Anna Deavere Smith: “I Want People To Be Driven To Action”

November 17th, 2015 § 0 comments § permalink

“I come at this more like a lawyer, who would say that everybody has a right to a fair trial. Or a journalist, or a priest, who would hear the confession.”

– Anna Deavere Smith

On November 7, I had the opportunity to interview Anna Deavere Smith as part of the third annual “Stage The Change: Theatre As A Social Voice” conference, a day-long event of panels and workshops for high school and college students, a collaboration between the Happauge Public Schools and The Tilles Center at LIU Post. Smith is the creator and performer of such acclaimed “documentary theatre” works as Fires in the Mirror, Twilight: Los Angeles 1992, and Let Me Down Easy. What follows is an edited and somewhat condensed portion of that conversation, aimed at the students in attendance.

HOWARD SHERMAN: No one typically has their own theater: you have to find a place to perform, to convince people to let you do this work. How did you create opportunities for yourself originally?

Anna Deavere Smith

Anna Deavere Smith at LIU Post

ANNA DEAVERE SMITH: I was really trying to learn some things, which is what started me interviewing people in New York in 1980. Just people I saw on the street, or people I saw like the lifeguard where I swam. Then I paired actors with people. So the first one of these that I made had an actor for each person. I just rented a loft in downtown in Tribeca before Tribeca was hip. It was just broken down, sort of old factories, and abandoned places.  There were these lofts that were put together with empty spaces with wooden floors. That was the first one that I made. I made it by charging actors to take a workshop and they would perform as a result of the workshop, but really it was just enough to cover the cost. I don’t know if actors are still like that, but people are always looking for someway to perform.

HES: Was the initial work about exploring characters or subjects?

ADS: It was just characters.

HES: How long do you take to interview people when you’re working on a piece?

ADS: It depends on the piece. The piece that I’m working on now is about young people, younger than you all, that don’t make it through school. And they end up in the criminal justice system. I started working on that in 2013, but I’ve spent maybe a total of three months, spread out, and I’ve done about 150 interviews to start working on that play. It’s called Notes From The Field: Doing Time in Education. For Let Me Down Easy, I interviewed over 300 people, on three continents, so it took some time, but in the middle of that time, I was occasionally doing more performances and gathering more information as I refined the play.

HES: When you moved from characters to subjects, what galvanized you to shifting the work towards something topical?

ADS: What happened was, I really didn’t have a place to do this in the theater. No theater hired me well into the process. Who did hire me was universities, who in the 1980’s were revising many things about their curriculum, mostly to make more space for literature, ideas, works of art by people of different colors than white – of women, as well as people of different expressions of sexuality than heterosexuality. So I would say that in the 1980’s, across the board in this country what we call the canon, what is the traditional thing we learn, changed dramatically. The conservatory, the playwrights were looking at scripts by either dead or living white males and even someone like a white male like Sam Shepard, and even his work was considered extremely avant-garde. The only woman you would find is Lillian Hellman. You know, maybe Lorraine Hansberry.

The ‘80’s were the time where that really shook up, but what that meant was, that at these universities and at these colleges people were very refined, Smith College, a place like that, or Princeton, there were very, very difficult things about people getting along on campus. I was hired by Princeton to write a piece about the fact that they had only had women for 20 years. Think of the history of Princeton. Princeton exists long enough that men from the South brought their slaves to school with them for a very, very long time. These traditions are very hard to change. So 20 years of women, they asked me to come and make a piece. There were some very difficult things happening on campus, some women had had some sexual assaults and yet the alumni, didn’t want to make the lamps any brighter because they felt it would kill the romance of the campus. Two of the eating clubs – they didn’t have fraternities – still would not accept women. After that, they were forced to do so. Places hired me and it was really to mirror them in transition, to mirror back to them the difficulty they were having in transition. There were a group of women professors in the theater across the country having to deal with new things going on among women or even the fight women were having getting into university. That’s what really made my work become socially oriented.

