Program cover for Little Shop of Horrors

If you somehow managed to materialize in the auditorium of Jonathan Law High School in Milford CT this past weekend just as the band began the opening strains of Little Shop of Horrors, you would have simply thought yourself at a perfectly enjoyable production of that infectious musical, well-rendered by its teen cast. As the show progressed, however, you might have begun to notice something peculiar, a motif in the costumes, worn by every character: a purple ribbon, with a small circle affixed to it.

Of course, if you had seen the news in the prior week, if you drove into the high school lot, if you read the program, you would know that this was not your average high school production. One week earlier at the school, 16-year-old junior Maren Sanchez had been killed by another student, reportedly after she declined his invitation to the prom.

Director Michael Mele

Maren was a vigorous participant in many school activities; the drama club was high among them. On Saturday afternoon, and presumably at the two other performances, the drama club’s faculty advisor and director of the production, Michael Mele, took to the stage pre-show to speak about Maren. He also explained that when the tragedy took place, he assumed the production wouldn’t happen, and that it was the other students who wanted to go forward, as a tribute to Maren. In the program he wrote, “We feel that by proceeding with the show we are doing what she would want us to, to get up there and do the best damn show this school has ever seen.”

Having never attended a show at Jonathan Law before, it’s impossible for me to say whether it met that standard. But I can say that it met an even higher one: that these young students performed together as very likely the bravest cast that I have ever seen.

*    *    *

When we read about a tragedy like Maren’s death, and we read about them far too often, I suspect that most of us feel helpless. “I wish there was something I could do,” is a refrain I’ve heard, and thought myself. In the case of a natural disaster, some may go and donate blood, countless more make a financial contribution. If the tragedy literally hits closer to home, there may be more that can personally be done.

As I read various accounts of Maren’s death, I felt helpless once again, even though it did hit close to home: Milford is the town adjacent to Orange, where I grew up. As a teen, I spent a good bit of time in Milford, because that’s where the movie theatres were; even now when I take the train to see family and friends, I get on and off at the Milford station.

When I first read that Maren was an enthusiastic member of the drama club, I began to wonder whether there was in fact something I could do; when I learned she was to have been the person animating the ravenous plant Audrey II, I suspected I might be able to help. Imagining that if the show went forward they might need a puppeteer, I wrote to Mr. Mele (who I’ve never met before) and said that if they needed someone to come in and perform as Audrey II, I had connections to the puppetry community through my time at The O’Neill Theater Center, and I’d be honored to help. I wrote perhaps seven hours after Maren’s death.

On Sunday morning, a bit after 8 am, Mr. Mele returned my e-mail (apologizing for not responding sooner, if you can imagine). He wrote that the decision had been made to go forward with the show and that, yes, they could use help. I immediately sent messages to Stephanie D’Abruzzo of Avenue Q fame; to Pam Arciero, who runs the O’Neill’s Puppetry Conference; and to Martin P. Robinson, who designed and performed Audrey II in the original production and the Broadway revival. They are all Sesame Street veterans as well. Stephanie called within 20 minutes and as I reached for the phone, an e-mail popped in from Pam. This is all before 9 am on a Sunday morning.

By Monday, they had roped in Bart Roccoberton, head of the Puppetry Arts program at the University of Connecticut; by the end of the day, Bart had cleared the decks for a UConn student, Austin Costello, who had performed Audrey II before, to complete his academic work and be in Milford from Tuesday through the final show on Saturday. Austin carried the heaviest load, my puppetry friends had made the right calls, all I did was set things in motion. Inexplicably, they thanked me for doing so.

When I met Austin for the first time following Saturday’s matinee, I explained the chain of events that had brought him to the high school. My instinct was that if the show was to go on, it would have been very difficult for another student to take their friend’s role so soon, and to bring in a student from another high school would have been challenging in its own way. With someone who knew the show, who could focus on the work so that the drama club could focus on both performing and, if at all possible, to begin healing, one small part of the production might be less laden with sorrow. In our brief meeting, I sense that Austin was a perfect choice, warm and good-natured, utterly professional, pleased to have been able to help. Not to detract from the bravery of the students and their advisors, but Austin, especially due to his modesty, was an unsung hero this past weekend.

*    *   *

I mentioned that the cast all wore purple ribbons; at intermission I saw audience members wearing them as well. The small circle, it turns out, was Maren’s photo. With this small gesture, she was on stage with her castmates throughout the performance. Purple was her favorite color, as I had read in news reports; many members of the audience were wearing purple shirts, and even the crew wore purple show t-shirts, presumably not a coincidence. The memorial at street side, with balloons, lit candles and stuffed animals, was dominated by purple; trees along the town’s green carried purple ribbons as well.

As I said, the performance went without a hint of the tragedy that pervaded it, save for the ribbons. The only glitches were those that could happen to any show; one zipper got stuck mid-scene, to the frustration of the young performer, but he powered through like a pro. The only overt acknowledgment of Maren came at the very end.

The cast came out for its curtain call as so many casts do: ensemble, supporting players, leading actors taking bows in succession. Then a company bow, a gesture to the band, to the back of the house where light and sound were being run and where Mr. Mele sat, an acknowledgment of the audience. They joined hands and bowed once again. Then they did something extraordinary that I shall never forget.

The company separated at the middle, each half moving a few steps toward the stage left and stage right wings, leaving an empty space center stage. As they moved their upstage arms towards the gap, which was filled by a purple circle of light, the final strains of The Beatles’ “In My Life” came over the sound system. And then the lights went out. They gave Maren the final bow.

*   *   *

Sadly, I have no doubt that other high school shows are touched by tragedy every year; the passing of family members, even the untimely passing of a cast member or fellow student. I hope that few experience the wrenching, inexplicable loss that happened at Jonathan Law.

I write not to record my own tiny role, but to recognize everyone who came together to put on Little Shop of Horrors, which included students from Sacred Heart, West Haven, Westbrook, Trumbull and Amity High Schools, the last being my alma mater. No doubt there were members of the media there at one of the evening performances, since they had certainly followed the events of the past week; I saw none on Saturday afternoon. I wish I could say that the show had sold to the rafters, but the houses were not all full. Despite the press attention every aspect of Maren’s death had received, it did not generate ticket sales, and I think I understand why: in some ways, as an outsider, I felt like I was intruding on something special and private. I went because I had caused someone else to do great service to the show, but I went with mixed emotions. I suspect others felt similarly about buying a ticket. Sadness and loss do not drive people to the theatre, I fear.

So I finish with two thoughts in this fragmentary account.

The first, to audiences everywhere, with no chastisement to my southern Connecticut neighbors intended: when a show proceeds in the wake of tragedy, I hope you will flock to it. Performers who undertake a tribute through the stage want you to join with them, as they commingle the exuberance of a production with their private tears of loss. Live performance requires us to come together always, and there is never a greater time to come together than to celebrate a life even indirectly, as with Little Shop – even of someone we never knew – and to comfort, support, appreciate and applaud those who would celebrate it in whatever manner they choose, should they choose to invite us in.

