I was asked to deliver the Keynote Address for BroadwayCon, a three day expo for fans of Broadway theater.  The theme of the Opening Ceremony was “Home,” and included performances by Susan Egan singing “Home” from Beauty and the Beast, Hailey Kilgore with “Home” from The Wiz, as well as Ethan Slater, Ben Cameron, and Anthony Rapp contributing other songs and an opening group performance of “BroadwayCon Today,” set to the tune of “Bikini Bottom Day” from SpongeBob SquarePants – The Musical.This is what I shared with the audience at the Opening of BroadwayCon on Friday, January 11

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Okay, I want you to take a moment to yourself to finish this sentence: Home is…. Blank.

If you even could fill in that blank and we all said our answers aloud there’d probably be as many different answers as there are people in this room.  In fact, there’s probably no other word that conjures so many meanings except for Love.

I’m obsessed with the word Home and have been since the years of moving from New York to California in high school where we kept switching homes to my various college dorm rooms then back to New York before two years at ART (the American Repertory Theater)  followed by a stint at Trinity Rep before moving back to New York where I blazed through several too expensive or rat-infested apartments which resulted in a period of 17 years in which I moved 19 times. I’m also one of the people who’ve made The Wizard of Oz the most watched movie of all time, and if you look at my bookshelves you’ll find one entirely devoted to titles like The Meaning of Home, Home: A Short History, Place and Identity: The Performance of Home, The Poetics of Space, The Zen of Oz – and my favorite poem is T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets in which he says “Home is where one starts from,” and sometimes at night to help me fall asleep I watch the show House Hunters which is about people searching for homes – and in high school I wrote a song called “Take Me Back Home” and in my musical Dream True, I wrote lyrics for a song called Finding Home – and last season with SpongeBob SquarePants I made a show that was ALL about home: SpongeBob trying to save his home, Pearl wanting to run away from home, Sandy missing her home but coming to find a new one in the community of Bikini Bottom, and Squidward who only truly feels at home with his name in lights on the Great White Way.

Danny Skinner, Lilli Cooper and Ethan Slater in “SpongeBob SquarePants – The Musical”

But what interests me most these days is not feeling or being at home, as much as missing home and the search that results from it, which I believe is the catalyst for great human activity and achievement across centuries and cultures. Home is both “our place of origin and our ultimate destination,” so its identity is two-fold:  the home we remember – which causes the missing – and the home we dream – which causes the searching. And the search is what brings us poetry and relationships and men on the moon – and Broadway shows.

When I was in my twenties, I was sick in bed one day and started watching the ten-hour marathon of a show called The Family, hosted by the self-help guru John Bradshaw, in which he led viewers through an extended series of exercises.  I was asked to close my eyes and recall one moment from when I was a toddler, age 3 or 4 – and I remembered for the first time being outside in the playground at our house, sitting on one of those toy horses with springs that rock back and forth. I remembered the sunlight, the exact angle of its rays as it warmed me – but most vividly I remembered the feeling: free, safe, at home. Then Bradshaw asked me to recall an image from ages 6 to 9. What came was a memory of standing outside the kitchen door to my house, and trying to get in as I always did, but finding the door locked. And again, I remembered above all the feeling: alone, confused, rejected. There were only several years between those two moments but somehow in that time my experience had shifted from feeling at home in the world to feeling displaced in it.

Now I, like most in this room, am beyond blessed to have had that feeling arise from a locked door, as opposed to the millions on our planet who experience it due to  eviction, deportation, exile, imprisonment, or destruction of physical homes due to natural disaster, war, or poverty.  But I do believe that, though our physical realities may vastly differ, whether we’re born into privilege or poverty, whether our childhood was happy or brutal, we all share at our core a kind of spiritual or emotional homesickness – a longing for Home.

What is this thing, Home?  Home is… Blank.  What?

Last night when I asked my girlfriend what home meant to her and if she’s experienced the theater as a home, she answered Yes, she felt that way in high school when she joined the drama club and, to quote her, “suddenly felt I had a place.”  She went on to say that, as an actor, she felt at home on stage because she could express parts of her self that she couldn’t express in her physical home – she could be angry or mean or jealous on stage, but not with her parents at home.

Is Home the space to which you can bring all the parts of yourself and not just the pretty ones? Is Home the space – physical or emotional or spiritual – in which you’re most dimensional and least defined by others? Is Home a feeling of safety – knowing you will be cared for and protected there? Is Home the experience of being seen and known and, above all, accepted – not only by others perhaps but also by your self?

Yes And. At least for me. The word I keep circling back to is Belonging. Home as the experience of belonging.  Belonging in a family or relationship or cast or, in the rare moments you’re truly at home in your own skin and the stars align, the experience of belonging in the universe itself.

But when do we ever feel this?  Maybe never or occasionally. But we all want to feel this right? Because on some cellular level we carry a memory of it within us already – the feeling of belonging and being protected in our first home – yes, I’m talking about being in the womb – the enclosed, dark, safe space from which we emerge… Sounds a bit like a theater, huh? Just saying.

So we go through our lives longing to return to or find for the first time this space, this feeling. And the desire for the feeling becomes the motive of our actions. We walk on roads and go on journeys and make art and make musicals and go to the theater and listen to cast albums as we search for Home.  We travel, we read, we find lovers, make families, build structures, create communities, tell stories as we search for Home.

Which brings me to the theater – the place we tell stories. Most often, stories of the search.

According to Joseph Campbell in The Hero With a Thousand Faces, there’s only one story – it’s called the Monomyth – and it’s told over and over in all cultures, in all times, but through varying specifics.  It’s the story we need to tell because it’s the story of our search for meaning, for wholeness, for Home. And the need for this story is what defines us as humans. It’s the story of Seasons, from death to rebirth, and the story of Night turning to Day, from dark to light – it’s the Hero’s Journey and it’s a story about going away from and returning back to Home. (Also, keep in mind, the “hero” may be a man or a woman, a child, a creature, a community…)

Judy Garland in “The Wizard of Oz”

It’s here we find Odysseus and Aeneas, Dorothy and Luke Skywalker, Ishmael searching for Moby Dick and Alice going into Wonderland.  It’s here we find most any show playing on Broadway right now, all versions of the Monomyth and Hero’s Journey: Harry Potter, Wicked, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Lion King, Hamilton, Book of Mormon, Kinky Boots, the list goes on. And here too we find in Broadway’s history versions of the Monomyth in The Sound of Music, Death of a Salesman, Cabaret, Man of La Mancha, The Miracle Worker, Oliver, How to Succeed, Thoroughly Modern Millie, Hairspray, Billy Elliot – I better stop.  (Of course the danger in our use of the Hero’s Journey template to write a show is that we end up with shows that are more formula than fresh… but that’s for another day.)