HES: Why the choice to move from bringing in actors to portray each of these people? Why the choice to have these people, instead of having different people play these different roles, to take them all into yourself?

ADS: Again, it was a very practical reason. I couldn’t imagine how to pay everyone. The first time I got away with it because people were so eager to have a reason to perform. They were like me, they were hardly ever getting cast, they were happy to have a reason to have agents and other people come and see them, and to be working. So they paid me to do a workshop and put that together. So I figured that’s not going to work very long. The notion of getting a grant was way out of my – I couldn’t do that.

But then I remembered that as a kid, I was a mimic. So I thought, well I’ll just do all the parts myself, until I can figure out how to raise money. Then when I could figure out how to raise money, and invited actors to do it, they didn’t really like my process. I think it would be different now. This whole idea of documentary theater, it’s taken off in a big way. When I first started presenting the work to actors, they didn’t like it because they felt so much of the idea of acting training, and maybe these young people today have this idea and maybe not, was the idea of inner truth.

I don’t believe my inner truth is necessarily relevant to the cowboy you saw there [in a video screened at the event]. I’m trying to figure out his inner truth! Things that I’ve learned about language have lead me to understand and believe, and try to exemplify, is that his inner truth, whether he’s telling the truth or not, does live in how he sees. So I’m not into this inner truth stuff. I don’t like the word truth. That’s a moral judgment and it’s a very heavy idea. In those days, I’ve always taught acting since 1973, you know we have these students who would go to conservatory to hear notes from all these teachers. My colleagues would do stuff like yell at people for acting. “You’re lying!” Of course they’re lying, they’re acting.

HES: When actors play roles that aren’t necessarily likable or honest, you often hear the talk about finding some part of them to like. Do you need to like the people and do you even like the people you end up interviewing?

ADS: Well, I love everybody I interview. In my Ted talk, I performed a woman who sat on her bedside while her boyfriend killed her daughter. Murder, that’s murder, she’s an accomplice to murder. And I met her in a penitentiary in Maryland. I come at this more like a lawyer who would say that everybody has a right to a fair trial. Or a journalist, or a priest, who would hear the confession, most likely of the person who did the most despicable thing. And I think of people in terms of their fate in life.

Anna Deavere Smith

Anna Deavere Smith at LIU Post

I think a person who does a very despicable thing like the women who let her child be killed is trapped not only in prison but in her own crisis of what she did when she recognizes what she did, when she sees that reality. And so I think I have a bit of humility about these things. I do believe that in the grace of God, I do believe in old fashion acting techniques, Stanislavski, the father of modern acting, way back in the 19th century. People behave according to their circumstances and how they adjust to those circumstances.

So I don’t know what it would be like for me to live in an environment where I was acquiring drugs, selling drugs, addicted to drugs, was in a relationship with a man who beat me, beat my children, and for whatever reason I learned to understand that as normal. And that would lead me to be so high that I would allow that to happen to my child. My job is to imagine those circumstances and then to find a way to illuminate that for whatever reason.

Maybe the thing I would be trying to illuminate is drug addiction. Maybe I would be trying to illuminate what it does mean for women to live in abusive relationships, right? So I see that person as living a life that is at first unimaginable to me, and then my job is to imagine it. I think as actors, we have chance to do big projects like that. If I were a doctor, I could choose, am I going to be an internist? Am I going to want to do big operations? Am I going to be a surgeon of cancer? You know, I could choose how big I want my project to be. I do think the project of portraying someone who seems to be unlikable, or you know if you meet somebody in your school whose perfectly likable, a cheerleader, but you don’t like her, then the project is how do I get myself to be able to imagine her circumstances and to imagine living in her shoes? Then my project is really living in their words. For me, again, the bigger the project, the better, the bigger leap I have to make, the more I get to exercise my muscles as an artist.

HES: When you set out to do a project, do you always know exactly what you want to explore? Or do you start having conversations and find the subject or the focus that you’re going to take on it?

