A love untold: Sharing hidden joys and sorrows makes Good Theater

Published in the Portland Phoenix

The daily tension of dreams vs. reality can be overwhelming. Some couples dwell inside themselves, holing up and committing to a fate — whether blissful or turbulent — completely tied to each other, with few friends or family members keeping watch, armed with lifesaving rings to throw to sinking partnerships.

Others retain strong ties to people outside the partnership, drawing strength, relief, and perspective from extramarital wisdom. Outside perspectives have helped save relationships and salvaged individuals from shipwrecked love.

Into this messy world, Good Theater brings Same Time Next Year, a play in which two married people seek refuge in each other, though their wedding vows were to others. The two, who meet in a chance restaurant encounter in 1951, devise a unique way to get a break from their marriages, and find some solace and perspective.

We follow the couple, Doris (Lee K. Paige) and George (Stephen Underwood), through 24 years of annual weekend reunions, as they explore each other and themselves (doesn’t that sound sexy?), and as their lives and worlds change. The story revisits them roughly every five years, making plain what would otherwise be incremental changes in personality and society, not to mention appearance.

Paige and Underwood are both excellent laugh-line deliverers, and alternate in the role of straightman to the other’s funny man. But the biggest laugh-getter at a performance last weekend was actually in Good Theater artistic director Brian Allen’s intermission speech. Apologizing for several technical glitches — not to mention the black piece of Styrofoam that quit blocking light from an exterior window and instead fell on the head of an audience member, Allen draw guffaws and applause with: "We’re glad you’re here to share our pain."

And while some of the problems stole a bit from the show, Underwood and Paige performed mightily, demanding audience members’ attention turn to them and away from whatever was going wrong. After intermission, all was well, and what could have been a distracted, failed set of climactic scenes was instead a wonderful romp through laughter, into heartbreak and tears, and back again.

Apart from the comic lines playwright Bernard Slade has supplied, the play depends on the connection between the two actors.

Paige and Underwood show their skills, transforming through the play from blushing, teen-like first meetings into the solidity that only comes with time.

They expertly marry humor and relief — the weekends they spend together seem truly a vacation for each — with phone calls from home, stories of the past year, and the guilt that racks them even as they try to indulge in pleasure.

As the relationship deepens, it becomes more than an annual one-night stand, providing each the comfort of familiar company and a simultaneous escape from quotidian stressors. They provide new perspectives on each other as they grow up together and apart.

It is in the fourth act, just after intermission, that the characters collide most spectacularly. In 1965, the newly liberated Doris is an adult student at Berkeley and marching and rallying with the best of them. George, on the other hand, is a year past voting for Goldwater and still thinks the nuke-the-Vietnamese presidential candidate was right.

Doris’s affable greeting that year, "Hey babe! Whaddya say? Wanna fuck?" is met with stentorian disbelief from CPA George, forcing the two actors to suddenly not rejoice in each other’s presence.

But it is in that same scene, as Doris gently calls out George’s fears, that we see the true power of the love they share. Unable to mourn a huge loss properly at home, George finds tears in Doris’s arms.

Five years later, in act five, they are completely different characters again, testing the range of Paige and Underwood — who are well known for their ability to play diverse roles.

Underwood shows gentleness in place of his former cold heart, even talking Doris’s husband down from a marital high ledge. And Paige has reformed her belligerent student ways, now running a growing business and finding power within.

Costume-designer Joan McMahon is also put to the test. George’s suit of 1961 has turned to a dashiki, just as Doris’s flower-child flowing hair and dress have become more conservative.

As we watch the annual confessional visits of this torn-but-loving couple, we share heartbreak and triumph, lonely bitter moments and sweet tender times. We exult in their mutual joy, hope they can keep the secret of their love, and our hearts break with theirs as time and life take their due.

A story of these two people’s actual marriages would be less compelling than the tale of their hidden romance. And yet we get that, too, learning about their spouses and families from their annual stories of the past year. And we remember that most important, though rarely spoken, promise of true commitment: "If you won’t make me laugh, just hold my hand."

Same Time Next Year
Written by Bernard Slade. Directed by William Steele. With Lee K. Paige and Stephen Underwood. Produced by Good Theater at St. Lawrence Arts and Community Center, through April 4. Call (207) 885-5883.

Backstage

• Congrats to the Camden Opera House for investing in their space, to make the historic building even better for modern uses. They have renovated the backstage area, updating rigging, rehanging lights, and replacing drapes. The stage is five feet deeper and the drapes now hide the off-stage areas from the audience. And for audience members, there are new climate-control and fire-alarm systems for comfort and safety.

Overlooking presidents: Contrived script too much for this one man

Published in the Portland Phoenix

Looking back across the street to the White House from a bus stop, Alonzo Fields (Larry Marshall) also looks back upon his 21 years of service as a butler in the president’s mansion.

"The ol’ house," as Fields calls it, is familiar ground. He knows every inch of the place, and every moment of its history, from its construction by black men — both slave and free — to the day he retired from service.

Fields, black himself, served four presidents there, in real life and in James Still’s play, Looking Over the President’s Shoulder, based on Fields’s memoir and his personal journals.

It is an entertaining play, exploring the more personal attributes of Herbert Hoover, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry Truman, and Dwight Eisenhower. It views the presidents as men, and judges them on how they treat their household help.

As playwright, Still collected a set of interesting tidbits about the presidents’ domestic lives, and used them to construct a chronologically choppy narrative. Perhaps it was meant to draw the audience in and heighten the dramatic tension, but it was disorienting to hop from 1941 to 1939 to 1940 to 1942.

He also uses Fields’s longing for music as a device that seems contrived at times. While Fields put off his singing career to support his family through the Depression, Still returns to the theme over and over. Still makes Fields seem a whiner who really would rather do something else than serve in a position of incredible luxury and privilege, sheltered from the bread lines and homelessness of the Depression.

Such an attitude is surprising, given Fields’s background. He is a grandson of slaves who speaks four languages, studied at the New England Conservatory of Music, and learned etiquette working at the home of MIT president Samuel Stratton.

It’s more likely — as suggested by the play’s final aria — that Fields longed for more time with his sickly wife, who spent most of her life in Boston visiting doctors. But most audience members won’t get that suggestion — the aria is obscure and sung in Italian, making it impossible to know what it was lamenting. (I was only able to learn that much by asking PSC staff, who had to ask around themselves.)

Beyond the play’s own challenge to belief comes Marshall’s acting. The role of Fields is hard to cast. It needs a black man, at least six feet tall and solidly built, who can sing with an opera-quality voice, do a range of impersonations, and memorize a two-and-a-half-hour show.

In Marshall, they found all that, including a man who has a very expressive face and can spin a good yarn. They also found a man who hesitated at a large number of lines — not just for the effect of an aging man reminiscing about his career. It seemed at times that he was struggling for his lines.

Marshall is also no butler. A man with 21 years’ experience butlering in the most protocol-conscious building in the entire country would not touch his nose with a white glove, nor allow a tablecloth to touch the floor, nor drop a giant piece of lint on the floor and allow it to remain there, nor shut a door anyway other than silently. All of these small flaws, repeated throughout the show, weaken the suspension of disbelief.

PSC Artistic Director Anita Stewart wrote to the audience that she chose the play to have its presidential anecdotes contrast with election-year scrutiny of presidential candidates.

And the play does offer fascinating insights. They include Hoover’s assumption that FDR wouldn’t run because "the American people don’t want half a man for president" and a Supreme Court justice’s prediction that the handicap would be made invisible to the public by FDR’s handlers. Fields throws new light on old stories with FDR’s reaction to the attack on Pearl Harbor — he called the Japanese "the little yellow sons-of-bitches" — and generals’ talk of a retreat from California to Chicago.

Fields also gives good presidential advice, showing examples we can only wish for in today’s political environment. Hoover was so rich he gave his presidential salary back to the government. Just imagine! Arnold’s not the only one working for free.

There are contradictions left untouched, however. Under FDR — who appointed a Klansman to the Supreme Court — the atmosphere in the mansion made Fields say, "It felt like the White House belonged to the people — all the people."

One piece of advice would be well heeded in by politicians who only act when forced by public outcry. "A good servant always anticipates the needs of those he’s serving," says Fields, who could be admonishing public servants as much as household ones.

Looking Over the President’s Shoulder
Written by James Still. Directed by Regge Life. With Larry Marshall. At Portland Stage Company, through March 21. Call (207) 774-0465.

Backstage

• A group of directors, actors, and others convened last week at the St. Lawrence Arts Center, because, in the words of Mel Howards, "We rarely ever talk to each other and we hardly ever meet each other." The group, seven panelists and 10 audience members, all voiced different aims for their work, but found significant areas of common ground in which to potentially cooperate. Some group members plan to attend the "creative economy" conference in Lewiston in May. Others may be planning to lobby the city of Portland for help. "If this city doesn’t have an arts policy, it’s in the Dark Ages," said actor Drew Harris, who urged the group’s members to get city help with space and funding. More meetings are in the works.

• On Tuesday, March 16, explore the complex issue of self-inflicted violence in a workshop performance at Portland Stage Studio Theater at 7:30 p.m. Admission is free, and there will be a short "talkback" with the author and actors after the show.

Surfin’ safari: Sampling the hidden treasures of community-access TV

Published in the Portland Phoenix

Tired of corporate "reality TV?" Me too. The remedy? Explore the local version. My South Portland home theater (uh, basement 19-inch TV) features the best basic-cable package Time Warner Cable of Maine offers. It’s called "Lifeline," and it comes complete with one TV Guide channel, five major-network affiliates, C-SPAN 1 and 2, two public-television stations, and 4000 shopping channels. Blah, blah, all of it.

To interest me, it has to be local. I don’t mean "We have studios in Portland" local. I don’t mean "We used to employ actual native Mainers until we sold to a big out-of-state company" local.

I mean so local it hurts. Raw, uncut, "I think I saw that woman in the line at Hannaford" local. And, in fact, the first face I saw when I turned on South Portland’s Channel 2 Thursday night was a familiar one.

