CHAPTER 1

“Have you ever wondered, how it all began?” (A lyric from OP original musical, Oh, My Stars!) The Orange Players began in June of 1974, right in Mary L Tracy School, when the first organizational meeting was held. A number of town residents had been involved in an original PTA musical production at Peck Place School and also in the Sesquicentennial Spectacular and this had sparked interest in an Orange Community Theater. Dr. Mark Kolligian approached then First Selectman, Ralph Capecelatro with a plea for seed money. The town advanced $3000.00 to finance our first show, The Pajama Game. (We paid it back from the proceeds of that show). Jerry Honig (for whom our Amity Scholarship is named.) was Director, Sandy Litt was Producer. Among the principals were Bob Drobish, Elaine Ewchuk, Alan Gordon, Bob Kelly, Dick Knight, and Pat Miller. Some of the highlights of the production process included the dress rehearsal, which ran from 2 pm to 2am - we did the I’m Not in All in Love number countless times, starting at midnight—those wagons just wouldn’t go where they were supposed to go! We also have to remember Marian Drobish’s fall from the stage during a chorus rehearsal, resulting in her broken arm and Marian’s subsequent permanent installation next to our sometimes wool gathering pianist on the bench to cue him for entrances he might well have missed.

The Director called a break so that the cast could watch Nixon’s resignation speech on a TV in one of the classrooms. The production was well received by the community, interested in supporting the new group—and they even overlooked an eight minute long scene change . (We had to move a refrigerator off and on!) It was the beginning — we were off and running!

CHAPTER 2: Do You Remember…

Whenever a group of theatre people gets together, the talk inevitably leads to “ Do you remember?…How about the time?… Will you ever forget…? Some of the things that we remember as Orange Players follow.

During the performance of Born Yesterday - starring our own Bob Mc Kay - Mark Kolligian, playing the reporter, went out the outside door to the parking lot at Amity High School after his exit and found himself locked out—forcing him to circle the school, come in the opposite outside door, which was unlocked and to make his next entrance out of the bedroom— instead of the door to the foyer, entered from outside. What was he doing in that bedroom?

Jere Kolligian, Mark’s wife, was playing the maid in Flower Drum Song. In the first scene, someone (Maury Rosenberg) jumped on a side chair that was to be occupied by Madame Wang (Dotti Averna) in the next scene. The chair broke. The Dirtector, standing in the back of the auditorium, died many deaths, knowing the havoc that could be created when someone crashed to the floor while sitting on the broken chair—when—lo and behold—Jeri entered SR, bearing the Stage Manager’s chair (which matched the others) and, without ado, exchanged chairs! Chaos averted! Also in Flower Drum, dear Maury Rosenberg, playing Young Wang (a 16 year old) was playing catch at the opening—and on one night—his baseball went into the orchestra pit! He continued the scene with aplomb! And will we ever forget the Flower Drum cast party! There was a beautiful (big) sedan chair for the wedding procession, (Caroline Johnson played the bride) that was carried through the audience to the stage, shouldered by muscular bearers Don Murphy and Tom Burnham. Bob Stankye was involved also, and they decided to load the chair in Stankye’s pickup truck and bring it to the cast party to carry the director in to the festivities., (I was the director, but it wasn’t my idea!) On the way to the party at Jade Wu’s restaurant, the chair bounced off the back of the truck and smashed into Bob McKay’s Cadillac, which was following behind. They reloaded, continued the journey and the next day Don Murphy had Bob’s car repaired at his car dealership. A Happy Ending – or one of “A Hundred Million Miracles.”

Fiddler on the Roof – the 1979 production at Amity - Howard Sherman, Former Orange Player, Former Publicity Director at Hartford Stage, former Executive Director of The O’Neill Festival in New London, and current Executive Director of the American Theatre Wing (presenter of the anuual Antoinette Perry Awards), was playing Motel, the Tailor. Teyve left the stage—got locked outside like Mark and left Howard on stage for many minutes longer than anticipated.. Howard improv’d more prayers than have ever been heard before in this scene!. Mercifully, someone heard Teyve banging on the door and let him back in, whereupon he rushed on the stage to deliver his long awaited lines. Motel arose from his knees and greeted him with much enthusiasm!