ADS: I don’t have a take, and my take evolves. For example, my new project is about what some people call the school to prison pipeline. I don’t know if you’ve heard about this at all or you’re starting to hear about it, I started to hear about in 2011, and I’d never heard about it. So the idea is poor kids of color are unfairly disciplined, some of you might have seen this video that has kind of gone viral of a girl in South Carolina who won’t turn her cell phone off and then they bring the cop in and he throws her around in the chair. We see these things.

Say, for example, I started out, with the idea of images in my mind like hearing about a five year old in Florida who was handcuffed, this kind of thing. But the more I looked at it, the more I see that the thing that causes young people to end up in juvenile hall or in these kinds of circumstances are even more complicated than school discipline. So now I would never call it the school to prison pipeline. I don’t know quite what I would call it, but I’d call it something else that allows the project to be seen as about a series of things that make it hard for young people to be in our education system.

HES: You are now, of course, widely known in the theater community and many communities for the work that you do. Has it become easier to gain access to people to interview them or are people now more aware of how you might portray them? And does that, in some ways, make people more guarded?

ADS: Well I think most of the people I interview have never heard of me. At all.  And if they have, it’s because they saw me on a television show called Nurse Jackie. Maybe.

Anna Deavere Smith in Let Me Down Easy

Anna Deavere Smith in Let Me Down Easy

I am very aware that my theater is in a very small portion of America. That is the kind that these young people are here to think about, work on, theater about social change. It’s not a big Broadway show. Only one of my works went to Broadway. A lot of people don’t know about my theater work. But what has happened, as you know, these young people would certainly, I mean there doing selfies all the time and filming each other all the time, people are much less inhibited, they don’t care anymore. I used to travel with a tape recorder about that size, now you know I can use my phone, now I bring a camera in, nobody cares!

I think as a society – I’ve been doing this for a long time – as a society we’ve changed in terms of our sense of being public. And we sign a release, some of them don’t even look at it. I encourage them to, take your time, cross out anything you don’t like. But I think it’s also because of all of this stuff, reality television. When I started there wasn’t even Oprah, you know what I mean? All these things that make people feel like, ‘Well I’m a star! I’m telling my tale!’

HES: Can theater create social change or does it begin to go back to your word, mirror social change?

ADS: Well I certainly believe it can be a part of sparing the time and I think it rides that wave, it pushes us farther.

I would say that there are many things on television that had to do with change, even the show I was on Nurse Jackie has to do with something in the human condition which is not a movement. But many people on the street came up to me and told me how much the character Jackie meant to them in their recovery from addiction. Tony Kushner did a lot to help us in a time where we were thinking about the AIDS crisis to well before gay marriage and all that. So I think we that are interested in change are not making the change alone at all. But if we are on the moment of trying to expose something that’s going on, and people come to the theater, it gives them an opportunity to look through in a different way than they see in a newspaper. It causes some people’s hearts to be changed and it can be a conversion. It can cause a conversion in terms of behavior for some folks.

HES: You speak to people in all walks of life. And you sometimes speak to really, really important leaders. What is it like to be an artist who has the ability to speak beyond just the work that you create?

ADS: The irony is that all of you are learning how to perform but the kind of performance that you’re doing, if you’re performing on behalf of social change, at some point is indicating to the viewer this is not a show. I’ve called you here because this is real. I’ve called you. I need to catch you attention. You might not have noticed it on the paper. You might not have noticed it on the news. You may not know. You’ve heard people talk about bullying but you may not really, if you don’t have a child, who’s being bullied, you may not really know. So I would like you to, you heard about it for a little bit of time on CNN 360 or something but I would like you to come in here with your whole heart and mind and visit it with me. Right? So there is this way that when you take on social change, it gets real. Right?

So I think that’s the way one ends up in the company of academics, the President of the United States, governors, chief justices, or justices of the supreme court, are many of the kinds of people that I’ve had the chance to speak with. It’s because of that reality and because we are all in those realms trying to address those realities. And luckily there are many government leaders who do see the value of art as one way of causing people to tend to these issues.

