What is it with Theatre People?

BY Becky Brett

Kim Forbes

A friend of mine died recently. She was not my best friend, but her loss is acutely felt just the same. Her name was Kim Forbes, and she was the stage manager for an opera outreach tour I coordinated in the fall of 2007. We worked together for 7 weeks and sort of kept in touch afterwards (you know, the way you do—occasional pokes on Facebook, photos exchanged, promises of a reunion). Several of us from this particular show were at Kim’s visitation, crying, leaning on each other for support. We could see pockets of Kim’s other theatre “families” doing the same.

What is it about doing theatre together that causes us to bond so tightly and so quickly with each other? It can’t possibly be healthy for us to be like this. There is no time for any “normal” generation of trust in this cycle of building and breaking of relationships. You are hired and come together to make magic, and just as quickly, you disband when it is all over.

Kim was only 30 years old, an Equity and AGMA stage manager. She died of acute stage-3 leukemia on Feb. 15, 2008, just days after being admitted into the hospital for what she thought was tendonitis. During our tour last fall she wasn’t feeling so hot, but how do you distinguish between having cancer and just having a grueling schedule?

In this business most of us don’t know where our next gig will be, so we take on everything that comes our way. Some people are “fortunate” enough to be in areas that can accommodate multiple jobs going concurrently, so they pile on the work knowing somehow through the magic of theatre it will all get done.

Sleepless nights spent at drawing boards or computers or hanging lights lead to early morning crew calls and then rehearsal. If you’re lucky, you’re part of another show that is already running, so you head off to your performance, maybe scarf down some grocery store sushi and then you’re back to work.

What is so disturbing is the pride people seem to take in keeping these ridiculous hours. The one-upmanship that happens when people talk about all the projects they are involved with, as if it’s a badge of honor to not sleep or have a life. But hey, we’ve all got rent to pay, right? And because we are so tight with our theatre families, we do what we can to help each other out, even if it means all of us sacrificing our health and sanity a little bit. I hope that one day we all will find a way to take care of ourselves as much as we take care of our art.

I don’t know if this is a rant against non-living wages in our industry, a culture that only values creativity insofar as it sells magazines or against our country’s retarded healthcare system. I don’t know if a change in any of these attitudes or systems would have made a difference in Kim’s life. I just know the lights dimmed on the Chicago theatre landscape this weekend, and my theatre family lost a little sister.