More importantly, I say to everyone who had a hand in Little Shop of Horrors this weekend: you honored your friend and I was honored to bear witness to that. It makes me deeply sad that you had to perform such a rite so early in your young lives, but please know that I saw much more than one of my favorite musicals, and that with your loving tribute, you helped to insure that Maren is, to paraphrase the show, somewhere that’s purple.

Of course, on the face of it, it’s simply the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard.

In a letter to the parents of kindergarten students at Harley Avenue Primary School in Elwood, N.Y., the principal and kindergarten teachers wrote:

“The reason for eliminating the Kindergarten show is simple. We are responsible for preparing children for college and career with valuable lifelong skills and know that we can best do that by having them become strong readers, writers, coworkers and problem solvers.”

The Washington Post seemed to be first on the case, with a story titled, “Kindergarten show canceled so kids can keep studying to become ‘college and career ready.’ Really.” That pretty much set the tone and I jumped into the fray, sharing it online with introductory words including “dumb” and “shame.” I happened to be e-mailing with a producer at CBS News on a personal topic and passed the article along to her, and I tweeted it in the direction of a reporter at The New York Post, knowing how they like to take umbrage at things. I wanted people to see how ridiculous this was, and is.

Most people leaped right on the bandwagon with similar sentiments, and my Facebook post of the article was shared more than 70 times. This morning, Google News shows me that the story has been picked up by outlets like Gawker and the Post, and I saw a quick report on it on CBS This Morning. Even London’s Daily Mail got in on the act, so we look dopey overseas, too. I don’t flatter myself that I had any role in spreading this story very specifically; I cite the examples just to show that it’s getting around.

But I was caught up short when a high school classmate effectively took me to task on Facebook for not considering what the letter might actually mean. Greg, who teaches high school in New Hampshire, who had a long career as a professional dancer, and who I haven’t laid eyes on in about 30 years, said he saw the letter as an effort by the principal and teachers who signed it to highlight the strictures of common core efforts and a push to teach to tests, a cry for reconsideration of increasingly constrained teaching opportunities. “Is it possible,” he wrote, “That these folks are saying, tongue firmly in cheek, ‘Our hands are tied! The onerous burden of government regulation leaves us no choice!’”

The situation seems so preposterous, the farce that it tries to explain away is so extreme, that Greg’s assertion that it was activism is worth considering. Could this be the most creative indictment of arts cuts and standardized teaching that’s ever come to light, couched in a letter of apology?

In my haste towards sarcasm, I failed to take into account the hundreds of thousands of dedicated teachers who have to grapple with ever-evolving teacher requirements, shrinking funding and so many other indignities of our modern education system. My mom was an elementary school teacher who left the profession because of the stress of functioning within a system under siege, and this was back in the 1980s. In the kind of knee-jerk reaction that the Internet makes so easy, I may not have shown respect to a field I admire so much, all because of a few paragraphs in a letter that found its way to the media. I regret if anything I posted suggested otherwise.

That said, I doubt Greg’s suggestion (echoed by others in entirely separate posts) that the letter was an act of political theatre. Would a principal and teachers have conspired to write such a letter and leak it to the press, putting their jobs at risk? If so, why did it turn up in Washington DC instead of in New York (the school is on Long Island)? Why were the signatories all refusing any comment to the press? While the letter may have been suffused with frustration, I doubt it was a political act, and if it was, it was a failed one, because instead of drawing light to important issues, it has drawn only scorn to the school.

Now if in fact sentiment about preparing kindergartners for college pervades every aspect of education in Elwood, that may not be the fault of the teachers or even the principal. As my schoolmate Greg points out, the ultimate responsibility here lies with the school board, which is really dictating the district’s agenda. By the time it trickles down to the elementary school and its staff, it’s required, not optional. Someone needs to start questioning that school board at their very next meeting as to whether this is what they truly believe.

But whether the letter is botched activism or simply the most extravagantly preposterous outcome of arts cuts, No Child Left Behind and Common Core, let’s turn it into an activism moment.

Right now, the media is primed to cover the story because of its wryly comic value. We may well see it discussed tonight on The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, Letterman, Fallon and the like. I suspect it will be of equal appeal to Rachel Maddow and Sean Hannity, for entirely opposite reasons. It could take on a life of its own. It will be more ridicule, most likely, not constructive conversation. But can we turn it to the benefit of the arts?

If you’re part of an educational institution that values the arts, or an arts institution, can you use this letter as the pretext to get on local radio, local TV, on editorial pages, on blogs, to express what so many did on Facebook yesterday? The very values that the letter implies are more important than any play are exactly those that participating in a show – even at such an early age – ­can build. This is one of those moments when the arts have the spotlight unexpectedly and arts groups and arts educators should seize that spotlight for the benefits we believe in and the values we know to be true, instead of seeing one school chastised and ridiculed.

This isn’t about a single group of kindergartners, but about our core values for all students – that the arts are not disposable, that they are not frivolous, and that they can in fact prepare students for life. It may seem an exaggeration of the scenario in question, but just as the story will be used to extrapolate theories about the pros and cons of how children are being taught, let’s use it as a microcosm of what its happening at every level of the education system, a bellwether, a call to arms that’s impossible to ignore. If this doesn’t make arts cuts comprehensible to absolutely everyone, what will?

And for goodness sakes, isn’t kindergarten mostly about introducing children to the idea of school, to socializing them with children who don’t live on their street or aren’t relatives or friends of the family? You know what’s a great socializer? Working together, perhaps singing together. We call that, in the biz, a show.

Arizona State University’s Gammage Auditorium

[This post has been updated twice since it was originally published. I urge you to read it fully before drawing any conclusions.]

Rent is at the center of an academic controversy again, with a few twists. This time, it’s not the whole show, it’s just one song, “La Vie Boheme.” It involves multiple high schools and a college simultaneously. The performance is over and done. But the song echoes.

Here’s the gist, summarized from video and written reports from AZcentral.com: earlier this month, students from Arizona high schools attended the Arizona All-State musical festival on the Arizona State University campus, under the auspices of the school’s Herberger Institute for Design and the Arts. While there, they attended a performance made up of various pieces by the university’s performing arts groups, across many disciplines. The Lyric Opera Theatre program performed the aforementioned number from Jonathan Larson’s musical. Reportedly some of the students were uncomfortable with the content and physicality of the presentation and decided to leave during the performance, some fairly quickly. They shared their feelings with their teachers and their parents.

Subsequently, the Herberger Institute sent an e-mail to the music teachers of the groups in attendance. It read, in part:

“We sincerely apologize for the poor programming and lack of communication that led to the presentation of an inappropriate scene from the musical Rent at our host concert. I apologized directly to your students in each ensemble rehearsal on Friday afternoon, but I wanted to make sure you know that the entire School of Music community feels remorse over this unfortunate decision.

We have addressed this situation with those responsible. I assure you that we will implement a new protocol for the review of performance material so that this does not happen again.”