HES: You talk about truth, you talk about reality. You talked about journalism. Is what you do a form of documentary?

ADS: Well, people say that. I suppose it has aspects of that. However the part that is not documentary is that it is my persona, not the persona of the persons. So there’s already that other thing going on. So it’s not really a photograph, right? It has been adjusted and altered, so the fact of the aesthetic part of it is relative. I mean I’m not the cowboy, so maybe there’s something interesting about an African American woman older than this cowboy with assumed different political views, maybe there’s another suggestion about the fact that I’m not him. I think that suggestion is about asking the audience to reach outside their own known world to consider the point of view of someone else or the life of someone else.

HES: Is there a way you would suggest to people how they might approach getting to this work for the first time?

ADS: Interview your little sister. You know, interview the lady next door. The main thing is to talk to somebody you’re really curious about and to see what you have to do to get them to talk. Do they become interesting and more interesting than you thought while you were talking to them? I would say that’s a way to start.

HES: And when you interview people, are you just doing audio or are you doing video?

Anna Deavere Smith in The Pipeline Project

Anna Deavere Smith in The Pipeline Project

ADS: I’m doing video now. I would like to [put it online] largely because, by the time we’re finished with what I call the “Pipeline Project,” I’ll have at least 200 interviews. I’m only going to perform for an hour and a half on stage. Think of all that material that is never seen. Right? Characters. I think the work could be of use to folks who would like to either now or years from now like to look back on this moment in American history and look at this crisis. So that’s why to put the work out there to be of use.

HES: In an age of what you say selfies and social media, where people are so much more exposed and there are people who desire to be exposed, do you want people when they see your work to think that they are seeing you or do you want to be completely behind your character, the people that you play?

ADS: I’d be more concerned that I don’t want them to think that I’m Mrs. Akalitus from Nurse Jackie. I had a student of mine – I teach at NYU – and one of the graduate students told me that his mother had said, “I just saw your professor on television and I thought you said she was intelligent.”

I see my identity as for rent, and I want them to hear what the people have to say. I want them to hear what I heard. But I hope I don’t get in the way of that. I hope that my presence doesn’t get in the way of that but I know that my presence is there.

HES: The Pipeline Project has played out in Berkeley, California. You said to me that it’s going to have a few performances in Baltimore. Do you want it to have more or do you reach a point where you feel like I’ve done this piece?

ADS: I would like this piece to have more because I feel that the people are ever so compelling and that I want to keep refining them. I know more now about how to do these portrayals than I ever had, and that’s what happens to all of us, we gather information. I have that thing like a baby who knows it’s time to crawl. Your mother’s wondering when is he or she going to crawl? When is he going to walk? And they’re walking and that inner urge that we all have as humans, trying to ride a bike, trying to do something. I do have this great feeling to keep doing this project. To keep refining these portrayals. To keep trying to make the lens that I’m using to look at this large enough that it could be of use to the public.

HES: Obviously you go to a lot of different places to conduct your interviews, but you also perform in a number of different places. What is the experience if you know that one or more of the people that you’re portraying is in the house when you’re doing the show?

ADS: I’m nervous about it, I do invite them all. I want them to see it. And you know, I hope that they are not too self conscious or upset. I don’t think people tell me the truth about what they see. But it is important to me that they are invited and that their families are there.

HES: Very often, writers who are writing a conventional script, a writer who is sitting at the computer, creating the story, are sort of going towards wanting you to think something, wanting you to come out with a thing, or a group of things. Do you want people to come away with a particular thing?

ADS: This generation here is probably the first generation in a very long time, certainly in my lifetime, who actually comes to school to look at artistic practice for social change. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of this happening in high school. It’s usually Guys and Dolls or West Side Story or whatever the latest thing is, right? A Chorus Line. You get to be in the show! Right?

There’s always this concern that if you apply yourself like this, that you’re being didactic, or being political, right? So the people running for President want you to think something. ‘I’m the baddest of the bad and I’m the one that you should elect,’ right?

