Emerald Coast Theatre Consultant

Many years ago, while I was working on my Masters at the Pasadena Playhouse, Lenore Shanewise was assigned as my mentor.  She was the woman who, in many ways, changed my life.    

Lenore was a mature, lovely woman who was a Christian Scientist.  I had had a brief encounter with another of that denomination a year earlier when I was preparing the “nose speech” from Cyrano for my acting audition at the Playhouse.   

Now, I do not consider myself an actor, never have and never will .   I never wanted to be one and have never labored under an illusion that I was one for even a second of my life, but I did try several times to find out what acting was and how it worked.    

Anyhow, I was preparing that long, long, long jumble of words and working so diligently that it killed the spirit of the piece. It was just then that my coach, a woman not connected with the university, said to me:   “Let the character flow through you, Gordon, through you, not from you.”   

Now… hold that thought.   

After auditioning at the playhouse and playing God (over my strenuous objections, believe it or not) in an impossible and implausible production of Lilliom, it was decided that maybe I should try directing.  That was when I found out that the artistic management of the playhouse had decided that Lenore Shanewise was going to direct The Children’s Hour and Gordon Goede was going to direct Tea and Sympathy.   I did not know the reason that the entire playhouse almost exploded with the news.   Eventually it filtered back to me that Gilmore Brown, the founder of the playhouse, had banned all plays the dealt with male or female homosexuality since the start of the playhouse, but he was gone now and someone decided that Lenore and Gordon were the directors that were going to break the rule. 

Lenore was confident, I was not.   It was my first attempt at handling student actors and I knew that the school was watching. 

Lenore knew I was having misgivings about the play, which was at that time, one of the hits on Broadway. She invited me to dinner at her home where she said we could talk.   

It was more that she talked and I listened.   I did not realize until years later the incredible wealth of information she gave me that evening and how what she said would still, to this day, echo in my ear when something is not right on the stage.   

As I mentioned before, she was a Christian Scientist.   During “her talk and my listen” she said “not of me the through me.”  My head came upright, my eyes opened wide, my jaw dropped, and I said to her:   “I’ve heard that before!   Just a few months ago in Jacksonville!”   She laughed and said:  “We’re everywhere, Gordon!”   

I asked her the source of the quote and she told me it was from the writings of Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of Christian Science.  I asked if she had a spare tome I could borrow.   She did.   And I read it until I found the  exact quote:  “Not of me but through me, O Lord!”   

Now I believe there is a source for all that surrounds us, having been brought up a protestant and through many of the divisions of it from Methodist to Episcopalian to whatever  And I can accept another persons religion as well as the next, because it is theirs.   But “how does this quote work in acting” I asked Lenore.    

Fast forward to the two of us directing, she in a theatre directly above mine at the playhouse.    Both of us were having problems with an actor and we met over coffee one night to discuss.   

Hers was playing the boyfriend of one of the girls who was accused of having an improper relationship with another female teacher and mine was playing the husband of the woman who befriends and “initiates” the accused young male into manhood (it is supposed to happen after the lights go out).  

Both actors were extremely talented, sensitive men and at that time, this subject was not one bandied about with aplomb, but rather played with a hush-hush attitude at best.  The problem was that both actors were pushing and trying to manufacture something of theirs from the text rather than letting the words of the author come through them. 

How to solve the problem was easy for Lenore, not so easy for me.  I watched her direct her guy into exactly the place that the author demanded of him.   Not by pushing, not by showing off, but by slowing down and not trying to make the play and impress people, but making the moment and feeding off of the multitude of sources supplied by the script.    

One thing she said to her performer:   “Think about the situation, and when you have fully done that with the subject, then run the feelings “through” you and just “let them come out, slowly and without pushing” to show off or be seen.   The results were mind blowing.   What he did not say was more evident and more affecting than what he did say.

Following her lead was easy with my actor.   I only had to slow him down once and he fell into line absorbing what the author had given him. What an epiphany for me! 

“Not of me but through me!” 