There in living color was Al Barthelman of Cape Elizabeth. He was asking the South Portland Rotary club for a donation to help maintain and improve Fort Williams. And in the first five minutes of his plea, I learned something new about the landmark park: folks who look out to sea help pay for upkeep, Barthelman told the Rotarians. "The binoculars, you know. Every quarter helps," he said.

I settled back into the recliner couch, nursing my Labatt’s (party leftovers — it’s my chore to clean out the fridge). This was what I was hoping for. Barthelman had it going on. All the facts, the figures, his lines well-rehearsed.

The lighting showed his face clearly as he worked his way through a single emotion. Standing in front of the unseen Rotarian hordes, Barthelman evoked memories of fun times spent at the fort, lit my patriotic fervor with allusions to its past military grandeur, and above all, won the thunderous applause of the audience, and me, as he wound up his presentation with a simple expression of gratitude.

Suddenly considering joining a group whose symbol is a sprocket, I switched to Channel 4, the Greater Portland Community Television Network.

It bears reminding that these public-access stations are our birthright.

In exchange for co-opting public-communications assets for profit, Time Warner is required to provide equipment, funds, and channels for local folks to have our say, even as we drown in "content" about Michael Jackson’s role in the Princess Diana crash. (Is Ashton his alibi?)

Over on Channel 4, PowerPoint slides full of tiny print sped past — too fast to read completely. The slides’ topics included the Maine Association of Nonprofits, the United Way, and strangest of all, Cumberland County. (Does a geographic area really need to advertise?)

Later, on Channel 2, I got to watch an Air Force Television News report about domestic violence. "The Air Force has always taken an aggressive approach to the problem," the newscaster said. They’re so tuned in to "early warning signs" that Air Force authorities offered one couple counseling right away when "the problem progressed to the point where Beverly got injured." It made me glad we took over Iraq before seeing any "early warning signs" of WMDs.

I also learned, in a helpful notice from the Portland traffic department, how to push the "pedestrian button" when trying to cross the road.

Friday evening, I sat down again to enjoy the fruits of our local videographers. I found South Portland Fire Chief Kevin Guimond opening a new fire station. Not content to explain that now residents of the western half of the city might actually get some water before their houses burn to the ground, the chief called it a "wonderful, practical building."

Network execs had pitted Guimond against a self-promotion show on Channel 4, in which a vapid interviewer lobbed questions at Channel 4 program hosts. Asking longtime host Janet Alexander about her show, Healthviews, the interviewer queried, "You have doctors and experts and people like that involved?"

No doubt shocked at her simpleton interlocutor, Alexander flubbed her line. The script read, "Yes, you moron. It’s a show about health. You think I’d just go grab the clients of Portland Biologicals?" Instead, Alexander treated the probe like a serious question, helpfully explaining that people with "MD" after their name sometimes know a thing or two about sickness.

Channel 4 features two shining stars. One is No Hit Videos, in which a cameraman records live concerts of local bands and televises them, in case we prefer to have our music experience un-enhanced by body odor. The other is Shine, on which local artists perform in a sort of TV talent show.

It is "packed with talented Maine performers," said Jill Newman, the airy emcee who should be recast immediately. (Her delivery improved when she read directly from the index cards in her hand.)

Shine co-host Will Berlitz was no better. He tried to deliver a nursery rhyme about "Will and Jill," who went up the hill to have a tag-team wrestling match with reading teachers Dick and Jane. Did it fail? And how.

The show itself did feature talented Mainers, from the Hurdy Gurdy puppet show to Katherine Rhoda on antique "play-by-number" instruments such as the Marxophone and the violinguitar. There would have been more room for talent without Will and Jill’s insipid banter.

Other thrilling programming on Channel 4 includes the meetings of the Portland Water District, in which elected bureaucrats discuss things like "storm-water events," which is technical shorthand for "when sewage overflows into Casco Bay."

The PWD trustees got a good laugh from a proposal by the town of Windham to spend $10,000 improving public access to an MTBE-contaminated pond. The laugh came when two trustees asked that the project be "low-impact." For $10,000, they snorted, Windham could barely do anything.

They did not need to explain that while $10,000 would re-side my entire house and leave enough to repave the driveway, in a municipality’s hands, it was about enough for a single gumball at the supermarket.

This was high comedy, and after I got up from the floor — I’d fallen in a fit of laughter (or was it pique?) — I decided it was high time to change the channel.

Back on Channel 2, I heard from a spokesman for the Maine Army National Guard, who said the work of the Mainers in Iraq would "perhaps bring some vestige of freedom" to Iraqis. Certainly not the whole complicated democracy thing. And definitely no incendiary community television.

It’s not the economy: How a Portland movie-maker is helping unseat Bush

Published in the Portland Phoenix

With a restriction like "we’re not going to have any pissing or farting or burping in this movie," you might be wondering how anyone could make a film about George W. Bush.

But Matt Power, obeying his wife’s diktat, has set out to do just that. Working with Dale Phillips, a friend he met 20 years ago in the Society for Creative Anachronism — that’s the slightly loony but fun-loving group of folks who dress up like medieval knights and villagers and go at each other with double-handed battle axes — Power is melding timeless themes.

The story is one of a bumbling half-human upon whom falls — literally — a position of great power. This might seem boringly like The Lord of the Rings on something like one-quadrillionth the budget. Power has already anticipated that — and not just by adjusting the length of his work to about 20 minutes running time.

You will find in The Nine all of the familiar Tolkien themes — wise elves, capitalist Rangers, unionist dwarves, and "Democrats all sitting around the Rivendell Country Club," lamenting the state of the nation but powerless to fight the evil creeping over the land.

Except the evil is more like roaring over the land. And The Nine are the members of the Supreme Court of the United States. Robed in black, they wield great power without any viable opponents. They ride black snowmobiles through the pristine landscape of Yellowstone, which these nine decaying men and women, entrusted with the rings of lifelong tenure, reopened to motorized traffic.

That scene was shot last January in Mechanic Falls, shortly after Power finished a four-year effort making Throg, a feature-length movie about an "immortal idiot" who travels through time trying to escape his destiny — being eaten alive by a monster.

"We finished a feature film that holds together and has some really funny moments," Power says. He’s not waiting for it to succeed, though he’s submitting it to several film competitions and continuing to market it.

"We’re just going to be like pit bulls of persistence," making another movie with the experience he and the crew earned.

"For basically 35-thousand bucks, we all got a film-school education," he says. It helped that Power sold his house in the middle of production, to help cover the debt. He thinks the education was better than a formulaic approach to filmmaking: "You move your own lights" and learn "what doesn’t work."

Throg was filmed on a shoestring, with actors and crew working for a pittance, if anything at all. "In this project, pretty much everybody gets paid," Power says. "After you make your first movie, you can’t rely on goodwill anymore."

It’s still a cheaper effort than it might otherwise have been, because computers have made production easier. "We try to put all the money in front of the camera," Power says.

That puts the Nine — whom Power calls "the root of all evil" — right in the crosshairs, along with the man they installed in the Oval Office. "We all want to get rid of Bush," Power says.

He’s trying hard to remember that life is more complicated than that. "I want the audience to have to think a little," he says.

"There’s an awful lot of sameness in politics," he says. "We’re going after everybody," trying to get them to "snap out of it." Democrats take a beating, too, for pandering to special interests and for not standing up for their principles.

Co-writer Phillips says too many politicians make deals, not decisions, saying, "We can have this as long as I get my share."

The film’s set itself is an unusual place, with costumes and makeup going on in nearby corners, a dead bird (attention PETA: it’s fake), fencing foils and a miner’s helmet stacked next to oranges, and a key prop that looks remarkably like a Frisbee. (It’s the Seal of the President of the United States of America.)

As crew members watch, Shrub — Bush’s Gollum-inspired character — cavorts about in front of a bluescreen, one moment fishing for dinner in a pool of water and the next, well, you know what happened in Florida.

It’s Phillips who best summarizes the movie’s message of humor and hope, satire and scandal: "Life should be fun, but life should be interesting and you should have to think about it."

Phillips and Power will have you thinking about The Nine later this year.

Backstage

• The Center Stage Players, a theater company for seniors, will present a theater festival on Friday and Saturday, March 5 and 6, at 2 p.m., at the 55 Plus Center, 6 Noble Street, Brunswick. The group, actors, directors, writers and storytellers, will perform a group of short plays, many original works in development for the past few months. Admission is by donation. For reservations, call (207) 729-0757.

New racino proposal under investigation

Published in the Current and the American Journal

A member of the legislative committee that came up with a new racino law last week claims his fellow board members shut the public out of negotiations on the plan.

Rep. Kevin Glynn, R-South Portland, has accused legislators of hashing out the proposal in a locked-door meeting.

The proposal would allow Scarborough Downs to seek a new home in two years, according to Glynn, who filed a complaint alleging the meeting was “inappropriate if not illegal,” because it violated the state’s public-access law.

House Speaker Pat Colwell, D-Gardiner, said he takes Glynn’s allegations “very seriously,” and has begun an investigation, which will include interviews with every member of the committee. “This was a bipartisan mistake,” Colwell said. “There’s nothing more important than public access to public meetings.”

The proposal combines the referendum approved by voters in November with a request from Gov. John Baldacci to increase regulation of racinos, and a new proposal from the harness-racing industry.

Committee documents indicate it would give more money to the state of Maine for “administrative and enforcement costs,” give a percentage of the take to a host community – in addition to any independent arrangement a track might make – and give some of the slot revenue to the state’s two largest Indian tribes.

It would also maintain or increase the percentage of the take approved by voters to support harness racing, prescriptions for seniors and college scholarships; share some of the money between the state’s two harness tracks, even if only one had slot machines; and give part of the take to off-track betting parlors.

New shares of the profits
The bulk of the proposal came from the committee’s two chairmen, Sen. Ken Gagnon, D-Waterville, and Rep. Joseph Clark, D-Millinocket. Gagnon told committee members that officials from Penn National Gaming had approved the allocations, which would give the company 58 percent of the racino take.

If a single racino operates in Bangor, the company’s take is estimated to be worth $15 million in the first year and as much as $48 million by 2006.

