Exit Stage Left

Laura Storey’s delightful article Travelling Troupes in a recent edition of Colne Life included a picture of Geoff Crambie holding a Gayfare Productions poster advertising The Chinese Bungalow.

The phrase, awakening a nascent memory, could not have been more apt for I had a part in that play. Repertory companies depended on the box office receipts for their livelihood so to keep costs down there was only four players in the group. Obviously such a low number meant that for any play with a larger cast it was necessary to either double up or bring in help from outside. The Chinese Bungalow required six, doubling up was not possible so they turned to Colne Amateur Dramatic and Operatic Society for help.

The rehearsal in the Little Theatre had barely got underway when it was interrupted by the arrival of a heavily made up statuesque lady who I learned later was the leading lady of Gayfare Productions. Judging by the enthusiastic greetings which met her it was not her first visit. After embracing and air kissing some of the senior members, she announced that she wanted two young man to take part in a forthcoming production.

“Hold me tight. Squeeze hard. Hurt me. I owe it to my audience to feel deep pain in this scene.”

*Rob Prendergast,(not his real name) who had done a bit of acting before, immediately volunteered. I tried to hide as her eyes scanned the room but it was to no avail and they eventually came to rest on me. “You there. Yes you. You will do nicely dahhling,” she said.

My protestations that I had only joined the Society to help out backstage were brusquely brushed aside and we were told when and where to report for rehearsals.

Our roles were that of Chinese servants with costumes best described as that of coolies complete with long black pigtails, and if that wasn’t all, we had to wear yellow make up. UGH!

The play, which as the poster shows was at the Municipal Hall, was a thriller and included a scene in which we had to manhandle the leading lady to face interrogation.

It was first night and we were in the wings. Rob was at one side of her and I was at the other. I don’t know about Rob, but I was loosely holding her wrist and upper arm. As our cue approached she snapped, “Hold me tight. Squeeze hard. Hurt me. I owe it to my audience to feel deep pain in this scene.”

I was extremely relieved to learn that the play was to run for only one week so my spell as a reluctant Thespian was soon over.

However the story does not quite end there. Prior to the final performance I found the cast members sharing out the box office money in the leading lady’s dressing room. Great I thought. I only earned a pittance as a shop assistance so a bit of extra cash was always welcome, but it was not to be. “Sorry Daaahling,” she said, giving me her best sorrowful look, “but if we were to remunerate you, it would jeopardise you amateur status!”

ColneLife Sep/Oct 24