Notes from the Stage Manager's Box (6 page)

This
photo
was taken from
the website of Mathew Lloyd. I
had exchanged correspondence
with him
in the early 1990’s. His site is a tribute to his grandfather Arthur Lloyd who was a star of
Victorian
Music Hall
. There is no better site I know for information on this subject. It ranges over artist
s, theatres and memorabilia.

Ma
thew asked for permission to republish an article I had written on the
Old
Bedford
Music Hall
in Camden High Street.
Like so many music hall theatres the
Bedford
is now no more. I know from my own web stats that many people still visit my site from Matthew’s and I have a link back
to his
for anyone who wa
nts to explore the fabulous history of this
very British phenomenon.
The web address is
www.arthurlloyd.co.uk
.

The building began life as the Cripplegate Theatre and was the owned by the Arts Educational Schools who issued our licence to perform there. Basically it was a School for the Performing Arts. Think of Fame!

It was a school
for performing artists of all disciplines be it acting, ballet, modern danc
e or music to learn their trade whilst also keeping up with academic studies. A
t the rear
of building was a
stage with all the technical
equipment required to stage the most professional of productions
and an auditorium
that could seat up to about 500 customers.

It hasn’t changed externally at all
and retains something of a gothic atmosphere
. It was then a tremendously warm place in which to be. It had a huge stone staircase in the entrance h
all.
All around the building there were more wooden staircases that took you to one of several levels and on each level there were both large and small rehearsal rooms and yet more classrooms.

Along the right hand side of the building in the photograph above
was the stage door. The cast used the front door but the sets, props and all other equipment were loaded into the theatre through here.

For whatever reason Trevor was not stage manager. I was also missing from the previous production and assumed to have lost interest so a new face was drafted in. I can’t remember his name but he was a colleague of Roy Follett in the Bank’s Marketing Department which was on the third floor of
Lombard Street
.

Very close to the date of the performance I remember being accosted by Roy in the banking hall who asked if I would step in and help out. As I have mentioned the City is like a village. It may have cost
Roy
a pint at lunchtime but he was one of the warmest, friendliest and humorous men I have ever met. It was hard to turn him down especially as the drinks were on him which as the years rolled on, they usually were. He had pockets as deep as his friendship.

The new stage manager had never work
ed in a theatre
in any form
or even been backstage
so was understandably nervous about the role. I felt perhaps I should have been given the job instead but a promise is a promise. As these things usually do, it all turned out quite well.

Each show had four performances from Wednesday to Saturday evenings.
For the pantomime Dick Whittington we also ran a Saturday afternoon matinee and it would have been no problem to have continued the run of Grease for at least another week. However this was the future.

The week of the show followed the same pattern. The theatre was hired from Sunday morning to Saturday night. On Sunday all the sets, props and costumes were delivered by the hire companies and arranged as they would be needed during the week. The cast tried on their costumes for the first time and whilst they paraded on stage and adjustments organised
by the wardrobe team,
the stage crew arranged the lighting and set the back drops and curtains on the respective battens.

In reality everyone wanted
priority. As is so common
,
those with leading parts in the show just get on with it but those with ‘walk-ons’ or a few lines at most made all the fuss. It was always the same people
who needed to be assured that although they only had a small part they were nevertheless a very important part of the team
.

Monday night is supposed to be the ‘technical rehearsal’ when the lighting can be set. The stage manager will get the cast to stand on stage whilst the lights are moved or a coloured gel attached and the right effect obtained. It gives the stage crew time to get accustomed to putting up and striking the scenery, moving furniture about and generally working as a team.

In practice this never happens. The director always wants a quick run through, the MD is angry with the sound system and the cast think that being used as statues whilst the lighting rig is being fine tuned or the scenery moved around to a better position is just simply below them.

Eventually we all settle on a sort of compromise and at the end of the evening the director, stage manager and technicians will compare notes and hopefully get it right on Tuesday.

Tuesday night is dress rehearsal. If anything goes wrong it goes wrong. You do not stop, the action continues. Hopefully nothing too serious goes wrong because you have no more time to put it right. We all have to work the next day and even if we had the time off the Club would have to pay the musicians another full days fee.

Wednesday night is first night.
There are
more
performances
on
Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings. After the final curtain on
Saturday
s
everything happens in reverse and the stage is cleared out of the stage door and on to the waiting vans from the hire companies.

