Tales from the Green Room 1984

Continuing this series of personal reminiscences of the Bench Theatre, unsupported by any documentary evidence other than my somewhat suspect memory, I jump five years from my last article and the introduction of David Penrose in 1979. We are in the year 1984 and after a few years in the wilderness bringing a family into the world and earning a degree in my spare time, I decided the time was ripe for a Peter Corrigan production.
I have always read lots of plays and I try to see as many as I can (although I can never do enough of either pastime). In 1984 I was much taken by the work of Peter Whelan, as was the RSC at the time. In particular I read his "The Accrington Pals" and was bowled over. I loved the play and had to do it. I felt the Bench could really do it credit by doing it well in our intimate theatre and inadvertently I also introduced a great character into the Bench firmament.
"Accrington Pals" is set in Lancashire in the First World War and is about the Pals battalion set from that town to fight. In fact, it is more about the impact on the town and upon the womenfolk left behind. The Accrington Pals suffered grievous losses in the War. The comment, "lions led by donkeys", about the flower of British youth and the First World war generals who led them, has long resounded in my heart and mind. The production would give me the chance to articulate some of those thoughts and feelings. I rarely direct plays as that combination of passion and intellectual stimulation are hard to find and to maintain.
The set was extraordinary and was probably realised by David Hemsley-Brown, who also starred in the play as the young male lead, Tom Hackford, an apprentice, nineteen. As usual the finishing touches, the artistic touches of the set, were applied by David Penrose, playing Arthur Boggis. An all black set it all became part of the black box of the theatre. It was easy therefore with lighting to portray interiors and exteriors ranging from kitchen ranges to cobbled market streets and the Western front. David's (Penrose) touch was to introduce the deepest red, so deep it was almost black, on to the black walls. Most of the time it was invisible but when you became conscious of it, it was always there in the background of your vision and consciousness. I had a stage manager who created the effect of smoky streets before the audience entered the auditorium.
The play is concerned with a love affair between Tom and May Hassal. May is a stall holder, in her late twenties or older. May was played by Nicola Scadding in a stunning performance. In fact the cast was one of the very best I ever assembled. We worked very hard in the rehearsals on the scenes set in Accrington and especially the ones before the Pals left for war. To this day I still remember the scene with Ralph in the tin bath. But more than anything I remember the scene between Tom and May on the eve of his departure. She was dressed in a whiter than white nightdress and he in his khakis. He brought a bunch of red roses with him. During what should have been a loving farewell, they quarrel as invariably they did. In a final gesture, Tom hurled a red rose into her lap before banging out of the house. Under the steely blue light and on that whitest of night gowns and because she was seated on a black stool, the rose landed in such a way that it looked like a bloodstain. The symbolism of that one moment could have been a painting and was for me the key moment of the whole play. It could only be captured under full lighting, costume and performance. We worked for weeks but that is what I had dreamed and its fruition was greater than I had ever imagined.
The men in the play were quite disappointed because I only rehearsed the trenches scene once or twice when the Pals went over the top. I did so because it was a beautifully written scene and once we had determined the Pals would charge up the central aisle through the audience and disappear into history, it was easy to stage. I also didn't bring the men back for the curtain call. Instead the curtain call was entirely populated by the women who opened their ranks to let through the cripple Reggie, a boy of fourteen or fifteen, the only surviving male. It was my attempt to say how we had thrown away the flower of our manhood and yet the strain was borne by women.
We were trained and drilled by the Territorial Army in the uniforms and weaponry. I had wanted to use a live pigeon in one poignant scene when Arthur at the front writes home to Annie, his wife (a powerful and heart wringing performance by Jane Hart) but had to settle for a fake one as the production was threatened with blockade by a animal rights group. I have the habit of riling people unintentionally as I go about my single minded dedication to the theatrical arts.
Finally I wonder if you have worked out the great Bench character who made his debut in that production? Well I was into the second night of auditions and was just beginning to jig the cast in my mind, when a stranger walked into the Lecture Room. I could have cast the play comfortably and usually I use the same repertory of actors when doing so. I suppose this opens me up to accusations of cliquishness. However, I was always more concerned with delivering the piece and getting it on stage than I was with developing actors. I spent my working days developing and broadening young minds and didn't want to do it as part of my hobby.
Anyway I was looking for someone to play the part of C.S.M. Rivers, a regular soldier in his thirties or forties, which believe it or not, is what I was back in 1984. The part is an important pivotal part as he is the one that induces the young men to join the Pals and rather Pied Piper like leads them away from Accrington to the battlefields, from whence they never return. Into the rehearsal space stepped one Peter Woodward, full of apologies for his late arrival and hoping he would still be allowed to audition. I believe he had been at a social or sporting event that evening and had imbibed before his arrival. Those of you who know Peter will perhaps recognise the state he must have been in that night. Now the original Rivers had been played by one of my favourite actors of all time, Bob Peck. (Have I told you about the three months I spent as an Assistant Stage Manager at the Midlands arts Centre, where Bob Peck was the star? If not, perhaps I should another time!) Peter read beautifully and caught both the martinet and the lonely man inside the uniform instinctively. I was able to welcome a new Bench member, who became one of those Bench stalwarts Mike Allen always likes to mention, and who would always be in any cast of mine if he wanted and was available.
I am not sure where this occasional series of Bench Green Room Tales will take me but I hope you will join me the next time.