As audiences for these shows, we connect to something mythic and subliminal – the Monomyth provides the familiarity of a home terrain.  And when we connect with the specifics of story or character and are able to identify our self in the drama – when we see representation that includes who we are – when we see lost or hidden parts of ourselves brought into light with compassion or love… Then too we find Home.

As people making these shows, we hope for connection as well – to reach across the footlights and feel something back. And in the meantime, we put ourselves in rooms with collaborators we quickly call Family, we establish familiar routines (how we sign in, warm up, set up our dressing rooms), we operate in a space where everyone’s contribution matters, from the director to the props master to the second electrician,  and when we go into a theater, most anywhere in the world, we recognize its signifiers as our own: the stage, the house, its architecture, its shadows, its aisles and fly rails, its ghostlight…. These we know intimately though we may be in a foreign city.

So we make theater and we see theater as a search for Home, and often it becomes one.  The theater is home when it offers us familiarity and intimacy – when it offers us safety as we attempt the impossible and splay open our souls and expose our vulnerabilities and fall on our faces only to discover it’s all okay – It’s okay to do that here. The theater is home when it’s a space where ALL, including the me riddled with shame or doubt or self-loathing, yes ALL, including neurotic me and lonely me and bullied me and isolated me, are welcome. When ALL are welcome.

Today I ask that we continue to share and expand this home of the theater – that we offer to others, not in this room, the refuge and comfort that we’ve all surely found here at times.

May Broadway be a home for an ever-larger family of theater-makers of every race, class, religion, country of origin, immigration status, (dis)ability,  age, gender identity, and sexual orientation who are making stories about and for audiences and fans of every race, class, religion, country of origin, immigration status, (dis)ability, age, gender identity, and sexual orientation. May our home be open, and grow ever larger in size and love.

May you search for and find a home in the theater.

May you find a home, here, today, at this conference –

And know that when we say “Welcome to BroadwayCon,” we are really saying, “Welcome Home.”

© Tina Landau, 2019, used by permission

To be clear from the very start, two points. Judi Honoré, the owner of Shakespeare Books & Antiques in Ashland, Oregon, has every right to display anything she chooses in the window of, or for that matter anywhere in, her store. The Oregon Shakespeare Festival, also located in Ashland, Oregon, has every right as an organization to express its institutional opinion about events locally or nationally as it sees fit, and to align its business practices accordingly.

These rights, however, came into conflict this summer, when a window display of banned books at Shakespeare Books & Antiques, which has been in place (albeit with rotating inventory) for the past several years, was perceived by members of the OSF company as making a racial commentary about a current OSF production. Specifically, the origin of the dispute arose from the juxtaposition of an edition of Little Black Sambo to a collection of L. Frank Baum’s Oz books, while OSF was producing The Wiz, the retelling of The Wizard of Oz with an all-black cast.

The controversy has extended throughout the summer, and continues to simmer. OSF is still developing plans for a town hall meeting intended to allow members of the community to share their opinions of what has emerged from expressions of discomfort over the window display and its significant aftermath. But before that happens, on Monday October 31, Shakespeare Books & Antiques will close. So how did this come to pass, that ideals of social consciousness and free speech became seemingly oppositional positions?

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For those unfamiliar with the children’s story Little Black Sambo, it recounts a simple, non-realistic tale of a child who is sequentially threatened by a group of tigers into parting with all of his clothes, then driven up a tree, after which the tigers fall to squabbling and end up chasing one another by their tails at the base of the tree until they somehow melt into butter, which is then brought home by the child and used by his mother to make pancakes for the family. The book, by Helen Bannerman, first appeared in 1899 in England, and has been republished and retold in numerous editions ever since.

While the original preface stated that it was written by “an English lady in India, where black children abound and tigers are everyday affairs,” some versions employ illustrations more evocative of Africa, while others conflate the two.  The depiction of Bannerman’s little boy and his family has also varied widely, from relatively realistic to grossly stereotypical, with some editions employing iconography more akin to those often seen in the early 20th century American South, as also seen in a 1935 animated short based on the story.

Within decades of its appearance, LBS, while one of the relatively few children’s books with a black protagonist, was increasingly perceived as racist. Langston Hughes cited the book as being of the “pickanninny variety,” writing that the name “Sambo” was “amusing undoubtedly to the white child, but like an unkind word to one who has known too many hurts to enjoy the additional pain of being laughed at.” Even after LBS began to be removed (and banned) from schools and libraries, the name was taken up by a chain of US restaurants, started in California in 1957 as their brand, growing to more than 1,100 outlets by the 1970s before collapsing (after an attempted rebranding) in the 80s.

New editions of LBS have continued to emerge, with some making efforts to address the racial portrayals, particularly with regards to the illustrations, including some which have sought to more accurately bring accuracy to the setting of India. But the name remains a racial slur in the minds of many people, as it already was when the book was first published.

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Portion of banned books display at Shakespeare Books & Antiques in Ashland, Oregon in September 2016

The context for the display in the Shakespeare Books & Antiques (SBA) window is provided by two signs. The first, shown within a frame in the display itself, reads:

BOOKS REFLECTING THE HISTORY OF RACISM IN THE UNITED STATES

Our position is that these books should still be available to read during these critical time [sic]. As Scott Parker-Anderson so eloquently wrote for the Library of Congress, “The truth about the past can make people uncomfortable, but it does not change the truth. There were slaves, they were treated horribly, and called horrible names. Those are the facts, that cannot be changed. REMEMBER, those that forget the past are doomed to repeat it.”