I turned up at the
Golden Lane
on Sunday morning in my black T-shirt, black jeans and black shoes and found an almost empty stage. This did not seem quite right having seen
the
chaos that
accompanied us at
the Westminster Theatre.

It was not quite an empty stag
e. On the floor was an extremely
long black oblong box. There were just a few of us stage crew plus the resident stage manager Les Field and his ASM Sid (whose surname I forget!). A few productions later I spoke to Sid about the quality of the
painted backdrops that we had just received from the hire company
along with the faded and discoloured small items of
free standing
scenery.

He did no more than get out
a huge box of paints and brushes
and began restoring the artwork. I will paraphrase his comments. These days anyone with an Arts or Media Studies degree can design
a
set. It usually takes shape around a
piece of scaffolding and assorted ladders. The thing that few people who enter theatre can do is to restore the original paintwork of distressed scenery and make it look like nothing has been done even under the searching glare of spotlights. Sid was a sort of undiscovered genius when it came to
un
covering the spirit of the old theatre.

All we have to do explained Les was to attach this black oblong box to one of the battens with a strong set of chains. This black box was the ‘newscaster’. It was the only piece of scenery we had, along with a large screen which was also hung from a batten near the rear of the acting area.

Oh! What a Lovely War is a company led musical conceived and in
spired by Joan Littlewood at the
Theatre Workshop which bears her name. It retells the story of the First World War from authentic archive material with a backdrop of songs sung by the troops and their families at home. It is a powerful piece of theatre as it is based on the actual words of the generals and Tommy Atkins – the ordinary soldier facing the horrors of the trenches.

There are no stars in this show. All the parts are played by the same group of actors who may have two or three or more people to represent. It is presented as an end of pier Pierrot show where the pierrots become soldiers or nurses or civilians as the action changes from scene to scene. There are a few roles that are constant such as Lord Haig and the commentary
from a part just named as ‘MC’ who sets the scene.

The passing of time, changes in where the action is taking place and news from the front line are all broadcast by the newscaster. I still have my copy marked ‘Newspanel and Slides’ and each separate piece of news is cued from the line just before the broadcast is due. Also cued are the changes in the slides that are to be projected on the screen such as maps of the front line and propaganda posters along with
images of
the dead and dying in the trenches and on the wire. Along with the words being spoken or songs being sung the images of war and the news of the numbers of dead all add to a moving and emotional piece of theatre.

The problem with the newscaster was that you couldn’t rewind it
or go back one frame
. It was like the news broadcasts you see advertising events in public places or the sliding updates at the bottom of cable news channels. Once the piece of news had been shown it stopped until you pressed the button to show the next one.

It wasn’t like a video recorder or in these technological days a DVD with a menu. I had to get the timing right and not click the timing button too enthusiastically and go on to the next text message. The same with the slide show. If you get the timing right the production is heightened. Get it wrong and it becomes something quite less. I am pleased to say, I got it right every night.

I was happy with my role; it made me feel an integral part of the action that was unfolding on stage. Although I got my cues from the novice stage mana
ger I had my own book and all he needed to
concentrate on was the lighting cues up to the lighting box.

As stage work goes it was one of the most relaxed
in the
phys
ical sense
. Every now and then tables and chairs had to be moved on
to the
stage and this was done by the actors themselves. Rather than expose the way the stage is set it re-enforced the close work of the company and the spirit of camaraderie found in the trenches.

The real problem came on Saturday night when we had to get the newscaster out of the theatre. There was no way it was going to go out by way of the stage door. For a start it was forty foot long and difficult to negotiate corners but the real problem was its weight.

After standing around it scratching our heads we decided as a small team that there was only one way it was going to be got out of the theatre.

The traditional way of ending a show is the Green Room party. Cast, crew, partners and friends stay after the final curtain and enjoy a drink or two in one of the rehearsal rooms where a kind committee member would also have provided something in the way of fish paste canapés and cheese sandwiches. Once under way it is not easy to drag people out from a good party.

However the newscaster had to go and so all the fit men in the cast were called to the stage and like a very long coffin the box was held on shoulders and walked off the stage, through the middle of the auditorium, onto the first floor and down the large stone staircase
and into the street outside
. Then it was a simple task of walking it around the corner where a very long lorry was waiting
to take it away
. Job done!

I admit to having a complete memory blank over the Club’s f
irst production in 1982. It was
The Boyfriend but I cannot recall being there. I must have been because a lot of things had fallen into place by the time we staged
Oklahoma
.