CHAPTER 3

After 34 years, I am sure we all have treasured (and maybe some not so treasured!) memories of past OP experiences. Here are some more of mine.

Bob McKay made his OP debut in the children’s play The Last Clock. He played The Supreme Magistrate—wearing a hat with plumes from the Metropolitan Opera production of Manon Lescaut lent to us by Hilda Reggio of the Connecticut Experimental Theatre (Marian Drobish’s mother). The impetus for trying out was his participation in an acting workshop run by the American Shakespeare Theatre for OP. where we had an exercise involving memory and birthplaces. I’ll never forget that Bob was born in Tillicoultry, Scotland!

Bye Bye Birdie, directed by Jack Thomas, was the first musical produced at Amity High School. The multi level ‘telephone’ set was a triumph as well as the shimmering silver curtain for the icehouse scene. Our Conrad Birdie, John Savino wore a hairpiece so he could toss his long locks while gyrating in his gold lame outfit, and the ladies swooned in the audience! Birdie was Brad Blake’s first show with OP. He played Albert to Marian Drobish’s Rosie.

Speaking of hair - the dress rehearsal taping of Oh, My Stars!, a children’s play written for the Bicentennial, shows actors in powdered wigs - strands of which were madly escaping their bounds. Mark Kolligan and John Cassulo, along with Gary Scarpa and Joe Arena sported ‘wild man’ hairdos - more Neanderthal than Colonial. The situation was remedied for performance by whitehair nets and plenty of hairspray.

Anything Goes featured over forty actors dancing their hearts out on a multilevel ship set. Janet Arena directed—and everybody on stage took tap lessons with the choreographer and everyone tapped in performance! We still have the Angels costumes, or we did, until we had to move costumes to the room in the basement. They have been utilized over the years in many guises.

CHAPTER 4

In the first production of Fiddler on the Roof (Gary Scarpa, who directed it with his wife, Francie, was our fiddler on the roof - literally sitting high up outside the proscenium arch with a fiddle to open the show!) there were over sixty people in the cast. Every night before the performance, all of us gathered outside the stage door in back and Francie led us in the traditional Orange Players energy circle. When the strains of “Tradition” filled the air, ALL of us were on the Amity Stage - the old one!! Something I remember from that show is that, as Fruma Sarah, I made my entrance on the shoulders of one of our very talented male dancers. My filmy white costume came to the floor, so it looked as if I were airborne. One night, I nearly was. That night he young man started whirling madly around the stage, with me aboard. I held on, with knees clamped so tightly around his neck and shoulders, it’s a wonder I didn’t cut off his circulation - singing at full volume the whole while. At times, I thought I would land on top of the piano, and Peg Meisenhelder, the pianist, thought so too. We survived - barely - and suspected that the young man had partaken of an illicit stimulant before going on stage—a theatrical no no! It happened only once!

Brocko, the Prince Frog, featured an elaborate set and visual effects. Performed at Mary L. Tracy, we found that the water effects had seeped onto the gym floor, where a thrust stage had been built, causing minor damage to the newly refinished gym floor. Somehow, it was repaired, to our great relief!

Separate Tables, the Terrence Rattigan play, was also produced at Mary L. Tracy. This was a two set show with a magnificent fireplace that took several husky men to turn for the second scene. Not as long as the scene changes for Pajama Game, but longer than anticipated. The scene set in the dining room required each table to be set with edibles. Mary Aloi and Peg Meisenhelder were responsible for this aspect, and kept the actors from ptomaine poisoning, by making sure that they (the plates) were made up fresh every night).

The Music Man saw us back at Amity. The tryouts for that show brought out droves of auditioners. There were 75 children alone, not counting the adults. About 60 of them sang “Tomorrow” as their audition piece. There were about 60 people in that cast. Elaborate hats were made for the ladies under the direction of Ruth Ray. Some of these creations may still be found in our costume closet.

