On Criticism

Too hot to wear the sweater.

Twenty years ago today, I woke up to find I Hate This (a play without the baby) had been reviewed in the New York Times.

We were presenting the piece in a walkdown apartment on West 11th at Greenwich that had been converted into a forty seat black box (the stage even featured a fireplace) as part of the New York International Fringe Festival. I’d had maybe a dozen audience members for that first performance, including several critics, and two days later I received a very nice write-up, front page of the Thursday arts section, below the fold.

Did this high-profile review alter my fortunes at the fringe? It did not. Audiences remained tiny, it was August, no one wants to see a show about stillbirth, etc. etc. However, many took note, and I was contacted by hospitals and bereavement centers around the nation, inquiring as to whether I might bring the show to them. Jason Zinoman’s review documented that this show existed, and gave it legs. I performed the piece, on and off, for the next several years.

Alan Barth said, “Journalism is the first rough draft of history,” but a theater review is the only draft of the history of a particular production. Decades from now, when I am dead and gone and all my social media posts have been deleted or wiped, that review will remain in the archives of the “Gray Lady”, the paper of record.

Last month, Cleveland theater critic Christine Howey attended several shows at the BorderLight Festival, and provided daily, online accounts of the proceedings for clevescene.com. That she attended and then turned around next-day capsule reviews for nearly a dozen shows was a feat, and provided a record of what was to be expected from the festival, as it was happening.

As a result, several artists received reviews, reviews which they may not even have been expecting! Reviews they can brag about for, who knows, maybe twenty years?

Bedtrick (book)

Pengo’s 2022 Summer Book Club

“At least there’s no plague this year, “Johnny said as we enter the Globe for our rehearsal of 'Julius Caesar'.

Last week, the New York Times published a poorly written essay titled Let Actors Act by Pamela Paul, former editor of the Times Book Review, in which she chose to offer her opinion on the modern debate on representation on American stages.

“It’s called acting,” she said, a sarcastic and tired way of telling people to just shut up already, anyone can play anything. But while it is true that anyone can play anything, it is another question as to whether they should. And that is a nuanced and interesting conversation Paul apparently does not wish to participate in.

I have my own thoughts on the matter, perhaps someday I will share them. It is enough to say, for now, that each individual production warrants its own thoughtful discussion. But did you know that during Shakespeare’s time, women were not permitted to perform on public stages?

Presumably no people of color, either. That doesn’t mean they did not, only that they were not legally permitted to. However, people do not always follow such laws, and for their own individual reasons.

Jinny Webber’s novel Bedtrick begins with a trope explored in the film Shakespeare In Love (and elsewhere I’m sure) in which a woman passes as a boy to play female roles on stage at a time when that was forbidden in England. Taken to its extreme, however, the person in question would have to live each day as a man, forming relationships and connections – and always under threat of discovery.

What follows is a queer fantasty, inspired by true events and peopled with historical characters, which has great resonance today as we navigate the limits of LGBTQIA+ acceptance in the 21st century.

At center is Alexander “Sander” Cooke, which was the name of a player in the Lord Chamberlain’s Men (Shakespeare’s company) and in Webber’s imagination, born female and presenting as male from a young age. Only passing, though. She presumes herself heterosexual, as evidenced by her attraction only toward men (notably, a relationship with the poet John Donne) until she enters into a marriage of convenience with her close friend, the seamstress and shop-owner Frances, when she, Frances, has become pregnant with Johnny, Sander’s older brother. Johnny is also a player in the company, and refuses to marry Frances.

Surely, that’s impossible, historians may protest. It would not be permitted, a woman living day to day, assuming the identity of a man. And that is the argument, whether it could be possible. Those who are oppressed have always relied upon an uneasy alliance with those with the privilege for assistance, people who either support or do not have an interest one way or the other in non-codified avenues of living. This is as true today as it has ever been.

This includes the character of William Shakespeare who is one of several people who know Sander’s secret and keeps it. This does not make him an ally, he has a very talented actor who he believes can best originate roles such as Portia, Viola, Gertrude, Isabel and most notably, Rosalind. It is in his own interest that Sander is not found out, not hers.

The main interest, however, lies in how the relationship between Sander and Frances evolves over the years, through friendship, passion, loss, heartbreak, and finally a true affection which rivals that of any successfully married couple. Are they lesbians? Bisexual? Is Sander transsexual? These were not terms used at that time nor are they employed here, and without such labels we simply see these two for who they are, in their own private, unique relationship, figuring out how best to live and be happy.

See also: Shakespeare On Stage

Source: "Let Actors Act" by Pamela Paul, The New York Times, 5/15/2022 
Interesting, the URL for this page reads "Acting-Representation-Identity" as if it were a placeholder for a complete different editorial.

Savory Taṇhā in Performance (Thursday)

Brian & Zyrece

Yesterday the New York Times published an essay with the unfortunate headline, Digital Theater Isn’t Theater. It’s a Way to Mourn Its Absence by Laura Collins-Hughes. Journalists and columnists don’t usually get to choose their headlines, there are people who specialize in that -- and a good thing, too, try writing one.

Unfortunately, while the mourning may be real, the phrase “digital theater isn’t theater” is a statement I have to take issue with. And why wouldn’t it be? I am currently the writer/director of a piece of live, if digital, theater.

Collins-Hughes accurately describes the thrill of live theater so; “Bodily immersed in an experience, sharing a single space, we emerge at the finish of those performances imprinted with sense memories.” Yes, we do. It’s why some of us chose this path, as opposed that of movies or television. It’s why I have spent the better part of two decades working on behalf of students to bring live performance right into their classrooms, another mission which has been suspended for the duration.

“Immersed.” That word makes me shudder. Remember immersive theater? An entire popular genre rendered suddenly extinct. They may try to open Broadway, but Sleep No More isn’t rousing any time soon.

And yes, we have enjoyed the recorded dramas that has been made available to us, especially the highly-anticipated Hamilton movie. But they really are just movies, aren’t they?

Hillary & Zach

“Even the Hamilton movie,” Collins-Hughes remarks, “a thrilling and democratizing testament to the power of stage performance, can’t capture the soul of theater, because that soul lives in the room.”

We saw it, we may even have watched it at the same time as LMM and the entire company the evening it debuted, joining in on a nation-wide Twitter commentary, a virtual lobby in which we could compare notes and share our thoughts and feelings.

But even in spite of this opportunity to commune over a piece of theater, even one as professionally executed as that, it was still only the document of a live performance, and not the thing itself.

Which brings me to Savory Taṇhā (sixteen short plays performed by a rotating ensemble), produced by Cleveland Public Theatre to be performed via Zoom, and enjoyed by a live audience of viewers. Not to be archived, not to be seen again. To heighten that sense of immediacy, each night different members of the five person ensemble will be performing different roles from the same sixteen scripts.

