Exit Stage Left

By Chris James

Chapter Fifteen

Dottie Summers didn't sing her music; she belted it out with enough energy to engage the entire audience. Her Lift the Roof Off tour was a revelation to Dennis and everyone else who had never witnessed a gospel tour before. They could have sold Dottie and her choir for another week, but she was definitely closing the season with a blast of energy.

This show confirmed something for Arthur Pierce, something he should have known all along. The African American community was an untapped resource for The Grove. It only took a little advertising for tickets to sell out far in advance.

Black performers were cast in every musical and every play that came through The Grove, but there were shows that were aimed at an all black audience. Dottie had so many talents to encourage that audience, her show was like a revival meeting. She played the organ, sang her songs solo and with the choir, the audience ate it up. There was no preaching, it wasn't necessary. Gospel music was Dottie's religion, and she prayed hard.

Dennis had assigned Brandon, Gina and John to crew that week, stealing away into the booth with Henry and Pat during the performances. This was it, and Dennis knew it. The Grove would plod onward but Dennis knew he wouldn't be a part of it. Senior year meant a greater commitment to Cabot, and then there was a certain boy who would steal the rest of his time.

They had decided to speak to Jim about his offer at Christmas, if he showed up at Tahoe. If not then they would send in a formal letter to the production company and see what happened. So many small details, and like the last year, this one would go fast.

The summer season at Spring Grove ended with Dottie and her choir, but Arthur predicted it was only the beginning of a new chapter. Dennis had to let the man know he wouldn't be back and that Gina could handle the crew the following year.

"I'm sorry this was such a trying time for you, Dennis," Arthur said. "But thank you for cleaning up my mess, it won't happen again. I'm going to spend the winter building a summer season for the theatre and I sure wish you'd come back, but I understand."

"I have so many things I wish I could tell you, but that would be premature," Dennis said. "I just want you to know this was a great experience for me, I learned so much here. I'll probably be in Los Angeles next summer chasing the dream."

"You need anything just call, OK?" Arthur said, and they shook hands.

For the last time Dennis handed Arthur his keys and left the building. School was due to start in five days; it was time to rest up for the new challenge. Just the thought of a new season of real theatre made Dennis smile; this one would carry him to graduation.

The framework of responsibility at Cabot was built like a pyramid with seniors at the top. On the academic side Dennis knew he was in the top percentage of his class. From a practical standpoint the grades were important to gain the attention for college admission. On the technical side his resume was at the highest point in his class, this year would put him over the top.

Two major events faced him on the return to school. Dennis knew he would be asked to design the lighting for a main stage production, and he would take on the role of stage manager for another. He had the experience for both, it only remained to be seen what shows the department had chosen.

Ted faced his junior year with just a little concern, he was sure they would ask him to become the editor of the school paper. Fremont was just a large sprawling complex with a diverse student body of around twelve hundred students. The school was middle of the road in the large sprawling county, nothing exceptional about it or the newspaper.

Editing the school paper would be an honor, look good on the resume and all that, but it would be boring as hell. Ted knew he would accept the position just for the opportunity to dig into the social cultures that formed the student body.

The past two years there had been little in depth work about the African American students and even less about the Hispanics. The largest part of the school population were white kids from the upper valley, and in descending order came the African American, Hispanic, Asian and Native American students.

Fremont even had several foreign students attending because of an international exchange program with a school in Lyon, France. With all that diversity thrown into the blender the newspaper still came out white bread and boring. Ted figured he'd have to change all that, it was about time to celebrate the diversity.

Like many schools in California there was a tiny little cadre of gay and lesbian students who weren't sure if they should fight for recognition or just ride the current level of acceptance. Because Sacramento was the state capital there was little open resistance to the gay and lesbian kids, no one was sure who they might be related to down at the statehouse.

The ranting and raving about gay marriage downtown didn't reach the Fremont campus which seemed strange since Ted knew this was probably the most liberal public school around. But he wasn't going to stir up that controversy. Teenagers might screw around a lot but they sure weren't thinking about marriage no matter who they were.

As one of the quietly gay students, Ted's experience at Fremont was much different than Dennis' first year there. His position with the newspaper meant he was left alone, a geek with the power of the pen was considered dangerous and so no one picked on him.