First it was Trevor Gash’s last contribution to a stage show. I can still see him now with the
line of his
earphones
stretched and barely
a
ttached to the control panel,
leaning forward from the wings to shout at the girls of the chorus. “Smile damn you
, smile
. People have paid money to come and watch you.”

Somewhere along the way we met for a drink in the Bank’s staff bar on the second floor of
Drapers
Gardens
, a building the Bank rented
off
Leadenhall Street
in the City
and where many of its various service departments had their office
s
.

Yes, National Westminster Bank did have its own bar.
Although
Senior Executives were not
keen on
staff spending their lunch times in one of the man
y drinking holes in the City they
begrudgingly
accepted
the fact
that this happened
and open
ed
the
ir own.

On the ground floor was a general type bar frequented by the younger staff because the beer was cheaper than anywhere else. On the second floor was a more exclusive wine bar which sold wine (!) and bottled Continental lagers. It also had settees and comfortable armchairs. Not so very comfortable because the Bank expected staff to be back at their desk on time. Thus, the bars closed on the dot of two thirty and there were definitely no ‘afters’.

In a conversation that was so familiar to anyone working in the Bank Trevor mentioned that he had secured his next promotion and the move meant that he would no longer be able to take an active role in the Theatre Club. I asked where he was going, expecting a reply like
Manchester
or
Monaco
and he just grinned and pulled a green biro from the top pocket of his jacket.

Everything in the Bank is done with black ink or red if an account is in deep trouble. No one used tippex as it was considered wiser to show mistakes than to try and cover them up when things went wrong. Only Bank Inspectors could use green ink.

Each branch could expect an Inspection on average about every three years. Usually two turned up; in the City Offices a small delegation appeared. They always arrived just as the front door was being locked at the close of the day’s business and their first task was to check the tills.

As a rule you just let them get on with it. They checked every piece of paperwork that the branch had ever produced over the previous three years. Everyone had to give a sample of their signature and initial when
they were
checking
a colleague’s
work. You ans
wered their questions politely and
kept yo
ur head down. When they
departed
as silently as they
had arrived t
he manager bought cakes for everyone
; he bought cakes
again if their report was filed without highlighting any glaring oversights in administration.

Trevor was off on his travels because Inspectors
by the nature of the job were
mobile. He kept in touch
with us
as much as possible and occasionally turned up at productions but the post of Assistant Inspector usually led to a more senior management position and he slowly dropped off our radar.

His final act was to declare me stage manager for
Oklahoma
.

I know I had an involvement in The Boyfriend because I also had a stage crew in place. Jim North was my number two for the remainder of my time in the theatre. He favoured the lighting box when we had enough bodies for the heavy work. At the time he was letting Peter Davis sleep on his floor whilst his house move went through so Peter joined us as well. Their friend Pravin Vaja didn’t want to miss out on the occasional drink so he became part of the team.

Then there was Alex Fraser. I think he got roped in as he was a member of the Rugby Club
and knew a few of the existing Theatre Club members
. Th
at would have been
Roy Follett and Peter Harris who as Club Treasurer and Social Secretary respectively had a big say in how we conducted our leisure time.

Alex arrived on the Sunday morning and apologised for bringing his wife and two children. No one minded, his wife made us tea and coffee. One thing remains in my mind about Alex.
Well two, o
nly his wife called him
Sandy
which is a common Scottish nickname for those called Alex.

His two children were so well behaved; they found the setting up procedure fascinating. But like all young kids they
also
got a bit bored and started to run around where they shouldn’t. At which point Alex would call their name and like being on a piece of very long elastic which has reached its furthest point they stopped and did what they were asked. I don’t know how he managed this; it may have been something in his voice, or the way he said their names but they instantly knew when they had crossed the invisible line. If you could bottle that you would be rich.

Finally I had the services of Steve Twigger.
He was a big man with a jolly laugh and as might have been expected a member of the Rugby Club. He was willing to help out in whatever capacity unless it conflicted with a match or a Bank’s
Rugby
tour. As it happened we had a few occasions to call on his strength and his team mates.

Alex was happy to take on the role of ASM and also rush out and help the rest of the crew if there was a lot of scenery to change over. It was a happy, close team. I know this did not come about in this show
owing to an incident almost at the end of the run.