We had our first performance tonight, and it went very well. We had a wonderful audience, somewhere between thirty and forty people. They get to see and greet each other before the performance, and also after. It is true, audience mics and cameras are turned off for the performance, so we miss out on any possible laughs or other audience reactions, a necessary sacrifice.

The post-show discussion, however, was very nice, and a warm validation of what I was hoping to accomplish. They commented on the connection between actors, and the great intimacy. In rehearsal I emphasized how, in spite of its many limitations, this medium provides an opportunity for intimacy and closeness that a live performance in front of a hundred audience members cannot, and that we should take advantage of that.

Anne

One commented on how though each character has a unique voice, they are still people that you know personally. And that some of them are you.

Finally, it was so great to see colleagues and friends I have made who I have never met in person, but with whom we have shared work, audience members watching from Virginia, Los Angeles and elsewhere, and having the opportunity to share this work with them. Oddly enough, I am currently in North Carolina.

And I challenge you to tell me what we're doing isn’t theater.

UPDATE: Cleveland Public Theatre presents the Zoom Premiere of "Savory Taṇhā (sixteen short plays performed by a rotating ensemble)" featuring Anne McEvoy Zyrece Montgomery,  Zach Palumbo, Brian Pedaci & Hillary Wheelock, February 17 - March 6, 2021.

Source: Digital Theater Isn’t Theater. It’s a Way to Mourn Its Absence (The industry’s show-must-go-on smile masks a harder truth: that there is no substitute for the live interaction between performer and audience) by Laura Collins-Hughes, The New York Times (7/8/2020)

The Nickel Boys (book)

Pengo's 2020 Summer Book Club

On Monday, the New York Times published an editorial in which Lucian K. Truscott IV, a journalist and (white) direct descendant of Thomas Jefferson proposed the third president’s memorial in Washington D.C. be demolished and replaced with one to Harriet Tubman.

My first reaction was, oh. But I like that one. My next was, who cares what I think? As Truscott points out, Monticello is monument enough. Even Jefferson himself did not think serving as President warranted mention on his own tombstone, who are we to argue?

Statues are coming down across America, and about time, too. We are supposed to be a nation established on ideals, and not individuals. Laws survive, and serve the people. Writing survives, the history remains. It's the hero worship that is being swept away.

It is at this moment, during a period of pandemic and social upheaval, that I read The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead. I’ve read two novels in this one vacation week, both released in 2019. The first grappled with the ripples of American Imperialism, the second with our nation’s as-yet unresolved sins of systemic racism. This one got the Pulitzer.

Inspired by the 2012 discovery of a secret cemetery on the grounds of the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys in Marianna, Florida, Whitehead has done what he does so amazingly well, created a fictional story grounded solidly in undeniable (and accurate) truth.

It is a breathtaking tale, and by that I mean, I lost my breath. Halfway through the book I cried with something like, but not exactly like relief, and had to set the book down. And then, as with the Eggers book I read on Monday, I was whipsawed near the end and had to stop and regain my senses, to rethink everything that had come before.

"Nickel Boys" (2024)
Directed by RaMell Ross

“If everyone looked the other way, then everybody was in on it.” So believes the protagonist Elwood Curtis, and it is a belief he tries to hang onto. Taking a stand for justice even in the face of overwhelming and absolute injustice, a young African-American in the early 60s caught the wrong ride and ended up in a reform school where silence and complicity were necessary for survival.

Much like the nation we are living in. Exactly like the nation we are living in, in fact. It’s not for me to defend the hagiography of the Founding Fathers, those who owned human souls and those who didn’t but looked the other way. We have all always known where the bodies are buried, and now they are being revealed.

Summer's not over. What should I read next?

Sources:
I’m a Direct Descendant of Thomas Jefferson. Take Down His Memorial by Lucian K. Truscott IV, The New York Times (7/6/2020)
Florida's Dozier School For Boys: A True Horror Story, National Public Radio, "All Things Considered" (10/15/2012)

Update: CH-UH district considers renaming Monticello Middle School, cleveland.com, 12/10/2024

Letters From an Actor (book)

GUILDENSTERN: O, there has been much throwing about of brains.
- Hamlet II.ii

William Redfield (left) and Clement Fowler in "Hamlet"

Fifty-five years ago, to celebrate the four hundredth birth anniversary of William Shakespeare, Richard Burton asked John Gielgud to direct him in a production of Hamlet, intended for a Broadway run. This 1964 performance at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre was an iconic mid-century production, the design suggesting a professional rehearsal, with contemporary costumes and the mere suggestions of a set.

Burton here set a record, with over 180 performances of one of the most grueling characters a person can play. For a few evenings the performance was “broadcast” in something they called Electronovision (you know … Electronovision) to movie theaters across the country, reaching some four million additional audience members.

Burton ordered all copies of this recording destroyed, as it was a theatrical performance, and not meant to be a permanent record. However, in 1991 his widow discovered Burton had kept a copy for himself and thankfully she allowed it to be reproduced. It is a remarkable production, and I spent the summer of 1998 watching a VHS copy as a guide for cuts to the text which I would employ in a version of Hamlet that I directed myself the following winter.

Prior to that, there were two unauthorized accounts of the 1964 production from behind the scenes, each with titles remarkably straight-forward; John Giegud Directs Richard Burton In Hamlet by Richard L. Sterne (1967) and Letters From an Actor by William Redfield (1966).

Sterne’s account, subtitled "A Journal of Rehearsals," is the more sinister of the two; a non-speaking player (“Gentleman,”) Sterne secretly brought a tape-recorder into the rehearsal hall and reported the proceedings in detail, a shocking violation of even the most basic tenets of trust and understanding between artists.

Most impressive is sneaking a mid-sixties reel-to-reel recorder into the rehearsal hall unnoticed every day, but the admiration ends there.

Redfield fares only slightly better in the ethics department. William Redfield was a journeyman actor, first appearing on Broadway at the age of nine, he worked consistently on stage, TV and in film. Accepting the thankless role of Guildenstern in Gielgud’s production, he wrote letters to a colleague throughout the rehearsal process and also the run of the production, first in try-outs in Toronto, then Boston and finally New York. It is those letters which constitute his book.

Both memoirs are casually mentioned in Gielgud’s authorized biography by Sheridan Morley, and I had intended to read these books for almost twenty years. The irritation I have felt taking in Redfield’s work has made me lose my stomach for Sterne’s, though that time may come. Unquestionably Redfield’s book is enjoyable, the way dishing on celebrities can be enjoyable; he takes great delight in recounting those several encounters he had with Elizabeth Taylor (who became “Mrs. Richard Burton” during the rehearsal process) in which he flatters her incessantly, and himself by implication.