Cabot Performing Arts was just twelve miles down the road from Fremont and yet they might as well be on different planets. Cabot had no sports teams, no interactive student clubs to compete in speech or chess with other schools. Cabot students were too damn busy for all that nonsense and that made them seem strange, but Ted knew different.

Writing about the well known activities at his school just had no appeal; Ted would leave that to others. His objective would be to seek out the unusual, to write about the unknown moments in a student's life, and in doing so educate the others.

Somewhere in the back of his mind lay the seeds of good story, he just had to find them. He knew that the students had things in common; it would only take the right presentation to shine a light on these things. Diversity didn't always mean such a great difference, he knew they all had music in common... it was someplace to start.

But with only a few days of freedom remaining Ted was looking for some of that quality time with Dennis. Working together most of the summer had been great fun and given him a glimpse of Dennis' theatre world. But he knew they both needed to relax this week and preferably together in solitude.

It was Monday afternoon when Ted sprung his request on Dennis, although he had been thinking about it all morning.

"I want to go camping," Ted said.

"Camping... as in a tent?" Dennis asked. "What is it we can do in a tent we can't do here?"

"Cook over an open fire, sleep under the stars, swim in the ocean."

"OK, sounds like you have someplace already picked out... where is it?"

"It's been years, but Dad took us camping on the coast north of Mendocino. I asked him yesterday, he said it was called Russian Gulch. They have a nice state park there, camping, showers... the works," Ted said.

"Mendocino, that's a couple hundred miles away," Dennis said. "Do you have a tent? I know my family has no camping gear at all."

Ted smiled. "We have the works; you won't have to bring a thing except that cute ass of yours."

"The cute ass goes where I go... when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow, I made reservations."

"Damn, Ted... .what if I didn't want to go?"

"You never say never, I was counting on that," Ted laughed.

"OK, you win... your car or mine?"

"We're taking my dad's pickup truck, he already agreed."

Mendocino was a five hour drive, skirting the north side of San Francisco Bay and heading up Route One, the scenic drive. The back of the truck was loaded with gear, all locked down under the hard cover. The only thing they would need was fresh food; they had all the cooking utensils they could possibly use.

It had been years since either of them had been this way, and still the rocky coastline was a thrilling part of the drive. The highway hugged the cliffs, twisting and turning as it followed the coastline. With wooded slopes above and a shear drop into the ocean on the other it was a drive that took concentration.

They left the house at eight and stopped for breakfast off the highway. By one o'clock the town of Mendocino was a welcome sight, nestled on a spur of land that jutted out into the Pacific Ocean. An artist colony to some, a weekend getaway for others.

They pulled off the highway and took the main street into town looking for a market to buy their supplies. Dennis knew he wasn't much of a cook, but Ted claimed the fame in that department. They bought fresh bread, meat and vegetables and a dozen small cans of juice. The park wasn't far, they could return here if necessary.

Russian Gulch was a well organized campground and so they were handed a map as they drove in through the gates. The summer season was in full swing and dozens of campers walked along the roadways and up the trails through the trees. The site they had been assigned wasn't far from the restroom facilities and there was a cold water shower on the outside of the building.

The nylon tent took a little figuring out, but it was roomy enough for a half a dozen people. The fire pit was a concrete ring with a metal grate, good enough to cook up the steaks they had bought. But it was only two in the afternoon so they opted for a walk back along the trail to the inlet.

It had been three years since Dennis had set foot in the ocean; their last family vacation had been to Lake Tahoe. But the inlet was surrounded by high cliff walls which tumbled down to white sandy beaches. The deep blue water was clear and inviting, but after four hours of sun and salt it was time to walk back and take a shower.

Their tent was pitched in the shadow of the trees, some of them redwoods surrounded by large primitive ferns. Tonight they would cook out and enjoy the cool sea breeze, tomorrow they would hike the trails. Inland there was a large waterfall and a trail that led all the way back into Mendocino.

