Christopher D’Auria – North Bellmore, NY

Kristen Hendricks – Milltown, NJ

In my writing endeavors I’ve read and studied plays, but I’ve never read a play prior to attending a performance. Something about August: Osage County had a magnetic draw for me. After booking tickets, I obtained a copy of the script. I read it twice.

I reckoned that reading it prior to the play would help strengthen my understanding of the craft, which outweighed the expense of not being surprised at the theater. I’m happy to report it only enhanced the experience. I waited in anticipation for the one-liners that put the audiences in stitches, and felt the electricity in the audience as the character’s revelations took place. I witnessed how the plot and dialogue manipulated the emotions of the audience. The impact of the experience gave me the challenge to aspire to write something of equal quality.

The dialogue resonated so much at times it stung. In the third act, Charlie Aiken tells his wife Mattie Fae, “Your thoughtful but not open, you’re passionate but hard.” I felt as though the character could be talking to me. And I realized the play is so brilliant because of its brutal honesty of characters. Truth is revealed and the playwright did not filter. It made me want to explore my own life more, as I don’t want to grow old like that. It’s through the characters I was able to see a part of me I’d rather keep hidden, and that’s the power of the theater – to help us see ourselves as we really are.

My passion for live theater is kept alive by works such as this, that teach us something about life, about ourselves, and let us laugh about it along the way.

Stacey Collins – Santa Monica, CA

The play focused on a young man entering a juvenile detention center. The playwright later told me that the next 20 years of his life was shaped by the autobiographical trauma prompted by the ordeal which this play exposes.

In the second week of the production, we invited the audience to remain for a post performance dialogue. A man stated that  this play was so real that he thought he was back in prison. He joined us on stage and that began a year long forum The New York Times covered one performance and the subsequent headline “The Drama Continues After The Curtain Falls” brought to the theatre numerous persons who had been incarcerated.

I suggested that we had the nucleus for an organization to put a face on the former incarcerated and help to reduce the barriers that limited their vocational and housing options.  The Fortune Society had begun.

The need was beyond my wildest imagination. Hundreds of men and women began to gravitate to our space. We sought larger quarters. I was representing several hit shows but, my work with Fortune began to occupy me full time.

42 years later the Fortune Society is leading self-help programs for ex-offenders.  I am retired but cherish my visits to the office where over 150 persons are employed, most being formerly incarcerated.  Our residence in Harlem, The Fortune Academy (called The Castle), houses men and women.  We created a play called The Castle which  moved Off-Broadway.

The Daily News recently estimated that over 100,000 people have passed through the doors of the Fortune Society, an organization that fights crime in NYC. All of this began because of a play.

Fortune and Men’s Eyes indeed changed my life.

David Rothenberg – New York, NY

When the film premiered, I was thrilled.  It was the first opportunity I had to see Kushner’s words come to life.  I was moved even more than I had anticipated.  After college, I saw a notice for a production of Angels.  Having just received a theatre degree in directing, I submitted to assistant direct.  That position had been filled, but I wanted so badly to work on this script, that I took the assistant stage manager position.  Being able to listen to Tony Kushner’s words every day, and being a part of an ensemble of artists, who were working on a project that they sincerely believed in, was an amazing experience.

Every person’s life is a journey.  The constant companion in my journey has been theatre, and in particular, this play.  It’s been twelve years since I first read Angels, and I often reflect on how my life has changed.  I was so ignorant and sheltered from those different from me, whether it be because of their religion, their political affiliation, economic status or their health. I believe that if I had not read this play, my life would be empty in many ways.  It is that fulfillment that I am so thankful for.

Kimberly Faith Hickman – Brooklyn, NY

James Yoakley – Knoxville, TN

Pamela White – Marysville, WA

For my fourteenth birthday, in 1963, I chose Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? If my mother had forebodings, she didn’t let on. There we sat, watching Arthur Hill and Uta Hagen play out games of “Get the Guest” and “Hump the Hostess.” I had no idea what “hump” meant. (The ostensibly innocent  phrase “make love,” which popped up so blithely in romantic comedies, had me mystified as well.) As the play progressed, its gist was beginning to dawn.

My mother was no doubt mortified but withheld commentary; I was thrilled to the core. I knew now that our seemingly exemplary household, which she took such pains to render so, was more normal than I’d ever imagined. Ours was not the only house where angry adult voices persisted deep into the night, or where a cocktail party guest might emerge from the bathroom, lipstick smeared, with a man (my father, on occasion) trailing close behind.