Penn National owns the Bangor Raceway and holds a harness-racing license for that track. Penn National also has an exclusive deal with Scarborough Downs to develop a Southern Maine racino.

Glynn, who demanded that committee members end their session in Gagnon and Clark’s locked office, and hold their discussion in the public committee meeting room, thinks the deal would be different if it had been arranged in public.

“I would not believe that the end result could be the same,” he said. “I am hoping that the decisions that were made will be nullified” because of the alleged violation of the state’s right-to-know law.

“Basically, the committee is behaving badly,” Glynn said. “We’ve shut the public out of the process.”

Gagnon and Clark could not be reached for comment on the matter.

After the committee returned to the public committee room, Glynn and others suggested several changes to the proposal. Glynn has repeatedly asked his fellow committee members to prevent Scarborough Downs from seeking a new home, and wants any change to the racino law to go back to voters in a combination question that would also allow Mainers to repeal the law entirely.

Glynn’s changes and others were rejected, though some minor changes in allocations of racino proceeds were made.

“If it wasn’t agreed to in the closed-door meeting, they weren’t going to do it,” Glynn said. He said his complaint was not a result of the rejections of his ideas.

Money talks
In the complaint, addressed to Colwell and Senate President Beverly Daggett, D-Augusta, Glynn said he did not entirely blame the committee leaders and members.

“The (committee) has been under attack by extreme lobby techniques of Governor Baldacci’s office through his staff, paid lobbyists who outnumber the members of the committee and just about every other special interest group within the Statehouse,” Glynn wrote.

“There is so much money on the table” that the committee hearings have turned into “a feeding frenzy,” Glynn said later. Gagnon had at one point suggested a portion of the racino proceeds go to the state’s dairy farmers. That proposal failed.

The Penobscot Nation and Passamaquoddy Tribe had also failed their request that the committee allow them to bid for the racino contract at Bangor Raceway. They would get 1 percent of the racino take under the newest proposal, to compensate the Penobscots for expected losses in their high-stakes bingo operation, Glynn said.

The Passamaquoddies are also cut in, because committee members thought it would be unfair to give money to one and not the other, said Glynn, who opposes any cut for the Indians. The proposal does not give any money to the state’s two smaller tribes, the Houlton Band of Maliseets and the Aroostook Band of Micmacs.

“All this was supposed to do was regulate the slots,” Glynn said. “They’re taking so much heat from so many people that they had to go off into a locked room and cut a deal,” he said. “Now we feel like what the politicians in Washington must feel like.”

Colwell agreed that the committee is under lots of pressure. “The lobbyists have been so thick up there that it’s difficult for the members of the committee to feel comfortable,” he said. “I think there’s more Gucci shoes up there than you would find on Rodeo Drive.”

Rep. Gary Moore, R-Standish, was in the meeting that Glynn complained about. He said there was “a convergence of people” in the office shared by Gagnon and Clark.

“There certainly was no formal meeting,” he said. “I would doubt whether at any one time there actually was a quorum there.”

He said he is still interested in allowing the Downs to look for a new hometown that would allow slot machines, and said he is still finding support for that position among his fellow committee members.

“Nothing has been voted in; nothing has been voted out,” he said.

My bloody Valentine: Hellas no fury like a god scorned

Published in the Portland Phoenix

The initial rumblings about Mad Horse’s production of The Bacchae included a warning: Don’t wear nice clothes to the show. There would be too much blood. Admittedly, it would be stage blood, but the Mad Horses were considering issuing ponchos to the audience, Blue Man–style.

And there was a missive from director Christine Louise Marshall: Also the show’s costume designer, she was worried about "the challenge of hiding bra straps, the way men’s legs look in skirts, and how to wash all the blood out of the clothes. Plus a cast of 14, which is somewhat like herding cats, although they are awfully cute cats, except once they’re covered with blood, when they’ll be far less cute. January and February will be all about blood," she wrote me.

Now February is here, and there were no ponchos issued at the door to the Portland Stage Studio Theater — which one day I will call the Portland Performing Arts Center Studio Theater, but not until people know that the PPACST is in the same building, and up the same stairs, as the PSST. And not until the acronym for the former is shorter and cooler than the latter.

Suitably forewarned (and simply clad), my wife and I headed to the PSST for a nice Valentine’s evening of theater. With a small but full house, some quite clearly also on romantic dates — "Aren’t you brave," mocked Mad Horse artistic director Andy Sokoloff in his opening remarks — we settled in for the bloodbath.

(When given a choice of Mad Horse shows to sponsor this season, the Phoenix chose the bloodiest, most mind-twisting one of the lot. I had nothing to do with the choice, and have no idea if it sheds any light on the workings of corporate Phoenix-dom.)

First, there was a nice, slowish, Greek scene-setting first act, to begin this 2400-year-old play written by a prolific hermit/writer who was fatally dismembered by royal hounds, perhaps in fulfillment of some Bacchan prophecy.

A stranger visits Thebes — Dionysus in human form — driving the women mad and into the hills to prey viciously on animals wild and domestic. Clad in fawnskin and crowned in ivy, they celebrate the god of wine, nature, and theater. Worship of Dionysus, also known by his Roman name, Bacchus, included trance-like ecstasies and secret rites, which he taught his followers.

The women, a writhing, keening, hissing, drumming, surging band of eight, make a wonderful chorus, and their meaning was clear, despite the energetic drumming drowning out a few lines here and there. The group (Nancy Brown, Darci LaFayette, Lisa Muller-Jones, Jessica Porter, Tootie Van Reenen, Joan Sand, Reba Short, and Barb Truex) seemed truly entranced by their worship, which might have included some wine-drinking off-stage, as there was none on.

Pentheus, Dionysus’s cousin and king of Thebes, is outraged by "this obscene disorder" and vows to restore order to his city, and dominion of men over women. The king (played by Brian Hinds) has not a small measure of hubris, and refuses to come to Earth even when receiving a tongue-lashing from a blind, aged sage (Teiresias, played by Johnathan "J.P." Guimont).

Hinds’s Pentheus is a strong man, with a loud voice and the light touch of tyranny endowed by Euripides. Hinds and Marshall know the playwright — a fan of complexity and confusion — wants us to like this insistent king, despite his disrespect for the gods.

Pentheus is deaf even to his own grandfather, Cadmus (Chris Horton), who begs the king to go through the motions of worshiping Dionysus if only because the god is a blood relation and brings honor to the family. (See, blood again.)

In a confrontation with the god, Pentheus denies the divinity and wonders at the stranger’s escape from a dungeon. Dionysus then turns from his normal gleeful lightheartedness into an angry god, demanding respect or a sacrifice. Stamell — a Dionysus helped at times by the theater’s sound system — flips the emotional switch back and forth with grace, at once threatening the king and smiling beatifically at his followers.

As the second act begins, Euripides melds traditional Greek dramatic forms, turning the scene of foreboding into one of laughter and disbelief. The king, trapped by the god’s words, sets forth incognito to spy on the cavorting women. Hinds displays a youthful enthusiasm and a gender-swapping brilliance as he portrays a warrior-king worrying about the lie of his hem and the placement of his curls.

Much of the action in the play takes place off-stage, and is related by the messengers (David Currier and Burke Brimmer), who perform well the re-enactment of events first imagined millennia ago and never actually seen by anyone.

They make clear the recursive nature of a scorned god of wine: Not only does he bring great misery, but supplies the only true means of relieving suffering.

The maddened women exercise unwomanly — and ungodly — power and energy, routing men sent to subdue them, bathing in the blood of their slaughter. A messenger escapes, and must describe the incident to two Dionysian devotees still in Thebes. Currier changes character with ease as he retells the tragic story, and is later joined by a sorrowful Brimmer bearing home a bloody burden.

A gruesome death scene is left to the imagination — for which we can thank Euripides, who has done more combining words and imagination than any actors could do in person. The mourning begins as the madness abates and realization dawns on the women of Thebes, who include Pentheus’s mother Agave and his aunts.

The anguished lament of Agave (Joan Sand) is what first drew Marshall to this play, when she was in a college theater class. Here Sand keens her heart out, understanding what has occurred while the veil of madness was cast over her eyes and mind.

Cadmus’s farewell to a bag of body parts topped by a severed head is powerful and moving as well, grieving his loss and the fate imposed by a vengeful god. (Summary: There will be much call for wine in the lives of the banished Thebans.)

His final plea is one no religion has yet attained: "The gods should be exempt from human passions."

The Bacchae
Written by Euripides. Directed by Christine Louise Marshall. With Joshua Stamell, Brian Hinds, and Joan Sand. Produced by Mad Horse Theater Company at Portland Stage Studio Theater, through March 7. Call (207) 730-2389.

Backstage

• The Center Stage Players, a theater company for seniors, will present a theater festival on Friday and Saturday, March 5 and 6, at 2 p.m., at the 55 Plus Center, 6 Noble Street, Brunswick. The group, actors, directors, writers and storytellers, will perform a group of short plays, many original works in development for the past few months. Admission is by donation. For reservations, call (207) 729-0757.

• Head up to the St. Lawrence Tuesday, March 2, at 7 p.m. for a forum on the general "state of theater" in the region. Mel Howards is hoping to "develop a collaborative spirit among all those who value theater."

Saving the lives of unwanted horses

Published in the Current, the American Journal, and the Lakes Region Suburban Weekly

Cassie Fernald of Standish was on a mission. In January, she was calling farms and businesses around Maine, trying to find a place to house two dozen horses for a few hours.

She had no luck – people didn’t have the space, the time or the desire to help – until she called Hauns Bassett at Camp Ketcha in Scarborough. Bassett, the camp’s new program director, heard Fernald describe the plight of these horses and said he’d help. Fernald burst into tears, and Bassett “very nearly did too,” he said.

The horses were coming from Alberta, Canada, where they had been on a large farm, raised to supply estrogen to the pharmaceutical industry. Drug companies need estrogen to make hormone supplements for menopausal women. One way they get estrogen is from the urine of pregnant mares.

Fernald is part of FoalQuest, a group originally set up to help handle the “by-product” of the mares’ pregnancy – foals. The group links adopters from the U.S. and Canada with farmers who want to get rid of their foals.