Ted's cooler held two lovely steaks which were soon set to grill over a charcoal fire. Dennis had thought to pick out several large baking potatoes, but then they were sliced, doused in olive oil and wrapped in foil to cook along with the meat. It all tasted wonderful and Dennis decided that Ted could claim the title of cook... and for three days he did.

They spent their days hiking in the woods, wandering the shops in Mendocino or playing in the ocean. It was a time to shed the tensions of the summer and prepare for the school year. It was also a time to grow closer emotionally and physically.

With unlimited time on their hands they were retreating to the tent several times a day to consummate their love. It was a time to wallow in passion, giving in to the physical means of expression love allowed. It had to be now since they would not be wrapped in this kind of solitude for months once school started.

There was something about that first day of the fall semester. To Dennis it was the discovery of what his year would be like. The list of chosen productions would be posted and the student positions assigned. There would also be a gaggle of new techies to face, analyze and encourage, Brandon had been a part of that bunch last year.

But all the returning students were expected to move up in the ranks, assume the duties of guiding the new people and still produce the finest award winning productions in the valley. It was a heavy load to carry and those committed to their craft welcomed it. In many ways the tech students had a masochistic streak. It was how they acted and honed their skills, for every one of them knew that high school could be difficult, but that the professional world was a killer.

Ted would wallow in junior apathy for the year and look forward to the final step up. Juniors were the work horses of the school, familiar enough to know how things were supposed to happen, helpless to change them. It was a final chance to view the seniors and judge them from a safe distance.

Seniors were a breed apart, physically present, emotionally unstable, and mentally already out the door. It was left to the juniors to run the school and keep the seniors from destroying it in their haste to depart.

There were sophomores to direct and freshmen to induct into the policies and procedures of the school. At the same time it was a chance for the juniors to bend those lower classes to their will while attempting to lay the groundwork for change. Every class tried to remake the school in their own image, but it was very much like swimming against the current.

Fremont had a faculty and administration that had been together for over a decade. That being the length of time since a new teacher had been hired. That was also long enough for the educators to become complacent, so set in their ways that new things were not encouraged. Ted would have an uphill battle this year and he welcomed it.

The fall semester shows Dennis saw posted on the production bulletin board in the back hallway were somewhat of a surprise. Midsummer Night's Dream, a Shakespearean favorite, Charlie Brown, a musical version of the comic strip, and some unnamed Greek dance show. He was named the lighting designer for the Shakespeare, it would be his pleasure.

The spring semester list included The Cherry Orchard, a real period drama, and then Dennis saw the musical... Anne Get Your Gun. That made him smile, but then he saw his name on the list as the stage manager and his heart skipped a beat.

To take on a huge musical as his final production at Cabot was thrilling, and yet intimidating. Dennis looked around and only saw some new faces down the hall by Brady's office. Damn, he was excited and there was no one around to share the news.

The large poster on the production board announced the first theatre wide meeting that afternoon at 3:30. That would be Lynch's annual pep talk for all the students. Dennis walked down the hall towards the shop doors, feeling the eyes of the newbies following him.

"Good morning," Dennis said. "You're in the right place. Mr. Brady ought to be along in a while."

One of the girls smiled. "I saw you in Mousetrap last semester, you're Dennis King."

"Yeah, that's me... but I am not an actor. That was just a requirement for graduation."

"You're a senior technical student?" She asked.

"Yes I am. Look, it's seven-thirty. Brady never gets here before eight, why don't you follow me," Dennis said.

He led them past the shop doors where he saw nothing but the gloomy darkness inside. The four students followed him down the hall, made two turns and entered the cafeteria behind him. He grabbed a tray and slid it down to the coffee urns. Several of the others did the same.

As they sat at the table Dennis looked them over. Three girls and one guy, all freshmen, it was getting to be like that at Cabot. Not that the sex of the student mattered, everyone worked equally hard.

"So, where did everyone come from?" Dennis asked.

"Valley," Two of the girls replied.

"Elk Grove," the other girl said.

"Vermont," The boy replied.

"Vermont? Wow, what a change this must be." Then Dennis smiled. "You all have the chance to escape and go to a normal school now before anyone else sees you. The door is right over there."

"I'm good," The boy said.

"Have you guys enrolled in a curriculum yet?" Dennis asked.