I want people to be driven to action. I want them to write a check to make something better for a kid somewhere. I want them to become involved in early childhood if they can. I want them to think about these kids, [about] who they want to elect as President of the United States. I want them to think about these kids when they decide who the mayor is in their town.

I want them to think differently about a kid who is walking by in the “iconic” hoodie with his pants down quite low in the back, because that’s what I want to consider. These kids who we lock up might not all be as dangerous as we think, in fact they’re very, very vulnerable to some profound inequities in society that make living pretty dangerous where they live. I want people who can do stuff to do stuff even if it’s, ‘I’ll walk a kid to school who has to cross a gang line’ or drive them or whatever. I want people to move up and do things the way that people did things when I grew up in the Civil Rights Movement. It’s that kind of moment in American history where people went outside of their normal doing to do a little bit more. I feel that we are really in a moment in our history where we need that to happen.

*  *  *

Howard Sherman is director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at The New School for Performing Arts School of Drama. Thanks to Briana Rice for editorial assistance with this post.

 

Shouting About The Arts On Talk Radio

January 14th, 2013 § 2 comments § permalink

"Baryshnikov really nailed that leap, didn't he, Biff?"

“She nailed it! She nailed it! What a spectacular pirouette, Biff, wouldn’t you agree?”

While the idea of all-arts talk radio, modeled on sports talk radio, may strike one upon first thought as rather absurd, I think my friend Pia Catton is really on to something in her enthusiastic pitches for just such a thing both this week and last week in her “Culture City” column at The Wall Street Journal.

Frankly, whether it’s sports, politics or, for that matter, car repair, we’ve been shown time and time again that there are people who are drawn to listen to, and participate in, audio conversations for hours on end. NPR’s Car Talk managed to attract listeners who didn’t even own cars, because the program was simply so entertaining. Now, while the Magliozzi brothers weren’t on a 24-hour car talk network (they had to make room for things like Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me and All Things Considered), their 30 year run is a testament to the idea that good talk makes for compelling listening, no matter what the subject.

So even as yet another arts television network heads towards rocky shoals (Ovation just lost the significant access to the pool of Time Warner Cable subscribers), maybe it’s time to realize that arts TV may be too expensive to sustain. But talking is considerably cheaper to produce, even when done truly well, and if Twitter, Facebook, chat rooms and the like are any evidence, there’s an audience for talking about the arts.

Certainly one fear is that it would quickly devolve into debates about which recording of La Boheme is best, or whose Mama Rose was definitive. I wouldn’t have much patience with such circular argument. But shrewd hosts could prevent repetitive (and insoluble) contretemps in favor of variety, and daily topics and special guests could focus the discourse. This is a little trick known as producing, and while it seems invisible when it comes to talk radio, it’s essential. They’re rarely just turning on a mike and letting some personality do whatever they want, which explains why Keith Olbermann keeps getting fired – he doesn’t want to be produced, but let free to roam wherever he sees fit and get paid for it.

One hurdle to be conquered by arts talk radio is the hyperlocal nature of the performing arts. While the entire country can share movies, recorded music and books, even the most successful Broadway show might be seen by say 500,000 people in a year, meaning that if an arts show is national, you may have trouble finding enough people who have seen any given piece to fuel a great conversation. Though there may be original sports talk radio in many markets, I suspect it corresponds with those markets which have major league teams, even though thanks to broadcast, cable, satellite and the web, sports are accessible across the country as never before.

Because of Pia’s ambition, I’m not prepared to theorize about arts talk radio that only serves New York, Chicago and London even at the start; its greatest service to the arts would be if it was national or international, connecting often disparate arts communities into a single conversation. Where I would moderate her vision is length. A daily show or weekend programming block would be a good place to start and test things out, without round-the-clock pressure and expense.