Without the group’s help, many of the foals would be slaughtered, Fernald said.

The group has taken on a new mission in recent months. A medical study late last year called into question the safety of one of the drugs made with pregnant mares’ urine (PMU). As a result, demand for the urine has dropped, causing most of the farms to close or drastically reduce their stock.

The horses Fernald was hoping to unload were mostly pregnant mares, which would be adopted largely by people in Maine. Some horses in the shipment were adopted by folks from Connecticut and New York.

Bassett agreed to donate the use of one of the camp’s corrals, and to coordinate having hay and water on the site when the horses arrived.

The horses arrived Tuesday morning, after a 3,400-mile trip from Canada. People were there to greet them, and horse trailers streamed down Black Point Road for much of the morning, as adopters arrived at Camp Ketcha, picked up their horses and left.

Outside the corral, one spectator, whose friend is adopting a horse, said the gathering was like a meeting of “horse-aholics anonymous.”

“It’s such a relief to see them here,” Fernald said.

“We’ve been waiting for this for a couple of months now,” said Joyce Carney of Rochester, N.H. It’s her first mare from the PMU program, though she has adopted foals in the past.

The mare will be the 11th horse on the family farm, and when she foals in May or June, there will be 12. “I would like to fox-hunt her,” Carney said.

The group may have another shipment in coming months and is asking adopters to visit the Web site www.pmufoalquest.com to look at available horses.

The mirror has two faces: How to write double entendre

Published in the Portland Phoenix

There is an art to doing it. The approach must be soft and gentle, though the intent is obvious. Unless of course you’re thinking of something else. In which case its meaning is equally plain, but completely different.

Ken Ludwig has great skill at it, carefully constructing his characters’ words and actions to present two versions of reality: the one we think should be happening, and the one we know the characters believe their parts in. Vague words assume specific meanings and errors in judgment abound.

In Lend Me A Tenor, Ludwig has created a mad world inhabited by a John Cleese–like theater producer, a boring dweeb (who turns out to have incredible strength in his, well, you know), a mercurial Italian opera singer, an incredibly capable bellhop, and a gaggle of women who see right through the men, except when the men don’t get it either, at which point the hilarity begins. That’s right at the start.

The Portland Stage promo literature says the comedy hinges (ha, ha) on a door opening or closing at "just the right moment," but it’s fortunate that isn’t true. In fact, if it were, this play wouldn’t be funny at all. Synchronized door-opening, intended to move the action from one part of the set to another, is not a strength of this cast.

But only the promo-lit writer might care. These actors — the actual crux of this or any comedy — are wonderful, with movement and timing honed by long nights of rehearsal. They have immersed themselves, with the help of director Drew Barr, until they see the brilliant comedy of each moment.

It doesn’t hurt that the aforementioned dweeb-cum-hero (Max, played by Tom Ford) is familiar from two years as Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, adding a new facet to an old character, or that Aled Davies, playing the theater manager Saunders, has been heavily influenced by Basil Fawlty (and has played Scrooge, himself, interestingly). And they’re helped along by Ron Botting, as tippling womanizing Italian tenor Gary Hart — I mean Tito Merelli — who channels Governor John Baldacci’s physical mannerisms and Father Guido Sarducci’s accent. (As an aside, has anyone ever met a hotel bellhop (John Hildreth) who is both fluent in Italian and could play a wonderful Parsifal?)

The women are excellent, too. Janice O’Rourke (as Maggie) opens with a lip-sync number Milli Vanilli should emulate, and goes on to discover true passion in disguise. Barbara Mather (as Julia) swans around the stage like a good theater-board diva; Jordan Simmons (as Diana) hunts down her quarry but misses the final blow. Meanwhile, Michele Ragusa (as Maria) lays down her smoky blaze around Tito, lighting fires under Max and Saunders.

Other participants in the opening night production included a chatty, well dressed group in the seats behind me, who often had useful information to add to the play’s goings-on. For example, when Tito takes too much phenobarbitol in this 1930s-era play, a man helpfully remarked that the drug was "one of the first medicines." In the past I’ve inveighed against the surround-sound nature of performances at other theaters. I am glad to see that Portland Stage, no doubt mindful that access to theater is a culturally enriching experience, has not yet banned nattering nabobs from its seats. (Can’t plays, like movies, include brief mind-your-manners scenes before the main show begins?)

A note of caution for those who fail to suspend disbelief upon entering a theater: Don’t believe Max’s words when he tells you, "This is not an opera." Of course it is. Besides the obvious operatic singing from time to time (which is very well done), this play bears all the hallmarks of good opera, not least of which is the larger-than-life performance by an underdog who becomes the real star.

Another excellent indicator of the play’s true genre is the amount of alcohol consumed by the main character. Ron Botting downs a half-bottle of wine in about 10 minutes; blissfully, the next task assigned to his role is to lie still abed for quite some time. Nevertheless, he is prepared for a second-act Keystone Kops-like runabout. (It should be noted that those illustrious officers never had women like these. Seems they’ll toss off their clothes for anyone who can find the right note.)

The finale — a reprise of the entire show in under two minutes — showcases the physical comedy and illustrates the fun playwright Ludwig — and the audience — has with words, made notable by their absence in the mimed closing credits.

Lend Me A Tenor
Written by Ken Ludwig. Directed by Drew Barr. With Ron Botting, Tom Ford, Aled Davies, and Janice O’Rourke. Portland Stage Company, through February 22. Call (207) 774-0465.

Backstage

• Democracy in action at Portland Stage Company: PSC is asking for input on what you want to see on its stage next season. A short list of plays for your perusal is available at the theater, so go check it out and cast your vote!

• For those who say new or unknown theater work doesn’t draw well, you should sit down with Mike Levine, who has figured out how to get big audiences to come to unknown plays by little-known playwrights. In the I-hope-you-didn’t-miss-it department at the Maine Playwrights Festival this past weekend: Paul Haley howling like a wolf, Stephen McLaughlin as a short-order genie, Miranda Hope releasing stress and an egg, Michael Crockett wishing for pierced eardrums, and Suze Allen’s twisting look at incest.

Returning with energy: Mike Levine finds a sprout from Acorn

Published in the Portland Phoenix

The year 2001 was "a brutal, brutal year" for Mike Levine. The Oak Street Theater — for six years his project — had just closed. He then worked with Deirdre Nice and others planning the restoration of the St. Lawrence Church into an arts and community center. But construction ran late, forcing the postponement of the center’s long-awaited first show.

And tragedy struck at home. Mike and his wife lost a baby. He took time off, closing Acorn, a production company that had put on must-see shows in Portland in the mid to late 1990s. He almost brought Avner ("the Eccentric") Eisenberg and company back for a Phyzgig reprise in late 2001, but September 11 put a stop to that. He took time to think, reflect, heal, grow.

Levine and his wife now have a second baby, and though she was three months premature and spent six months in the hospital, she’s healthy and home. And with some real-life dramatic experience under his belt, Levine, a high school theater teacher in Sacopee Valley, is finding the Acorn he stashed two and a half years ago.

"It’s nice to be able to pick up old connections," he says. Portland hasn’t forgotten him: A fund-raising letter sent out in the early fall netted some encouraging donations, and a $5000 grant from the Davis Family Foundation. It was enough to put on a few performances of Phyzgig in December and plan a third Maine Playwrights Festival, on this weekend at the Portland Stage Studio Theater.

It has also started a new chapter for Acorn. "Right now I’m trying to be financially responsible," Levine says. When at Oak Street, the conflict between the artistic half of his mind and the accountant half was no contest: The theater put on "very nice productions of stuff that would lose tons of money." This time, with a new perspective, he’s changed his tune. "We want to make this a stable venture," ideally self-sustaining, without needing grants and donations, except to expand and innovate.

"Otherwise you’re on the edge of death," he says. Without financial support "you’re just building a house of cards."

He has retooled Acorn to meet a need he sees in the community, one others have also seen. "We’re sort of looking more to Acorn as a catalyst for new work," dreaming of using the Portland Stage space — both main stage and studio — to showcase new work, workshop plays in progress, and expose directors, actors, and audiences to the living art of theater.

He is focusing more on the logistics end of things than creativity, preferring to avoid that artist-accountant dispute of past years. "If I want to direct a play, I should job myself out," he says. He is directing some of the work in this festival, but swears that’s it for his artistic involvement with Acorn.

This production sprang from work Suze Allen, of the Amma Performing Arts Studio (the studio Acorn morphed into in Levine’s absence, now a separate enterprise), did with local playwrights and short pieces. "These plays are written specifically for this event," Levine says. The plays were not chosen by competition, but that’s in the cards for the future.

The closeness of the playwrights to the process has allowed a degree of artistic give-and-take rarely found in theater, Levine says. Directors can ask the playwrights what their intentions were, and for background information on characters.

"I love these kind of short plays," he says. "They’re short but they have a complete dramatic arc." The performances can begin with more intensity, because they lack time to develop their own moods.

"The first time the characters see each other you not only want to, but you have to establish a clear connection."

Among the plays are stories of a man who, after 34 years or marriage, plugs his ears with wax and finds he has never been happier; eggs who decide to seek their own sperm donors; and couples who face a wide range of challenges in life.

"There are no subtleties," Levine says. As a director, "you can make these sort of extreme choices."

They’re also less demanding of time and energy — and money. The previous two festivals Acorn put on were for full-length plays, where 50 submissions came in and three were selected and performed in full. "That was really, really hard."

Shorter plays may draw more people, Levine hopes. "There’s something about theatergoers’ attention span that’s reflecting what’s going on" in the wider world. The first question most people ask about plays is not, "What is it about," but "How long is it?"

He’s hoping brevity, intensity and variety will draw "the ever-elusive 28-to-34 demographic" into the seats.

The future of Acorn is a bit uncertain. With no long-range plan, "in a sense we are almost like a new company." He’s enjoying the freedom of not having a theater building’s overhead, while at the same time being "a little worried about becoming a gypsy company."

"This is kind of an experimental year for me," he says.

