “we got to opening” because shortly after rehearsals began (and all of my songs had been done) I had to zap off to do another ‘Frosch’ in “Fledermaus” for the Edmonton Opera. It seemed like an escape more than anything else and, while I was getting reports (and complaints) from various folk about the rehearsals, I took some solace in the safe embrace of Dottie Danner’s direction and the musical direction of the wonderful, affable and hilariously funny Tim (Timothy) Vernon. (In conversations, we discovered that we had been chalet mates at the Banff School in 1962!) I actually remember very little about the production, however. ‘Frosch’ is only in the third Act and I had a lot of time on my hands so not a lot was registering. Our cast was adequate and ‘Frosch’s’ usual hijinks were set in place in short order. I had arranged a couple of days off in the midst of opera rehearsals to head back to Winnipeg to see the final dress and opening of “Eloped”.
As I watched the dress rehearsal, I was actually amazed at the progress the cast had made and at how well they had settled in to Jack’s disjointed script, making the best they could of it. The opening night’s packed house ate it up. Even I, surprisingly, enjoyed the production. I write “surprisingly” because I’d not expected to be as at ease with the way the script and my songs had melded together to form a cohesive whole. Although the reviews were “mixed” the houses maintained and I was into another four months of collecting royalties. I couldn’t complain about that! I headed back to Edmonton, finished the “Fledermaus” run and returned home.
Then things got messy!
A seemingly small hiccup threatened to kibosh the show and, indeed, Chimes itself. Jack had been very lax in dealing with Actors’ Equity and its financial regulations. Posting the bond had always been a stumbling block for Jack. “Why should I have to pay Equity two weeks salary for everyone before the show has even gone into rehearsal” he would rail! He’d also been remiss in submitting the required RRSP (Retirement Plan) payments for performers from previous Chimes productions and while Equity had given him some leeway with regard to the arrears, it was now coming to a head and they were threatening to issue a “withdrawal of services” order for the actors”, essentially closing the show! As Councilor for the region I found myself in the middle of all this and after some back and forth with Equity, conferences with Robbie (who was the show’s Deputy) and some heart-to-heart conversations with Jack, complete with threats and tears (his, not mine), we managed to come to an understanding on both sides. He got the money together and paid the bonds and past due bills. It was baffling to me why he was raising such a stink. He certainly toed the line when it came to Equity in his job as Rainbow Producer, making sure that all bills were paid and regulations adhered to. It struck me how folks without a Board of Directors or Executive Committees to maintain fiscal order invariably start to form a “they’re all-against-me” mindset, thinking everyone is stopping them from making a buck. That seemed to be Shapira’s mental evolution and ultimate downfall and now I was seeing it taking hold with Timlock. This time it worked out, tenuously, and things progressed into the summer.
As “Eloped” established itself we decided to follow up last summer’s money maker, “Peg ‘O My Heart”, with “Peg ‘O My Heart ‘90”. Once again, I launched into song-writing mode with Jack sporadically providing ideas and less sporadically providing the transition sketches he’d promised months earlier. Approached this task thinking it would be different from the last two writing experiences with him was a fool’s errand. I should have known better. Using some of the “hits” from the previous edition meant that I had less new material to write but it was still a slog. The ideas weren’t coming as easily and I was getting bogged down in what felt to be forced humour and just-acceptable craft. That was bothersome and I commiserated with new-found friend and the MD of the new review, Teresa Lee. Her insights and observations about the process were safe havens for me and I trusted that this new and objective voice would provide me with the incentive I needed to keep on an even keel during the weeks to come. (Indeed, to this day, ”T” remains a bulwark in my life, still providing those considered insights and astute observations that have consistently and gratefully graced my journey forward.) As I continued writing, I was also learning lines for a closing week stand-in for Stan Lesk in “Eloped”. While I knew the songs pretty well (duh) I was having a bit of a struggle getting Jack’s words to work for me. The cast had grown used to them but I was becoming more aware of how bad they really were. But I ploughed through and, despite Rick McNair’s nagging words, managed to “get a performance too fast” thanking the heavens that I could cram more into my head in a short period of time and ultimately come out the other side none the worse for wear. It was great working with my friends on stage now as simply a performer.