Another staple of most talk radio is opinion, which can fall somewhere between loud argument over the holiday dinner table and outright character assassination. That worries me. I would have trouble listening to people, whether host or caller, tearing down any artist, even when I agree that their work is negligible. That, of course, is because I come from inside the field. Perhaps, just as with many people’s reactions to the Bros on Broadway on Theatremania, it’s the reflex of the dedicated arts aficionado, protecting the artists and the art, and if arts talk radio is to attract an audience beyond the already-converted, maybe some feelings will have to get hurt, beyond bad reviews.

A number of years ago, I read a fascinating speech given at an arts journalism conference in which the speaker/writer said that if the performing arts want more coverage, more attention and perhaps more acceptance, they need to – to use the sports analogy – let the arts media into the locker room. We are, as a rule, profoundly careful about access to artists and process, so we should be surprised if our coverage is limited to one feature story and one review per outlet. While post-game interviews and sports press conferences are remarkable for their ability to say very little, they create the veneer of connection; if they didn’t, they’d have been axed by editors and producers long ago.  Even in film, there are both prepackaged behind the scenes featurettes and set-visits for select outlets, whether high-brow (Vanity Fair) or low (Access Hollywood and the like). Maybe arts talk radio can open up those avenues.

Yes, social media has been used creatively by some celebrities to build the bond with their fans, but most theatre folk don’t manage to reach a critical mass or approach social media all that creatively (on Twitter, Lin-Manuel Miranda offers a great template for artist-fan interaction). They need a platform that goes beyond their own efforts.

Would I have called into arts talk radio when I was 20? Probably so often that I’d have gotten a nickname and become a recurring voice (or gag). Would I do it now? Probably only to play a similar role to that which I play on Twitter: fact-checker, conversation starter, and mild wit. Of course, at this stage, after seven years helming “Downstage Center,” I’d apply for a hosting job in a flash. Frankly, I think Pia and I would make a great duo. And with Car Talk off the air, maybe an arts talk call-in show is just what’s needed. Hmmm.

So I’ve gotta go. Need to find the number for the heads of programming for some radio outlets. NPR, WNYC, WBEZ and WGBH, you’re on the top of the list. Go arts, go arts, gooooo arts!

 

That’s A Very Good Question

September 7th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

My friend Frank Rizzo of The Hartford Courant apparently spends a good bit of time listening to NPR. On more than one occasion, it has caused him to have little eruptions on Twitter. His frustration is caused by the repeated refrain of, “That’s a very good question,” from a presumably wide variety of guests.

Now I have no idea which NPR station Frank listens to, or which programs, but I don’t doubt his characterization at all. I am quite certain that he hears this all the time, and not just on NPR. We all do, though we may not even realize it.

“That’s a very good question” is a ploy that media coaches teach interview subjects to use; I imagine a number of people have simply picked up the phrase for their own use, through the very repetition that has Frank riled. Following a question from a moderator, a fellow guest, or perhaps an audience member in a town hall setting, “That’s a very good question,” along with its cousins, “I’m so glad you asked me that” and “I’ve been giving that a great deal of thought,” does two things at once.

The first thing it does is buy time. Only the most verbally dexterous can immediately formulate a perfect answer to a complex inquiry, so “TAVGQ” is a reflexive placeholder, preventing dead air or the dreaded, drawn-out “ummm…,” while an answer, or perhaps a diversion to a less fraught topic, develops in some other portion of the brain. In confrontational situations, it prevents the moderator from scoring points by pressing the topic in an available gap before the guest even replies to the original question.

Secondly, The Phrase That Shall No Longer Be Spoken also flatters whomever has asked the question, because it praises their interrogatory skill and, even if it doesn’t fool them, it shows the listeners or viewers what a sympathetic, considerate person the interviewee can be.

And so, with decades of experience, I’d like to offer new conversational placeholders during media opportunities, to allow the gathering of wits, and which in many cases can serve to redirect a troublesome dialogue.

1. “You’re brave to broach that. Who among us hasn’t confronted that issue and been afraid to talk about it openly?”