Two actors, one technical, and the boy... he wanted to dance, his name was Paul.

"Dancing is good, I like lighting dance shows," Dennis said.

"Will you light any dance shows this year?" Paul asked.

"Nope, that's history. I get to light Midsummer and stage manage the musical."

"I hear freshmen don't get to do anything," Paul said.

"Not true, I don't know who told you that. You'll be given more to do than you can handle, that's how Cabot teaches you about the real world. It won't kill you, just any social life you might be planning. I'm a senior; I'll probably be living here now, but I chose to do this."

Dennis saw the door open and Brady came striding in, heading straight for the coffee urns.

"That's Brady, just sit still and he won't bite," Dennis said. "He needs about twenty minutes with his coffee to become intelligent, and even then it's a toss up."

Brady drew a coffee and paid for it, turning for the door. Only then did he spot Dennis sitting at the table and turned their way.

"Good morning, Dennis. Making friends already?"

Dennis grinned. "You know it's against the rules for seniors to make friends with freshmen. I was just warning them about you."

Brady smiled. "Good move, I need to go open up." He turned to leave and paused, reaching into his pocket. "This is yours, you've earned it." And he put a gold key on a black lanyard down in front of Dennis before he left.

The four keys were legend at Cabot. There was a blue, a red, a green and this one, the gold. All four opened up every door in the theatre facility, and only certain seniors were given the privilege. Corky, and then Vince, had been given the gold key. A sign of their top dog status... and now it belonged to Dennis.

He was thrilled. "Anyone want to go look at the theatre where you'll be spending the rest of your life?" He asked.

Dennis gave them all a brief tour, and then pointed them back down the hall towards Brady's office. He had his first academic class at ten, plenty of time to seek out his friends. Brad Abrams would be running the scene shop this year and as always Marsha would be in the costume shop. They would each be given a key and that made Dennis wonder who would get the fourth.

He opened up the costume shop and put on a pot of coffee, Marsha would be along in a little while. Brad stuck his head in the door a few minutes later and smiled, he was wearing the red key.

"Hey there, Top Dog... how was your summer?" He asked.

"Too easy, too relaxing... I missed all the abuse," Dennis laughed.

Brad helped himself to a coffee. "Saw what we have coming, doesn't look too bad until the spring. It looks like we'll both earn that damn diploma."

"Let's hope we have some help," Dennis said.

Marsha walked in during their second cup. "Jeez, drinking my coffee, is that all you two plan to do this semester?"

"No... I'll bring donuts," Dennis said.

"OK, you're forgiven. Anne Get Your Gun... and the gold key, congrats, Dennis."

"I am humbled, thank you."

"This is all part of Lynch's edict. The 'we need to expand our horizons' speech he gave last year,'" Brad said.

It would be the talk of the day. The choice of Anne Get Your Gun was a surprise for all but a few of the students. It was based on the real life adventures of Anne Oakley and was tremendously popular on Broadway before it was made into a major film. None of that would help Cabot students produce the show, but they would try.

Dennis and the others went off to class. First he had Trigonometry and then English. Dennis figured to dive into the assignments right away and get ahead. He had a busy year with a lot to accomplish. Right after lunch he went and sat in the back of the stagecraft classroom, Brad was there too.

Brady allowed a certain number of senior privileges, and one of them was surveying the newbies as they walked through the door. Stagecraft One was the freshman intro to technical theatre, and the source of labor for both Dennis and Brad.

The room soon filled up and that was a positive sign, there were eighteen students this semester. Ten males and eight females, a good ratio.

"Good morning you lucky people... and then of course we have Dennis and Brad," Brady laughed.

Brad snickered and many of the students turn to look at him.

"Dennis and Brad are seniors, leaders of the pack this semester. You will get to know and love them soon enough. My name is Michael Brady and you may call me Mr. Brady, or Your Lordship, whichever you prefer."

He was in a rare mood, and Dennis immediately became suspicious. Brady talked for an hour about the school's accomplishments and objectives. He explained that the first show was Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream, and that their approach to the production would be unusual. But that's all he said.

Brad gave him a knowing look... where was the design? Brady generally took this class session to show off his set designs even if the students didn't always understand what they were seeing. There were no drawings. Oh yes, something was up.