But his essays about the craft acting of acting in specific and the art of performance in general would not sound unfamiliar to anyone who had to listen to the sophomore-aged me going on about such matters over drinks in the basement of CJ’s, circa 1988.

The book were better titled “While the Grass Grows the Horse Starves,” (HAM III.ii) as Redfield drives himself to distraction searching for direction or more specifically attention from his director. For weeks he feels adrift in his role while Gielgud says “you’re fine” (that’s not a quote, Gielgud makes that same comment numerous times, but says it differently and with greater pith every single time) and when his director does finally give him a note, he objects to it. It’s the worst note he’s ever received, and he checks in with absolutely everyone -- his Rosencrantz (Clement Fowler), Burton, even Hume Cronyn, who by the way is legendary as Polonius, YouTube that when you get the chance.

It’s like, dude. You’re Guildenstern. Take the note and move on.

One gets the sense that Matt Weiner could, should he want to, create a backstage miniseries about this production based on this book, re-utilizing all the costumes and props from Mad Men. Not just that these events took place in the mid-sixties, but apparently all the same laws applied to Broadway as to Madison Avenue, as the author slouches through various actors' rooms, always lighting cigarettes, cocktails described and consumed in exacting detail.

He even makes a disturbing allusion to propositioning the actress playing Ophelia, and then dismissing her existence when she objects. Late that same evening he goes so far as to suggest there is some other man in her room, casually slut-shaming her in absentia. If Richard Burton is Don Draper in this show, William Redfield is certainly our Pete Campbell. Drinking, smoking, and (not) screwing.

Did I mention that at the time Redfield was married? Married with children? Total Pete Campbell.

Redfield in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"

Okay, look. I neither read this book nor did I begin this blog post just to dump on this one actor. Film buffs might remember him in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, in which he played the hyper-intellectual and probably closeted patient Harding. It was during the production of this film that he was diagnosed with leukemia, and died soon after at the age of 49. The New York Times called his final film performance here “close to brilliant.”

But reading Letters From an Actor was a constant frustration. Setting aside the enjoyable, gossipy kink factor, this book is useful to your interested actor not as an instructive guide to the performing arts, in spite of the author’s best intentions, but rather the potential pathology of simply being an actor. Especially one with a minor role in a major work, absent his spouse and children, and with far too much time on his hands.

He rants about his flighty, precious director (I was frankly surprised at the near-absence of homophobic comments) and when the time comes for previews to be reviewed in Canada, he takes the almost universal pans as vindication for his own feelings of doubt about the production, and specifically his own place in it. As a member of the company he concludes, early on, that the show is a disaster.

Remember: Burton set a record with this production, there were 137 performances at the Lunt-Fontanne alone. The previous record for modern professional performances of Hamlet was set by John Barrymore at 101.

As you might expect, he spends some time eviscerating the very career of criticism, trotting out the kind of basic dissection you might expect to hear (in the basement of CJ’s, circa 1988) about how theater critics can’t possibly understand or describe what they are not talented enough to execute.

When he personally (finally) receives a positive notice during the Boston previews, he takes them as the notes he felt he never received from his director. A critic for the Harvard Crimson praised his (and Fowler’s) cold-bloodedness, and so he chose to lean into that for several performances.

He took a note from a non-professional, collegiate theater critic.

Gielgud, returning from an absence, noticed the change and politely suggested, “Let’s toddle on back to what we had, shall we?”

"Toddle." How deliciously mortifying.

Richard Burton & John Gielgud

From John Gielgud's "Director's Note" from the program for Hamlet:

This is a HAMLET acted in rehearsal clothes, stripped of all extraneous trappings, unencumbered by a reconstruction of any particular Historical Period. This performance is conceived as a final run-through, as actors call it.
- John Gielgud

Having already proved a success on Broadway, where it was almost universally praised (so much for “Canada-nice”) Redfield should be commended for publishing a book where so many of his fears were proved wrong. But he should have known better in the first place. John Gielgud, classically-trained as he was and already a Shakespearean legend, was trying to do something new and fresh with a text he justifiably felt he owned. He’d performed it himself at Elsinore Castle, for God’s sake, in 1939. Any director needs an actor's trust and this director was beyond deserving of that trust.

This spring I will enter into a rehearsal process which promises to be no less challenging, playing Kent in King Lear in an intimate production at the Beck Center, directed by Eric Schmiedl. I don’t act very often, and -- surprise -- I have never had a role in any Shakespearean performance as prominent as this. Reading Letters From an Actor feels much like a cautionary tale; of what not to do or think as a member of an ensemble.

See also:
Hamlet & Me (Part I)
Hamlet & Me (Part VIII)
Hamlet & Me (Part XII)
Salesman之死 (play)

Sources:
Letters from an Actor by William Redfield, Viking Press (1966)
John Gielgud, The Authorized Biography by Sheridan Morley, Hodder & Stoughton (2001)
William Redfield Dead at 49; A TV, Stage and Movie Actor by Emanuel Perlmutter, The New York Times (8/18/1976)

Hamilton (musical)

Civics lesson from a slaver

Ken Howard died last month. A proud union actor and leader, he is remembered by most from the 1970s dramatic TV program The White Shadow. To many of us, he has always been the face we picture when we think of Thomas Jefferson.

I turned eight in 1976, the American Bicentennial. We visited Williamsburg, our class portraits included Betsy Ross’s flag, and I personally have a strong and intimate association with seeing the film adaptation of the musical 1776 on Broadcast television.

The musical was originally produced on Broadway in 1969, when the U.S. was deep into Vietnam, the film version in 1972. For years, before cable anyway, it was rebroadcast around the Independence Day holiday. My family had the cast album, which we loved playing.

This story, depicting the signers of the Declaration of Independence as witty, flawed, somewhat crabby, but above all hopeful public servants was a helpful antidote to the general malaise of actually being American at that time.

It was much later that I learned, much to my disillusionment, that musical’s book compels the character of Jefferson to tell one whopper of a lie, in an obvious effort to leave the tall, awkward, Blythe Danner-loving redhead untarnished.

When debating the inclusion of language which would have publicly condemned the practice of enslavement, a South Carolina congressman reminds Thomas Jefferson of Virginia that he is also a slaver.

Jefferson states quietly, “I have already resolved to release my slaves.”

Actions speak louder. In reality Thomas Jefferson never released any slaves, with the exception of those he fathered, whom he conveniently allowed to “escape.” In fact, there was a practice at that time for slavers to put into their wills to grant freedom to those they held in slavery upon the slaver’s death. George Washington, for example, did this. Thomas Jefferson did not, passing possession of two hundred or so souls onto his heirs.