A similar but not identical statement was issued to the media. It read, in part:

“The faculty member who coordinated the host concert trusted that those planning the musical theatre portion of the concert would make appropriate decisions regarding the selection from the musical Rent. Unfortunately, this did not occur and an inappropriate scene was presented. The poor decision made by our Lyric Opera Theatre faculty marred the experience for many. The Herberger Institute for Design and the Arts recognizes an audience’s right to choose what they come to a concert space to see. Unfortunately, the audience was not given a choice as our program contained no warning about the adult content that was presented nor was an announcement made from the stage giving them the opportunity to choose to stay for the performance or not. 

The concerns of parents and directors were taken seriously with personal emails and phone calls made immediately, and a process has been put in place to reconfigure the leadership and organization of the Lyric Opera Theatre program so this does not happen again.”

The media message finished with “The School of Music deeply regrets this situation.” Both messages were issued by Associate Dean and Interim Director of the School of Music, Heather Landes.

Here’s what we don’t know: did “rows and rows” of students exit the auditorium, as one parent asserts? It’s unclear if that parent was even in attendance, or characterizing a situation based on hearsay. Considering that news reports say the school received 14 or 15 calls about the incident, it’s hard to tell how many of the several hundred students were troubled by the performance, though the calls could have come from teachers, rather than parents. We also don’t know what the staging of the scene was precisely, so a characterization of it as being “pornographic” is most probably hyperbolic (and catnip to TV coverage, as well as a caption writer who declared “an extreme performance … left the students shocked and disgusted”), even if a bare behind was flashed. I certainly hope the staging was exuberant and enthusiastic, as the show calls for. [I did attempt to get more details, but save for the prepared statements, received no other response to my inquiries to Prof. Landes and two separate staffers in the Herberger School of Music’s communications office.]

It does appear that the high school teachers who brought their students to the event didn’t know what the programming would be, and it turned up without the context of a full production. While I wouldn’t bat an eye at high schoolers seeing a discrete performance of that song, I grant that some parents and teachers might not condone even a flash of partial nudity or simulated intimacy. Because high schools do have a supervisory right and responsibility over what their students see while under their care, especially when away from school, I agree that somewhere along the way, a step was missed. A heads-up wouldn’t have been out of line, though an actual warning would have been. Although unless these schools have private showers for gym class and school sports, someone’s butt wouldn’t exactly be a revelation. Some pelvic thrusts or a bit of groping? Like it or not, par for the course in so many aspects of our popular culture, familiar except in the most sheltered of teen lives. I’m speculating now, but shudder to think that the portrayal of same sex couples could have brought on such swift disapproval by the offended teens.

A mistake was made, students made a choice not to watch once they saw a glimpse something they preferred not to sit through, no one was harmed, and given what ensued, it’s highly unlikely that such a thing would have ever happened again. The rather profound mea culpas – remorse? really? – that were issued strike me as a bit much, especially with emphatic statement about new protocols and reconfiguring. The disavowal of the scene from Rent is overboard, unless the production went way overboard. Given that mooning provoked the complaints, it’s perhaps a bit glib to say now that the statements suggest asses were being covered, but I can’t resist.

But there’s more. I turn your attention to a statement issued jointly last night by Acting Dean Landes and Dr. William Reber, Director of the Opera and Musical Theatre training programs since 1991 at the ASU School of Music, announcing that Reber would no longer lead the Lyric Opera Theatre program.

“Dr. Reber made the decision to step down from his administrative role as director of the Lyric Opera Theatre program voluntarily, and we respect his decision. He remains a faculty member of the ASU School of Music; where he has served the students of ASU for more than 23 years and will continue to do so. Our school and our students have greatly benefited, and will continue to greatly benefit, from his creative spirit, his commitment and his love and passion for music…

Leadership in the arts requires both artistic vision and difficult work. It also requires the willingness to take responsibility for how that work is presented and communicated. This incident was important enough to the school and its relationship with the Arizona community that Dr. Reber felt he needed to accept responsibility, and he has chosen to use this as a teaching opportunity for his students about the role and responsibility of an arts leader, not just to the organization he leads but also to the community at large.”

I’m not so sanguine about Dr. Reber “needing to accept responsibility” in the way that he did; one never knows the behind the scenes pressures that lead to such a prepared, jointly-issued set of remarks. I can’t help but think that the university felt it needed someone to take blame for this, needed someone publicly shamed, and this was the solution worked out. While I applaud Dr. Reber for not throwing anyone under the bus, it troubles me that the university couldn’t absorb this gaffe and maintain intact a program that was, apparently, working just fine save for this one-off gaffe. Dr. Reber protected his staff, but couldn’t ASU have found a way to fully protect its faculty and programs? 

Unlike a content controversy in a high school alone, where all the stakeholders are close by, a university setting is rather different. In the case of ASU, it’s a public university, so there’s all kinds of governmental politics that come into play. I have no idea what the ASU town-gown situation is, and how that may have affected into this. ASU’s students certainly aren’t necessarily all from Tempe, where the school is located, nor were the high school groups, so this is a statewide issue. But the strongest constituency for a school, its alumni, could be scattered across the country. I fear that a vocal minority has prompted swift results while the majority of Dr. Reber’s potential supporters didn’t even know that a problem existed.

So here’s the deal. If you live in Arizona and believe that Dr. Reber should still be running the Lyric Opera Theatre program (without having his hands tied over the work he does for the university’s students), start writing to the school’s president Dr. Michael Crow (Michael.Crow@asu.edu). Don’t call him names or presume anything about his personal beliefs and politics, just speak out in support of a vital theatre program and urge him to reinstate Dr. Reber to the Lyric Opera Theatre. Do the same if you’re just a supporter of quality arts education, for both high school and college students, no matter where you live. If you’re an alumnus or alumna of ASU, write to Dr. Crow as well, but you might also want to include R.F. “Rick” Shangraw Jr. (rick.shangraw@asu.edu), the head of the ASU Foundation, on your note, and mention whether these circumstances will have any impact on your future donations to the school. That can get a university’s attention.

Early reports and an online petition, since amended, incorrectly had it that Dr. Reber resigned or was forced to resign. He’ll remain on faculty and teach, but it still seems a shame that he’s been separated from the Lyric Opera Theatre program he ran. While some parts of the local community may be satisfied by this outcome, it’s worth noting that such events could cast a pall over the creative arts on campus. To insure that ASU can be a strong resource not only for its current students, but for students who may want to attend in the future, ASU should be standing behind Dr. Reber, acknowledging the error but not bending over backwards to placate the public. Because let me tell you, if aspiring theatre students, if aspiring arts students, hear that at Arizona State, Rent is something to apologize for, they may well think twice about where they want to go to school.

P.S. It may interest you to know that the incoming dean of the Herberger Institute for Design and the Arts, Steven Tepper, is the author of the book Not Here, Not Now, Not That: Protest over Art and Culture in America, which by coincidence is on its way to me from Amazon as I write. I’m dying to know what he makes of all this.