The second sign, affixed to the window, reads:

BANNED BY SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE, SOMETIME

We believe attempts to censor ideas to which we gave access, whether in books, magazines, plays, works of art, television, movies or songs are not simply isolated instances of harassment by diverse special interest groups. Rather, they are a part of a growing pattern of increasing intolerance which is changing the fabric of America. Censorship cannot eliminate evil, it can only kill freedom. We believe Americans have the right to buy, stores have the right to sell, and authors have the right to publish constitutionally protected material.

In a photo of the SBA window dating from the start of the dispute, two LBS books can be seen: one an edition of the original story, the second an apparent sequel by a wholly different author and illustrator, Little Black Sambo and the Monkey People. It is the former which is placed adjacent to the Oz books and a framed list of the many Oz titles. Also visible, but only by their spines, are Uncle Tom’s Cabin and a collection of the Uncle Remus stories.

Describing other parts of the display, Honoré, in an interview, said, “The Color Purple may have been there at the time, but I’m really not sure.” She went on to list the aforementioned books, as well as two copies of Huckleberry Finn and To Kill A Mockingbird.

The placement and proximity of LBS and the Oz books first came to light when four ASF company members, including actors from The Wiz company, which at the time was still in rehearsal, went to speak with Honoré in June. The accounts of the conversation given by Honoré and Ashley Kelley, one of the actors present, are fairly similar.

In Honoré’s description:

Middle of July, four actors were outside looking in my window. I didn’t know they were actors, they were just four black people. I went outside like I usually do and said, ‘Can I explain to you why any of these books are banned?’ and they said, ‘We’re actors in a play called The Wiz, which is playing here, and it’s an all-black cast and we object to the fact that you have Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Little Black Sambo, Huck Finn, To Kill a Mockingbird, these books right next to the Wizard of Oz book. Why do you have them that way? What kind of message are you trying to send?’

I said, ‘I’m not trying to send any message, they’re all just banned books. They said, ‘Well, we feel you’re trying to send some kind of a message,’ but I still don’t know to this day what kind of message I was supposed to be sending. I honestly don’t. But they saw me sending some horrible message by having them in that order. So I said, ‘Why don’t you come in and what we’ll do together is we’ll move them. If you’re that offended and you feel bad about it, we’ll move them together.’

Honoré notes that in moving the books, they were never removed from the window, but merely relocated away from the Oz books.

Via e-mail, Kelley described the encounter with Honoré as follows:

We went inside to talk to Ms. Honoré and we proceeded to have a peaceful conversation. We asked her what the inspiration was for the display and she began explaining the history of the books, not understanding what we meant. I told her specifically that I’m sure it wasn’t intentional but unfortunately the display as it stands is making negative commentary about the people in her community. Still not understanding, I explained to her that The Wiz was happening across the street which is the African American version of The Wizard of Oz.

She claimed she didn’t know there was such a version or that OSF was doing it. I told her that THAT was why we are offended by the display, the placement of these books that exploited African Americans next to the entire Wizard of Oz collection. I stressed again that I didn’t believe it was intentional but that unfortunately whether she knew or not it was making a statement. She kept defending why she had the black books to us and I in turn responded by telling her it wasn’t about the fact that she had those books and that I understand why she has them in the first place. My only issue was that they were next to all the Oz books…that’s all.

She finally understood and asked me what to do. Then SHE came up with an idea to move the books from the window and asked us if we would like to help. We said yes, walked inside with her and helped her move the books elsewhere. After that we stood with her for a while talking about her background and had a very pleasant conversation. We introduced ourselves. I thanked her for listening and for talking to us. We hugged and left her store.

After this, I sent an email to my cast to tell them about the positive experience I had with Ms. Honoré and that it was a very proud moment especially with all the horrible things happening with people of color all over the country and even in our town.”

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Shakespeare Books & Antiques (from their website)

If that had been the end of the issue, with hugs, it would indeed stand as a positive moment for all concerned. But things quickly became complicated.

Ashley Kelley expressed surprise as to the fallout, writing:

It was brought to my attention weeks later that the display had been put back and that Ms. Honoré was upset with me for telling people what happened at OSF…which I didn’t understand because the email was a positive representation of her and the bookstore because we were able to peacefully talk and come to a solution. Then all of a sudden there were SO many people involved and the story seemed to shift to “we asked her to remove the books from the store.” which was NOT the conversation at ALL.

I was honestly very disappointed in how such a positive moment turned sour based off of lack of communication it seems. I was under the impression that everything was handled after my initial encounter with her. Little did I know there were more conversations, other emails, letters, etc. that I had no involvement in.

Claudia Alick, the community producer at OSF, who also chairs the company’s Diversity and Inclusion Planning Council, said in an interview that after learning of the encounter, she had discussed the conversation at the bookstore between the company members (three of whom were actors and one staff member, per OSF’s press office) and Honoré in a “healthy conversation” with Cynthia Rider, OSF’s executive director, who indicated that she wanted to speak with Honoré. Alick said she then went home to prepare an agenda for that conversation.

That same day, Rider called Honoré, asking to meet and discuss what had occurred. Honoré says that Rider said, “I’d like to discuss with you your banned book — she didn’t say banned book, she said your public window display — and protecting my staff. That was her exact language.” Honoré then describes her decision not to wait for a meeting with Rider at the store, and instead closing the shop and heading straight to OSF to ask for an immediate meeting with Rider. She ultimately met with Rider and with general manager Ted DeLong in an impromptu session. Alick had already left the OSF campus.

Julie Cortez, communications manager of OSF, relating Rider’s impression of the meeting, wrote that, “While Cynthia says Judi seemed upset when she arrived, by the end of the meeting their relationship seemed cordial.” Honoré describes the meeting as more problematic, saying, “I knew I was in deep trouble when Ted DeLong [OSF’s general manager, who also attended] said he thought Huck Finn was a horrible book.” Honoré says she was asked to remove the books from the window.