Maine Playwrights Festival
Eleven plays by nine local playwrights, performed by 17 actors, with three directors. Acorn Productions at the Portland Stage Studio Theater, Jan. 29 through Feb. 1. Call (207) 766-3386.

Backstage

• Check out the SPACE gallery’s present show, "Touch," for an audience-participation theater exhibit, including scripts, costumes and blocking. If you’ve always wanted to try acting, but never found a way, now you have.

Gorman appeals conviction

Published in the Current and the American Journal

Jeffery “Russ” Gorman has appealed his conviction for the murder of Amy St. Laurent, asking Maine’s Supreme Court to grant him a new trial. His appeal asks for a judge to exclude damaging testimony from his mother about the killing.

In January 2003, Gorman was convicted of the “intentional and knowing” murder of Amy St. Laurent following a night out in Portland’s Old Port and at a house on Brighton Avenue in Portland.

The key issue in the appeal is the testimony of Gorman’s mother, Tammy Westbrook. She testified at a grand jury hearing that resulted in Gorman’s
indictment for the murder. At the grand jury, she testified that Gorman had called her Dec. 9, 2001, the day after St. Laurent’s body was found buried in a wooded area off Route 22 in Scarborough.

In that conversation, Westbrook told the grand jury, Gorman confessed to the crime and told his mother something nobody but the killer knew – that St. Laurent had been shot once in the head.

During the criminal trial, Westbrook testified she had no recollection of testifying before a grand jury and no memory of any conversation with her son about St. Laurent. She also testified that she was receiving psychiatric treatment for delusions and post-traumatic stress disorder.

The prosecution argued that an audio tape recording of Westbrook’s grand jury testimony should be presented as evidence during the trial. Superior Court Judge Nancy Mills agreed.

The evidence figured strongly in the prosecution’s case against Gorman, and jurors in the criminal trial asked to see a transcript of the recording during
their deliberations. That was not permitted, but they were allowed to hear the tape played again.

After five hours of deliberation, the jury unanimously convicted Gorman of the murder.

He was later sentenced to spend 60 years in prison, following a prosecutor’s sentencing recommendation that claimed Gorman tried to rape St. Laurent and killed her to cover it up.

Gorman’s new lawyer, Chris MacLean, told the Current allowing the tape of Westbrook to be played to the jury was unfair because it prevented Gorman’s trial attorney, Clifford Strike, from confronting Westbrook about her taped claims.

The right to cross-examine witnesses is guaranteed in the U.S. Constitution. Westbrook could not be effectively cross-examined because she did not
recall making the statements, or any discussions regarding the case, MacLean said.

MacLean makes two additional arguments in the appeal filing. He says Westbrook should not have been allowed to testify at all because she was not mentally competent to do so.

He also says the jury’s conviction was in error, arguing that evidence presented by the prosecution was not sufficient to convict Gorman of “intentional and knowing” murder. The filing asks for the conviction to be overturned and for the case to be sent back for a new trial.

MacLean told the Current there may have been enough evidence, depending on how the state Supreme Court views the case, to convict Gorman of manslaughter, but not murder.

The case is scheduled for oral arguments before the Supreme Court in Portland on Friday, Feb. 13. A decision could take months.

Theater Project for everyone

Published in the Portland Phoenix

Theaters across the state say they want to boost audience numbers, to have attendees reflect Maine’s diversity — ethnically, socially, economically. They say they want anyone to be able to see any show. Now somebody means it.

The Theater Project, in Brunswick, has introduced pay-what-you-can ticketing, for all shows, all the time.

Will more people in the seats build a more vibrant, supportive community than a few folks with high-priced tickets? It’s a good bet: "Ticket receipts never support a theater," says Al Miller, the theater’s artistic director. "We want people to come see our shows, and we don’t want them to stay away because they can’t afford the tickets."

We can hope they’ll also score more grants for being an inclusive theater environment, allowing families, young adults, and working people of all ages to see quality theater without breaking the budget.

Sure, other companies have pay-what-you-can nights, but it’s a separate-but-not-equal feeling, and it’s on their schedule, not yours.

At the Theater Project, even their requested amounts are low: ranging from $6 to $15. But there’s no shame, and no problem, if you can’t afford it. Just pay less.

Start now, at the Winter Cabaret, from January 23 to February 8. Pay what you can. Then add a penny — literally — to that amount, to help support a theater that says it wants everyone to attend, and means it. Call (207) 729-8584 for reservations.

In the name of love: Parents should listen to children

Published in the Portland Phoenix

The busy streets of Chicago are broken by automatic gunfire as Romeo and Juliet opens, in this 1920s-Chicago version of the classic love tragedy. It’s the Children’s Theatre of Maine, but this production is for kids 10 and up. A mother and baby are among the first to fall as the Montague/Capulet feud heats up.

The story line is familiar: Teenagers fall in love, without obeying the constraints of social or family repercussions. Each must hide true feelings from adults, who will use logic to quash that which is purely emotional. The grownups, determined to have their way, make unreasonable decrees — at least by today’s standards — and force the hands of the lovers.

All the while, teenagers’ proclivities to make bad choices result in serious consequences for Romeo, and a sympathetic counselor must devise a complex scheme to rescue young love from adult rage. In one of Shakespeare’s classic twists, a vital message is not conveyed, ripping tragedy from the jaws of joyous reunion.

These actors — mostly teenagers themselves, or in their early twenties — know well both the fictional story and its real-life themes. Julie Civiello, who alternates with Alex Brinkman-Young in the role of Juliet, is sensitive and strong in the role of the 14-year-old lover, whose father thinks her too young to marry, until he meets the "right man" for her. Who is, of course, not Romeo (Mark Friedlander) but Paris (Adam Gutgsell), a powerful nobleman and friend of the prince of Verona.

Civiello reaches deep into her own heart, tugging at Romeo and the audience as she struggles between love and duty. The balcony scene is sweet, earnest, and loving, though tinged with the despair of those who know they must oppose their parents’ will.

It results in a beautiful mimed wedding ceremony with soft lighting giving the couple their moment amid the chaos of the family feud. The music and lights throughout the production add to the ambience, including a swing-dancing masquerade ball at which Romeo first truly meets Juliet.

The supporting cast is generally strong. Mercutio (Brian Hinds) and Juliet’s nurse (Shannon Campbell) are wonderfully ribald, playing to the base elements in the audience, even as the web of sorrow draws nearer about them. Some of the lines are hard to hear, however, either because they are spoken too fast or because of the acoustics in the Children’s Theater space.

Chris Gyngell (as Romeo’s kinsman and friend Benvolio) speaks too quickly for any of his lines to be comprehensible. It is a sad casting choice, for his devotion to Romeo is one of Shakespeare’s great friendships.

The choice of this play is bold, dealing with adult and teen themes together, mixing no small amount of violence, both physical and emotional. And yet, these are important issues today, as they were in Elizabethan times.

Parents still strive for what is best for their children, even as those children redefine their own dreams. Youthful rebellion can lead not just to adult-feared failure but also to child-hoped success, or at least a valuable lesson learned. Adults and children should communicate more openly, not hiding behind preconceived ideas or latent fears. The real burden of this falls to the parents, who must create an environment of open, loving honesty, not a charade of fear and obedience.

As a reminder stands Shakespeare: With young lovers poised on the brink of their future together, adults and the stars conspire against them, bringing all to grief.

Romeo and Juliet
Written by William Shakespeare. Directed by Pamela DiPasquale. With Mark Friedlander, Julie Civiello, Alex Brinkman-Young, and Brian Hinds. At Children’s Theatre of Maine, through Jan. 25. Call (207) 878-2774.

Backstage

• Carolyn Gage’s one-act Calamity Jane Sends a Message to her Daughter won the Boston Play Slam, on January 13. The audience chose the single-actor short play as the best of the lot. It was performed by Leslie Bernardini, who had also performed Gage’s play The Parmachene Belle in an off-Broadway festival early in 2003. Gage is raising money to bring both shows to Portland.

• Another reason to head to Mad Horse’s production of The Bacchae in mid-February: The Portland Stage Studio Theater expects to have new seating! In six months of fund-raising, actors and others put together $2100, enough to buy 50 new chairs, leaving 35 old chairs still to be replaced, at a cost of about $1500, plus shipping. Be sure to thank the cast and crew of The Food Chain and Wicked for their efforts.

McKenney running for state Senate

Published in the Current and the American Journal

Paul McKenney of Scarborough, who recently moved to town from Cape Elizabeth, is running for state Senate as a Republican and hopes to challenge Democrat incumbent Lynn Bromley in November’s general election.

He does not know of any other Republican running for the seat, which represents Cape Elizabeth, South Portland and part of Scarborough, but may have to face a primary runoff in June if any others put their names in.

McKenney calls himself a “moderate Republican,” saying he is “pro-environment, pro-jobs and pro-family,” and wants Maine to “be more fiscally prudent.”

McKenney will be running a “clean campaign” under Maine’s clean elections law, which requires him to get 150 people to donate $5 to his campaign. In exchange for agreeing not to accept large donations from private supporters, McKenney gets access to state funds to run his campaign. If he is opposed in both a primary and the general election, he could get as much as $23,000 in state funds, plus additional money if his opponents spend more than his limit.

“I am running because of what I see happening in the state of Maine, and I want to make a difference, and I know I can,” he said.

“I’ve always had an interest in public service,” he said. “I’ve served the public for many years in the military.”

He is now co-owner, with his wife, and president of Dirigo Financial Group, a financial planning company in Cape Elizabeth. McKenney is also a major in the Maine Army National Guard. He served nine years as an Army aviator and has been in the Guard for six years.

He has military and civilian university training in leadership and management and is active in the Pine Tree Council of the Boy Scouts of
America, Rotary and the Greater Portland Chamber of Commerce.

He wants to improve Maine’s business environment and lessen the tax burden.

“It should not be an arduous task to open a business and to run a business,” he said. In particular, businesses often have to fill in several state-required forms with the same information going to different agencies.

Making Maine friendlier for business will help the state’s finances even as it helps residents.

“You cannot tax your way into prosperity. You have to grow your way into prosperity,” he said.

Town and state spending are raising coastal property taxes “without consideration for the people who have been there for decades,” he said. “We’re driving these people right out of their family homes.”