2. “Before I answer that shrewd query, I’d like to make certain that you don’t need to put quarters in the meter.”

3. “I was just discussing that at home this morning and it’s amazing that you thought to bring it up on the very same day. Incredible. Psychic.”

4. “I’m so glad we’re going to get into that, but first, may I try on your gorgeous jacket?”

5. “That was such a concern of my late mother’s. I have her picture here somewhere.”

6. “Bill, George, Barack and I have been grappling with that for some time, but not one of us has managed to summarize it as clearly as you just did.”

7. “Before I go on, I have to tell you that your voice is mesmerizing. Do you sing?”

8. “I’m sorry, I was distracted by the image of us in the monitor. Looking at myself next to you makes me think I should stick to radio and print, don’t you think?”

9. “That really is one of the essential questions of modern life, but unfortunately I can’t elaborate on it due to national security.”

10. “Wait! What’s that over there? Oh, sorry, I thought I saw a bat. You were saying?”

Study these phrases and learn them well, and one day soon, you can speak to the media skillfully, taking control without ever lapsing into the predictable.

You’re welcome.

 

Behind The Talking: The Tale of Downstage Center

December 27th, 2010 § 0 comments § permalink

In this quiet week between Christmas and New Year’s, the American Theatre Wing reaches a small milestone: the 300th interview on our podcast, “Downstage Center,” which will be released on Wednesday. I have to confess, when John von Soosten, who ran the “On Broadway” channel of the now extinct (I’m sorry, merged) XM Satellite Radio, and I began the program, I don’t think we were considering posterity. John wanted high caliber guests for his channel and the connections the Wing could bring to the table; the Wing was looking for an inexpensive way to create new content for our website and any national platform beyond our annual exposure via the Tonys.

John and my plunge into Downstage Center (which I’ll now refer to by our in-house shorthand, DSC) was simultaneously sudden and protracted. It was sudden because it didn’t take us very long at all to agree on a format, but then we experienced months of delay thanks to lawyers working out what was ultimately a rather simple agreement. So when everything got ironed out in April 2004, we then leapt to get the show started – but despite our fairly extensive experience in our fields (John in broadcasting, me in theatre) we did just about the worst thing possible. That is, we didn’t rehearse. If you go back to the very earliest DSCs from April and May 2004 (please, please don’t) you’re really hearing John and I working out the program on air with such guests as Bernadette Peters and Bebe Neuwirth, to whom I am eternally indebted and perpetually apologetic.

Over time, John and I evolved out a rhythm, which usually involved each of us asking two or three questions in succession, then ceding the microphone to the other. We worked things out as we went along, learning that if two hosts was often challenging (which it was), then having two guests at once proved even trickier, which is why you’ll notice that convention having slipped away rather quickly. Because we were working live to tape (well, digital file, but you know what I mean), we developed our own idiosyncratic series of hand gestures through which we could communicate during the program, a system about which we ultimately warned our guests. All of them were fine about it, save for James Earl Jones, who would stop speaking the moment our hands made any movements, even when we tried to do them out of sight. He later admitted he was just having fun with us, but when Darth Vader bellows, “What are you doing,” it rather stops the flow of conversation.

When we began the program, it was broadcast on XM – which had less than 1 million subscribers – and streamed from the ATW website. Satellite radio was only starting to gain an audience foothold, but even it was more established than the initiative The Wing undertook beginning in August 2005, something called podcasting. Vague language in our contract with XM permitted us to distribute the program in this new form via iTunes and as a result, those who didn’t want to pony up for an XM receiver and a monthly fee could hear the program for nothing. This was cutting edge five years ago, if that’s possible to believe.

It is safe to say, DSC was not a high priority inside XM. Our original recording space was handed over to the team of Opie & Anthony; we were banned from using it when we had the temerity to obscure some naked pictures prior to interviewing Dana Ivey and didn’t properly restore them. It’s probably just as well, as the studio under their reign featured an awful lot of Purell bottles and Lysol wipes for my comfort, suggesting what might have been going on at other times of day. We ultimately used, I believe, six or seven different studios over the course of the show’s run on XM.