Further describing the meeting, Honoré recalled, “I said, ‘If you have a group of students and they’re really dumb and you keep telling them they’re really smart they will become smart. Vice versa if you have a group of students who are really smart, you keep telling them they’re dumb they will become dumb. If you have a sweet little town like Ashland and you keep calling us racist, it will become racist. I think the positions you guys have been taking have been incorrect.’ I don’t think they appreciated that much.”

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Some may recall that Ashland and Oregon Shakespeare Festival were in the news this summer for another racially based incident, which was widely shared on social media and subsequently reported in mainstream media outlets. In that case, a man verbally attacked a black actor in the OSF company as she walked down the street, shouting, “It’s still an Oregon law. I could kill a black person and be out of jail in a day and a half. The KKK is still alive here.”

News reports indicated that the man who threatened the actress was likely a local homeless man who was known to the Ashland Police for other aggressive actions. The police determined, according to a report in the Mail Tribune, that “no crime had been committed,” even as they were “decrying this hateful speech.”

Asked about that incident, vis a vis the conversations over her window, Honoré was dismissive, saying, “One black actress was apparently yelled at by our town schizophrenic who said horrible things, but he yells at everybody, including me. If I don’t give him a dollar, he’ll say something like, ‘I’m going to kill you.’” She went on to volunteer, “They said the police officers were picking them up for no reason whatsoever, and they had to ride around in a car with a white person or they felt like they’d be targeted and get picked up. None of that is true. I mean I know our little sweet town and that doesn’t seem to happen here. And then they also said that if they go into a store and they’re asked more than once, ‘Can I help you,’ they’re being targeted for shoplifting.”

However, that incident happened in late June, subsequent to the meeting between Rider and Honoré, but before the dispute between SBA and OSF became widely known.

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Immediately following the meeting between Honoré and Rider, Honoré says she went back to her store, upset at learning about the e-mail that was circulated and Rider’s original request to come to the bookstore and discuss the display. So she returned LBS to its original location in the window.

“Honestly, I felt like I was either sandbagged, slapped in the face or backstabbed, when they went back to OSF after I felt I had done something really nice for them. After I had temporarily moved it, then I put it back where it was. But that was for maybe a day, and then I thought better of it and I moved them way to the end again.”

Claudia Alick subsequently visited the store and had her own conversation with Honoré, who Alick says recounted her studies in college (Honoré attended UC Berkeley in the late 60s and early 70s, where she wrote her thesis on sexism and racism in textbooks) and repeatedly protested, “I am not a racist.”

Alick says that after listening to Honoré for ten minutes, she interjected, “I never said you were a racist. Nobody said you were a racist. Those words haven’t come out of anybody’s mouth. I just wanted to know what was the decision made, because I think that I might have a different understanding of that decision, because you put the display back and I’m confused by that. And so then there was another ten minutes where she finally admitted that she was pissed and those were her words. She was pissed at the actors for – and in her words it was for – ‘sending nasty e-mails about me.’”

In a separate interview, OSF artistic director Bill Rauch spoke to the issue of leveling charges of racism at anyone:

[LBS] is a much beloved story for many, many people, especially older people who either had it read to them by their parents or read it to their own children. That’s come up again and again and again. Some of the emotion people have felt has been that by OSF saying, ‘We do not support the juxtaposition of those original racial caricature drawings on the cover of that book being juxtaposed next to The Wizard of Oz,’ they felt that we were personally attacking a story that was a beloved part of their childhood and therefore somehow calling them racist for liking that story.

Alick says she informed Honoré that, “It’s interesting that you said those e-mails were nasty. I can share with you that it was just them sharing their own personal experience and they didn’t say anything that was negative or nasty about anyone. It was actually pretty generous and kind framing and language that was used to describe what happened.”

According to Alick, after further conversation with Honoré about how the display might prove troubling not just to artists but to any persons of color walking down the street, Honoré asked, “What do you want us to do?” Alick says she responded, “No, we’re not going to tell you what to do. I just wanted to get clarity about what you were doing. You get to decide what you’re going to do.”

Alick says she was aware of other OSF staff members having one-on-one discussions with Honoré, emphasizing that they were private, personal communications. But Alick says that, “[Honoré] started coming to the festival, and stopping people of color and – I’m going to use the word harassment – harassing them, saying ‘Aren’t you in The Wiz? Well this, this and this.’ She did the same thing to me, where she stopped me on the street and had just a really kind of gross exchange with me that wasn’t kind, that was so problematic. And so organizationally, people of color asked essentially, ‘Hey, would you please do something?’ We’re like, ‘Well, the only thing we can do is let her know privately we won’t be doing business with you. We won’t be investing in your services in the future because you’re treating our company members this way.’ It wasn’t a comment on her public display. It was a comment on her direct behavior with our company members.” She later added, “We didn’t do anything public.”

Honoré recounts writing a letter to Rider on July 18, in which she set out the events regarding the window display and all that had transpired much as described here, adding her account of a positive conversation with another OSF actor of color regarding the display, which had prompted her decision to once again shift the Sambo book away from the Oz books. She also expresses deep upset with all that has occurred, including being called a racist by someone she describes as an OSF actor. She concluded the letter by writing, “In my opinion, Ashland, and this includes our residents and our police department, are profoundly inclusive and make every effort to reach out to everyone, as are the merchants of this very special small town.”

*   *   *

On July 26, Rider sent the following letter to Honoré:

I am in receipt of your letter of July 18 describing your recent experiences with OSF staff and actors regarding your display window.

For myself, my colleagues in senior management, and those most deeply involved in the work of expanding diversity, equity, and inclusion here at OSF and in Ashland, the most important facts, which you allude to in your letter, are as follows:

1. You received feedback from various OSF staff members, who are by definition your fellow community members, that your window display that included blackface caricatures was hurtful and offensive due to their racist origins.
2. You removed the display.
3. You heard reports that emails were circulating at OSF regarding this chain of events, and decided to reinstall the display.

Through these events, you have demonstrated a distinct lack of empathy for the experiences of the people of color who brought this matter to your attention and their reactions to your display, and reinstating the display caused continued pain to those individuals and by extension to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

Because of this, I am by this letter informing you that Artistic Director Bill Rauch and I have given instruction to our staff not to patronize Shakespeare Books & Antiques for any Festival-related goods or services until further notice.