Update, April 24 1 p.m.: On Facebook, I saw the following statement shared, which adds very important perspective to this discussion. It is a personal statement from Dr. David Schildkret of the ASU School of Music, and in no way an official one from the school, in response to the online petition:

“A petition is circulating that castigates ASU for allowing Bill Reber to step aside as Director of Lyric Opera Theater. Earlier this month, LOT presented a portion of Rent to high school students without warning of adult content. It was part of an ASU School of Music showcase for the Arizona All-State music festival. Bill, recognizing how damaging this is to our school, has chosen to step aside. I believe the petition, while well-intentioned, is misguided. I posted this on their Facebook page. I am speaking for myself, at no one’s urging, and in no official capacity. Here is the post.

Friends: I speak as a friend and colleague of Bill Reber who deeply admires what he has done. I feel that this petition fails to recognize the honor and nobility Bill has shown by his actions.

Please understand the incident. Students participating in the Arizona All-State came to a concert that was meant to showcase our School of Music. An excerpt from Rent was offered as part of that. The excerpt, “La Vie Bohème,” included explicit language and highly suggestive staging. It was NOT appropriate for a general high school audience, and there was no warning of that. (When the same excerpt was presented in a preview for the Lyric Opera Guild, the staging was toned down. That didn’t happen when the same material was performed for 14-year-olds, and even Bill was surprised by that.)

The students in the audience did not come to see Rent. They did not know (none of us did, in fact) that material that was not school-appropriate would be presented. About a quarter of them left the hall and returned after the Rent excerpt ended.

This is not about a few offended parents. It is about the responsibility of artists to know their audience. It is about what we were trying to present to students and teachers at All-State. The question is not whether Rent itself is problematic. The question is whether this was the suitable occasion for this particular performance. (“Seasons of Love” would have been touching and appropriate and would have caused no such difficulty.)

Make no mistake, this damaged the ASU School of Music. You may not like that, but it is the reality. It undid work to build bridges to local schools that many of us, including Bill Reber, have undertaken with zeal and passion for years.

If in fact the university had caved to a few cranky parents, I would sign the petition in capital letters. But people were legitimately and justifiably offended at an occasion that was meant to be anything but offensive. That is their right.

Please give Bill Reber the credit he deserves. He did not succumb to strongarm tactics: he is more powerful than that. He felt that a wrong choice had been made and took responsibility for it. He has stepped up to say that he recognizes that we accomplish most when we respect our audience. He has stepped up to say that there were better choices to be made and that he could have seen to making them.

I deeply admire Bill for this. He is a model for all of us. By all means, send him letters of affection, thanks, and support: he deserves them. But don’t dishonor him by trivializing his very courageous and noble actions.”

I wish the school had been more forthcoming from the start with this kind of clear information. It mitigates a good deal of what I’ve written, and provides essential context, but I leave my post intact rather than remove or alter it. Thank you, Dr. Schildkret.

Update, April 24, 4 p.m.: Dr. Schildkret has written me directly to respond to something which I questioned in my original piece. He says:

“Rows and rows of people really did walk out of the performance on 4/11. About 25% of the audience left for that piece. Some of that was teachers taking their classes out en masse so that the teachers wouldn’t get in trouble.”

Once again, my thanks to Dr. Schildkret for straight answers to important questions. From here on, I leave everyone to draw their own conclusions.

As I prepared to go to Trumbull CT last month to see the high school’s production of Rent, many people asked, or wrote me to ask, if I would be writing about it. My consistent reply, “I doubt it,” was met with surprise by one and all, who asked, ‘Why not?’

I had been very vocal in my support for the show when it was canceled back in the fall, and I know that I played some role in helping to turn the tide back in favor of the production, though it was the students and adults in the community who really carried the day. But in anticipation of the show, I had no idea what might move me to write. After all, I was already “in the bag” for the production – delighted that it was happening, loving it even before I saw it. What, I wondered, would I have to say other than that it was great? It was great, incidentally, to the degree that I watched with even a shred of objectivity.

The night, however, had an entirely unexpected effect on me. It all happened after the final curtain call.

*   *   *

I drove up to Trumbull with Jonathan Larson’s father Al and sister Julie, who I have known since, during my tenure, the American Theatre Wing negotiated for and ultimately took over the responsibility of giving The Jonathan Larson Grants. Though I didn’t consult the Larsons or ask for their support as I undertook my advocacy in Trumbull in the late fall, I did keep them posted. The day the show was put back on the schedule, they said they would come in from Los Angeles to see the production and we made plans to go together, several months hence.

The only people who knew that the Larsons were coming to that first of four performances were Jessica Spillane, the teacher who runs the drama program in Trumbull, and Larissa Mark, the student president of the Thespian Troupe. It seems they really know how to keep a secret. After the performance, Ms. Spillane instructed the students not to rush to take off their costumes, but to gather in a corridor directly behind the stage. She did not tell them why.

So when she introduced Al and Julie, the reaction from the cast and crew was stunning. The most extraordinary mixture of shock, joy and tears erupted in equal measure, as some 60 or so students realized that they had just performed for the family of the late composer who died before most of them were born.

Julie, following my own tendency in such situations, withdrew to the sidelines, though she graciously spoke with anyone who approached her; I stood by her with the extra barrier of my camera, as I tried in vain to capture the entirety of the scene. Al, however, was immediately surrounded, as one by one students came up to thank him, to shake his hand, and most remarkably, ask if they could hug him.

I understood yet marveled at their compulsion to commune with the father of the writer they would only know through his words and music. This was as close as they could possibly come to Jonathan, and this kindly gentleman in his late 80s, who I have no doubt couldn’t hear a great deal of what was said to him, gave them each a turn, as crying teens tentatively stepped up, and then boldly embraced a man who was a stranger only minutes before.

I have never discussed the experience of Jonathan’s death with the Larsons in the years I’ve known them. It is a sad tale well known to anyone who knew about theatre in the mid-90s and there was no reason for me to inquire after details. That said, in bringing the grants to the Theatre Wing, I felt a great responsibility for Jonathan’s legacy and it brought me close this family that endured a terrible loss even as they saw Rent triumph. Seeing those students so raw with emotion, so desirous of connection, so profoundly moved to try to convey their own sense of loss was perhaps the only way in which I have ever participated so emotionally with Jonathan, with his family, and with Rent.

*  *  *

Eventually, it became time to pull Al away from the students, who would have surely kept him there all night. It was getting late, we had to drive back to Manhattan, the whole experience of the day had to be as exhausting for Al and Julie as it was for me. We made it out of the corridor into the larger school hallway, but Al and Julie proceeded by inches while I moved unfettered. A few parents who spotted me offered their thanks; one or two revealed themselves to be siblings or spouses of people I had gone to high school with, 34 years ago and a few miles away.

As I casually leaned against a wall, a young man approached me, and asked if I was Howard Sherman. Recognizing him as a Facebook friend, I quickly offered up, “And you must be…” and indeed I was correct. But this young man, who I’d not met before, was not some random social media connection.

