
The year is 1997, October, and it is an overcast/rainy day at faire. This is the first year that Teatro (then Teatro di Pecorino Romano) performed at the faire. I had taught a class of hearing and deaf actors in Ohio a workshop on Commedia and maskmaking earlier that year and they were coming out to faire to specifically see our show while they were in town during their tour.
And it started raining harder.
Back in those days, the Globe would go dead along with most of the other stages when it rained. This was the only day the OH actors would be here during their tour, and I really wanted them to be able to see what we did in context after learning it in class. So I went to Carolyn and asked her...
Can we bring a couple benches on stage and open the back curtain to allow the people who came to see the work come up on stage and enjoy a mini show?
Carolyn's reply, Don't hawk it, but sure, if you want to do this for them, you can go ahead.
So, come time for the show, we put out two benches for the actors who traveled here, opened the curtain and put the masks on a table so we could do a teaching performance. We don't hawk, we are just on the stage setting up. In the distance, a patron walking by said, "Hey, are you doing a show?"
To which I responded, sort of. They asked if they could come up. I said ok (but with a funny Italian accent).
By the time we started, we ended up having to pull up every bench we had on stage as it kept filling and a bunch of the audience was sitting on the stage or standing behind the benches under the cover. They were enthusiastic and enjoyed the show. At the end of the performance, we closed the curtain. Skum was scheduled next on the stage. When I told Carolyn we were going to pull in the benches backstage again, she said, "no, that's ok, you can leave them out there." Skum set their props, opened the curtain, and did their show the same way , as did every other show that day and since then.
Now, I take personal pride when I see shows doing mini versions on the Globe with the audience sitting or standing under the overhang. I always think, "I did that."
This weekend, I get to see my "work" in action again. I don't like being cold and wet, but I enjoy knowing the show will go on.