The end of the XM era began in 2007, when it was announced that Sirius Satellite Radio and XM would merge. But then a funny thing called regulatory approval proceeded to delay the merger for some 18 months, a time during which employees of XM (and I’m told, Sirius) had no idea what would happen when the two companies were conjoined. No word on programming, no word on employment. Limbo.

So John and I just kept turning out DSC every week, always wondering which one would be our last. The end, when it came, was fairly swift, and was every bit as unfortunate as the kind of corporate downsizing we see portrayed on film and TV (and for too many, I’m sure, in real life). John and DSC both went off the air in November 2008 after an interview with Jan Maxwell. 227 editions wasn’t a bad number, and they were all safe in the files of the Wing and perpetually available to the public via our site.

Over the next few months, there were intermittent conversations with the folks who held sway over the Broadway channel at Sirius/XM. Despite the urging of fans and some inside the Wing, I was holding out hope that we could retain our broadcast berth, but after a series of occasional talks, we finally got the word that there was no place for DSC on the Broadway channel. “Too much talking,” I was told. In a Catch-22, I was also told we would not be considered for any of the talk channels, because they wanted to keep their theatre programming exclusive to the Broadway channel. Other broadcast outlets declined our hour-long conversations with theatre pros as well; we simply didn’t fit the mass media model, which was definitely about sound bites and rarely about theatre.

Now by this time, podcasts were common, coming from basements and bedrooms, as well as studios, all over the place. But because the studios of XM had given us a really high-quality aural experience, I was loathe to settle for something less than optimal. I was also concerned as to whether we could retain the caliber of guests we’d been enjoying if DSC became something recorded in our office conference room. But thanks to the opening of CUNY’s Graduate School of Journalism and our longstanding relationship with CUNY TV, which managed the technical facilities of the J-school, we were afforded access to a fully equipped radio studio and an expert tech staff, so we could restart DSC with the same level of professionalism that characterized the XM experience. Taping began in July 2009 and the show returned, podcast only, in August.

We didn’t come back exactly as we were. John, as our listeners know, was not part of the reconstituted program (he’s fine though, by the way; we spoke last week). Our lack of budget and what had been an ongoing challenge of working out the various schedules of two hosts as well as those of guests and the studio dictated that we keep it as simple as possible, so I would fly solo. But as the theatre insider of the original pair of hosts, I often think of John as I record the show now, remembering that not everyone will know, when a guest mentions the choreographer “Jerry,” whether they’re referring to Robbins or Mitchell, and I should clarify for them.

It was gratifying to find that our fans hadn’t unsubscribed from iTunes, as so as soon as we returned, so did the downloads. Now, 73 programs since our return, we will have served out just under 1 million mp3 files of DSC in 2010 alone, and more than 3 million since the podcasts began.

As for guests, we’ve had no significant problems. The podcast format is now a recognized platform for publicity and exposure, and the artists seem to revel in having an hour to discuss their work in-depth. Our 300th guest is, fittingly, someone of great stature in the field, the composer John Kander, following our previous milestone programs: #250 with Stephen Sondheim and #200 with Hal Prince. While our 301st program will feature a return guest, Sir Alan Ayckbourn, we strive to avoid returnees, and the field of theatre is sufficiently vast and filled with talent that we don’t expect other return guests for a long time (unless there are other major playwrights who have 75 plays under their belts).

Personally, I had the opportunity to interview my “most wanted” guest, a goal I set when we began in 2004: Sir Ian McKellen, back in October. So now I have set an even more challenging, but not necessarily insurmountable, goal. Sam Shepard, I’m after you, sir. Please?

For all who have listened to and supported Downstage Center, thank you. Please don’t hesitate to suggest future guests, and we’ll do our best to get them talking. Best wishes for the new year.

 

This post originally appeared on the American Theatre Wing website.

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