*   *   *

On August 4, the dispute between Honoré and OSF went fully public, in an article in the Daily Tidings (reprinted the following day in the Mail Tribune), resulting from Honoré sharing Rider’s letter with the paper. This marks the first time the word “boycott” appears to have been used in connection with the situation. The article also mischaracterizes Rider’s letter as a “ban on OSF staff purchasing items from the store,” instead of the actual language, which only proscribed staff from making purchases on behalf of OSF at the store. This occurred despite the article later quoting a letter to the editor from Rider and OSF artistic director Bill Rauch clarifying that they had not called for a boycott. But that became the prevalent narrative for the ensuing weeks.

While various letters to the editor played the dispute out in the local papers, as people took sides, the next major account of the situation came slightly less than four weeks later, when on August 30, the Daily Tidings reported that Honoré had decided to close her store, giving two months notice to her landlord for a closing on October 31. Honoré attributed the closing to a significant drop in business in the month of August, as well as the stress of responding to the conflict that had arisen with OSF. She said that in contrast to typical summer months, when her business averaged $20,000, her first 12 days of August yielded on $2,355 in sales and that on August 22, her total sales were $59.

In that article, the reporter John Darling included a statement from OSF, quoting it as follows,

If Judi is seeing a reduction in her business, that is either occurring for unrelated reasons or due to her decision to go public in the media and in her store windows,” the email said. “Given that OSF has only made one or two small purchases for Festival use at Shakespeare Books & Antiques over the years, the decision … was not about causing Judi financial hardship, but about communicating to our colleagues of color that we believe them and stand with them.

While Honoré in an interview described a seemingly dictatorial rule by the leadership of OSF over its staff (“She tells them what to do over there apparently and they do it,” Honoré said, referring to Rider), she was not able to provide any evidence that the OSF staff had been ordered away from her store for personal purchases. She affirmed that OSF had not revealed anything publicly about its communications with her, saying “They didn’t go public, I went public, and they’re calling the conversation I had with them a private conversation. Nobody told me that it was private.”

OSF shared with Arts Integrity a short memo they had given to “front line staff” to help answer questions from patrons about the situation, but the theatre’s first sustained public communication to the community, signed by Bill Rauch, headed, “A response to the ‘bookstore story,’” wasn’t issued until September 2.

It read, in part:

OSF has never sought publicity or media attention for its ongoing discussions with Judi about her window display. We intended privacy for all of our communications, written and verbal, prior to Judi reaching out to the Ashland Daily Tidings (a publication for which Judi’s husband is a columnist). I would like to emphasize that not once has anyone at OSF called for a public boycott of Judi’s bookstore. Our employees are, of course, always free to shop anywhere for their personal purchases, and before today we had never brought up this subject in any communications with our patrons or membership.

I stand by our decision not to do business with a person who has treated members of our company and community with disrespect. Since Judi went public about OSF’s decision, we’ve received numerous reports from staff and patrons about problematic and insensitive interactions in and outside of her store and on the OSF campus. Our attempts to continue the dialogue with her—with a mediator, if she would prefer—have gone unanswered.

Separately, Honoré said that she had asked Rider to visit the bookstore – Rider’s original intent in requesting a meeting with Honoré – but that Rider declined.

In the next to last paragraph of his community letter, Rauch wrote:

Free speech is necessary, but not all speech is neutral; all language, images and symbols are not equal. The fact that speech can be damaging must be acknowledged. As an institution and as individuals, how we use our right of free speech is a moral choice. It is not neutral to propound messages that deepen the isolation and oppression experienced by members of groups that have been historically marginalized. Propagating images that were historically stigmatizing to black people and that some people continue to experience as hurtful and stigmatizing is not a neutral act. In my view, we grow most when we listen with empathy and curiosity to all those who are different from us about their own life experiences.

*   *   *

It’s worth recalling Ashley Kelley’s comment about what has transpired in Ashland, “I was honestly very disappointed in how such a positive moment turned sour based off of lack of communication it seems.” In conversation and written material, both Honoré and the OSF leadership expressed the feeling that each “side” was not listening to or understanding the other. That is the very definition of a lack of communication.

The situation escalated not because of the conversation between the four company members and Honoré, but only when Rider asked to arrange to meet with Honoré, who then opted to precipitate an immediate conversation. Rider perceived that meeting as having begun in conflict but concluding well, however Honoré’s takeaway was both frustration with Rider (who she called “elitist”) and anger that the conversation about the window display had gone beyond herself and the four actors, causing her to reverse the results of that meeting.

While the original conversation between Honoré and the four company members, and the meeting between Honoré and Rider, occurred first, the late July exchange of letters between Honoré and Rider occurred after the incident in which a black actor at OSF was verbally abused. An atmosphere of concern over the treatment of people of color in Ashland had been heightened as the bookstore dispute played out over a number of weeks. As in all cases, a specific event shouldn’t be the pretext for diminishing the rights of others, but the bookstore situation was thrown into sharper relief by the intervening incident.

Bill Rauch noted, “I do think that for members of our community who feel Ashland is such a progressive community, that there can be no racism in our town, that if a person of color says they’ve experienced racism in our town that it’s the problem of the person of color, that they’re oversenstitive, that they’re being overly cautious and that the racism is not real. I think the juxtaposition of these things has triggered a lot in terms of the community response as well.”

Honoré cites Rider’s letter of July 26 as having prompted the precipitous drop in her business, claiming that other internal e-mails, which she could not produce, went beyond Rider’s instruction that staff should not do business with Shakespeare Books and Antiques. However, when she by her own admission went to the press for the story that first appeared on August 4, there was no mention of any impact on her business, only her unhappiness over what she characterized as a call to boycott her store.

Reading Rider’s letter carefully, one could argue that the language about ceasing to do business with SBA might have been somewhat differently structured. If one doesn’t read the entirety of this closing phrase – “I have given instruction to our staff not to patronize Shakespeare Books & Antiques for any Festival related goods or services until further notice” – one might only take away “given instruction to our staff not to patronize.” A statement affirming staff members’ own unfettered right to patronize the store would have been useful.