Nearly a half-century later, I remain a compulsive theatergoer – I became a critic to support my habit. I head to theatres large and small, night after night, in pursuit of the excoriating shriek of truth – sometimes raucous, sometimes subdued – that I was lucky enough to encounter during that birthday matinee.

Sandy MacDonald – New York, NY

Amidst the hustle and bustle of frantic rehearsals and long evenings (on an almost daily basis) were a group of people who were quick to befriend me. Among them I met a few younger men who would go on to become very good friends of mine. They were high school kids, kids who wanted someone to talk to, to ask questions to that they’d rather not ask their parents or teachers, to confide in, in essence someone who was a big brother as well as a mentor figure at the same time. It felt good to have that, to know that despite being in one relationship that was crashing down around me, that there were people nearby who still respected and cared about my well-being.

Throughout the run of that show, my friendship with those four men grew much closer. Though the show has long since closed, we still keep in touch. The closest of us are more than friends, we are like brothers. I shall always thank the theatre for giving me back my sense of self and for reminding me that even in the darkest times, the world is still alive.

Joe Keilholz – Durham, NC

It was a balmy summer evening when we arrived at the theater.  It was an old converted barn and still maintained some of the vestiges of an equine abode, warm and sheltered.  As our group was seated, I was surprised to see that there was no “stage”, but rather it was like an arena. I wondered where the actors would enter and why there was so little scenery.  The lights dimmed and I was carried away to a private school and sat at the feet of Miss Brodie.  Throughout the play, I was filled with the wonder of not just being a spectator, but of being a participant in this poignant work of art.  I don’t remember the passage of time, I think there was an intermission, but I do remember realizing that my life had changed forever.  I realized that there were so many experiences yet to come and that theater would forever be a part of my life.

Today, I am a teacher and no matter what the course, theater has always been a venue for instruction.  I believe  educators must enrich the minds, bodies and spirits of our students and theater provides a conduit. My students have experienced the thrill of opening night from the audience’s and the actor’s point of view. And each one, I believe, has become a better person.  To see the light in their eyes, hear the applause of the crowd and feel the self-satisfaction of a job well done continues to inspire me to find new venues, encourage new playwrights and to repeat that balmy summer night and all that was The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.

Luann Smith – Virginia Beach, VA

We moved around quite a lot when I was little. I was an awkward and gangly redhead with a very large overbite. Needless to say, I was not really very popular and spent a lot of time by myself just singing.

In eighth grade at my sixth school, I hesitantly auditioned for The Sound of Music. I figured I would get a small part and would be relegated to the chorus. But somehow, the director, our very young chorale teacher chose me to play Maria.

It was a highly controversial choice. None of the popular girls were chosen and for a while, it made me even more of an outsider. But over the course of the year of rehearsals, I got braces, start standing up a little straighter, and channeled my very best Julie Andrews.

People started talking to me, probably because my self confidence was building more and more.

I did the play on the day that one of my idols, Karen Carpenter, died. I remember walking out on that stage and I wasn’t Holli the Geek, but Maria through and through.

I joined the Drama Club in high school, and began auditioning at other theater companies. Nearly 40 shows later, I am a middle school science teacher and I help run our seventh grade musicals.

The Sound of Music is a touchstone in my life. It kept me company as a lonely child, gave me wings when it was time to fly in eighth grade, and propelled me to multiple musical experiences throughout my life and profession.  Without it, I shudder to think what I might have done. I still watch it on TV every year, and now my kids watch it with me.

Holli Joyal – Noblesville, IN

Early in rehearsals, they eliminated my position at my day job, so for the first time in my life, I really could devote 100% of my energies and focus to the show. And it was the perfect show for that. It taught me that the possibilities in musical theatre really are limitless, that musicals don’t have to be in the mold of the classics I grew up with, that music could be used in so many different ways for so many different purposes, that emotion could be used in so many different ways, and that there are a million ways to tell a great story. And I guess more than anything else, it taught me that you can affect and influence an audience in indirect ways that are often more powerful than the direct ways… I think it may have been the first time I thought consciously about musical theatre as art.