Lynch had the floor at the afternoon meeting, and right off the bat the seniors knew something was different.

"My first announcement will please many of you," Lynch said. "There will be a surprise guest in the technical office this year. We are fortunate to have been given a design grant from the alumni association. With that we were able to hire an outside design professional to work with the production staff.

"His name is John Moore and some of you may know of him from the summer stock tour with Maitland Opera this past summer. John has been a technical director with Maitland and worked with several other companies back east in the past eight years, and he's designed dozens of productions. Please, let's all give him a warm welcome. Stand up now, John, and take a bow."

The quiet unassuming man that had been sitting in the corner stood up and waved a hand at the crowd during the applause. He didn't look a day over twenty-five, and with the long hair he had pulled back in a ponytail he really looked young. But the technical group applauded especially hard at his presence. It was about time they were given some help, especially if there was a huge musical on the boards.

Brady's clunky set designs were passable, but nothing like the imaginative stagecraft Dennis saw in professional productions. Now he understood why Brady had not shown off any drawings, Moore was designing the first show. That was a real plus, especially since he would have to light it. Now it remained to be seen how much of the season Moore would take on.

A Brady set was often cobbled together with old rickety walls and creaking staircases, legacies from past years and ready for the scrap heap. Unfortunately there was tons of old scenery in the basement under the theatre. The standing joke was if it hadn't been so carefully fireproofed some of the tech students would have set the place alight years ago just to get rid of it.

John Moore was like a gift in Dennis' last year. Here at last was a talented professional, a designer of sets and probably lighting with years of experience. It made Dennis wonder how Brady was going to react. He ought to feel threatened... he was.

Lynch went on to discuss the simple pleasures of producing Charlie Brown before the Greek dance show. He offered that The Cherry Orchard was a difficult piece for actors and audience alike, but it was classic. And then he got around to Annie Get Your Gun.

"I have always had a fondness for that particular show. Ethel Merman was a friend of mine for many years until her death in 1984. She was the first Anne Oakley on Broadway in 1946, a time many of you will not know. I was only five years old that year, I didn't know her then.

"But in 1966 she did a revival of her original role and I was a young man of twenty-five working for a producer called Jerry Logan. Ethel had a huge career and I was just a new production assistant fresh out of college, but she liked me... she became my friend.

"Many of you will go on to meet famous people in your careers; some of you will become famous in your own right. But I ask that you don't forget the little guys, the ones who make you look good to the world. Ethel did that for me, I lost a dear friend. This show means the world to me; I know you will do it proudly."

There was silence in the room and then Marsha started clapping and the others joined in. Few of them knew anything about Lynch's background, maybe some of the faculty did, but he had never shared this experience with his students.

All of them knew of Ethel Merman, she was a Broadway singing legend. It gave Dennis a warm feeling; he could understand Lynch better now after developing his own affection for Betty Compton. That relationship was important to him even as he knew he couldn't reveal its existence. He now had greater respect for Lynch.

As the meeting ended Dennis threaded his way through the crowd to get in a few words with Mr. Moore.

"Excuse me, Mr. Moore?" He said. "Dennis King, I'm a production student."

"Dennis," Moore said, holding out his hand. "Just call me John, ok? If I recall you're the lighting man for Midsummer."

"I am, we're glad to have you here," Dennis said.

John smiled. "That bad, huh?"

"Could be a lot better," Dennis nodded.

"I have the design for the show, it isn't much. This will definitely be the strangest production of Shakespeare we've ever seen, but it's the director's choice... you know Mr. Weeks?" John asked.

"Quite well, I worked Romeo and Juliet with him my first year."

"I saw the photos, it was a nice set. Weeks has been influenced by a modern version of Midsummer he saw in Europe last year. It has a strange charm but you'd think Tarzan produced it. I'll show it to you later," John said.

"Show him what?' Brady asked, walking up behind Dennis.

"My portfolio," John said, giving Dennis a wink.

"Lynch wants us to meet and discuss budget. Why he picked today I'll never know, but we have to go," Brady said.