The worst sins of the historical characters in 1776 is that they are a bit laconic and playfully lascivious.

Enter Lin-Manuel Miranda and the cultural juggernaut that is Hamilton. Inspired by biography and history, Miranda has single-handedly retrieved the least-known or least-understood of the “founding fathers” from obscurity by creating a vast and complex narrative which begs repeated listening. Most of us cannot hope to attend the production at the Richard Rogers Theatre, and have spent the past several months listening to the soundtrack, which weaves rap, hip-hop and R&B into traditional but staggeringly effective modern showtunes.

Part of the appeal of Miranda’s Alexander Hamilton is how unapologetic the character is. In fact, he is the diametric opposite of apologetic, he refuses to apologize for anything.

What is a legacy?

Recently I purchased the cast recording to In The Heights. Without question it is a very well-written show, fun to listen to, and inspiring. It is important that Latinx voices are being heard, on Broadway, that musical styles never before presented were in the mix, the faces, the accents, the names. It deserved to and received the Tony Award for Best Musical that it received.

Miranda wrote the music and lyrics for In The Heights. He also wrote the music, lyrics and book for Hamilton.

Hamilton is a monster.

My children listen to it, all the time, it is on before school and whenever we get into the car. My thirteen year-old daughter listens to it when she’s doing her homework, every single day. My ten year-old son is working very hard to memorize every single word -- especially the cabinet meetings, the boy loves the cabinet meetings.

Several of the girl's friends are on board, and my wife sees her students sharing earbuds to listen between classes. I walk into the office of one of my work colleagues to drop off paperwork, she's listening to Hamilton. I keep seeing friends and colleagues surprise me on Instagram with their selfies at the Richard Rogers.

What is the difference between these two Miranda shows, or in fact between Hamilton and virtually any other Broadway show that has created a kind of widespread, “crossover” appeal that hasn’t been seen since perhaps the original production of Hair?

I think it's all the history.

Doctoral theses will be written, have been, are being as we speak, to be sure. My question is this; what is it about history which at once lends drama instant gravitas, but also compels great writers to reach deeper, go farther - and provides us the freedom to move along wherever it will take us?

The best example I can think of is The Crucible. Not a critically well-received drama when it was first produced, though it did win awards. But with that one play Miller reached far outside of himself to find the humanity in an arcane historical event and created the piece which I believe will stand the test of time, greater than All My Sons, greater than Death of a Salesman.

In one thousand years, Salesman may seem as obscure as The Women of Trāchis. But we will still be performing The Crucible, and it will play as fresh as it did in 1953, or as it remains today. Who is John Proctor? Who is Alexander Hamilton?

Well, he’s me, isn’t he? And who are you? Who are you? Who are you?

… Not Yet

There was a recent bit of unpleasantness regarding the open call audition for the national touring production of Hamilton. They were looking for “Non-White Actors” and said so, causing scores of melanin-deprived individuals to get the vapors. “Colorblind” casting is one thing, but to show blatant preference against a single race? This feeling of being treated unfairly just because of my skin?

White people cannot comprehend the idea of not being allowed to have something they want.

The fallout was that, in spite of several prominent examples of AEA productions which called specifically for “white actors” the call for actors for the tour was changed to a more inclusive, “performers of all racial and ethnic backgrounds.” In that way they are free to do what casting directors have done for centuries, and simply disregard any performer they feel does not suit the production.

At long last, white American actors will know what it feels like to "Audition While Black."

The non-white make-up of the original cast of Hamilton is, of course, part of what makes it unique. Miranda has said as much, that this is America today, representing America as it began.

It is that opportunity for creative representation which makes theater unique. The boy and I watched the movie Gettysburg last month, and while it strives for historical accuracy, the beards are a little difficult to take. Historical film wants to be accurate. The stage is all about the suspension of disbelief.

Recently I recounted an incident in which I debated with stranger about a production of The Crucible at the Cleveland Play House which featured a mixed-race cast. Watching an African-American actor perform John Proctor apparently disturbed this man a great deal, which I simply do not get. He saw a black man, I saw John Proctor.

Theater has always been a representation of reality and not an exact replica the thing itself. Anyone can play anything, if they play it well enough. Is appreciating this a generational thing? My children love the actors, singers and rappers who perform Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Hercules Mulligan (EVERYONE loves Hercules Mulligan) each of them portrayed in Hamilton by non-white performers. My children are not stupid, and they are not confused by these performances, they are aware that actual men they represent were racially European-Americans. They just love the music, the words, the voices, the personalities.

The performance of their characters by those who are not white may have confused or confounded or even offended the men they represent. But would an eighteenth century man be any less surprised or scandalized or even offended by the music and lyrics of Sherman “1776” Stone? I do not believe so.

History has its eyes on you.

Much has been written about the historical accuracy of Hamilton, Miranda is pretty up front about that. Yesterday there was a piece in the Times about the accuracy of the politics of the piece, and how it positions Hamilton as a visionary hero and Jefferson as a villain.

Who cares. Really. This is a play. You are worried the kids are going to get their opinions on history from a Broadway musical? Sister, please, turn on the so-called news and listen to the outright lies being offered by real people. This is art and should be judged as art.

The fact is, the artistry is brilliant. The words, as blogger Tim Sniffen put it; "The words caressed my brain and flowed over my face like hot, relevant syrup." (Read the whole thing, rarely have I read professional jealousy so lovingly and hilariously expressed.) It is not a cop-out to remind everyone that art has a responsibility to reveal the TRUTH, and not to let facts get in the way.

What is exciting to me, personally, is that this is the first time my little family – wife, daughter and son – have discovered and been overwhelmingly excited by the same cultural object all at the same time. It is as new to me as it is to them, none of us are better educated than anyone else on this. I know my history, but my kids are closer to the pop culture and they are teaching me the memes the fandom, the inside jokes, the appearances on Jimmy Fallon, and everything else that comes with it in Twenty-Sixteen.

And after all, may I remind you; “I have already resolved to release my slaves"? Srsly? Don't talk to me about facts.

The Orphanage

We purchased the original cast recording in early February, less than two weeks before my father died. I remember this because he and my mother had visited one day during a snowstorm and we had a long afternoon talking. That’s what my father and I did, we talked. I was telling him about this exciting musical I was listening to, and how much I thought he would like it, because it is about American history, only I wasn’t sure he would like it because he couldn’t understand rap music. It’s not that he didn’t like rap music, it’s that he couldn’t understand the words going by so fast, and he found that frustrating.