And nothing was the same for me after that. It changed me and it changed our company, New Line Theatre. The show actually inspired me to write my first book (From Assassins to West Side Story), and it taught me that I’ll never stop learning about my art form…

Scott Miller – Saint Louis, MO

The revival played at the Booth Theatre, across West 45th Street from the site of the Morosco Theatre, where the original production played.  The original production was also the first play I saw on Broadway, and the intimacy and beauty of the Morosco’s architecture inspired a lifelong commitment to saving historic theatres, both on Broadway and around the country.  This manifested itself not only in my joining Actor’s Equity’s “Save the Theatres” campaign, but also in my co-founding a non-profit organization, Friends of the Biltmore, Inc. which led the fight to save the historic Biltmore Theatre on West 47th Street (now refurbished and operated by the Manhattan Theatre Club).  It also manifested itself in my current involvement with the League of Historic American Theatres, for which I am the Maryland representative.

Was it the play, or the theatre?  I like to think that it was both; I think that certain shows fit the personalities of certain theatres, and not others.  In the case of Butley and the Morosco, it was a very happy marriage, and not a day goes by that I don’t regret the availability of the Morosco (which was also the home of the original production of Death of a Salesman) for the Butleys of the future.

Thanks for letting me share my memories with you!

Stephen Rourke – Baltimore, MD

Meg Martinez – Hudson, OH

As I took my seat, I had no expectations, but a mere ninety minutes later, it was  clear my theatrical world had been transformed.  Never before had I heard words and music so seamlessly blended, and so perfectly suited to the story being told.  Once On This Island has no elaborate sets, no sequined costumes, no neon special effects. Two flashlights represent the headlights on a car.  Trees, frogs, rain and wind are all represented by sound and movement.  There are no “famous” actors in the cast.  Instead, the focus is all on using words and music to tell a simple but hauntingly beautiful tale.  Once On This Island is the show that made me understand that, at its core, theater is all about the writing.

Until that day, I had never heard of Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty.  However, I discovered that Lynn had written many of the Schoolhouse Rock sketches that had been such a huge part of my childhood.  She had helped me learn the preamble to the Constitution, and taught me about nouns and interjections. So, in a way, she was my hero before I ever knew her name.

Six years after that fateful day at the Kennedy Center, when Ragtime was about to open on Broadway, I took a leap of faith and decided to write the first “fan” letter I had ever written.

Now, as we celebrate the Ragtime revival, I can honestly say I am one of the lucky few whose heroes have not disappointed.  Lynn and Stephen have graciously allowed me to witness aspects of the theater that I could never have experienced otherwise.  But, most important, they taught me that musicals should always be about words and music.

Ronni Krasnow – New York, NY

Mike Brooks – Louisville, KY

Stu Grossman – Jamaica Estates, NY

Judith Manuel – Harper, KS

Sonia Lawrence – Brooklyn, NY

Beverly Francis – North Haven, CT

I chose Job, though I had never read the book of Job, nor did I know anything about it. I was hoping to be surprised.

What I saw was marked inside my brain forever. I loved every minute of the show, and despite the small size of the theater and the improvised props, costumes and sets, the power of the actors, the storytelling– Job’s trials and redemption – and the music were so elemental, so rooted in human feeling and emotion that I was completely transported.

The theater troupe created a vaudeville version of the story of Job – part musical, part clown act, part children’s show, part commedia del’arte.  The actors sang their parts, or dressed up in improvised costumes and made music out of household objects or toys.  The production values were minimal, and while the One Dream Theater no longer exists, it was a truly wonderful space that made up for its lack of size with the power of its intimacy.

Job’s lament was performed to a hip-hop beat, and still remains one of the most virtuosic theatrical performances in my memory.  The troupe even managed to weave elements of fairy tales into the narrative, including the story of the girl in the red shoes, who couldn’t stop dancing.

As she was dancing, the actors called out to the audience for ways to stop her. I remember shouting “cut her legs off!”  and then being pulled down from my seat, and invited to cut them off myself. I had never experienced anything like that before—actually becoming part of a wonderful theatrical experience while it was happening. I happily mimed the action of sawing off the actor’s feet, and she was miraculously cured.

And I was captivated by the theater forever.

Matthew Landfield – Brooklyn, NY

Going to the theatre quickly became my favorite thing to do, but because it was too expensive to do often, I came to value the experience as something that was a very special event.

I had never even heard of Off-Broadway when my mother, Adele, brought me to the Village Theatre on Bleecker Street to see Love Janis in 2001.  It was pre-September 11th, and I was 16 years old.  New York City still felt to me like a place where all my wildest dreams could come true, and in a way they did in that theatre.