McKenney has a general guideline: “Every time we pass legislation we need to keep in mind Maine families,” considering how laws affect workers’ ability to earn a living.

He also has some specific ideas: “I think our tourism industry could grow 10 times,” he said. The state should spend more money promoting tourism, because money tourists spend stays in the state.

State program spending should focus on areas where dollars are proven to yield results, such as early childhood education.

The state should not spend money on building schools in towns with small growth and should consider privatizing some services.

“It’s not the public sector’s job to do everything for everybody,” McKenney said.

Another way to save money could be the impending retirements of many state employees, he said. As they leave, the state should analyze the services it provides and “realign these jobs, realign these departments,” without laying people off.

The Republican county caucus will be held Saturday, Feb. 28, at Southern Maine Community College. If there needs to be a primary, the vote would be held in June.

Maine RX Plus launches amidst protest

Published in the Current and the American Journal; co-written with Kate Irish Collins

Despite a much-hailed launch, a new state prescription drug program called Maine Rx Plus is not getting support from three pharmacy chains in Maine.

RiteAid, Community Pharmacy and CVS are not participating, saying Gov. John Baldacci asked them earlier this month to accept a reduction in state administrative fees and is now asking them to voluntarily cut prices of prescriptions.

Hannaford and Shaw’s, through their pharmacies, are participating in the program, which will allow low-income people to get reduced-price prescriptions when they present a state-issued card.

Wal-Mart has not made a formal decision about the program, but a pharmacist at the company’s Scarborough store said that if someone arrived with a card, they “would likely honor it.”

The program was launched last week by Baldacci, state legislators, the attorney general and activists interested in the issue. The governor hailed the program as making Maine “a leader in bringing lower-cost drugs to our citizens.”

Cardholders will be eligible for 10-25 percent discounts off brand names and 60 percent off generic brands for a wide range of drugs that are also listed as preferred drugs in the state’s Medicaid program.

Discounts became available on Saturday.

Pharmacies participate in the plan voluntarily and can opt not to honor the cards. RiteAid, Community Pharmacy and CVS objected to a proposal in which the Medicaid program would cut pharmacy administrative fees 40 percent. The companies said they will “consider” participating in Maine Rx Plus if the governor withdraws the proposed cut, which they termed “devastating.”

Prescription drug costs have long been an issue in Maine. After the Maine Rx program was challenged by federal regulators and then upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court, state officials reworked the plan.

“We have reconfigured the program to meet federal concerns, to integrate it with Drugs for the Elderly and to make it ready to coordinate with the new Medicare drug benefit when that program starts,” Baldacci said.

Maine Rx Plus will also use its volume to negotiate discounts from drug companies “later in the year,” he said.

House Speaker Patrick Colwell added, “Maine Rx Plus will negotiate lower cost prescriptions for Maine seniors and working families by using our buying power as a state. The Medicare bill Congress recently passed takes the opposite approach by forbidding the federal government from negotiating prices.”

“Until the federal government allows the bulk reimportation of prescription
drugs,” said Rep. David Lemoine, a member of the National Legislative Association on Prescription Drugs, “Maine’s Rx Plus model is by geography and price the nearest thing to Canada.”

To be eligible, individuals must earn less than $31,440; for couples it is $42,420. For a four-person family, the cutoff is $64,400. Program enrollment will be phased in. Maine Rx Plus cards will be sent automatically
to 73,000 Maine residents, who had participated in the now defunct Healthy
Maine program, which was halted by the federal government in December 2002. Others who may qualify can apply for a card by calling 1-866-Rx-Maine (1-866-796-2463).

Legislature to debate slots at non-profits

Published in the Current and the American Journal

Local lawmakers who voted in June to allow slot machines at VFW halls, Eagles lodges, and other veterans’ and civic organizations may be changing their minds.

In a June 3 vote on a bill that could come back to the Legislature as early as next week, all of the local Democrats in the Maine House of Representatives, and half of the local Republicans, voted in favor of installing up to five slot machines at veterans’ halls and lodges of nonprofit civic organizations.

The machines would accept a maximum bet of $5 and make maximum payouts of $1,250. Of the money the machines took in, 80 percent would be
returned to bettors, who would have to be over 21 and either members or guests of the organization – not the public.

Of the rest of the money, 75 percent would go to the organization hosting the machine, 2 percent would go to a statewide problem-gambling treatment fund, 2 percent to state regulatory expenses and the rest would be divided between statewide revenue sharing and payments directly to the town hosting the machines.

How they voted
Voting in favor were Janet McLaughlin, D-Cape Elizabeth, Larry Bliss, D-South Portland and Cape Elizabeth, Chris Barstow, D-Gorham, Ron Usher, D-Westbrook, Bob Duplessie, D-Westbrook, Louis Maietta, R-South Portland, Gary Moore, R-Standish, and House Republican Leader Joseph Bruno, R-Windham and Raymond.

Voting against it were Kevin Glynn, R-South Portland, Harold Clough, R-Scarborough and Gorham, Philip Cressey, R-Casco, Naples, and Sebago, and David Tobin, R-Windham. Darlene Curley, R-Scarborough, was not present for the vote.

Now some who voted in the favor of the slots are changing their minds.

“My position right now would be against any expansion of gambling,” said Barstow. Saying he had learned more about the gambling industry and heard more from constituents since June, “it’s best that we try to cut back gambling,” not expand it, he said.

Usher said he didn’t know why he voted to allow slot machines at veterans’ halls and lodges for other civic organizations in June and didn’t know how he would vote if it were included as part of new gambling legislation this session. “I want to get some more details on that,” said Usher.

He did say, however, that he was concerned that with the new smoking ban in bars, bar patrons may already be headed for halls and lodges of civic organizations.

Adding slot machines would be another draw to bring people into those establishments.

“What a change in environment,” said Usher. “Are we getting minicasinos?”

Duplessie said he had not changed his mind and still supports regulating slots at the organizations. With over 1,000 illegal slot machines operating in the state, he said government should regulate them and get a share of the take. “People are going to gamble,” he said.

Bliss said he did not recall the June vote, and would have expected himself to vote against it. (A House roll call shows him supporting it.)

Bliss said he would oppose the issue now. “I don’t think slot machines are the answer,” he said. “Economic development doesn’t come from slot machines.”

Glynn, who voted against it in June and said he would do so again, remembered the June vote and the 90-minute debate on the issue that preceded it. He was surprised that some legislators said they didn’t remember. “Any bill that comes out as a divided bill that we debate, I know how I voted,” Glynn said.

Back before committee
The bill passed the House by a vote of 84-53, and went to the Senate, which did not take a vote.

Instead, the Senate sent it back into a legislative committee to review after the statewide Nov. 4 racino and casino referendum votes.

Now the Legal and Veterans Affairs Committee, which has jurisdiction over gambling legislation, is sending the proposal back to the House.

The changes could allow slot machines at veterans and non-profit organizations, as well as off-track betting parlors, while simultaneously regulating slot machines at harness racetracks. The changes could also consolidate regulations on high-stakes bingo, beano and the state lottery, according to Rep. Moore, the ranking minority member of the committee.

The request for slot machines came from veterans organizations and other civic groups, Moore said. “Usually, there’s not a lot of agonizing when, for whatever reason, a veterans group comes forward and asks for something.”

The groups pointed out their civic activities and told the committee they needed more money to do more work.

“Basically, they were saying, ‘we’re dying off because of old age, and we need a new revenue stream,’” Moore said.

He supported it in the committee and in the House vote, in part, because “there are a lot of places that it’s already happening.”

Gaming already exists
Maine State Police records indicate that 14 organizations have licenses to operate bingo, beano and other games of chance – including video poker. Most of them are for bingo or beano, though state records don’t differentiate between types of licenses.

Westbrook’s 32 licensed organizations include the Holy Name Society, granges, Knights of Columbus halls, veterans organizations, sports boosters, Little League and the fire department.

Windham’s eight licenses are held by the Rotary Club, three fire companies, the Lake Pine Association, the Lake Region Eagles, Maine Junior Chamber of Commerce and the Msgr. William Cunneen Knights of Columbus.

Scarborough’s 14 licensed organizations include the VIP Bingo hall on Route 1, as well as Bayley’s Camping Resort, the Higgins Beach Association, St. Maximilian Kolbe Parish, the Scarborough Chamber of Commerce and the Scarborough Athletic Boosters.

A license for the Loyal Order of Moose to operate a game of chance called “pull tabs” was approved by the Town Council Nov. 19, but has not yet been sent to the state, according to Moose lodge administrator, Bob Lerman.

The game involves tickets similar to scratch lottery tickets, but instead of scratching to win, you peel back a perforated tab to uncover the results. The Moose would use the roughly $800 it would make for every 4,000 tickets sold to add to their charitable donations, which total about $6,000 a year, Lerman said.

Glynn, who also serves on the Legal and Veterans Affairs Committee, fears allowing the slot machines will create “little minicasinos of up to five slot machines per establishment.”

He said the state law would prevent towns from increasing regulations after the law passed. Town councils will have to approve the slot licenses the same way they now approve liquor licenses, but organizations will be able to appeal to a state regulator if the town denies a license. That would effectively allow the town’s decision to be overruled.

“A town would have to preemptively block it,” Glynn said. “If towns do nothing and this law passes, they will have slot machines.”

Look up: And see what's going on in the air around you

Published in the Portland Phoenix

Victims of domestic violence are in your neighborhood, possibly even next door. We picture them in urban settings, poorer families, where alcohol or drugs are problems. And the victims are there. But they are also in more affluent communities, suburban neighborhoods.

Why do we have the picture we do? Because "the majority of times the cops show up, it’s not the wife who calls," says Michael Cruz, a USM sociology professor who studies domestic violence. Someone else overhears the altercation, and calls for help. Suburbanites buy "peace and quiet." If they’re abusers, they also buy privacy — nobody to overhear the screams, the crashing furniture.

Let’s think about a few numbers — just briefly, I promise. According to people who know these things, 60,000 women in Maine are victims of domestic violence. That’s one in 10 women.