I had gone to high school with the young man’s uncle and his aunt; I had first met his father, who is several years younger than me, when the father was perhaps no more than 8 and I was a much older 13.  Most important though, is that I knew his grandfather, who was my scoutmaster in my Boy Scout days.

Boy Scouting, by and large, is not a vivid memory for me. I was not driven to achieve a top rank, I don’t have close friends today who I knew from the activity. But there is one aspect that I will never forget: the day that this young man’s grandfather died of a heart attack on a camping trip, when I was 17 years old and a senior leader in the scout ranks.

I wasn’t on the trip. I had skipped it in favor of performing Abbott and Costello’s “Who’s On First?” at my school’s annual Pops Concert, although that was accidental; another friend had been grounded and couldn’t fulfill the commitment, so I stepped in. I learned of my scoutmaster’s death only a few hours before the performance and I actually followed the dictum of “the show must go on,” performing a comedy routine while in sorrow, even though it could have easily been excised from the performance.

I have always felt pangs of guilt over not having been on the trip. Not because I believe I could have done anything to help medically, but because there were so many younger scouts who were there when this sudden passing took place. I should have been there to support them. Who knows whether I would have been able to do so. I will always wonder.

I skipped the cast party and remember sitting at the kitchen table late into the night talking about this death with my parents. I remember saying to them how sad I was that I never got to tell my scoutmaster that I loved him. Wisely, they explained that such occasions didn’t arise under everyday circumstances, but that surely he knew from my loyalty that I cared for him and that surely it was mutual. It was the night I resolved to always try to let the people I care for know it at all times, in action and in words.

So here I was standing with a grandson who never knew his grandfather, a man whose loss I’ve never forgotten. Via Facebook, I knew that the young man was in a show at his own high school nearby: Carousel. As he is a senior, I asked the standard adult question, “Do you know where you’re going to college yet?” He replied that he was still working it out.

Jokingly, I said, “You don’t plan to go into theatre, do you?” I regretted my jest as soon as he said he was. I immediately said that he should call me any time for advice or help, and I meant it sincerely. I hope he takes me up on it. It’s the very least I can do.

When he stepped away, I began sobbing. It would be easy to say it was just the late hour, or a release of emotions from what I had witnessed earlier in the corridor. But I knew that I had been thrust back into that Saturday night in 1979 when a commitment to perform both took me away from somewhere I perhaps should have been, even as it placed me where I belonged, and where I’d spend my life.

*   *   *

That one night at Trumbull was a roller coaster (a ride I studiously avoid). I had stirrings of pride in something I felt very separate from when it actually happened, since my role had ended back in December. My perception of theatre was bound up with grief that night, through this young man – who I hope to know better – and his family, as well as through the members of the Larson family, both present and absent, and also through the Trumbull thespians, so profoundly in touch with their emotions so openly and so suddenly.

Many will be quick to tell you that part of how we experience the arts has a great deal to do with what we bring to that experience. I unwittingly brought a lot to Trumbull that night and I came away with more. It may be too soon know exactly how much. I may never know. But whether in high school auditoriums or Broadway houses, I’ll keep seeking. Who knows what I’ll find, where I’ve already found so much in the darkness and embrace of the theatre.

Broadway dreams being immediately blown up into pending productions is something that really gets my goat. Why? Because it’s a case of hyperbole becoming ostensible fact in the press, and the only people it serves are those trying to make a nascent production into reality.

When I last wrote about this phenomenon about nine months ago (it really makes me cranky), I suggested that it makes an argument for why paid professional arts journalism is so essential – to separate real news from puffery. I regret to say that I’ve been proven wrong in that regard.

Perhaps you saw one of the many announcements yesterday about the new Broadway show based on the syndicated TV series, Soul Train. “‘Soul Train’ Headed for Broadway” was the headline in both USA Today and The Chicago Tribune. “Soul Train’s A Comin’ To Broadway,” declared The Wall Street Journal. “Rock Of Ages producer is bringing Soul Train to Broadway,” announced The A.V. Club.

Here’s the problem. There is no Soul Train musical. No writers. No director. It’s unclear if any music rights have been acquired. All there is, right now, is a producer who has licensed the trademark and plans to develop a show.

Every article I saw actually makes note of this fact in some way, but it’s buried at least a few paragraphs in. One of the examples cited above makes it the very last sentence. But I’d be willing to bet that the vast majority of people who glanced at this story (with 120 Google News citations and climbing) thinks it’s a done deal.

Mind you, I take no pleasure in pointing this out, because I know three out of the four journalists involved in these stories pretty well, and I may get some grief from them. It’s certainly worth pointing out that journalists rarely write their own headlines, so the majority of the responsibility may not lie with the writers. In our clickbait world of online news, “happening” is much stronger than “may happen,” although such a distinction can be quickly elided by aggregators. But somewhere along the way, accuracy is sacrificed.

But I should in all fairness note that headlines more reflective of reality did appear: “Soul Train Aims To Pull Into Broadway Station” (Variety), “Soul Train May Boogie To Broadway” (The Grio, running an Associated Press story), and “Soul Train Making Tracks To Broadway?” (San Diego Union Tribune) are examples. Jim Hebert at the Union Tribune struck a strong note of skepticism in his copy, going so far as to say “don’t hold your breath on this one…” The cause is not lost.

I suppose if I were the producer and publicist for the show – and keep in mind I was a publicist for more than a decade – I’d be thrilled by the amount of attention garnered by the existence of a legal agreement. But when I see so many worthy arts activities that actually exist, eager and even desperate for media attention, this inflation of intentions is really rather depressing. I assume anyone who has a show that has already been written feels much the same way. But clearly the retro lure of a famous brand, with photos ready to run, holds greater sway than what’s happening now (those last three words actually being connected to a property someone may option any day).

In the film The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, there’s a famous quote: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” Fifty years later, it’s been simplified in a way that would make Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne and perhaps even Lee Marvin blanch, since we no longer wait for something to become legend: “Print the hype, with a great headline.”

It is unquestionably a sign of his achievements at The Young Vic that David Lan has been named consulting artistic director for the planned arts centre at the site of the former World Trade Center in lower Manhattan.

Selection to be a part of this important element in rebuilding Ground Zero, the site of the 2001 terrorist attacks, was also a mark of achievement for, among others, Signature Theatre Company, architect Frank Gehry, and The Joyce Theatre.

But in the ensuing 10 years, the Signature abandoned its for Ground Zero and successfully built and opened a three-theatre complex on West 42^nd Street. Gehry’s involvement going forward is in limbo. The Joyce, a home to numerous dance companies, still hopes for a role in programming the arts center, but has seen plans for the largest theatre among the three still under discussion drop from 1,000 seats to 550, only slightly larger than their longtime home. In the scheme of New York theatres, the city’s relative paucity of 1,000 seat venues other than on Broadway might have been more useful to the ecology of the arts.

Mayor Bloomberg, whose administration was involved in discussions for the redevelopment plans over his 12 year tenure, is out of office now. Before leaving, he allocated $50 million in city funds to a rival new arts facility, the Culture Shed, but none for the Ground Zero project. The city’s new mayor, Bill de Blasio, has yet to appoint a cultural affairs commissioner and is quiet on the project.