When I first saw the interior space of the theatre, I couldn’t believe how small it was.  At that time my only reference point was the large, opulent theatres of Broadway.  I thought to myself, “For a space so small, there can’t possibly be something worth seeing in here.”  I was wrong.

To say my mind was blown is an understatement.

The “actress” Janis, the “singer” Janis, and the band brought me to my feet.  I was moved to tears of sorrow and joy, to laughter, and to exhilaration.  I couldn’t believe the simple telling of the diary of Janis Joplin could so inspiring and heart breaking.  It was then and there that I realized, not only could theatre be good, it could be cool too.  It was a liberating realization, one that has brought me to today, 9 years later, with my love affair with theatre still going strong.

In fact, I’ve been acting in theatre and writing plays since.  Now at 25 years old, with plays produced on four continents, I can only aspire to create a work that makes some 16 year old girl somewhere in the world feel as inspired as Love Janis made me feel.  It’s what I work towards everyday.

Nicole Pandolfo – New York, NY

When the curtain went up, something was already happening!  A dramatically attired woman, tremendously alive and aware of herself, wove a spell on the arm of a visitor.  She was languid and energetic at the same time.  This, I guessed, was “Southern.”

After the stranger left, the family calmly discussed how they had lied to him.  And they didn’t even pretend to get along.  One woman didn’t like her son, her own flesh and blood!  The daughter was “bold” to her mother!  And one man hit his own wife!  Being in the same room with someone even pretending to hit someone was frightening.  And thrilling.

Instead of being yielding and “feminine,” the leading character, Regina, went after what she wanted and didn’t care whom she hurt in the process.  Hers was the Great Sin, Pride, and it was live on stage and only a few feet from where I sat.

And then on a staircase, Regina let her husband die.  Not like the shoot ‘em ups in the movies or on TV.  She merely sat there.  People could be evil just sitting in a chair!  I was shaken.

Up to then, I had thought acting was “pretending,” but what these actors were doing was something else — strong, committed, convincing – this was deception.

I often crouched at the top of the back stairs at home to hear what was going on below.  But the theater gave me license to do openly in public what I did shamefully in private: satisfy my immense curiosity about people.  The Little Foxes confirmed what I’d suspected but dared not admit: people were not as they seemed.  Through a pretend world, I entered the real one.  The real real one.  And suddenly it was mine.

Frank Kelly – Mineola, NY

I had grown up seeing Shakespeare and touring Broadway musicals, but it wasn’t until high school when I saw a show created by one of our teachers with an ensemble of students that it occurred to me that human beings wrote plays.  Sure, historical figures and famous celebrities penned scripts, but so did regular people with mismatched memories, forgotten romances, and dreams of a better world.

The show was a dance drama piece that focused on human longing and shortcomings.  It wasn’t that I didn’t love Midsummer and Les Mis, but I was a 16 year old girl fragile from hormones and homework who was shocked that onstage people were creating art that actually spoke to me.  Seeing something wholly created by those familiar to me allowed the dream of creating theatre to become a reality.

This young adult experience led to my love of playwrights and ensembles like Charles Mee, The Civilians, and Double Edge Theatre—people and places that work collectively to create new pieces of live art for a contemporary audience.  Ultimately, one night of seeing a group of high schoolers led by their mentor to create theatre from various sources of poetry, music, and movement has allowed me the courage to work in collaborative theatre ever since.

Kimberly Miller – Chicago, IL

When I saw Gypsy in the fall of 1959 with my parents, I was thrilled. The story swept me away. I was enthralled by Ethel Merman.  I had even met her when I was 9, so I felt a connection of sorts.  But the profound memory from that marvelous night was when I learned what finding and having a gimmick meant.
And what making that gimmick yours could mean to being successful.

My dad was a press agent in the theater and the movie business, so there must have been a certain measure of osmosis at work here – I mean he spent his entire professional life fabricating and using gimmicks – but when those 3 strippers sang “you gotta have gimmick” to young gypsy Rose Lee and explained how to get ahead with the most clever, adorable lyrics I’ve still ever heard,  well, I swooned.

That’s all the metaphor I needed.

The whole idea of making something my own resonated so deeply.  I knew that unless I stood out, unless I was brave enough to take a few risks, then I’d be mediocre.

I won’t say what my gimmick is, but darlings, it works.
All the best.

Lucy Nathanson – Hudson, NY