"Duty calls," John said, and shook Dennis' hand. "Guess we need to have a production meeting later this week."

"Yes sir... the sooner the better," Dennis said.

Cabot had a student body of over six hundred, of which only seventy-five or eighty were strictly in technical production. And with that number they ran four main stage productions, three dance productions and over twenty student shows per year. To Dennis, the idea of entering the professional world wasn't intimidating at all, he relished the idea.

"So what did Mr. Moore say to you?" Marsha asked when they retreated to the costume shop. The core group gathered together immediately after the meeting. Dennis, Brad, Marsha, Jimmy and Matty, only Brandon was missing, and no one had seen him since this morning.

"He said to call him John, and I believe he knows all about Brady," Dennis said.

"Hallelujah, we are saved," Brad said.

"Do you think Moore will design everything?" Marsha asked.

"I doubt it, Brady's ego couldn't handle it," Dennis said. "Let's just hope he does the musical."

"I think the ponytail is cute," Marsha said.

"An artist is often different," Dennis said.

"I'm different," Jimmy said.

"You're gay, honey, not different," Marsha said, "but we love you for it."

"Oh, gee, thanks. And accepting the award for the best straight performance by a gay actor is Jimmy Tolliver, all around nice guy," Jimmy laughed. "Do you think Moore is gay?"

"You hope," Brad said.

"Who knows, who cares?" Dennis said. "Just as long as he knows how to help us out. He says The Midsummer design came straight from Tarzan, whatever the hell that means. I want to find out how they plan to divide up the chores."

The same crew assembled in the costume shop the following Wednesday afternoon during lab, only this time Brandon was there showing off his new braces. John Moore made his appearance dragging a large portfolio and a box the size of a washing machine.

"Sorry if I'm late but this took me forever to assemble. Models have never been my specialty, but I had to make one for Weeks."

John set the portfolio against the wall and Dennis helped him hoist the box up on the cutting table.

"So I guess I had better open this or we'll never get anywhere today. Anyone got a knife?" Wrong question to ask a technical student. Within seconds there was a forest of steel offered. The school board forbid weapons of any kind, Cabot students didn't care. A sharp knife was a tool not a weapon and John laughed. "OK, I feel like I'm getting mugged."

"If you don't open the box you will be," Brad laughed.

John smiled and cut down the tape seam on the sides. "Here it is... I give you our production of Midsummer Night's Dream."

The side fell away and they were presented with a set model at a huge scale of almost one half inch to the foot. Dennis counted eight layers of overhead borders, painted forest backdrops, side trees and three huge free standing tree trunks grouped in the middle.

"Lord, that's beautiful," Marsha said and they all mumbled in agreement.

Dennis noted the model had an overhead grid from which hung eight strings, which would be ropes in full scale. Beside each side tree there was a hanging ladder, it all made no sense.

"OK, the ropes... .can you explain that?" Dennis asked.

John nodded. "The fairies move about the set by swinging on the ropes."

"Tarzan," Brandon said.

"More like Cirque de Soleil I'm afraid," John said. "They're supposed to move gracefully on the ropes. Swing to the center trees or the side ladders, all the time delivering their lines. There will be a center platform that disguises the fairy queen's nest, but I'm having a bitch of a time with the rest because the stage needs to remain clear for the swinging actors."

"OK, this is avant guard to the extreme, Shakespeare will turn over in his grave," Brad said.

"Let Willy rotate, this looks like fun," Jimmy said.

"I would recommend Weeks chose a hardy cast," John said. "We might have to pad some of the scenery to keep from bruising the actors."

Dennis shook his head. "Nothing like lighting a moving target."

John smiled. "Oh I'd emphasize the jungle aspect, project leafy patterns all over the place and let the actors swing through them."

"At least the set won't be that hard to make... thank you, John," Brad said.

"Brady will be designing Charlie Brown and The Cherry Orchard," John said. "I get the musical, in case you were wondering. I've seen the show twice, there's scenery for days so you better get the new people up to speed rather quickly."

It was a warning they all took to heart as they plunged into the semester. Brandon soon discovered that he would be lighting the Greek dance and began following Ms. Lillian around trying to get some image of the production out of her. Dennis could only smile; the boy had his work cut out for him.