That show was the first that Hunter Spence, former property master of the Yale Repertory Theatre and an instructor at the Yale School of Drama, designed for us. The hand painted books on the shelves in the library scene and the train for the opening salesmen’s scene. Were memorable, created by Hunter and assistant Marty Saverese. (Her son Michael played Winthrop). There was a revolving interior/exterior set piece for Mrs. Parou’s house (played by Joan Stenner), which this time revolved with ease. An Orange Players romance, which started in Flower Drum Song resulted in the marriage of Barbara Oxsalida and John Romano, who were involved in this production as well, – Barbara as Marian, the Librarian, and John as the Musical Director. A cast member overheard the kids in the uniformed children’s band onstage planning to put “Hi Mom!” on the tops of their hats, which they planned to doff at the end of their number. Needless to say, the plan was nipped in the bud

CHAPTER 5: My Tribute to a Beloved Friend by Christine Gill

It feels a little strange writing an installment of the Historian’s Corner. Somehow I don’t feel worthy. After all I’ve only been a member for a mere 17 years, unlike the um-teen years of our dear charter members. But as I reflect upon the time I’ve belonged to OP (which has gone by in a snap, I’ll have you know), I can’t help but wax a little nostalgic about a dear man who was taken from us far too young – Maury Rosenberg.

Maury was a super talented guy. Director, choreographer, comedian, dancer. It seemed like there was nothing Maury couldn’t do. Maury was one of the first people I met with the Players. A few weeks after I was married I auditioned for him for OP’s No, No, Nanette. Maury directed that production and even in the first round of auditions I was struck by his ability to think out of the box. I arrived at auditions thinking for sure I was perfect for the lead and right away he had me reinvent my audition song in an entirely different way. His point was to ascertain whether I might fit the bill for a radically different character from the ingénue, specifically “Flora from Frisco”, a seemingly ditzy blond bombshell attempting to innocently abscond with Jimmy’s fortune. I had never encountered someone in community theatre who could look beyond the obvious in an audition. What a breath of fresh air! I knew then and there that I DEFINITELY wanted to work with this director.

Well, Maury didn’t disappoint. The things I have learned from him have lasted me throughout my performing career. In addition to showing me how to look beyond the obvious, one of the most important things he taught me was the importance of detail. How each and every little thing you do in a movement, with a prop, and in your body language fleshes out a character. Simply put, how each and every thing you do on stage matters. You may not think audiences catch everything, but they do. Your speech, your inflection, your stride, your interactions with other characters – all of it makes up the final product and the final impression. No one I’d met before Maury had ever bothered with the little things like that.

Maury keenly understood the art of comedy in a way I rarely see. He knew it never works unless it is delivered honestly. He knew that as soon as you try to be funny, you aren’t funny. He recognized the power of the body to make comedy work. He showed you how the simplest gesture or movement could be hysterical. Gosh, how I miss that...

Maury always found a way to make me feel important. And I think he was good at that. Regardless of the size of your role, he deemed each and every actor an integral part of the production. So once again, every little movement, interaction, dance step, etc. really mattered to him. You couldn’t help but appreciate and respect that. He wanted each of his performers – from the leads to the chorus members – to be the best they could be, and if that meant smelling only one flower instead of two, by golly he would tell you that and WHY it made such a difference.

Finally, Maury understood that if you aren’t having fun, you shouldn’t be doing this. He knew you could focus, learn something about the theatre, get dance steps down, and simultaneously have a blast. And Lord knows I will be forever grateful to him for bringing me to a cast and a theatre group where I have made some wonderful friends and had wonderful times. Those of you who had the pleasure of knowing Maury realize that I could probably write a couple more pages in his honor. (There’s so much to say!) Inasmuch as our space is limited, however, allow me to close with this thought. As you raise a glass to toast the New Year, toast the theatrical mentors you’ve had in your life. And for those OPers who had the blessings of Maury in your lives, say an extra thank you that he brought his talents and joie de vivre to our little community theatre. I know I will.

CHAPTER 6

In the OP production of Anything Goes (1977), we had a set of varying platform heights on which over 50 members of the cast tap danced. Director Janet Arena set up dance workshops for the cast that took place throughout the rehearsal period. With very few exceptions, all cast members wore dance shoes and tapped like pros! We did all of our major musicals at Amity High School before asbestos removal, total renovation and cost changed our course.