Early on in my career I had the opportunity to work with the Cantor at the local synagogue.  His theatrical education was in the Jewish Theatre in NYC.  He told me that he had performed on Broadway proving it by hauling out a large tome, turning to a well-worn page, and, sure enough, there he was!

He was part and parcel of my theatrical education; a major source until he retired and, with his wife, moved North to the Seattle area to be near his children. 

I cannot imagine my life without his guidance, not only in theatre but in Jewish culture and, even more importantly, life in general.   If I had a problem with a scene that was not communicating to the audience, he would come in, listen and pinpoint exactly the problem.  He had the professional objective ear that anyone caring to grow and develop could count on to correct an incorrect reading or fine tune a bit of staging. 

I had the privilege and the honor to direct this man twice as Tevye in Fiddler On The Roof.   What an education that was, not only for me, but for the entire company as well.   He tied our rehearsals together like a neat package of joy every night and made the entire process of producing the play a thrill, making it a learning experience for all of us.  But I get ahead of myself…   

He was a board member at the theatre where I held at my first directing job. Shortly after I arrived there, he and his wife came out of our current production and he heard me ask one of the departing patrons if they liked the show.   I forget what they said, but I will always remember what he said:  “Never ask anyone what they think, Gordon.  It says more about you than they need to know!”  He invited me for coffee and a bagel the next day.    Now that was a meeting I will never forget. 

The next morning, we trudged out the back door of the temple, following the alley one street over to nosh a bit!   

Oh, my, how that man loved to share his knowledge with anyone who knew how to listen.   Fortunately, my nurses training had taught me to shut up when someone smarter than I was speaking.   I knew how to do that very well and came prepared with one of  those legal-sized yellow writing pads and several ball-point pens.   

He started out sharing with me how in the theatre, everyone in audience or anyone working on a production, considers themselves a critic.   

Why, you might ask?   I’ll tell you! 

Because the theatre is about human lives and relationships with all their various subtle and not so subtle aspects.  Everyone, because they are “living a life,” feels that they are wise enough to criticize .   With that, both he and I totally agreed.   

The real kicker is that what people might not recognize is that there is a difference between seeing a problem and correcting a problem.      He said to me something that has been my benchmark to keep learning and growing the years I have worked in the theatre:   ”Hear all criticism of your work, Gordon, but listen only to those people you know have the background, the education, the experience, and the talent to help you.   Do not let criticism from a novice or a self-appointed critic get into your head, ever.” 

So, after years of directing play after play after play, when some one comes up and tells me what they like or don’t like about a particular production, I smile and listen attentively, mentally recording exactly what they are saying, and, when they are through, I simply say:  “Thank you for coming to the theatre.  We appreciate you!” 

Now that doesn’t mean that I just discard anything anyone might say, but as I say to my actors when I am directing them,   “If I say or suggest anything to you, do not accept, blindly, my input into your performance.   Think about it, challenge it, agree with or don’t agree with it, but examine it in terms of what that suggestion could do to your performance good or bad.” 

Most actors do not want to spend time thinking.  They just want to feel.  And that is all well and good, but when it comes to criticism, a little thinking on everyone’s part is a valuable use of time. 

Now I could go on and on about critics and who they are, what they do, and experiences I have had with them, but suffice it to say that, in my opinion, a good critic is worth their weight in gold to the educated, talented, sensitive directors who care about a production and the growth of the actors under his wing who are going to carry the playwright’s work to the audience.    That is, after all, the job of the director, to get the play to the audience in the best possible condition he can muster. 

A couple of years ago we attended an amateur production.   At the intermission, mind you, the local maven came gushing up to me, almost peeing all over her feet,  asking what I thought!   And I swear I heard the Cantor whispering in my ear:   “See, that’s what you looked like!”   And I could hear my answer to her just as clear as a bell:  “If you’re happy, I’m happy!”   And she seemed puzzled by that response.   It was obviously not what she wanted to hear.   And I thought to myself:  “What history do you have lady that you are so insecure that you have to ask someone what they thought of the play?”    And of course, she didn’t want my help, she wanted my validation.   Poor, misguided woman!   I can tell you it will be a long day in hell before I would share what I have worked years for with some one so cavalier!