Even Mr. Lan’s participation seems somewhat fleeting, in that his appointment is only through September and he has told The New York Times that he does not foresee a programming role for himself. Maggie Boepple, president of the arts center’s seven member board (Stephen Daldry was recently named to the group) told the Times that there was no need for full-time artistic leadership because performances won’t begin until 2018 or 2019. What creative influence will Lan’s temporary engagement have in the next six months?

When the arts centre concept was first announced, the talk was heartening. The city committed to the idea that the arts had both a spiritual and economic role to play in healing lower Manhattan. Over time, the importance of that message has eroded.

Given the planning, emotional and political implications that surround the rebuilding of Ground Zero, it’s difficult not to be sceptical. The Wall Street Journal cites a daunting cost of $469 million, with only $155 million allocated by the federal government. Fundamentally, the Ground Zero Arts Center is a real estate project first and an arts project second, and that often places impractical burdens on creative work. Even during his limited engagement, I hope Mr. Lan can talk frankly and practically, challenging all existing presumptions, if the project is to ever succeed.

Timberlane High Performing Arts Center

I have just returned from a trip to Plaistow, New Hampshire, where I went to support students, parents, alumni and members of the community who wanted to speak out against the cancelation of a production of Sweeney Todd at Timberlane High School, announced for production a year ago, but scheduled for 2015. In the wake of the response to the cancelation, the school scheduled an open forum to hear from the community on the issue. This was an important and rare step, since each and every decision of school administrators cannot possibly be opened to organized public discussion, with the media present as well.

But in creating the opportunity, the administrators of Timberlane opened the door to two-and-a-half hours of speaker after speaker extolling the caliber of the show, the importance of theatre in their lives, and how deeply connected they are to the school’s arts program.  Despite the opportunity, no one spoke up against the show. Even though some apparently made their feelings known privately to the administration, or in letters to local papers and on blogs, none would stand to say so in front of their peers in a public setting.

Because I don’t like to give speeches except when I’m invited to do so, I spoke at the session off the cuff, based on what I’d learned about the issue and the community in the days and hours leading up to the event in the high school cafeteria, attempting to address concerns specific to Timberlane. I want to share my remarks with you, with all of the imperfections of impromptu speech. I hope I spoke some sense and maybe even some truth.

The superintendent indicated he would render his decision very shortly, and as I write, a community awaits, as do I.

*   *   *

Into the woods – you have to grope
But that’s the way you learn to cope
Into the woods to find there’s hope
Of getting through the journey.
Into the woods, each time you go
There’s more to learn of what you know…

Those are the words of Stephen Sondheim. Stephen Sondheim is the greatest composer of musical theatre in the past 50 years and possibly in the history of the American musical theatre. His work deserves to be seen and while his work has never been known to as somebody to easily please audiences, the challenge that he presents to every audience is a special challenge for students.

I’ve come up from New York to represent to you that there are people far beyond this community who care about each and every student who wants a great experience in the arts. I don’t do it because I believe that every student in every drama club will go on and become a professional artist. Indeed, I suspect most of them won’t. I come here because I want better audiences for the arts and by being involved in the most challenging work at this stage in their lives, those who take part in his work, those who see this work, become better audiences so that we can have better arts.

You have an extraordinary performing arts center – I’m still in awe of that turntable, I’ve never seen anything like it – and with a facility like that you should be able to use it to its fullest.

No, you can’t please everyone all of the time. I’m amazed to find the number of performances that you have here. In the case of this show, it will not please everyone, it never has. But it is a masterwork of musical theatre. The original cast recording was just announced to be inducted into the Library of Congress today.

People like to focus on the more lurid aspects of Sweeney Todd. But Sweeney Todd is not about its actions; Sweeney Todd is about morality, about justice, about the lengths people will go to and the lengths they’re driven to when they face injustice.

No, I would not bring a seven year old to Sweeney Todd. But I believe and I am told that there are many other opportunities in this community for people of all ages at different times to have different experiences. This is not – and I do know this script, I know this script particularly well – that you are not proposing to do the original script. Stephen Sondheim has authorized a school edition of Sweeney Todd which removes some of the material which would be difficult for high schools to endorse or for students to perform. It’s not neutered but it is toned down. Countless high schools do this show every year across the country. The students here should be able to have the opportunities that their peers, who they will be facing when they go on to college, had at their schools.

There are many stories of school shows which are canceled at the last minute. This is by no means the case – you have a year. You have a year to place the show in context, to inform not just in the students in the drama club, but all of the students, all of the parents, all of this community, through a range of educational activities that can be put into place. Other schools have done it. I pledge myself as a resource to help you find what’s been done elsewhere, what’s been successful and even people who can come in and help with those programs. Nobody would walk into this show and be surprised by what is happening. Frankly, given what has surrounded this in the past week, I think we’re past that.

Fundamentally, I believe student theatre is first and foremost for the students who make it and then if there is there is the opportunity for people beyond their family members to come and see it, that’s fantastic. But the experience is for the students. That’s what school is for.

I truly hope that a year from now, I will be driving back up from the city to see Sweeney Todd.

Stephen Sondheim is a vastly smarter man than I am, so I will finish again with his words.

Careful with what you say,

Children will listen.
Careful you do it too.
Children will see.
And learn.
Guide them but step away,
And children will glisten.
Tamper with what is true,
And children will turn,
If just to be free.
The more you protect them,
The more they reject you.
The more you reflect them,
The more they respect you.

Thank you very much.

*   *   *

Update, April 10: I am delighted to report that late this afternoon, Dr. Earl Metzler of the Timberlane School District reversed the decision to cancel Sweeney Todd and the show is now back on the Timberlane High schedule for 2015. The decision came about thanks to the respectful yet passionate efforts of the students and parents of Timberlane and members of the greater Plaistow community. I look forward to seeing them once again, and my favorite musical, a year from now.

Sweeney Todd at Timberland High in Plaistow NH seems to have a lot in common with the threatened but ultimately triumphant production of Rent this past weekend in Trumbull CT. A musical is announced months in advance and, after some time has passed, the administration, citing both a failure to follow a previously unknown approvals process and concerns over inappropriate content, cancels the production. In Trumbull, it was just weeks before auditions were to begin; in Plaistow it’s over a show in the next school year.

If you look beyond the decision itself, politics at the school board level, in each case, seem to coincide with the dispute. In Trumbull, the school board suddenly ruled that only town residents would be permitted to speak at meetings, for the first time; in Plaistow, there was a declaration, currently being challenged on constitutional grounds, that once a decision is made by the school board, all members have to support it publicly.

A mature-themed school musical is once again at the center of a local controversy, but the pattern is a national one. While I urge you to read about the Plaistow situation in its entirety, as well as a sharply worded local editorial about the free speech issues regarding the school board, here’s the gist of what’s transpired, as reported by Alex Lippa of the Eagle-Tribune.