Pictured another way, if you’re in a supermarket line on an average evening, picking up a few things before heading home, you would hear between three and five voices pipe up if you called out, "anyone here been abused at home?" That’s if you had the courage to ask and they had the courage to answer, of course.

Mostly likely, though, you wouldn’t hear a sound. Like Elysia (Tara Smith) in Sean Demers’s new play Dreams of Elysia, victims are scared to speak up. And it’s our fault — yours and mine.

After a recent performance of the play, a group of panelists held a discussion with the cast and audience about domestic violence. On the panel were several local experts in studying the problem or helping victims. In the cast, at least one abuse victim (he openly discussed it). In the audience sat another, near tears as she described her upper-middle-class upbringing, learning only later in life that she and her mother and her siblings had all been abused. She asked the experts why her mother wouldn’t leave.

The most revealing answer was not their explanation, saying it’s often the abuser’s brain-washing, telling her no one will believe her. It wasn’t even the play’s beautiful illustration that love is present in abusive relationships, tying victims’ hearts to their tormentors, giving them hope that things will change, as all lovers dream of Elysium.

The best answer came from Michael T. Toth, who played James, the gone-but-not-at-all-forgotten domestic abuser in the play: Society tells women it’s disgraceful to be in an abusive relationship. We say, tacitly or even directly, "You should be strong enough to walk away."

Battered in body and spirit, these women are not as strong as we righteously demand. Most of us don’t say to them, "I will help you be strong enough to walk away." Instead, when they start to come clean to the world about the nightmare they live in private, we blame them into further silence.

No wonder nobody in the supermarket answers your call. They’re all expecting you to abuse them further. "You knew it would happen again," you’ll point out, unwilling to listen to their explanation that maybe they did, you’re right, but they also hoped it wouldn’t. They hoped the magic moments would return, when he was happy and loving and kind, like it used to be, like it still sometimes is.

Demers, a young playwright finishing a theater degree at USM, expanded the play from a one-act. "When I first wrote the play, [domestic violence] was kind of this subtext," he says. During revision, "it became clear that domestic abuse was more than just a subtext. It was the driving force."

Elysia’s relationship with James is over, but not gone. ("Battered women are always looking over their shoulder," says a crisis counselor.) And in fact, there he is, on the stage, as Elysia tries to break free, seeking a new life, rebirth.

When they fall in love, she learns, two people surrender control to each other. "The control is just waiting around to be picked up," a character says. Sometimes one of the pair picks up too much, and is able to use love as a weapon. This is abuse.

Elysia re-establishes an old friendship, tries to avoid the helping feelers from society, in the form of a condescending, superior nurse (Marita Kennedy-Castro) who offers a way out.

But she stays in the apartment she shared with James for eight years, its battered furniture, askew doors, and picture frames silent witnesses to the maelstrom. And she visits him in the hospital, where she reprises her weak, supplicant role, even as he lies unconscious, unable to move or speak.

Elysia tells Anna (Erika Silverman) a little bit about her abuse, but like the others in the supermarket lines, is silent when questioned directly. Even when she meets Isidore (his nickname is better: "Izzy," or "Is he?"), she is subdued. Demers’s dialogue gets at the root of the issue, probing and stretching to show the audience how far Elysia will go to avoid truth.

Perhaps the best review of the play came from a member of the audience, who talked about her concern over the issue, but her wariness of being forced to look too closely before she is ready. This play, she said, allows communication and connection between audience members and victims — allows people to see into that world — without being uncomfortable.

"I would like a lot of people to see this," she said.

Dreams of Elysia
Written and directed by Sean Demers. With Tara Smith, Caleb Wilson, and Michael T. Toth. Two Lights Theatre Ensemble, at the St. Lawrence Arts and Community Center, through January 17. Call (207) 839-9819.

Backstage

• On the night of January 16, the youth theater ensemble at the Schoolhouse Arts Center at Sebago Lake, will perform Ayn Rand’s Night of January 16th, a courtroom drama in which the audience plays the role of the jury. Call (207) 642-3743 for tickets to the performance, by young actors, aged 10 to 20. (It will also be performed the night of January 17.)

• The Schoolhouse folks are also looking for actors who want to be in a new group of daytime actors, to rehearse and perform during the day for senior and community groups. All are welcome, "if you are old enough to vote and have a sense of humor." If you’re up for it — and can be awake in time for 10 a.m. rehearsals, call Gayle Clarke at (207) 892-4461.

Kids swap experience at laptop conference

Published in the American Journal

Over 300 middle school students and teachers gathered at Gorham Middle School on Saturday to explore ways schools can take better advantage of the state’s laptop computer initiative and to get a glimpse of the future.

A conference for the middle school students, who are on “iTeams” - groups of computer-savvy kids who help students and teachers alike with day-to-day classroom computing problems - the event taught kids not only how to do their in-school “jobs” better, but also how they can learn more through technology than would otherwise be possible.

Among the attendees were students from Westbrook, Gorham, Windham, Cape Elizabeth and SAD 6. The Cape and Gorham kids gave presentations on how their iTeams work, illustrating different ways they could meet similar needs.

Cape’s iTeam members are numerous enough that as students rotate with their normal class schedules, at least one iTeam member ends up in each classroom almost all the time. The students said they are available during class to help their fellow students and even teachers, who have problems with the laptops.

The team is also open to anyone interested in joining. “If they’re joining the iTeam, it’s because they want to know more,” said one student after the presentation.

By contrast, Gorham’s “tech team” members have hall passes and can be called out of their own classes to solve problems in other rooms. The team members talked about how they became members, often by application, or by being handpicked by teacher Tia Lord.

They have regular meetings and test out new software before other students are allowed to use it.

Members of the group dressed in their school colors and were available on a rotating basis throughout the conference, helping presenters and attendees use the school’s wireless computer network.

Students’ reactions
Students from local schools said they got a lot out of the conference. From Bonny Eagle Middle School, one student said she had learned a number of new troubleshooting skills. At lunch time, two other girls were looking forward to an upcoming session called “Let’s Chat,” helping students and teachers understand how to use Internet “chat” programs to enhance education, while keeping in mind Internet safety guidelines.

From Wescott Junior High School, student Brielle Merrifield said she had learned new stretches and important information about ergonomics while using the laptops, to avoid repetitive stress injuries. Student Spencer Graham said, “Coming here is probably going to help us and help other kids.”

From Cape Elizabeth, students said they saw important differences between the policies governing their use of the laptops, and the policies of other schools.

“I like how we get to take our laptops home,” said one student. Many other schools don’t allow students to leave school with the laptops.

Another student wanted administrative privileges for his laptop, to enable him to learn more about the computer system.

A third student not only learned practical skills – “how you can use a camcorder to make animations that are pretty smooth” – but also attended a presentation by Jen Gagne, a freshman at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

There, he learned that MIT students are being issued laptops too, though only one computer for every three students, and use some of the same software Maine’s middle-schoolers are using.

MIT students also submit homework assignments electronically, just like many of the state’s seventh- and eighth-graders. “These skills are essential,” Gagne said.

Technology projects
Other presentations explored the possibilities of laptop-enabled learning. Scarborough teacher Jim Doane showed other teachers how to plan an iMovie project, from organizing information before filming, through to filming and on-computer video editing. He used his own class work as examples, showcasing student-made videos on health issues.

After doing research projects on health subjects, students worked in groups to create public service announcement-style television ads about the issues. One on suicide had a particularly stark image: a coffee table covered in pill bottles and pills, with a hand slipping away, down to the floor.

The Maine Historical Society showed its Maine Memory project, which is looking to partner local historical societies with middle school students to digitize old photos and documents. Having them available on-line expands people’s access to them and helps reduce wear by researchers, who now must handle the artifacts. The two-year-old project has 130 organizations working together, and they have digitized 4,500 documents.

Other projects include tracking lobsters from where they are trapped to where they are finally purchased and consumed, linking Maine lobstermen to diners across the country, some of whom have begun corresponding regularly, according to a presenter from the Island Institute.

Future of program
How much learning can actually take place using the laptops depends on how far the project goes.

It is in the second of a four-year contract, in which the hardware now in use by seventh- and eighth-graders will be reused for two more years by students in those grades.

The big question is what happens to this year’s eighth-graders, when they get to high school and are forced to return to working with papers and pencils, rather than electronic documents.

“We actually will be making a bigger divide than we started with,” said Bette Manchester, who supervises the laptop project for the state Department of Education. Some state money may become available to help poorer districts afford laptops for their high schools, but many districts are already exploring buying their own machines.

Apple Computer has put together a package by which every Maine family with a child in public school can get a discount on purchasing their own Apple computer, according to Shaun Meredith, Apple’s manager of the laptop project.

School districts also qualify for a four-year lease at $1 per computer per day, if they want to buy their own computers.

One district many are looking to for insight about the future of laptops is Guilford. A small town north of Augusta, it got a private grant in 1999 to begin installing laptops in its middle school. When those students left the middle school, “they went to the high school and lost their machines,” said Crystal Priest, the schools’ technology coordinator. “It just killed them.”

Parents were in an uproar as well, because the laptops had improved student attendance, discipline and academic performance, even in a district with historically low per-pupil spending, Priest said. “It just opens up resources you wouldn’t believe.”

Last year, the schools got a grant to give each high school student a laptop. “The teachers were overwhelmed when we first started,” with only three days of training in the summer to prepare them.

Now, in the second year of the high school effort, “we couldn’t go back to teaching without them.”

In addition to curriculum-expanding work, like a planned collaboration with a school in Thailand, “the kids that normally struggle” are doing better in all their classes, discipline referrals are down 50 percent at the high school and attendance is up. A manufacturing technology teacher instructs students on how to repair hardware.

“It’s just been incredible,” Priest said.

Nobody’s doing it: What if you wanted to make a living as an actor in Southern Maine?

Published in the Portland Phoenix

Maine’s theaters and theater audiences depend, more than anything else, on the willingness of good actors to work for little or no pay. Without the actors, there would be no costumes or sets to design, no targets to aim lights at, no need even for stages.