In the first production of Fiddler (1979), directed by Fran and Gary Scarpa, a bench slowly gave way during a major chorus number. No one was hurt, and the four or five seated women went with the flow and continued singing as they rose and the bench slowly gave way! Also in that show was a memorable moment when Teyve forgot an entrance and left Motel onstage alone for what seemed a very long time. Motel (Howard Sherman) improvised brilliantly — praying, talking moving — until finally Tevye entered! Howard was then either a student at Amity High School or in college. Since then he has had a successful career in the theatre. His many professional commitments have included Publicity Director at Hartford Stage, Artistic Director of the renowned O’Neill Festival in Waterford, CT and is presently Executive Director of ANTA, the giver of the Tony Awards. Not bad for a kid from Orange!

The last Historian’s Corner, written by Christine Gill, brought back many memories and occasioned a few tears from all of us who knew Maury. When he first came to the Orange Players, he was just a teenager, playing the role of the youngest son in the Wang household, and over the years became an integral part of the group - a choreographer, director, actor, dancer—and most of all- a treasured friend. He is missed.

Hunter Spence, former Prop Master at the Yale Repertory Theatre, contributed much to our productions and to the development of our skills in technical theatre. He took us on tours of the Yale Rep, presented long term workshops for us in scene painting and construction techniques and designed sets and oversaw construction for Music Man, Hello Dolly, and South Pacific, among others. He also was called in at the last minute to add final touches to the set for Carousel. He has retired as prop master, but still teaches prop making at the Yale School of Drama. He was recently the subject of a feature article in the Yale Alumni Bulletin.

CHAPTER 7

We have so many memories that stay with us over the years! Plaza Suite (1979) a memorable comedy, featured Charlie Sloin as the father of the bride and Ellen Lurie as the mother of the bride. Charlie had to make an entrance through a window, supposedly from a ledge outside where his tuxedo was sullied by passing pigeons. Toothpaste was squirted onto his costume to simulate the pigeon droppings and his jacket was pulled and tugged to rumple it. This was supposed to have been an arduous ledge walk! On the closing night, the dressers pulled a little too hard and the entire back seam was ripped out. He played the rest of the scene with a flapping coat! P.S. The Orange Players had to buy the tux!

In another performance of the same show, Ellen Lurie’s earring got caught in the collar or shoulder of her costume and she couldn’t get it unstuck. So, she played the rest of the scene with her cheek to her shoulder and blood running from her earlobe! Fortunately, she was disengaged by crew at the end of the scene and suffered no serious injury!

Sue Burnham and Pat Miller did props for Plaza Suite and were charged with supplying fresh flower arrangements every night to the Plaza Suite. We were in a quandary as to where we could get such sumptuous pieces, when we were told by an insurance agent who had as clients several funeral homes, that most of the flowers were thrown out after the services at the funeral homes, and if we were inconspicuous, we could retrieve some from the dumpster. So on the afternoon of each evening’s performance, we loaded up her station wagon with beautiful flowers. We removed any identifying ribbons—we didn’t want any audience member to recognize an arrangement. The set was gorgeous!

CHAPTER 8

The Last Clock, based on the work of James Thurber with original music by Ann Diers, was our first children’s play. Directed by Alan Lenhart, it was performed at Peck Place School Auditorium. On Friday, as soon as gym classes were over, the OP crew came in and assembled two platforms on the gym floor and put up flats on the stage - that night was dress rehearsal - our only time in the actual playing space.

Oh, My Stars, was the musical for children written for the Bicentennial Celebration. That also was performed in the Peck Place Gymnasium. Same scenario as before - platforms on the gym floor - flats on stage. The costumes and wigs came from Bustles and Breeches and, on the night of dress rehearsal all of the period colonial powdered men’s wigs erupted, becoming more and more disarrayed as the night wore on, wisps and strands falling in their faces, trailing down their backs, or standing straight up. Next day we bought every white hairnet we could find and plenty of hairspray. (Do they even make hairnets anymore?). That show played to sellout crowds for three performances. We actually had to turn people away.

Bracko, the Prince Frog, another children’s play, was performed in the Mary L. Tracy Auditorium. An elaborate thrust stage was built with special effects of water and fog. Unfortunately, on our last performance, the pond began to leak and the crew frantically mopped up. We had to repair some of the finish on the gym floor, which made a small dent in our profits. We still have the Frog costume!