The shop set to work on Midsummer right away by ordering ten boxes of tightly woven hemp rope. Each of the swinging lines would be woven from three strands of the half inch line to give the actors a good hold. Every three feet they would include a two inch wooden ball to provide a purchase for hands and feet.

The borders and trees would be cut from heavy fireproofed canvas. Each one was unique and to stick with John's design Brad laid a grid over each drawing and burned it into a transparency. The canvas was tacked to the wall in the shop and out came the overhead projector. Neat, clean and efficient, but most of all it was accurate.

The three central trees were something altogether different. They had to be structurally sound since actors would be both climbing into them and swinging from them. John had laid out a basic fabrication pattern of the steel involved, Brad set to work with angle iron and welding equipment.

Most scenery was constructed of wood, but on occasion a metal framework was both stronger and safer. The steel was cut by the lab students but Brad did all the welding. Mike and Dennis worked on the central platform that would wrap around the portable hydraulic lift positioned to hold the fairy queen's nest.

As often happened, things like the lift, which was generally used for painting and lifting things, now became a part of the scenery. Still, they made sure it could be rolled out of the platform and used elsewhere if needed. But the platforms were built double strong as they would anchor the large trees.

The metal framework was carried out to the stage and stood up before being bolted in place. John's idea was to pad the trees before gluing a canvas cover over them. With that in mind they cut old carpeting in strips and duct taped it to the frames. It all looked pretty strange when they were done, but the trees barely moved when Brad climbed them.

The urgency to get the set in place and functioning was directly related to the auditions producing a cast who needed to learn not only their lines but how to deal with the blocking, or in this case, the swinging. Two full rehearsals were spent learning how the ropes worked.

It came as no surprise that the first rehearsal with lines was a disaster. The fairies moved about the set, swung in the air and climbing in the trees. It was the main leads who had to follow their blocking most carefully to stay out of the flight patterns of the fairies.

"Over hill, over dale... thorough bush, thorough brier... over park, over pale... thorough flood, thorough fire... I do wander everywhere."

The lines delivered by one of the fairies to Puck was interspersed with gasps and groans and more than one thud followed by an 'oof ' as a fairy hit the tree she was trying land upon. Learning just how hard to push off the ladders in their fifteen foot swing to the center tree would take a great deal of practice, until then there would be many thuds and 'oofs.'

After a week of rehearsal it was easy to pick out some of the cast in the hallways, they were the ones with scrapes and bruises on their arms and legs. But many of these fairies were dancers and over time their swings became a ballet in the air. Mr. Weeks was thrilled, Dennis only felt relieved.

The advantage of the first show of the semester was that it could occupy the full stage for the six weeks of production. Brad took advantage of that time to apply the layers of the set the moment they were built. He already had the overhead leafy bowers painted and in place. The stage was beginning look just like the model John had made.

Dennis had many layers of lighting to apply. The general illumination of the forest greenery overhead and down each side came first. Special attention needed to be paid to the trees that delineated the King and Queen's domain, especially since that action took place at night. Then there was the special lighting needed for the leads to deliver their asides to the audience. And finally there was the backdrop which John was personally painting on the moving rack in the paint shop.

The play was set in Athens, and Shakespeare had given some token tribute to the ancient classical city in his words. The costumes would reflect the setting and John had given some thought to presenting the image in his backdrop. Dennis was called into the paint shop to talk it over.

"The forest predominates in everything, but we do need to make a gesture to the Greek architecture. I've placed this temple on the hill over there and I want you to emphasize it during the downstage scenes," John said.

Dennis looked at the hills covered in grape vines, the suggestion of the temple ruins and the villa in the distance.

"Sunlight, that's the way we ought to punch it up," Dennis said. He stood back about thirty feet from the backdrop and used his hands to gesture the thought. "The cast is downstage about here in their bubble of light, not overly bright, but clear enough to read them well. And there in the distance we have the vineyards, the temple and the villa. A dim wash on the drop and we punch the features with sunlight, as if the clouds have parted and the streams of bright light are painting the hillsides."

John stared at his massive painting and smiled. "I really am glad we're working on this together, that will work beautifully."