The following Friday morning, I had just gotten out of the shower and received a call that he had suffered a massive heart attack, and that it looked bad and that I should get to the hospital as soon as possible. I learned later that it was far too late, but I dressed as fast as I could and drove across town and found myself suddenly, quietly blurt out, “stay alive …” and almost immediately wishing I hadn’t.

The days and weeks that followed we listened to the cast album, and I mean a lot. There have been and there continue to be a lot of drives between Cleveland Heights and Lakewood, and each time the kids ask if we can listen to Hamilton. I mean, my butt hasn't even hit the driver's seat and my daughter says, "Hamilton."

So, to this guy, the sense of emotional emergency, and its aftermath, are all tied up in that period. Like my association between 1776 and the Bicentennial, I will always remember the events surrounding my father's death and discovering these songs.

And it is because of my father that I cannot make it through the closing song (Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story) without breaking into tears. After two hours of listening to his enemies - and even he, himself - describe Hamilton as an orphan, and also bastard and whoreson, the poignancy of his wife Eliza’s greatest gift, the Orphan Asylum Society of the City of New York (today Graham Windham) resonates deeply.

Because, you see, my father was also given up by his birth mother. My father was an orphan. And I can’t help it. In this song, I see him. I see him every time.

Notes on Fringe (Day One)

FringeNYC 2013 is now open.

James and I just got back into our cozy L.E.S. apartment after spending an evening at Opening Night ceremonies for FringeNYC at The Cutting Room. We met many other Fringe performers and took in scenes from over a dozen different shows. We even did The Privy Song shortly after midnight.

Jen Bosworth w/Briar Rabbit from Why Not Me

This early morning begins almost 36 hours ago, when stage manager Diana and I loaded Andrew's van with the set for Double Heart. The forecast called for rain, so we bagged and double-bagged everything, and tarped the larger pieces.

Oh yes we did.

I did not sleep well last night, and James reported the same thing. We met downtown at 6 AM and made it safely to Manhattan in time to check into our apartment by 3 PM, except that it started raining like hell once we emerged from the Holland Tunnel. Rest assured, all was successfully waterproofed, and the folks at the Connelly were kind enough to let us load in the larger pieces before Tech (tomorrow -- er, today) so we did not need to haul them up our five story walkup. Thank you, Kimille!

 That makes me sweat.

From that point on it was merely matter of meeting up with Director/ACR Lisa and her husband Patrick at FringeCENTRAL to receive our Participant Badges, and then we were free to wander downtown and get some dinner before walking thirty blocks to the Cutting Room.

After midnight, we got our Metrocards, and took a subway back. Tomorrow ... handing out cards, welcoming the women company members to the apartment, Tech Rehearsal and a few other public performances. Also, picking up a couple copies of the New York Times.

Randall Park Mall

Benjamin bear looks for his girl Missy in Randall Park Mall.
"Cleveland Is A Warm, Fuzzy Place" (1977)

"There's going to be a transfer of power ... from the central city to the southeast part of Cleveland ... I believe that after today the forces that want to keep downtown Cleveland intact had better get on their horse and start riding real fast."
- Randall Park Mall Developer Ed DeBartolo, 1973

Two million square feet of shopping ecstasy, the Randall Park Mall opened to the public on August 11, 1976. At the time it was the largest indoor shopping mall in the world. The city of North Randall had a population of 1,500. Randall Mall Park employed 5,000.

Randall Park didn't have one, but FIVE department stores; Higbee's, The May Company, Sears, JC Penney, and the Joseph Horne Company. The place was so big, some stores had two locations, one on each floor! There were over 200 hundred stores in all. And it was stylish -- marble columns, real tile floors, beautiful ceilings and futuristic ramps and crossovers.

The joy was short-lived however. With two years, the Beachwood Mall opened, siphoning away well-heeled customers, and the place began losing any of its original luster before the end of the 1970s. The place was just so vast, and little thought had gone into long-term maintenance. Attending the movie theater (and using its bathrooms) required trips up and down many staircases, and the theater (and its bathrooms) were filthy and dysfunctional. By the mid-1980s the mall was considered downright dangerous, and suburban residents began to refer to it as Vandal Dark Mall ... "dark" because, you know, the lights were out in all the closed storefronts.

Randall Park Mall closed in 2009.


UPDATE: Found this PD op-ed piece celebrating the opening of Randall Park Mall from August 1976.

Sources:
Wikipedia
Outside Cleveland, Snapshots of Poverty’s Surge in the Suburbs New York Times, 10/25/2011
DeadMalls.com
NewsNet5.com
The Encyclopedia of Cleveland History

Karamu House

Zelma Watson George

Located at the corner of Quincy and East 89th Street, Karamu House is the "oldest African American theater company in America." Founded in 1915 by Russell and Rowena Jelliffe, that also means Karamu shares with the Play House the distinction of being the longest continually running theater company in Cleveland.

The theater club at Karamu was originally called the Dumas Drama Club, and later the Gilpin Players after actor Charles Gilpin. In 1941 they adopted the name Karamu, which is Swahili for either "a place of feasting and enjoyment in the center of the community" or the word "pencil" depending on whom you ask.

By the 1950s, Karamu's reputation as Cleveland's "Black" theater was firmly established, and had been for decades, premiering originally works by Zora Neal Hurston and once employing Langston Hughes as Playwright-In-Residence — one of only two to hold that title. However, from the original husband and wife team of the Jelliffes through the 1950s, the artistic and management directorships were held by whites.

"According to the record, Cleveland is one of the most progressive theatre cities in America."
- Brooks Atkinson, The New York Times

Interracial productions were the order of the day at that time — in recent days we learned that character actor Roberts Blossom got his professional start at Karamu, and Tedd Burr used to tell me he was half of a couple that engaged in the first interracial kiss on a Cleveland stage though for the life of me I can't remember what show he was talking about.

DID YOU KNOW ..?

Zelma Watson George (December 8, 1903 - July 3, 1994) sang the lead role in the opera The Medium for sixty-seven nights beginning in 1949 before the show transferred to Broadway? She returned to Cleveland, performing in The Consul at the Cleveland Play House and turn as Mrs. Peachum in a production of The Three-Penny Opera at Karamu. Later, of course, she was an advisor to the Eisenhower administration, as part of the Defense Advisory Committee on Women in the Armed Forces from 1954 until 1957, and that was just the beginning of an illustrious philanthropic career.

For the record, Karamu House gave me my first professional theater job. I was a member of their youth outreach, Drama/Theatre for Youth Project (D/TY) from 1991-92, traveling Greater Cleveland in a van with four other young actors, performing world folk tales to elementary and middle school students. I also got to play Howard Wagner in Death of a Salesman on the boards of the Jelliffe Theatre. I never got to meet ether of the Jelliffes in person — Russell died in 1980, but I did attend Rowena's funeral, she died in April, 1992 just a month after her 100th birthday.

