On Monday night at the Department of Cultural Affairs’ Storefront Theater, I’ll be hosting what limited vocabulary forces me to call a “panel discussion” entitled Do It Myself: Five Decades of Theatre That Works. This grew out of my abiding love for all things Chicago theatre, and my part-time gig at the Chicago Artists Resource (a program of the DCA). I’ve been pushing the event (which is free, by the way) primarily on The Face Book, but I wanted to take a moment here to to answer a couple of persistent questions: namely, “What is this thing about? And why are you doing it?”

As for what it’s about: frankly, it’s about us.

I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on, lately, about Chicago theatre history, from Christiansen’s book (which I’ve heavily annotated), to Jeff Sweet’s book on the Compass and Second City, to the Encyclopedia of Chicago, to other articles I come across in my travels. The one thing I can’t get over is – sitting here in 2010 as a 7+ year veteran* of Chicago’s theatre scene as an actor, writer, reviewer, researcher and general advocate – how many of these stories could be – and are – going on right now. How a conversation with Paul Sills or David Shepard of the Compass about wanting to revitalize theatre maps five conversations I’ve had with folks at the Storefront Summit. How the echoes of half-spiteful, half-envious snark aimed at other actors and companies bounced off the walls of the Steppenwolf gang’s green room all the way down through the decades only to pop anew out of the mouths of me and my friends at Ricochets. How comic book bombast – and the backlash against it – charted a tumultuous time for the Organic with WARP! years before Nate Allen and the House Theatre crew were even thought-bubbles above their parents’ heads.

And besides these eerily persistent moments of deja vu, there’s this recurring sense – not just from the young, upstart Remains and Kingston Mines, nor just from the social activists of Free Street and Body Politic and Hull House, nor just from the lefty-intellectual reactionaries of the Compass, but even further back to the Little Theatre of the ’20s and even from the moment Joe Jeff hopped off the boat back in 1838 – of an entrepreneurial spirit, a feeling of manifest destiny, a vital arrogance. The theme of Chicago theatre – and possibly the city itself – is a finger in the eye of the status quo. It’s saying to the gate-keepers at larger institutions or to the people who produce work that is safe, or bloated, or too realistic, or too stylized or whatever it is that doesn’t fit the vision of the theatre in one’s head: “Fuck you, I’ll do it myself.”

But despite this rich and utterly relevant history, 90% of you reading this (and that’s a generous estimate) have never heard of most of the people and companies I’ve just mentioned. Or maybe you’re heard of them, but nothing more than a name from someone who’s been around longer than you.

And that’s a problem – not just because I think these are funny, inspiring, and moving stories from people who are living parallel lives to our own. And not just because we have this terrible tendency to reinvent the wheel – with our careers, our companies, our attempts to collaborate and collectively act within the community, ignorant of what groundwork has already been laid. And not just because these folks – many of whom are still around town – aren’t really going to be here much longer to tell them.

It’s because Chicago stopped being the Second City about 30 years ago, and nobody noticed.

So at this moment, when energy is high, when more talented folks are coming to set up shop here, when amazing and unique stories are being told and finding audiences beyond our shore, when the world is watching, knowing who we are and how far we’ve come can help make sure this isn’t just another resurgence, but a full-on insurgency that will propel us headlong into a brand new era of creativity, innovation and sustainability.

And since I’ve been nibbling around the edges for a few years now waiting for someone else to take the lead, I’ve decided, “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

Here’s are more specifics on the panelists, culled from a note I sent to invitees:

You’ve never heard of Sharon Phillips, but you should have. She’s got more street cred in this city than you and me combined: she started off as “apprentice/box office manager” to the first Dream Theater in the 60s, before becoming Managing Director for the Body Politic (which was essentially the launching pad for the entire storefront movement) – then became Outreach Director for Wisdom Bridge (Bob Falls’ storefront before he got the big job) and Victory Gardens. Oh, and she also helped found the League of Chicago Theatres (serving as one of the first presidents) and helped negotiate with AEA to make it possible for Equity actors to actually work in town. She is also the nicest woman in the world. (I reprinted an essay Sharon wrote about 20 years ago on the early days of the storefront movement a while back.)

If you haven’t heard of Steve Scott, you are probably living under a rock. Goodman Associate Producer (making him Falls’ Will Riker) and member of their artistic collective, Steve is notable in my mind for being one of the few folks who have ascended to the rarified heights of the city’s major regional theatres, yet he spends at least as much of more of his time with the city’s storefronts. What’s more, he is a teacher at both Roosevelt and Act One, giving him a unique perspective on the constant flux of talent in our fair city.

Quick: name the four biggest non-profit theatres in Chicago by revenue. Now name the fifth. Give up? It’s Black Ensemble Theater, founded in 1976 by actor Jackie Taylor, who still runs the shop today. Well-known for her commitment to theatre education and theatre in education, she’s taught in the Chicago Public Schools for more than 30 years, and has churned out a string of successful productions that would make any producer green with envy.

What’s more: there’s a 60% chance of Sheldon Patinkin. One of the most storied names in Chicago improv and theatre, Sheldon was an inaugural member of the Second City in 1959, then later part of Second City Toronto and SCTV. He has gone on to direct some of the most notable productions in the city’s history, and until recently chaired the Theater Department at Columbia College Chicago. (Sheldon is recovering from recent surgery, so while he tells me he truly wants to come, we won’t know until Monday whether he’s able.)

This is going to be a great night. I’m going to try and keep things light and conversational – not all boring and panel-y. I am contractually obligated not to swear, but I fully intend on goading my guests into off-color stories about John Malkovich and an estimation of how many “fuck yous” were in the original script for Grease.

Seating is limited – so although tickets are free you should take a minute and call 312-742-TIXS or visit www.dcatheater.org to officially make a reservation.

*yes, staying in Chicago for more than 7 years does make you a veteran

3 Responses to ““Fuck You, I’ll Do It Myself””

1. Isabel Liss
   May 14th, 2010 @ 2:17 pm

   Good stuff Daniel! Those who will not learn from history. . .

   I applaud your initiative here and wish you much success and you continue to explore “What is Chicago Theatre”.

   Also check out Anne Libera’s book on Second City. I’ll get the dets and post ‘em on your wall.

2. The Chicago Theatre Recipe | Theater For The Future
   May 22nd, 2010 @ 12:07 pm

   [...] Resource threw a little Chicago Theatre history lesson over at the DCA storefront space (“Do it myself: Five Decades of Theatre that Works“) featuring three veterans of the storefront movement: Steve Scott of the Goodman, Jackie [...]

3. Elizabeth Fuller
   July 31st, 2010 @ 10:24 pm

   Damn, wish we’d been there! We were making work at the BP in 1974, in fact we were scheduled to open our first show when the theatre burned. We’ve lived/worked all over the country since then, are now firmly parked in Sebastopol, CA, but still have fine memories of the beginning of the theatrical tsunami. And you’re right, Sharon is special. — Elizabeth Fuller & Conrad Bishop

Leave a Reply

Name (required)

Email Address(required)

Website

Comments