“’Peg ‘90” rehearsals were now in their final stages and when I dropped in, as I did from time to time, I would notice little blips on my radar. Things seemed tense when I would arrive at the theatre with some new material to be worked on by the cast (Torontonians Sharon Matthews and Tim Murphy with Winnipeggers Curtis Moore, Jennifer Lyon, and Alex Bodnar). There is invariably physical disarray in the theatre space when one show is closing and another is getting ready to open – sets being taken down and new ones put up, tables and chairs strewn with costumes and theatrical detritus that have found their way to the seating area. That was to be expected. But there was a darkness in the room, a black mood that seemed to permeate the air. I watched smallish blow ups about minor things – a drum machine not working properly, a costume that wasn’t finished or script pages that weren’t ready – get bigger … and louder. Oddly, Kimberley, usually helpful and creative, had gradually transitioned into taking little responsibility for what was happening, abstaining from making decisions, lashing out at the cast and our stage manager (the incredibly calm and collected “Tangoman”, Joseph Bain), and setting a tone that was neither helpful nor productive. “It’s not brain surgery” she would say in frustration with a problem she considered unimportant, to which I would counter, “No, it’s your reputation!” which would send deeper into darkness. Admittedly that might not have been the best approach and I would later apologize, but I was getting tense myself and could see the cast becoming mutinous as she continued to lash out at them. A few days earlier I had been banned from giving the cast notes after correcting two of the performers on a couple of lyrics. She made it clear that “it was only through (her) that the cast would be addressed”! What? WHAT? Where was this coming from?!
Slowly, I began to realize that the source of this malaise was Jack. I can’t imagine the pressure he was under at the time. Maintaining an even keel with Rainbow’s season preparations in full swing, keeping Chimes going, dealing with the Equity turmoil, fending off reporters as another Shapira article came out and trying to write the script and falling dreadfully behind couldn’t have been easy. On top of this, he, like Shapira, suffered from sleep apnea and was not getting proper rest. He was venting his growing frustrations at anyone in sight and would come into rehearsals combative and angry. On the afternoon of opening night it came to a head.
The cast had been going through some bits and suddenly Kimberley started screaming “What’s that? What’s that?” A few days earlier Teresa and I had changed a keyboard registration so Alex could hear his accompaniment better while singing one of his songs. It had been rehearsed this way for days, but Kimberley was now going off the deep end because she’d not been told about it in spite of the fact that she’d been listening to the new sound all along. With the whole cast watching, Jack jumped up from his seat and yelled that he was going to fire Teresa! Up to that point I had stayed mute but I couldn’t take it anymore.
“No you won’t”, I said, in total control as I got up and walked over to him. This was pure confrontation on my part but I was feeling very ready for a fight.
“I can do whatever I like”, he boomed. “It’s my money and I can do whatever I want!” I was aware of everyone watching, but I’d had it. I looked him square in the eye.
“You want to have this out now?”
Rick Mucha, Jack’s partner, was sitting at the table sewing something and without looking up from his work said “Not here”, sensing the set-to about to start.
“Let’s take this outside”, I said.
I felt like we were about to take our jackets off and start a fist fight. The “outside” was the lobby of the Westin. Jack grabbed his cigarettes. The lobby was filled with guests so we walked into the Velvet Glove. I could feel him shaking as we sat down at a rear table in the nearly empty restaurant. I was totally calm and focused because I knew I was in the right.
“What the hell is going in there?” I said. “It wasn’t like this last year! What is happening?” My reasonable tone seemed to take him off guard and he calmed down a bit. “The cast is so belligerent and defensive whenever they’re given a note. What has happened to put them in that mood? Is it Kimberley and her insecurities? Is the inexperience of the cast? Is it the lateness of the material?” I took none of the blame on any of these counts because I’d been away for most of the rehearsal period and was actually not made to feel very welcome when I’d returned.
He looked down at the table agreeing with everything I’d asked. He admitted that he’d been partly to blame for the atmosphere because so much was coming down on him. Unfortunately, just as we were getting down to some meaningful talk, Rick interrupted us telling Jack that he was needed back in the theatre. Things had eased between us and we were both feeling somewhat better. Back in the room, I could see that Teresa was ready to kill Kimberley after the attack about the keyboard registration. I told Teresa to be gentle and I went over and gave Kimberley a hug as if to say everything was alright. It might have a bit superficial but served to ease the tension that was still palpable. God! Show business wasn’t supposed to be this hard!!
The opening, amazingly, went pretty well. The cast seemed to be flying by the seat of their collective pants after the skirmishes that afternoon, but the excitement gave them the energy to overcome whatever glitches they were experiencing during the performance. After the show, the cast gathered in the house and was jovial about the gaffs and missed lines, but there was also a sense of relief that the first one was over. While there was to be a note session the following day, the tension had dissipated and, like any group of people who had together experienced a traumatic event, the tensions were forgotten. But not all was forgiven … at least not for me. The chaos and upheaval had coloured my feelings about Jack. I had to seriously consider putting myself through this again. It probably wouldn’t have happened with a more experienced cast and a more secure director. As it turned out, all those ruminations were moot. “Peg ‘90” was to be the last Chimes production.