No Maine-based stage actor is doing what non-actors might call "making it," at least financially speaking. "No matter where you live, it’s very hard to do. It’s the holy grail," says Caitlin Shetterly, who returned to Maine from New York about a year ago. She has done some acting work and is starting the Winter Harbor Theater Company, but relies mainly on her income as a freelance writer and radio journalist.

Even New York, she points out, is a hard place to make a living as an actor.

Lisa Muller-Jones has acted in San Francisco and Chicago. "I rarely got paid at all because it’s so competitive," she says. "I actually make more money here than I did there," though she attributes some of that to her increased scheduling flexibility here, running her own graphic design business.

"Being my own boss, I get to set my own hours," making her flexible for rehearsals on nights and weekends. "It’s probably the only way that I can do what I do," Muller-Jones says.

If she had a restaurant job, she’d have to give up the lucrative Friday and Saturday evening shifts to perform — after giving up weeknights to rehearse.

Christine Louise Marshall is dealing with just that. "What is living and working in the performing arts in Maine to me?" she emails. "It’s having three nearly full-time jobs, two part-time regular gigs, and any number (about three right now) of freelance one-timers (this is not counting the one I totally blew off last week because of the pipes freezing in my mother’s house, which I manage for my family . . . oop, there’s another job I forgot about.) . . . [Maine’s energetic and creative] people are maybe the real reason why I live and work here, although all the jobs put together only serve to keep me almost out of debt."

Perhaps the best shot for actors to make money in Maine is in community theaters, which draw huge audiences paying as much as $20 a ticket. They are cast almost entirely locally, and use large numbers of performers. And how much do those actors get paid, working hard in front of some of the largest theater crowds the state offers? Nothing. The irony is cruel for performers in struggling "serious" productions.

Several people are making livings doing "only theater," but none of them is a full-time actor. "Mostly, I think, those who are frequently onstage here teach or are involved with a theater in an administrative capacity," emails Muriel Kenderdine, who relies on retirement income and a job as a church keyboardist to make her ends meet.

Nancy Brown is on the "theater-only" track, teaching classes part-time at the Children’s Theater of Maine and adding costume design, set design, and stage management to her acting mix.

Even so, "it could stand to be supplemented by something else," she says. It has only been a few months, and already, "it’s been very hard."

"I don’t have very much luxury money," and could use a part-time job "just for the extras," those expenses beyond rent, food, and monthly bills. Like, say, going to the theater.

Daniel Noel agrees. Now 50 and a member of the Actors Equity union since 1978, he says, "I live hand to mouth. I could be totally destitute tomorrow, and I probably will be, after I pay all my bills."

In fact, it may be his Equity membership that’s hurting him. Equity rules are meant to protect actors from low-paying, exploitative theater managers. But when low-paying (though good-hearted) theater companies are all that exist, there’s no work for him.

What Equity work does come to Maine — at Portland Stage, Maine State Music Theater, the Theater at Monmouth, and the Public Theatre — is doled out only after national casting calls and auditions, again because of Equity rules.

"I can’t perform in any of the other theaters" except as a benefit, Noel said. If they wanted him, Maine’s small companies would have to pay him a minimum of $175 a week, including rehearsal weeks, as a "guest artist."

Compare that with how Shetterly describes her fledgling company’s compensation: They pay for tea and coffee, bottled water, flowers, and sometimes small stipends. "It felt like we were saying to them, even though it was a small amount, that we valued their work."

Or even that at Mad Horse, a long-established non-Equity theater company: "Everyone gets paid," says Muller-Jones. "It’s still a labor of love." So much so that "all of the actors that I know have another job."

The small compensation isn’t their fault. The donor pool is small, and audiences are, too. With low ticket prices — aimed at removing one excuse people use for not going to theater — the actors find themselves at the end of the line, waiting for what money is left after paying for rights to a play, set and costume pieces, renting space, insurance, and printing and mailing costs for promo pieces and programs.

Yet even with the pittance they get for their work, Noel still eyes small-company actors longingly. "I’m so jealous" of actors at Mad Horse, Good Theater, and others, "because they can work." He usually performs a couple of times a year at Portland Stage, in their Little Festival of the Unexpected and From Away play festivals, and in A Christmas Carol.

"I want to work in the community," but can’t. The reason? Equity. "Your union, that’s supposed to be helping you, and it’s holding you back," Noel said. "That’s ridiculous."

All the same, he hasn’t ever thought about leaving the union. The benefits — including health insurance, networking contacts, and recognition as a "serious" actor in larger markets — are too important.

He has had to work with producers to get around Equity rules. If they want him to perform on the cheap, it has to involve reading from a book — not a play — or must benefit some charitable organization.

Other Equity actors he knows have moved on to TV or film. Those still on stage in Maine get by with the same old tricks as the state’s non-Equity actors: They record audiobooks, appear in tiny films, do voice-over work for businesses, and travel to Boston or New York to pick up extra work.

Is there a way to fix this? Short of upping theater ticket prices — which could result in reduced audience numbers across the board — some local actors are already dreaming of ways they can make local work for themselves and others.

"Portland’s got the reputation now of being a workshop city," says Noel, where playwrights could come to collaborate with actors on plays-in-progress.

Shetterly sees Maine as a place that could be a "hotbed of theater beginnings," where budding directors and producers can "explore an idea without the kind of overhead you’d have in New York."

Muller-Jones and Marshall have done murder-mystery theme events for private gatherings.

Many actors here are growing and changing as actors and people, taking less money as a "leg up," while at the same time paying Southern Maine’s high rents. They are not whiners. All of them knew theater wasn’t a money-making business when they got into it, and stay in for love of the craft.

"There’s a long history of actors taking roles for less money because they really believe in the work," says Shetterly. But believing in food and heat and a roof don’t make them real.

"The actors that are doing their job should be compensated for that," Shetterly says. "It’s not an easy job — it’s a hard job. It’s a physical job, it’s an emotional job." Paying or compensating someone "says that you value their time and that it’s important to you."

Enjoying wildlife in a winter wonderland

Published in the American Journal

There’s plenty to do outdoors during the winter, even if you’re not a downhill skier or a snowmobiler.

Taking it slow – walking, snowshoeing or cross-country skiing – can be a great way to explore Maine’s winter and learn more about the wildlife all around us.

If you’re into birding, “the Scarborough Marsh is a good place to go,” said Phil Bozenhard, a wildlife biologist for the state Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife.

There are plenty of birds to be seen, including waterfowl. “Occasionally you’ll see a hawk or an owl flying around,” Bozenhard said.

Naturalist Margi Huber at Maine Audubon notes that Casco Bay is also a wonderful place to see all kinds of birds. “I think we forget what a jewel we have out there.”

You can take walks along Portland’s East End Beach, which has a flat walking path, often packed down for skiing or plowed. “You’ll see a lot of birds in half an hour,” Huber said.

If you’re lucky, you may spot a peregrine falcon that roosts on the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Portland and is often spotted near the B&M Baked Beans plant.

Another great place is Two Lights State Park in Cape Elizabeth, where “sometimes you can see owls and hawks” in the back area of the park or watch seabirds from the cliffs, which are kept clear of snow by the wind.

At Pine Point Beach, you can see eiders and even loons in winter plumage. “The loons winter on the coast of Maine,” Huber said.

On the Westbrook-Portland line is the Fore River Sanctuary, along Outer Congress Street, which includes trails for snowshoeing and skiing and plenty of trees and water for spotting all kinds of bird life.

Up in the Lakes Region are some other excellent spots for checking out freshwater birds. Behind the fire station on Route 202 in South Windham, “there’s an opening in the Presumpscot River” where a hooded merganser often hangs out.

“What you want to look for is open water,” Huber said.

Near the Gambo Dam, also on the Presumpscot, an eagle has been wintering there for a few seasons.

You may see other birdwatchers while you’re out on these trips, so feel free to ask them about other good spots. If you’re looking for a particular bird, check out Maine Audubon’s Web site at www.maineaudubon.org. It has a “bird alert” list that’s regularly updated with bird sightings throughout Maine.

Mammals
Birds may be easier to spot in the sky and because trees have lost their foliage, but some mammals are also very active in winter.

Many of them can be found along the sides of rivers and lakes throughout Southern Maine, as well as in wooded areas.

While the animals themselves may be elusive, winter is great for checking out tracks.

“A day or two after a new snow is probably the best time,” Bozenhard said. If the snow is too powdery, though, “they all look the same,” because loose snow fills the small parts that allow the tracks to be differentiated.

“It’s more interesting when you’re out there and you can identify the tracks,” he said. “It gives you a little bit of satisfaction in knowing what you’re looking at.”

Animals you may see tracks from include big ones like moose and deer, through coyote, fox, fisher and mink to small animals like squirrels, rabbits and snowshoe hares.

Some good spots to follow tracks include the Steep Falls Wildlife Management Area in Standish and Morgan Meadow Wildlife Management Area in Raymond, Bozenhard said. They have hundreds of acres to explore, including snow-covered roads and trails.

Guided adventures
If you’re looking for an expert to help you navigate and understand the winter wildlands, Maine Audubon is running several programs that may interest you. All require advance reservations, so call 781-2330 ext. 215 for times and fees.

On Saturday, Jan. 10, a family nature walk called “Surviving Winter” will teach adults and kids about how animals make it through the cold season.

On the same day, you can take a guided ferry cruise on Casco Bay to look at water birds, including possibly a glimpse of a bald eagle.

The following Saturday, Jan. 17, Maine Audubon is holding a workshop for outdoor artists, teaching not only basic landscape drawing techniques, but also how to adapt outdoor artwork to winter’s cold.

On Saturday, Jan. 24, a tracking program will teach everyone in the family
how to identify tracks and other signs left behind by animals. Children can make a plaster-of-paris mold of a track as part of the workshop. It also includes an outdoor nature walk to practice identifying tracks.

Also that day, a birding expedition will visit local “hot spots,” including
Back Cove, Willard Beach, Portland Head Light, Two Lights State Park and Kettle Cove, to look for a wide range of water birds.

On Saturday, Jan. 31, you can take a nature walk around Maine Audubon’s Gilsland Farm sanctuary in Falmouth to look at how plants handle the winter, and how to identify them in their winter disguises.