Stealing Christmas, 1991

8/1/11 UPDATE: In 1997 the Zelma W. George Recreation Center opened in Luke Easter Park, which is also the site of the annual Unity Day Festival, an annual family-friendly event of fun and music in the Mount Pleasant neighborhood, now in its seventh year. On the very evening I published this entry (July 31) George Clinton was headlining the event, when someone with a handgun opened fire, wounding three and killing one.

The shooter remains at large.

Sources:
African American Registry
Wikipedia
Showtime In Cleveland (John Vacha)
The Handbook of Texas Online/Texas State Historical Association

The Crucible

TRG Reality

As I got into my car to leave, Molly Kazan came out of the house ... It was impossible to keep looking into her distraught eyes.

She pointed out toward the road and told me that I no longer understood the country, that everybody who lived on that road approved of the Committee and what had been done.

After I had said that I ould not agree with their decision, she asked if I was staying at my house, a half hour away, and I said that I was on my way to Salem.

Her eyes widened in sudden apprehension. "You're not going to equate witches with this!"

- Arthur Miller, Timebends

Arthur Miller's play The Crucible debuted at the Martin Beck Theatre in New York City in January, 1953. It was not a roaring success.

"Arthur Miller is a problem playwright in both senses of the word." - Walter Kerr, Herald Tribune

"There is too much excitement and not enough emotion in The Crucible." - The New York Times

The original production was directed by an idiot, Jed Harris, who believed that since this was a period piece the performers should perform "classically" which in his mind meant everyone had to face out at the audience, never looking at each other. If you know anything about the play, or have seen the movie adaptation, you can see how this would not serve the text.

"The Crucible" was an act of desperation. Much of my desperation branched out, I suppose, from a typical Depression-era trauma - the blow struck on the mind by the rise of European Fascism and the brutal anti-Semitism it had brought to power. But by 1950, when I began to think of writing about the hunt for Reds in America, I was motivated in some great part by the paralysis that had set in among many liberals who, despite their discomfort with the inquisitors' violations of civil rights, were fearful, and with good reason, of being identified as covert Communists if they should protest too strongly.

- Arthur Miller, The New Yorker, October 1996

Put simply, Miller wrote this play in response to the House Committee on Un-American Activities ongoing efforts to publicly name and shame present and former members of the Communist Party, or anyone who even had affiliations with the Communist Party.

What I have found most ironic (when Great Lakes Theater Festival produced The Crucible a few years ago, and I played Miller in the original drama Seeing Red) is it was not Miller's own persecution before HUAC that inspired the piece. That came a few years later. And his testimony at that time makes you wonder if he were channeling the spirit of John Proctor, or if Proctor's psyche is so much a product of Miller's own he couldn't help but be surprised and shocked (in the way that Proctor is) that grown men choose or refuse not to respond to reason.

From Seeing Red by Daniel Hahn
adapted from Arthur Miller's Testimony before the House Committee on Un-American Activities
June 14, 1956

COMMITTEE Do you know or have you know a person by the name of Arnaud d’Usseau?

MILLER I have met him.

COMMITTEE Have you been in any Communist Party sessions with Arnaud d’Usseau?

MILLER I was present at meetings of Communist Party writers in 1947, about five or six meetings.

COMMITTEE Where were those meetings held?

MILLER They were held in someone’s apartment. I don’t know whose it was.

COMMITTEE Were those meetings closed?

MILLER I wouldn’t be able to tell you that.

COMMITTEE Was anyone there who, to your knowledge, was not a Communist?

MILLER I wouldn’t know that.

COMMITTEE Have you ever made application for membership in the Communist Party?

MILLER In 1939, I believe it was, or in 1940, I went to attend a Marxist study course in the vacant store open to the street in my neighborhood in Brooklyn. I there signed some form or another.

COMMITTEE That was an application for membership in the Communist Party, was it not?

MILLER I would not say that. I am here to tell you what I know.

COMMITTEE Tell us what you know.

MILLER This is now sixteen years ago. That is half a lifetime away. I don’t recall, and I haven’t been able to recall and, if I could, I would tell you the exact nature of that application. I understood then that this was to be, as I have said, a study course. I was there for about three or four times, perhaps. It was of no interest to me and I didn’t return.

COMMITTEE Who invited you to attend?

MILLER I wouldn’t remember. It was a long time ago.

COMMITTEE Tell us, if you please, sir, about these meetings with the Communist Party writers which you said you attended in New York City.

MILLER I attended these meetings in order to locate my ideas in relation to Marxism, because I had been assailed for years by all kinds of interpretations of what Communism was, what Marxism was, and I went there to discover where I stood. And I listened and said very little, I think, the four or five times.

COMMITTEE What occasioned your presence? Who invited you there?

MILLER I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know.

COMMITTEE Can you tell us who was there when you walked into the room?

MILLER Mr. Chairman, I understand the philosophy behind this question and I want you to understand mine. When I say this, I want you to understand that I am not protecting the Communists or the Communist Party. I am trying to, and I will, protect my sense of myself. I could not use the name of another person and bring trouble on him. I ask you not to ask me that question. I will tell you anything about myself, as I have.

COMMITTEE These were Communist Party meetings, were they not?

MILLER I will be perfectly frank with you in anything relating to my activities. I take the responsibility for everything I have ever done, but I cannot take responsibility for another human being.

COMMITTEE This record shows, does it not, Mr. Miller, that these were Communist Party meetings? Is that correct?

MILLER I understood them to be Communist writers who were meeting regularly.

COMMITTEE I respectfully suggest that you answer the question as to who it was that you saw at these meetings. May I say that moral scruples, however laudable, do not constitute legal reason for refusing to answer the question. You are directed to answer the question, Mr. Miller.

MILLER All I can say, sir, is that my conscience will not permit me to use the name of another person.

COMMITTEE Your are directed to answer the question as to whether or not Arnaud d’Usseau was chairman of the meeting of the Communist Party writers in New York City in 1947 at which you were in attendance.

MILLER I have given you my answer, sir.

COMMITTEE I ask you now, sir, whether or not Sue Warren was in attendance at this meeting of the Communist Party writers held in New York City in 1947?

MILLER I have given you my answer.

COMMITTEE Do you know Sue Warren? Did you decline to answer the question?

MILLER I tell you, sir, that I have given my answer.

COMMITTEE I am not satisfied with that. That is entirely too vague. Now what I want is a positive statement as to whether or not you will answer that question.