"I might even throw in a few backlights on the central trees to increase the silhouette."

John shook his head. "Now tell me, you didn't learn these things here at Cabot, did you?"

Dennis shrugged. "Not all of them, but lighting has been my greatest challenge since I started here. I have to learn all I can because the competition is fierce out there." Dennis thought a moment and then told himself it would be just fine.

"Can you keep a secret?" Dennis asked.

"For you, sure," John said.

Dennis reached in his wallet and pulled out his new IATSE Local 50 card, he had been voted in the week before, a unanimous vote by all in attendance at the quarterly meeting.

"I can't tell anyone about this," Dennis said.

John looked at the card and then back up at Dennis. "No, I imagine you can't, at least not here. This is quite a feather in your cap, but I think it would only make the others jealous. You must have done something to earn this, they don't give them away."

"It's a long story, but I'll gladly tell you if you'd like," Dennis said.

John laid a hand on Dennis' shoulder. "I'm not that much older than you, maybe ten years. But you guys have so much more going on than I ever did in high school. I'd love to hear what you have to say."

Dennis smiled. "Well... good. You're Mr. Mystery Man around here so I don't know what to suggest, a dinner maybe? It won't be a bribe or anything, I'll bring my partner."

John laughed. "Mystery Man... OK, I probably deserve that. I got married in college, and that went to hell rather quickly. I'm single and living here with my aunt over by Betschart Park until I figure out where this is all going. So you have a partner... he doesn't go to school here does he?"

"Nope, one of us has to stay sane. So dinner, Saturday?"

"That sounds fine, my aunt is a big fan of KFC and it's killing me," John said.

"We can do better than that, just dress nicely, no coat and tie," Dennis said.

"Sure, why not... I don't always run around covered in paint."

By the weekend the backdrop was hung and it looked like a masterpiece. John was a painter who had turned to designing scenery in college before going professional. Ted was interested in meeting the man and suggested they take him to Lombardy's for dinner.

"My thoughts exactly, I don't want to brow beat him with the country club thing," Dennis said.

"You think the club is ostentatious?" Ted asked.

"No, I think Lombardy's is more conducive to conversation of the private kind."

"He's gay, isn't he?" Ted said.

"Jeez, not you too? That's the number one question at school, but I'm not going to ask for an answer," Dennis said. "He was married once."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-eight... twenty-nine."

"He could be a late blooming gay man... I'll find out," Ted said.

"Ted... you will not ask that question... please? It doesn't matter; I just need a working relationship with him. Let's not pry open the closet door, OK?"

"I won't have to ask, he'll tell me."

And he did. John was quite comfortable talking to Ted about the marriage mistake, but he'd only had one gay relationship in college.

"I look at you guys and see something wonderful," John said. "I'll get my turn someday."

Dinner took three hours, the conversation back and forth covered a good deal about their lives. Dennis discovered that John was also a union member, same union different branch. The scenic artists had their own local that covered the nation. But since he was a member John could only work non-union in the educational field, and Cabot fit in nicely.

Ted was absolutely charming without a vestige of that journalistic prying into other people's lives. The charm worked, John gave it all away... and so did Dennis. Although he wouldn't mention specific names he told John about their intern offers for the summer.

"Do it... drop everything and do it," John said. "I take it your contact is important to Curry's operation, but it doesn't matter if they want you to sweep floors. The hardest part of this business is getting a foot in the door, because once there you get to see things no one knows."

John looked at Ted and smiled. "Dennis has experience you don't have, but that won't matter. Company production work is compartmentalized; they have a person for everything. Dennis may find his experience in theatre useless for the assignment; maybe all they want him to do is walk Mr. Curry's dog."

"Oh, I hope it's more than that," Dennis said.

"It will be," John laughed. "But even the dog walker gets to see things the outsiders don't, like the requirements of productions years down the road. That's where your future lies; you look ahead and get yourself a place in line for those jobs. It's all in who you know... "

"It's Jim Curry," Ted blurted out.

"Whoa, the big cheese," John said.

"What are you doing after Christmas?" Dennis asked. "I don't know if I can pull it off, or if he'll even be there, but there are some people you ought to meet."