The stage of the
Golden
Lane
Theatre
has one major fault.
You often hear the phrase ‘stage right’ or ‘stage left’ or even ‘up stage’. These are used to represent the area of the stage as the actors look front. The ‘wings’ are the entrances behind the front curtains. At
Golden Lane
t
here was plenty of room to store flats and furniture in the area around stage right but space was extremely limited stage left. Once you have a team that works
well
as a unit this is not a problem but
Oklahoma
did bring one special headache of its own.

All amateur theatre companies know they are on to a winner with
Oklahoma
both artistically and financially. As soon as the orchestra strikes up the first few chords and Curly can be heard off stage singing the opening bars of ‘Oh what a beautiful morning’ the audience are just putty in your hands.

They know that n
asty farmhand Jud will get his just desserts and that Curly will get the girl in the end and drive off into the sunset with her in a surrey with a fringe on top.

On the Sunday morning when the set arrived we found a large pile of wood and wheels that was the surrey. It took about half an hour to work out which bit went where and another half an hour to put it together. In terms of the production you just do not have half an hour to assemble a piece of transport however vital it is to the plot.

The surrey had to c
ome on
from stage left. There was just
enough room stage left to store it along with all the other bits that also had to come on from that direction. We explained this to the director and there was no way that the surrey could come on from stage right owing to everything else that had to happen.

We spent the rest of Sunday afternoon and into the early evening breaking down and re-assembling the surrey. I think we got it down to about twenty minutes.
No one said it, but it didn’t look good. We waited for the dress rehearsal to see how much time would be wasted and how much space we could make. I think we got it down to about fifteen minutes with this thought in the back of our minds – the show must go on.

B
y first night panic had not quite
set in. I was stage right with Alex and on the other side with the duty of assembling the surrey
were
Jim, Peter, Steve and Pravin. I think they had got the time down to about ten minutes by then
; w
hich was excellent.

By the end of the week they have shaved a few more minutes off and there was minimal disruption to the production. On the last night I was standing next to Alex looking over to stage left expecting to see the four lads working as a blur to fit four wheels on to a wagon. There was no one there. I knew where they were – in the bar.

There is not a lot you can do about this. No stage crew and
no surrey for
the grand finale when Curly and
Laurey
are carried off to their
honeymoon
.
I remember swearing at Alex. I was
about to
rush under the stage and up again on the other side to the staircase and
drag my crew from the bar when they arrived.

I checked the clock and they had about three minutes before their cue. Two minutes later the four of them were standing in front of a surrey with a fringe on top, laughing and pointing a finger at me. I just swore again.

Their explanation. They wanted to treat me the same way I had upset Trevor in the last production, by turning up with minutes to spare and giving him palpitations
. They had practised without my knowledge and to get the timing down from
thirty minutes to three in the s
pace of five days is no mean accomplishment.
That is how I know that the team had been put together the previous show and I had been part of it.

The moral of this story is – always expect the unexpected.

Fiddler on the Roof was a defining moment in my life
generally and
in the theatre
specifically
for many reasons. But first a few words on the show that followed
Oklahoma
.

Along with The Boyfriend
I don’t remember much about The Pyjama Game either. I was stage manager. I had the same crew with me and can’t recall anything untoward. However I do have flashbacks of this show which has a lot to do with chairs.

The big number in The Pyjama Game is Hernando’s Hideaway. It was a
UK
number one in 1955 by the Johnston Brothers. A cover version was also recorded by Johnny Ray and reached number 11.

In the stage version the song was sung in a nightclub – Hernando’s Hideaway I guess. The backstage and wings of the
Golden Lane
were awash with chairs. Every now and then one of th
e TV channels will show a drama
set in a night club or restaurant and the décor is always completed with hundreds of gold painted chairs with red seats.

The show was quite simple
to stage but we needed as many of the stage crew as possible to set out and then strike all these chairs. I saw them again as if being haunted when I was hiring props for another show; and like some surrealistic nightmare still imagine myself sometimes buried under a mountain of gold painted chairs
falling from the sky
.

Fiddler on the Roof is about a community of Jews in
Russia
. They have traditions and family values which are imp
ortant to them; their religion
and Jewish law are
properly observed. This traditional community is torn apart by the
oppressive Russian regime.

People remember the show for Topol’s big number ‘If I Were a Rich Man’. If anyone was destined to play this part it was our chairman Frank Squire. I am tone deaf, I can’t sing and I don’t know a semi quaver from a tenor but I do know that Frank could sing and gave one of the most powerful performances we had witnessed in the Club. He deserved all the p
raise and the calls for a reprise
that came from the audience.