MILLER Sir, I believe I have given you the answer that I must give.

COMMITTEE Let us get that straight. As I understand, you decline to answer the question for the reason that you gave when you declined to answer the first question, or at least when you gave an answer that was not deemed acceptable, is that it?

MILLER That is correct.

COMMITTEE Are you cognizant of the fact that your play The Crucible, with respect to witch hunts in 1692, was the case history of a series of articles in the Communist press drawing parallels to the investigations of Communists and other subversives by Congressional committees?

MILLER The comparison is inevitable, sir.

The Crucible received its Cleveland premiere at the Cleveland Play House in 1954. More on that soon.

Cleveland Public Theatre presents THE WITCHES as part of Test Flight, a showcase of new works, March 3, 4 & 5, 2022.

"A second Boston Tea Party!"

The following play script is by David Hansen © 2010.


UNION PARTY CONVENTION

MAYOR BURTON steps forward.

MAYOR BURTON
Cleveland in her Centennial Year warmly welcomes the Convention of the National Union for Social Justice! We cordially invite everyone attending your convention to attend the Great Lakes Exposition. We invite you to share the inspiration of a rapidly growing community confident of its own future and of that of the country under the control of popular government.

VOICE OF THE LIVING NEWSPAPER
Citizens from around the nation, Forty-thousand strong have come to Municipal Stadium to hear the fighting radio priest, Father Charles E. Coughlin give the keynote address at this first Union Party convention, throwing the weight of his ten million listeners behind the candidacy of North Dakota Representative William Lemke. Some sporting patriotic costumes!

Enter CONVENTIONEER in a feathered "Red
Indian" headband, war paint and modern, floral
patterned dress.

CONVENTIONEER
You remember the Bostonians dressed up like Indians when they threw that high-priced British tea overboard? Well, we don't like the high-priced tea we're getting from Washington, and we don't like taxation without representation, so we're going to throw it overboard. We represent a second Boston Tea Party!

VOICE OF THE LIVING NEWSPAPER
What if your man doesn't win the election this November?

CONVENTIONEER
These feathers stand for peace. That means we will use peaceful methods -- Not bullets, but ballots.

VOICE OF THE LIVING NEWSPAPER
Here comes the man himself, as thousands rise to their feet in the sweltering summer heat!

FATHER COUGHLIN, a stocky, ruddy
cheeked man in a frock coat and collar, with
round wire-rimmed spectacles, walks through the
audience to the rostrum at center.

CROWD
(goes wild)

FATHER COUGHLIN
Mr. Chairman, Rev. Dr. Gerald Smith, Congressman Lemke, ladies and gentlemen from every State in the Union. It is my happy privilege to be here today.

That great betrayer and liar, Franklin Double-Crossing Roosevelt, promised to drive the money-changers from the temple, and succeeded in driving farmers from their homesteads. He built up the greatest debt in all history, which he permitted the bankers the right to spend, and you and your children shall repay with seventy billion hours of labor.

My friends, the hand of Moscow backs the Communist leaders in America, and aims to pledge their support for Roosevelt. We are wholly opposed to the Roosevelt taxes, dole, and to the propaganda that has been spread through this land. We are opposed, sympathetically, to the Republican candidate, poor Mr. Alfred Landon. Holy Mackerel, Andy! He doesn't know whether he is going or coming.

Is it Democracy for the President to browbeat the Congress and insist this legislation "must" be passed? Is that democracy?

FATHER COUGHLIN waits for a reply from
the audience. If he does not receive one, he asks
"Is that Democracy?" Even more ferociously.

FATHER COUGHLIN (CON'T.)
Is it Democracy for the president to say, "pass this legislation whether it is Constitutional or not"? Is that Democracy? Is it Democracy to have our country filled with bureaucrats and their banks filled with unpayable debts, save for their bankers? Is that Democracy? Why should there be want in the midst of plenty simply to satisfy the Rothschilds, the international financiers, the Jews?

We are Christians. We believe in Christ's principle of love your neighbor as yourself. I challenge every Jew in this nation to tell me that he does not believe in it. The better class of Jews are willing to accept this basic principle of Christianity. When men become so prideful that they believe they can rewrite the eternal law of God - when ballots have proved useless - then as one American, imbued with the tradition of Washington, I shall not disdain using bullets for the preservation of liberty!

FATHER COUGHLIN takes off his coat.

FATHER COUGHLIN (CON'T.)
It is not pleasant for me who coined the phrase "Roosevelt or ruin" - a phrase based upon promises - to voice such passionate words. But I must admit that "Roosevelt AND ruin is the order of the day. New Deal policy is Un-Christian! It is anti-God! It is downright asinine!

FATHER COUGHLIN undoes and removes his
clerical collar.

FATHER COUGHLIN (CON'T.)
If I don't deliver nine million votes for William Lemke, I'm through with radio forever! I am willing to die in this struggle to liberate America from the money changers!

FATHER COUGHLIN swoons, steps back,
mops his brow, regathers himself and gasps:

FATHER COUGHLIN (CON'T.)
I AM SICK!

FATHER COUGHLIN is helped away from the
rostrum.


This fictionalized speech was created using quotations from Charles E. Coughlin at rallies in Cleveland and Philadelphia, and from the following sources:
The New York Times
The Cleveland Plain Dealer
The Cleveland Press
Social Justice
Father Coughlin's radio broadcast
Additional thanks to Karen Ketchaver and Donald Warren's biography of Coughlin.

The "tea party" conventioneer's quotation is documented, and not a product of the playwright's imagination. Really. For real.

Riffraff

The pro-labor paper, The Cleveland Citizen made note of the "Hearstian", anti-labor, Red-baiting film, Riffraff.

Jean Harlow and Hollywood newcomer Spencer Tracy get to show off their woiking class acting chops in this flicker, released January 3, 1936. Tracy plays a commercial fisherman, Harlow a gal working the cannery, they are married and extremely unpleasant characters.

Tracy (Dutch Miller) talks his brother fishermen out a strike, knowing the Boss, Nick Lewis, will only break their contracts and hire scabs. When he becomes the new head of the union, he calls a strike and is proven right. All union workers are driven into poverty.

Meanwhile, Boss Nick loves Hattie and tries to woo her after Dutch moves out and ends up in a hobo camp. Hattie steals cash from Nick to give to Dutch, but he runs from her, and Nick presses charges, landing the now-pregnant Hattie in prison.

Industrial sabotage. Girl prison break. Little Mickey Rooney playing a goddamn trumpet. Dutch comes clean, he and Hattie reunite - with the new baby - and everything is happily ever after.