Timberlane Regional High School officials have canceled next year’s production of the musical “Sweeney Todd,” citing concerns over the nature of the script.

“I want an all-inclusive performance that the community can enjoy,” Superintendent Earl Metzler said yesterday. “We were uncomfortable with the script and agreed that this was not the right time or place for the performance.”

“Sweeney Todd” tells the story of a barber who murders his victims. His landlady then bakes them into pies and sells them.

The decision has caused a stir in the Timberlane community and efforts are being made through social media to convince the administration to reverse the decision.

“In the past, we have done shows with a wide range of difficult material and none of them have ever been opposed until now,” Timberlane senior Alexis Bolduc said. “And the only people who seem to disapprove of this show are the ones in charge.”

I have made the argument that high school theatre should be, first and foremost, for the students. I have made the argument that school theatre should challenge students so they can grow and learn. There’s little point in recounting those.

However it does appear that Dr. Metzler, the superintendent, is giving some manner of weight to missives he’s begun receiving from outside the community, triggered by social media and websites carrying the Timberlane tale of Sweeney Todd to the larger world. That’s where you come in.

If you are a student, parent, teacher or administrator who has had the experience of Sweeney Todd at your high school, recently or in past years, take a moment to write the Timberlane leadership and tell them about how the show was received and what it meant. If you are a theatre professional who cares about our next generation of theatre artists and the next generation of audiences, write and tell them why you think students should – perhaps even must ­– take on work like Sweeney Todd. If you are an audience member, a theatre aficionado, who believes in the value of Sweeney Todd, write about that and why students should be able to explore it in the Sondheim-approved, judiciously pruned school edition. Let’s demonstrate the level of commitment that exists among those who believe in the arts, and that we care not only what happens in the big cities, but in each and every community where theatre and the arts as a whole can be nurtured, not just in your own backyard.

The auditorium of Timberlane High

Worth keeping in mind? Timberlane has already done The Laramie Project. Twice. That says something about the people in the Timberlane district, although there have been some subsequent leadership changes and the show was confined to the smaller studio space on the Timberlane campus. Let me also note that Dr. Metzler will be leading an open conversation with the community this coming Wednesday, April 2, so an iron wall has not necessarily gone up, despite the announced cancelation. The distinct possibility for constructive dialogue remains, so I urge you to refrain from sarcasm, from rash generalizations, from anger, and instead focus on your stories, your experiences, your thoughts and how they can apply to the students in Plaistow.

Let’s operate under the genuine assumption that everyone wants the best for the students and just have differing perceptions of what that is. I’ve been strident in some of my past writing, but the Trumbull students proved you get more with judicious diplomacy than with unbridled passion, valuable as that can be at certain times.

You can share your thoughts and experiences with:

Dr. Earl Metzler, Superintendent, Timberlane Regional School District, 30 Greenough Road, Plaistow NH 03865

Mr. Donald Woodworth, Principal, Timberlane Regional High School, 36 Greenough Road, Plaistow, NH 03865

And while you’re at it, would you copy me as well?  I’m driving to New Hampshire on Wednesday and I’d like to be able to print out and share a sheaf of thoughtful, supportive and constructive messages with those those in attendance at the forum.

Sweeney Todd is, at its core, about how insidious miscarriages of justice can be in a society, driving some to heinous acts in retaliation – ultimately for nought. That’s a valuable lesson, especially when told by an artist as skilled and respected as Stephen Sondheim. Let’s hope it can still be sung at Timberlane High next school year.

I am going to take it for granted that, since you’ve opted to read this article, you care about the arts. I’m also going to save time and typing by assuming that you appreciate media coverage of the arts and that you realize that without the attention of the media, it will be ever harder for the arts to share their news, their work and their value locally, nationally and internationally.

Since we are agreed, I will proceed directly to my point.

If you want to see intelligent, comprehensive coverage of the arts – features and reviews alike – then you’ve got to start clicking. Journalism is well on its way to being a numbers game for most outlets. How many people clicked on a story or video, how many times was it liked or shared, how much time was spent looking at it? We are already seeing journalism sites paying writers base salaries with bumps or bonuses based on online metrics; outlets say they are dropping certain types of coverage because it’s simply not generating enough traffic. It’s not enough to be happy that arts coverage exists, you have to actually engage with it to insure its survival and the job survival of those who create it.

Clicks mean eyes and eyes mean advertisers. As print becomes an ever-harder sell, online advertising grows ever more important to outlets. Even back in the days pre-internet, I encountered cuts in arts coverage because the arts didn’t generate enough advertising revenue (whereas advertisers loved sports sections and we get regular features about new cars because auto dealers buy big ads). Even now, arts spending online is a small sliver of online advertising, so our best means of supporting arts coverage is by actually reading it.

Let’s face it: anyone with a WordPress blog knows how many people read each piece they post (yes, I’m watching you). But that’s amateur hour compared to the realtime and cumulative algorithms and analytics applied at big media outlets. There are teams of people looking at clicks, links and likes for every story, and media empires are being built on click-bait methodology (why, hello BuzzFeed). It’s running the show in many places and it can’t be ignored.

So here’s what I propose. Every morning, when you get online, go to the arts section of your local media outlets, seek out their arts and entertainment stories, and click of them. Don’t click on each in rapid succession, but spend 30 to 45 seconds on each one (remember your multiple browser windows). You have to wait a bit because one analytic is stickiness or hang-time or whatever it’s called now, namely whether people are really engaging with coverage. A click on and immediate click off looks like you got there by mistake. And needless to say, it certainly won’t hurt in the least if you actually read a story or watch a video while you’re at it.

I should also note that just liking or retweeting a story isn’t enough: you actually have to look at it. Sometimes you’re just liking a friend posting about a story, not the story or video itself, and that’s an important difference. There have been studies that show that many people retweet items without ever actually reading them, and anecdotally I know that to be true: I often see my own tweets with embedded links that have more retweets than clicks. You’ve got to stop and look. That said, on Facebook likes and shares feed into an algorithm that’s sure more people might see the post featured in their feed, and retweets do the same, so be liberal with those too.

You need to share this idea with your staffs, your audience, your donors. This can’t be an effort by a couple of thousand core die-hards; this has to be a movement and it has to be sustained. I do my part every day in curating the articles I share on my twitter feed. You don’t need to be as exhaustive as I am, but whether you seek out a story or if it comes across your social media feed, click on it (often click on opera and symphony stories even though I rarely attend them). If the arts generate eyes, if they generate numbers, you’re going to have a direct impact on how the arts are viewed by the media decision makers. Clicking on the occasional ad next to an arts story matters too.

I’d like to give this idea some snappy name that the field can adopt, but I’m only coming up with corny and possibly inexplicable ideas like “Click 10 For The Arts,” which in my mind is shorthand for remind you to click on 10 arts stories daily. I hope that if people buy into this idea, someone will come up with something clever.

But unlike the world of journalism 25 years ago, where outlets only knew how many papers they sold, it’s now exceedingly easy to know what gets traffic and what doesn’t. No need for audience surveys when our every move online is recorded. If we don’t actively work to pump up the stats for arts coverage, it’ll continue to erode.

