Why Friday Had A Blue Thursday: It Was Raining Eggs

by Elaine Molinaro, director of Why Tuesday Never Has A Blue Monday by Robert Heide

Last night was my night to see the tour. I showed up at 7pm to take the first tour. We stood at the cube at Astor Place underneath a rain sputtering sky. We got out our umbrellas. The tour was held for 10 minutes. Since the skies didn’t open up into a downpour, they decided to play in the drizzle. Ellen Stewart rang her bell, and the show began. I walked along experiencing the delights and surprises of the tour for the first hour, until I got to St. Mark’s Church at 8pm. Then I headed to Middle Collegiate Church to start setting up for my piece. We got set up, and I watched our first show. My wonderful actors had a handle on it. By week three, they are strong and confident. Us directors need to know when to give the piece over to the actors and bud out. It was that time. I headed back to St. Mark’s to pick up the third tour where I left off. I walked back to Murder Cake to see it once more. Joyce Miller, the funky actress in the old fashioned red bathing suit, was being hit on by a guy in the street. She was handling it well. He finally sauntered on. I introduced myself as one of the directors and asked her if she was okay. She and I started chatting about how to best deal with the situation. The guy came back. This time to check on his TV. Get this, he was storing it for the evening in Joyce’s cart.

The third tour came through. I once again had the pleasure of listening to Diane Di Prima’s stream of consciousness which Joyce was so musically reciting. I really got into the next part of the tour. I was happily walking down Second Avenue toward my piece thinking how truly cool this performance event was and looking forward to seeing my piece in context of the whole. From the distance, I could see my actress Michelle, her white costume glowing in the street light, standing on her Bauhaus modern chair. However, Michael wasn’t sitting across from her in his chair. In somewhat of a commotion, he was cleaning the carpet we laid down on the sidewalk. As the tour approached, he quickly sat down, and they played the piece.

I found out afterward that between the second and third tour, eggs were thrown at them from the third story window above our performance area. We had a run in with the tenant who lives there in week one. She showed up on the street yelling at us about performing there and called the police. We hadn’t heard from her since. For whatever reason, tonight she decided to launch a follow-up attack.

The fourth tour was approaching. We could see the cart down the street. Suddenly, a second round of eggs were launched out the window, landing right in front of our carpet. What do we do? Do we perform? Well, she hadn’t thrown eggs yet during the performance, so we played it. Our line director and I watched the window. I felt really uncomfortable for all of the people, actors and audience, standing below the windows. Then, it happened. The third round of eggs came flying. Two female audience members took the brunt of it. Egg all over their bodies. They were stunned, not realizing at first what had happened. I felt just horrible. Thank goodness the eggs didn’t hit anyone on the head or in the face. My actors looked confused, stop or continue? They did what they know how to do best, they performed. I couldn’t watch them because I was watching the two girls wipe themselves off with napkins from the nearby deli. After our show, I offered to get more paper towels for them. They told me it was okay. I am so impressed that both women, and the rest of the audience STAYED to watch the rest of our piece, and CONTINUED on with the tour. Wow.

After the show, Ralph called the police. They showed up and went inside. They didn’t get access to the third floor. I guess the tenant just didn’t answer. They spoke with the tenant on the fourth floor, came back down, and basically told us there isn’t much they can do unless she does it again, and we actually see her face.

I put our set and props away and headed to 4th street to catch the end of the tour: Viet Rock and the Epilogue. The actress playing Ellen Stewart gave her closing speech. She spoke of being harassed for running a theater. Her words hit me so hard. It was happening to us, 50 years later. She spoke of believing in the possible and persevering. I realize that it has fallen to us to take up that torch.

I wanted to move our piece. Some people told me that if we move, the angry tenant has won. Keeping my actors and audience members safe would be a better way of winning, it seemed to me last night.

This morning, I have an idea. Maybe we shouldn’t run away or stay. We should incorporate what is going on. Harassment is, unfortunately, still part of the landscape. It happened to Ellen Stewart. It is happening to us. Maybe we should do what Ellen Stewart did. At one point, she literally asked her audience to pick up their chairs and move to a different location so the show could go on. Maybe we could set up at 122 Second Avenue, the former site of La Mama, and then, after letting them know to watch out for falling eggs, ask our audience to help move us. In that way, the audience will live this experience with us. Ellen Stewart persevered by moving her theater, by being flexible. As a small way of combating the harassment, we can call attention to it, yet by moving still keep the audience and actors safe and allow the show to go on.