"Miss Harlow the comedienne is one person. Miss Harlow the tragedienne is another. And when the new photoplay at the Capitol choose to accent the less convincing personality and to cast a somber eye upon such weighty matters as labor in revolt, the Red menace, motherhood and life in a women's prison, then, alas, a boisterous jest skids down the slopes of melodramatic routine." - The New York Times

Apparently the prison break scene result in a lawsuit against MGM from the California State Industrial Welfare Committee because of the women actors who became ill as a result of working through an actual downpour. They each received an extra $15.



Sources:
The Cleveland Citizen
Allmovie.com
TCM.com
imdb.com
The New York Times

Tobacco Road

People loved to hate this play about Georgia sharecroppers.

‘White Trash’ On View Again In Hanna Play 

Turnip-Eating Jeeter Lester and His Forlorn Family Are Still Living by ‘Tobacco Road’ by Charles Schneider, The Cleveland Press 

"As truth - either highly localized or universal - I don’t consider ‘Tobacco Road’ worth it’s weight in last winter’s turnips. But as a theatrical sensation, it is just the stuff."

Brooks Atkinson of the New York Times wrote: "The theatre has never sheltered a fouler or more degenerate parcel of folks than the hardscrabble family of Lester. Plays as clumsy and rudderless as 'Tobacco Road' seldom include so many scattered items that leave such a vivid impression." 

Though this play adaptation of the novel by Erskine Caldwell was banned in cities such as Chicago and Detroit, touring productions found a comfortable home in Cleveland several times over.

The March of Time

Time Inc. Created the newsreel The March of Time in 1935. An early foray at tele-journalism, several of the techniques pioneered by this successful featurette (they were continued through the early fifties) may be considered deceptive, or even unethical. Events were often re-created, performed by actors - or sometimes by the actual participants - on sets or soundstages far from the site of the actual stories, without any explanation that this was being done.

In addition, the stentorian, God-On-High voice of Westbrook Van Voorhis lent a heightened or exaggerated sense of importance to the proceedings. Orson Welles famously lampooned these films in Citizen Kane, providing entertaining exposition through a newsreel called News On The March.

The Cleveland Press drew a direct comparison to these newreels in their March 28, 1936 review of The Living Newspaper:

With simple staging and unique lighting, "The Living Newspaper dramatizes news events - local, national, and international - in an incisive and compact March of Time manner."

This comparison was also made in Variety.


A number of March of Time films will be broadcast this weekend on Turner Classic Movies (see today's New York Times for more details.)

Sources:
Wikipedia
The Cleveland Press
The New York Times

Arthur Kennedy

Arthur Kennedy (February 17, 1914 – January 5, 1990) was born in Worcester, Massachusetts (full name: John Arthur Kennedy) and received a degree in theater from Carnegie Mellon, where they still give an annual award in his name. He was a notable film actor, probably known to most Americans for his performances in Westerns. He was also a remarkable stage actor, originating the role of Biff in Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman (for which he won a Tony Award) and that of John Proctor in the 1953 Broadway production of The Crucible.

Brooks Atkinson in the The New York Times praised that production, calling Kennedy’s performance “superb” and that he is “clear and resolute, full of fire, searching his own mind.” Atkinson goes on to report that “Although 'The Crucible' is a powerful drama, it stands second to Death of a Salesman as a work of art.”

“The literary style is cruder. The early motivation is muffled in the uproar of the opening scene, and the theme does not develop with the simple eloquence of 'Death of a Salesman'.

“Miller has tried to pack too much inside his drama, and that he has permitted himself to be concerned more with the technique of the witch hunt than with its humanity. By the standards of 'Death of a Salesman', there is too much excitement and not enough emotion in 'The Crucible'.”

This is nonsense, of course. While the issues of Salesman may continue to resonate into the 21st century, its language and style become increasingly stilted and dated while Crucible becomes more poignant - or to look at it another way, I care about the characters in Crucible, and I dislike absolutely everyone in Salesman.

Cleveland Press theater critic Tony Mastroianni interviewed Kennedy in 1965 while he was playing a convict in the Steve McQueen film Nevada Smith. During this interview Kennedy spoke about his time in Cleveland, working as a performer at the Old Globe Theater at the Great Lakes Exposition. One particular piece of information will be painfully trenchant to all my little Cleveland theater friends, and teach them that things today are as they have ever been.

To wit:

“No, we didn’t use any Clevelanders. It was an imported company.”

Big sigh.

Sources:
Wikipedia
The New York Times
The Cleveland Press

Mulatto (play)

The New York Evening Post - November 11, 1935

Item: Langston Hughes, the short, smiling, eyebrow-mustached brown man who wrote MULATTO, a play which is right up there fighting with TOBACCO ROAD for the higher percentage of shock content, places the thoughts of this play back ten years and a thousand miles up the Niger River to Africa.

Hughes was working on a boat that stopped at a little town called Burutu. A mulatto there, the son of a native woman and an English banker who had returned to England, often came to the boat to talk to the dailors. No one else in town would have much to do with him, neither the black natives in their huts nor the pale Europeans in the English compound. Hughes went away and ever saw him again, though often wondering what had become of him.

The tragedy of the person of mixed race stayed in his mind more vividly after that experience and some years later he wrote it, though in a different land and with different characters.

...

The New York Times - October 25, 1935
Race Problems in the South the Theme of MULATTO, a ‘New Drama’ by Langston Hughes
By Brooks Atkinson

After a season dedicated chiefly to trash it is a sobering sensation to sit in the presence of a playwright who is trying his best to tell what he has on his mind.

...

The Brooklyn Daily Eagle - October 25, 1935
MULATTO: A Play by a Negro Poet about the Tragedy of Being Colored in the South Comes to the Vanderbilt Theatre
By Arthur Pollock

A good deal of warmth of feeling and sincerity has gone into the writing of “Mulatto,” the play that came to the Vanderbilt Theatre last night, but Langston Hughes is not adept in getting his ideas into shape for the theater and as a result the play is frail. MULATTO cannot expect to get much attention from the public, a fact which will no doubt not surprise the author.

...

The New York Daily Herald - May 9, 1936

Item: MULATTO the Martin Jones production of Langston Huges drama, will close tongiht at the Vanderbilt Theater and re-open Monday at the Ambassador, where the producer expects to continue it through the summer.

...

The Cleveland Press - Friday, October 16
Hughes Entertains Cast of MULATTO

Item: Langston Hughes, Cleveland poet, novelist and now a playwright, may not attend his first nights but he has no objections to throwing a party for the people who speak and act out the lines he has written.

Last night Hughes took the cast of his play “Mulatto” now at the Hanna, on a midnight junket into the local Harlem. The party included all the performers and such Harlemites as were attracted by the smell of grease paint and tagged along to join the fun.