To quote Joni Mitchell, “you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til its gone,” and we’ve lost too much already. So next time you want to take a quiz about what Shakespeare villain or what Sondheim character you are, at least spend the equivalent amount of time reading articles about Shakespeare plays or Sondheim shows. Because while the former may be fun, it’s the latter that will actually sustain arts journalism and sustain the arts.

P.S. Thanks for clicking on this story. Now would you be so kind to like it, favorite it, share it, retweet it and so on? And yes, I’ll know if you did.

Taylor Mac as Shen Te in The Good Person of Szechwan

Last year, the actor Taylor Mac played the title role in the Foundry Theatre’s acclaimed production of Brecht’s The Good Person of Szechwan. This tale of a downtrodden woman who secures power in ancient China by cross-dressing as a man gained in depth and complexity from having the male Mac portray the female character Shen Te, only to transform into the male Shui Ta. Gender identity layered upon a story of gender discrimination enhanced the play, which managed to deliver numerous messages about society’s prejudices and ills in the context of a highly inventive staging.

I fear that next week, when a female high school teen plays the male drag queen Angel in a Long Island school production of Jonathan Larson’s Rent, depth will be intentionally lost, in service of obscuring the homosexuality that is essential to the character.

I first learned of this plan back in December and wrote about it at the time, deeply troubled by the language Southold High’s superintendent used in an article in The Suffolk Times. Amid comments about a committee to “adjust” the script in an effort to make it “fitting for the community,” the possibility of a young woman playing Angel was not ruled out. I subsequently heard from anonymous sources that this had come to pass, and I’ve kept tabs on the local paper for updates. Confirmation of the cross-gender casting came only yesterday, via The Suffolk Times, ten days before the production begins its single four-performance weekend.

In explaining the casting decision, comments from the school authorities are inconsistent.

“The gender of the character can’t be changed, but any student can play that character,” production co-director Casey Rooney is quoted as saying. “A girl that we have cast in this part is the best person for the role.”

Wilson Jermaine Heredia as Angel in Rent

This has been rationalized with the claim that the young woman cast will be playing Angel as a male. As an advocate of non-traditional, inclusive, race-blind and gender-blind casting under most circumstances, I normally applaud opening up male roles to women. So if the school had an ongoing practice of gender-neutral casting, I’d accept that statement at face value. But there’s no evidence that this has ever occurred before at Southold, and the superintendent’s December statements strongly suggest another motivation, namely fear of the gay character of Angel, truthfully portrayed, on a public school stage.

The new article continues:

“Although the script calls for a male actor in this part, Mr. Rooney said the school has the discretion to change the gender.
 Ms. Baumann [the musical director] said this arrangement isn’t uncommon.

‘With some schools, maybe there are drama clubs that have two guys and 20 girls,’ she said. ‘So, you do have to make adjustments’.”

It’s worth noting that in explaining the decision, Ms. Baumann cites other unnamed schools, not Southold itself. An extreme scenario is proffered that may well exist at “some schools,” but since there are 48 students in Rent at Southold, are we to understand that there are only five “guys” in the cast?

Superintendent David Gamberg weighs in as well. “Rent-School Edition is about a group of young people trying to discover who they are, what they stand for and who they can trust,” Mr. Gamberg said. “Rent-School Edition is not about homosexuality. It is not about AIDS and it is not about drug use.”

I agree with Mr. Gamberg’s first sentence, about young people discovering themselves, and perhaps it’s not entirely wrong to say that Rent – school edition or original script – isn’t about homosexuality, AIDS or drug use. But those three elements are essential to the story and the characters. Even in the toned-down high school script, they are far from absent or diminished in the lives of Jonathan Larson’s characters. Explicitly downplaying those topics is a disservice to the show and to the students in it, and reads as spin control.

Rent is an opportunity for students to explore our complex world, gaining knowledge and sensitivity along the way. For those at the school who are gay (out or not) or have friends or family members who are gay, for those dealing with substance abuse issues in their lives, for those who don’t realize that AIDS remains a major world health concern, Rent is an extraordinary prism on aspects of daily life that surely exist in Southold, NY, albeit in different clothes and homes than those in the show.

The excuse that the role of Angel has been cast with a girl playing a boy who dresses as a girl has been sufficient to satisfy the licensing house and the Larson estate; I am far from sanguine about it. Rent is not a Shakespeare comedy. I believe that even with the words in the script rigorously adhered to, the audience, both student and adult, will see a romance between a flamboyant girl and her male partner, made safe a la Tootsie. Whatever the talents of the young woman cast as Angel may be, I strongly doubt, given her age and presumably limited experience, she is capable of embodying a male character fully, in the way that Linda Hunt managed on film in The Year of Living Dangerously, given the intentional inversion of gender iconography that is inherent in drag.

I can infer a variety of motivations – perhaps at worst homophobia on the part of the administration, at best maybe the unwillingness of any capable boy at the school to play a drag queen. Yet the sheer fact that the school superintendent is discussing the casting decisions of a high school play suggests that there’s an awareness of something amiss here that must be carefully handled, something risky, something fraught with danger. However, I should acknowledge that, so far as any public reporting has indicated, the lesbian characters in the Southold production are played by women, and they are not merely BFFs.

Southold (NY) High School

As for the original discussion of being “sensitive to the community as a whole,” I’m also troubled that, to my knowledge, no one in the community has openly and vigorously opposed the approach the school is taking, only posting dissenting comments on the article in The Suffolk Times. Without someone – or a better still, a group of students and their parents – standing up for an accurate, honest and accepting portrayal of a gay character, I’m just an outside voice shouting over a distant fence, an online nuisance, an easily ignored agitator. It’s worth noting that while The Suffolk Times reported on an upcoming public meeting to discuss Rent, there does not appear to be a report on the content of the meeting itself, which would have been instructive.

The cancelled production of Rent in Trumbull CT was restored with help from a range of outside voices, but the success fundamentally belonged to the people of Trumbull, because they wanted to see the right thing done in their high school.  In the midst of the Trumbull fracas, I questioned whether, in 2014, high school students needed to be educated about homosexuality, AIDS and drug use, as the superintendent there suggested in arriving at a solution. I believed that these issues were prevalent enough in people’s lives and in the media that they would be redundant. Well, the adults at Southold High have proven me wrong – perhaps they need those lessons.

Disturbed as I am over the situation in Southold, I can’t quite bring myself to advocate for the cancellation of a high school show at this late date, to the disappointment of some five dozens students working on it. But I sincerely wish that the students, the community and perhaps most importantly the educators could get an education about the world we live in and how they’re undercutting a great work and a great learning experience. Sadly, all they’re teaching now is how to figuratively Photoshop that which they don’t like. If they’re not willing to both learn and teach, I hope they won’t attempt another show that is meant to grapple with real world issues again, until such time as they’re ready and able to deal with the challenges and complexity of real life on stage. At the same time, that would be an even greater loss for their students.