But regardless of how the letter was read, it was internal to OSF, yet Honoré says it resulted in a roughly 85% drop in business. If the staff of OSF was Honoré’s overwhelming customer base, then regardless of whether one agrees with the request to alter the display, Honoré’s choices influenced the purchasing decisions of her customers. In seeing the situation as one of social consciousness and sensitivity, OSF was well within its rights ito decide what vendors it chose to do business with, and that wasn’t a secret within the organization.

Honoré claims that in her one meeting with Rider, she was told, “Take the books out of your window or we’re going to boycott your store.” Rider denies having made such a statement. Asked whether her communication regarding OSF-related purchases wasn’t in fact an implicit message to the OSF community to not patronize the bookstore, Rider said, “That certainly wasn’t my intention.”

Was OSF advocating censorship, which presumably they would fight were such an effort directed at their own creative work? Given that they had no control over Honoré’s store, it’s hard to accept that they were, especially since the conversation only was about the placement of the books, not over whether Honoré should carry them at all. OSF was advocating to Honoré, according to their institutional imperatives and as a part of the Ashland community, sensitivity to members of the OSF company – both full time staff and guest artists – that escalated over a communications impasse. Rider observed, “Freedom of speech doesn’t mean you get to say whatever you want and nobody can tell you they’re upset about it.”

Because so many of the interactions within this dispute were person to person, it is difficult to pin down many absolutes, especially since the different parties offer differing impressions of the same event. In the fraught communications, it’s unfortunate that one possible rapprochement doesn’t appear to have been discussed. Might it have been possible for SBA and OSF to collaborate on further contextualizing the window display, so that it was clear the presence of LBS (and books like the Uncle Remus stories) was not to advance racially negative text or imagery? While Honoré absolutely has the right to display any books as she wishes, and there is no question that the books she displayed have all been officially censored at one time (or many times), a store window is not a museum or school, where history and education about featured items would usually be more fully explained.

While Shakespeare Books & Antiques will close on Monday, Honoré said that she does plan to reopen, after resting up from the stress of the past few months and getting a new business of hers, a furniture store, fully up and running. Saying that she has three times as many books warehoused as she was able to display in the shop that’s closing, she said she’d be back in a larger space. She felt some distance would put an end to the many people who were coming into her store to discuss the dispute with OSF, but not making purchases, noting that business only began to pick up when she announced she was closing.

As for further dialogue in Ashland through a town hall, which at one point was considered for Saturday, October 29, Julie Cortez of OSF said in an e-mail, “We are in discussion with the members of SOEDI (Southern Oregon Equity, Diversity and Inclusion Collaborative) about the best date to hold this community conversation, and we will keep people informed of what plans are made.” It’s too bad that the community still has to wait to process this situation together, openly, but hopefully they’ll get there soon in a way that helps everyone involved, directly or as observers, to fully appreciate and respect what’s being said and shown and read, on stage and off.

The Woodsman at New World Stages (Photo by Howard Sherman)

During the curtain calls, I watched, as I so often do, while ushers made a valiant effort to stop theatregoers from taking pictures. So imagine my surprise when, barely minutes later, with the cast off to their dressing rooms, the house staff made no attempts to stop patrons from photographing the play’s final tableau, which was unshielded by a curtain and still under moody stage lighting.

I approached a woman who appeared to have a house management function and asked whether it was okay that everyone was taking pictures. “Oh, yes. It’s fine,” she replied.

So I waited my turn as people took selfies of themselves in front of the stage, with The Woodsman (the title character of the show in question and an analogue for The Wizard of Oz’s Tin Man) hanging suspended under the lights, waiting for Dorothy Gale to discover him. But that’s another story.

I found this approach to audience photos quite smart. So much time is spent (and digital ink spilled) addressing how the field can suppress the audience’s urge to commemorate their theatrical experience, that to find the opportunity freely given was extremely refreshing. I wonder how much extra exposure The Woodsman, playing in a small Off-Broadway house, is receiving thanks to this policy. How many patrons walk away from their final moments in the theatre having been welcomed and encouraged, with a truly personal souvenir to show and share, rather than chastised?

To be clear: I want to see phones turned off and cameras put away (often the same thing) throughout performances, to keep from disrupting the actors and other audience members. But I can’t help but wonder whether people might be more compliant with the de rigeur ‘turn off your phone’ messages if they included the invitation to turn them on again and use them after the curtain calls have ended.

Shows with curtains that wish to shield their stages can do so, of course, but why are patrons also prevented from taking pictures of the venues themselves? There are so many beautiful theatres that would turn up regularly on Instagram, Snapchat and Facebook if openly allowed – surely some, shot with varying degrees of stealth, already do. I would love the opportunity to photograph theatre interiors both here in New York as well as when I travel; West End theatres are distinctly different from most Broadway houses and I’d like to be able to have and electronically exhibit my impressions of them, up to and including fire curtains, which we don’t see stateside.

Some Broadway shows have created photo spots outside their theatres, and I’ve encountered one or two in lobbies, but those are obviously manufactured opportunities. We may not care for the selfie society (feel free to check my Facebook page; you’ll find very few images of me), but it’s a part of how people share their experiences nowadays. Why should theatre work so very hard to control what is let out of the walls of our theatres when our audiences are so eager to communicate on our behalf.

I appreciate the concern that unauthorised photos and videos may reveal so much of the show that knock-off versions can be replicated by unscrupulous or amateur producers. But don’t most shows already disseminate enough media to facilitate that already? Indeed, the biggest hits produce lavish souvenir programmes and even hardcover books, filled with pictures and even representations of original design sketches. I’m not convinced that this remains valid as a reason for prohibiting all photos within theatre houses or of show curtains or final stage settings.

One of the many concerns about the continued vitality of theatre is its ability to compete in media markets where exposure is simply too expensive for shows to make a significant impression, if they can afford to make one at all. Since word of mouth remains an essential sales tool, let’s think about how we can facilitate that by, within reason, allowing cameras to come out. After all, that one simple gesture would empower the audience to be advocates and not just attendees, actively promoting shows simply because they want to.

By the way: that photo of The Woodsman at the top of this column. I took it with my mobile phone. Not bad, eh?

This essay originally appeared in The Stage.

Amber Riley, Shanice Williams and company in The Wiz. (Photo by Virginia Sherwood/NBC)

Last week, more than 11 million people in the US watched a live broadcast of the musical The Wiz, an adaptation of The Wizard of Oz that came almost 30 years before Wicked. Created for a black cast, it won best musical at the Tony Awards in 1975. The Wiz (2015 edition) was the third annual live musical from producers Craig Zadan and Neil Meron, following The Sound of Music in 2013 and Peter Pan last year. The Wiz was, by consensus, vastly superior to the previous two, and I happen to agree; in fact, I tweeted that opinion only 75 minutes into the three-hour broadcast. As has always been the plan, The Wiz production is now expected to run on Broadway in the 2016-17 season, although it’s unlikely the stage version will manage to field a cast like the broadcast did. Among the performers were Mary J Blige, Queen Latifah, Ne-Yo and, in a cameo role, Common.

Mind you, the early days of US television, when most broadcasts were live, were filled with adaptations of plays, and some distinguished works first written for TV, like Horton Foote’s The Trip to Bountiful or Rod Serling’s Requiem for a Heavyweight were later adapted for both the stage and as films. Remarkably, what seems to be driving the new popularity of live staged TV are social media, which value the immediacy of sports, awards broadcasts and, yes, theatre, because as they unfold in real time – with all of the spontaneity and potential for gaffes intact – they create the opportunity for shared experiences online. Indeed, audience members can chat away with one another throughout these shows without disrupting anyone else; they can even let their cellphone rings without causing an interruption in the performance.

This blurring of the stage and screen is happening at an accelerating pace in a variety of ways. While NT Live has forged new paths for the streaming of theatre to cinemas around the world (though they’re only really live in the UK and nearby time zones), the US has been much slower to adopt the model, due in part to more restrictive, and therefore expensive, union agreements. That said, just last night, the Off-Broadway production of the intimate musical Daddy Long Legs was streamed live online for viewing anywhere, which is an important development that will surely be closely watched as a test case. Can the embrace of video technology add value to a property or production even when it’s offered up gratis?

This week has also seen the daily release of new videos from the second series of My America short films from Centerstage in Maryland, where artistic director Kwame Kwei-Armah has been exploring the intersection of film and theatre by commissioning original short plays from an array of writers. The new series has been shot guerrilla-style on sites where racial violence has taken place, essential spots in the new civil rights movement. But it blurs the traditional lines between the mediums by shooting plays in real-life settings specifically for video viewing; it’s theatre that won’t play in a theatre.

Just as the word television is becoming more a term for a specific viewing appliance, as opposed to the content itself, what we consider theatre may have to evolve as well. Purists will say that The Wiz was a Broadway text and score produced for video, not theatre – in no small part because there was no audience present – and that despite the credentials of the participating authors, My America is essentially a film series.

But perhaps we should be worrying less about the labels and looking more at impact: The Wiz may have inspired an interest in theatre among young people who may never be able to attend the show’s promised Broadway run; the Daddy Long Legs stream may help promote a chamber piece into the musical theatre repertory; live audiences could not have attended a play performed outside the burned out chemist shop that went up in flames during the Baltimore riots.

And in the US, it’s worth noting that the largest national audience for musical sequences from Broadway shows isn’t on the annual Tony Awards broadcast – it’s found in the first hour of the broadcast of the venerable Thanksgiving Day Parade from New York, which is seen by more than 20 million people. Just because it’s not performed in a theatre, does it stop being theatre?

This essay originally appeared in The Stage.

Years from now, when the musical Wicked is eventually made available for school and amateur productions, will some high school administrator declare it inappropriate? After all, among its many plot strands is the story of (spoiler alert) the manipulative Madame Morrible, a school headmistress who schemes against those in Oz who don’t conform precisely to her standards, be they green girl or anthropomorphic animal. It’s a terrible portrait of pedagogy gone wrong and surely doesn’t foster the collaborative, supportive relationships that school leaders must seek with each successive generation of students, as well as with their faculty and staff. From that perspective, it’s seditious.

I’m reminded of this element of Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holtzman’s massively popular musical as I consider the challenges to high school theatre that I’ve read about, heard about and involved myself in. Recently, I was engaged to deliver the opening keynote at the Educational Theatre Association’s (EdTA) annual conference for high school teachers. During the question and answer session that followed, one attendee asked the others how many had had shows turned down when they sought approval for them. Roughly a quarter of those in the room raised their hands. In follow-up, they were asked how many had wanted to do certain shows, but didn’t even try because they were sure they couldn’t get approval. Virtually every teacher raised their hand.

Because I don’t believe that these teachers had all been contemplating Oh! Calcutta!, I find myself wondering about their internal decision-making, their self-censorship. Surely they weren’t considering shows which would be blatantly inappropriate in a school setting, so what are those shows that they thought would be good for their students, but which they didn’t even dare raise as a possibility? That might make for an interesting survey in itself.

Of course, what’s acceptable to the powers that be at one school, in one town, may be considered problematic in another. Earlier this year in New Hampshire, Sweeney Todd was canceled at Timberlane High School (since reversed) even as another school just a few towns away readied their production of the same show. In 2012, Sonja Hansen lost her position directing shows at Loveland High in Ohio after her production of Legally Blonde was declared inappropriate, yet according to the EdTA’s annual survey, its was the fourth most popular musical in high schools nationally.

So I’m very interested in the new “Public Performance Policy” that has been put into place at the Junior/Senior High in South Williamsport PA, where a production of Spamalot has been canceled by the principal for reasons that remain unclear. The drama director Dawn Burch asserts that Principal Jesse Smith stated, in an e-mail, that the show’s gay content was a factor. Smith himself has been silent since this story broke, and while the school administration has taken exception to one element of the first report about the issue (since corrected), it has yet to produce the e-mail in question to clear things up. Two “Right To Know” requests have been filed seeking that e-mail and related documents; one of those requests is mine.

The timing of the Public Performance Policy, revealed last night at a meeting for the school board, is certainly no coincidence, coming between the initial assertions of anti-gay bias and the release of clarifying materials. As read by the school superintendent, Dr. Mark Stamm, it states:

General Guidelines: Public performances serve as a capstone project for students to showcase their dedication, determination, and talents for their peers and for their families. Performances must be age appropriate for participating students and audiences. Material that is generally considered offensive, suggestive, or demeaning based on race, religion, age, gender, or sexual orientation is not appropriate for school performances.

The first sentence of the policy, describing “showcasing dedication, determination, and talents,” is nicely affirmative ­– until one notices that there’s no mention of learning or growth, which would seem essential in any school activity, even at South Williamsport, where the drama program is extracurricular, and the drama director an outside contractor, not a teacher. That said, any adult working with young people in a leadership position is a teacher, accredited or not.

However, it’s worth noting that there is a mission statement for the drama program on the school’s website which admirably speaks to deeper value. It reads:

Our mission is to provide students with the opportunity to better themselves through the Arts. Whether it is onstage or backstage, in the production crew or artistic departments, theater helps all people more deeply understand our place in our modern, multicultural, globalized world.

As an aside: finding the drama information on the school website isn’t entirely logical. While there’s a section for clubs, which includes “Yearbook,” “Chemistry,” “Student Council” and “Songwriters and Musicians,” it doesn’t include “Drama.” The Athletic Program has its own site, with its own URL separate from the school district’s. But “Drama” falls under “Departments,” along with “Guidance” and “Nurse,” to which it seems wholly unrelated. How very odd to set it apart in this way.

But returning to the Public Performance Policy, the second sentence isn’t particularly troublesome, so long as it is not used as a justification to infantilize students by feeding them dramatic pabulum. But it’s the third sentence sentence where things turn tricky. While the phrase about not demeaning any parties is admirable (although in their seeming haste, they neglected disability, among other concerns), the language which begins the sentence is limiting, yet vague. “Offensive” and “suggestive” are completely subjective, presumably to be determined according to Justice Stewart’s famous phrase about what constitutes obscenity: “I’ll know it when I see it.” But no two people probably agree about what is offensive, or what is suggestive.

If this policy is meant to be general guidance for teachers (and contractors), shouldn’t it be constructed as such? Wouldn’t it be better to use affirmative language about supporting and advancing society through inclusive representations of race, religion, age, gender, or sexual orientation, instead of saying it simply won’t demean people on those grounds? As it is now, the policy seems more a declaration for the public, and a very general yardstick that teachers might be struck with should they violate its amorphous tenets. Since the school already has a practice of the principal approving the drama productions, it seems that process would presumably address content concerns, based upon reading the text and exploring productions and educational materials from other schools as aids, but in an open dialogue that would negate the need for future Right To Know inquiries. That said, I don’t favor shows going to any manner of public vote, and school boards shouldn’t decide play selection any more than they tell a coach what athletic plays to run.

I wonder, however, where the concerns were when the South Williamsport High School did Grease and Once Upon A Mattress? Certainly there are those who would find the plot points about pregnancy out of wedlock in those shows both offensive and suggestive. Grease, frankly, is rife with suggestiveness, at least as I construe it, but I don’t happen to find it offensive; but it was more than enough to cause a school in Missouri, following a 2006 production, to cancel the next show on the schedule: The Crucible. What about Urinetown, produced at the school in 2009? All that talk of toilets and body functions must have offended the sensibilities of some in South Williamsport. The world’s most famous teen suicide story, Romeo and Juliet, was staged, but I wonder whether the school provided educational programs and material to students and the public about the dangers of romanticizing exactly the sort of behavior Shakespeare depicted?

Was everyone sanguine with the following plot points, drawn from two synopses on the website of the licensing house Music Theatre International:

Soon after, attractive and seductive women appear and slowly surround him (“With You”). At first, Pippin is enjoying the romanticism, however, the mood quickly changes and the women bombard him. Pippin is pulled into numerous exotic orgies.

*  *  *

Audrey has forgotten her sweater, and Orin slaps her around for it…. Orin then pulls out a container of laughing gas, complete with a gas mask and puts it on himself to get high… Seymour feeds Orin’s body parts to the plant.

Obviously they passed muster, because Pippin and Little Shop of Horrors were produced at the school before Dawn Burch was hired. With this new policy, could any of the aforementioned shows be done again? Indeed, since there are – sad to say and sad as it is – still people who find homosexuality offensive, would LGBT life in any play or musical be precluded from the South Williamsport stage in deference to their reactionary sensibilities?

At the EdTA conference, I repeatedly counseled teachers to cultivate open and honest communication about their work with their department heads, their principals, even their superintendents if possible. Support for sports seems a given at our schools, but support for all of the arts, and it seems theatre in particular, must be developed over time – and started anew each time a key leadership position changes personnel.

When cancelations emerge from behind school doors into the public consciousness, locally and nationally, genuine rifts inside school communities and even entire towns are always possible, with long-lasting and detrimental effects on drama programs. Some schools, such as in Everett MA, do away with drama altogether, deciding a fair and open discussion about dramatic value is simply a nuisance – and therefore the program is as well. Yet are sports shut down when a student is seriously injured, publicly? No. In the case of football, it remains celebrated, even as data on traumatic brain injury mounts, because athletic prowess and competition is honored. It is the thought and expression of theatre that seems to be the dangerous undertaking in so many instances.

Another question I now field with some regularity is whether it’s wise to speak up publicly about these conflicts, bringing them broader attention than they might otherwise receive. My response is that it does carry risk, but if people believe in the power of theatre to not only entertain but educate, in the best interest of the participating students first and foremost, staying silent only allows repression to flourish, and for students to be consigned to the blandest, safest, time-worn work possible. And doesn’t Wicked (among countless works of literature) teach us about the dangers of people working behind the scenes, censoring, excluding, supposedly in the best interest of the community at large?

Having cited Wicked twice, let me finish with a few lyrics that hark back to L. Frank Baum’s Oz stories. I think this pair of couplets, devised by master satirist Tom Lehrer almost 50 years ago, speak simply and directly to slippery words like “offensive” and “suggestive.”