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The Oddest of Odd Couples

The Oddest of Odd Couples

At one time or another there are two shows with which all theatre people will eventually be involved.  One is The Man Who Came to Dinner, and the other is The Odd Couple. In my case, I only worked on The Man Who Came to Dinner twice (once in high school and once in graduate school), but I did The Odd Couple three times. It was the third of those productions that was really, really odd.

Many, many centuries ago I was living in a certain mid-western state. In a particular small town in that state there was a very active community theatre. Unfortunately, they ran into a small touch of financial trouble that set them back on their heels. Now, frankly, it is not unusual for small theatre groups to get in a bit of monetary anguish, but, this group knew they could pull themselves out by doing a good show inexpensively.

I was approached for any brainstorming ideas that I might have. To be blunt, I have a “go to” idea that when in doubt or trouble, do The Odd Couple. That show is perfect. It has a small cast, a single set, and is extremely popular. Between the original Broadway play, the professional variations and revivals, the TV shows, and the movie it is well known and familiar. Everybody loves it, and it is a “safe” show.

One day, as I was cruising around the town I had a hunch, of sorts. I checked a couple of local parks and an RV dealership. Was it possible, could it be done, was just maybe possible that we could do The Odd Couple outdoors in a park?

Basic layout for our outdoor production of The Odd Couple
Basic layout for our outdoor production of The Odd Couple. From hazy memory, not to scale.

To test this idea, I loaded two actors and a director into my Jeep and gave them an evening tour. I didn’t tell them why they were on the tour, but I advised them to just look at the sights I was showing them. At the last stop I had them get out of the Jeep. Were we in a town park in front of the bandshell. I told them to imagine a 20-foot by 20-foot platform with light towers in two corners. Imagine also, I suggested, raised seating on two sides for several rows of audience members. I pointed out easy parking, a lovely setting with trees on the perimeter.

Bingo! It all added up an outdoor production of The Odd Couple was born.  Because I was scenery designer and technical director at the local university, I was sure I could borrow some platforms and lighting gear in return for credit in the program. I also had a “ringer” in an amazing technician, Dan, who could do anything, and had the ability to invent solutions to just about any problem. All we needed were clearances, some minor funding for the show rights, and a cast and crew.

Clearances were easy. The park department was jumped aboard almost immediately. We got the OK to borrow the equipment from the university. But we had a little snag on the cast. The problem was that this show was going to be produced and performed on a very short rehearsal schedule.  I think we had maybe 3 or 3 ½ weeks instead of the usual 4 or 5. Many of the usual suspects, that is, the usual potential cast members, were going to be locked out of auditions because of conflicts with work or vacations.

The director, Linda, came up one actor short and had to call in an emergency credit. Knowing that I had played Felix Unger in high school, and had been the properties manager in grad school, Linda, concluded that I was the perfect person to play one of the poker playing pals. She decided to combine two poker players into one, and I would be that one.

It was not the best choice as, to be totally honest, I had acquired a touch of memory lock and lived in fear of forgetting my lines. I had, and still have, no problem with appearing in from of an audience. However, I need a script of some sort in hand. Don’t ask me to memorize lines!

After a condensed rehearsal period we had a show. What a show!  The park department let us use the locker rooms for the athletic field. These were under the bandshell. In front of the bandshell we had our stage. Our lighting operator, Bill, set up his control station on the stage of the bandshell so he could look down on our in-the-round stage at ground level. We had the two lighting trees made from 12’ pipe, steel bases, and cross arms set up kitty-corner as planned. The audience was on two sides.

Each performance was either a sell-out or near sell-out.  People loved seeing the show under the stars. The weather was as good as you could imagine. And if you have ever lived in the great American mid-west I bet that you can imagine a lot.

The last night of the show went perfectly. That is, it went perfectly right up to the first intermission. Our super-tech, Dan, got a radio report that bad weather was headed our way. That put us on alert because bad weather in the mid-west can mean a lot of things, and at that time of year it mostly meant big trouble. I mean big, BIG trouble.

Somewhere near the middle of the show we began to hear distant rumblings. Dan climbed to the top of the athletic field grandstand on the back side of the bandshell and spotted lightning far to the west. Calculating the time difference between the lightning and the thunder, he figured that the storm was 20 miles or so away. Based on his experience, and my best guess, we figured the storm would hit us 10 minutes before the show was over. We had to take emergency action.

Linda was watching the show from the shadows, and we dragged her up to the grandstand and explained the situation. The three of use adjourned to the locker room and held an fast meeting. Linda would have to cut 10 minutes from the third act, explain that to the cast during the last intermission, and then conclude the show before the storm hit. Linda grabbed a script and started to scratch away with a pencil.

At the next intermission we had the cast and crew gather in the locker room. Linda explained where she had cut lines, and modified others. Chop, chop, chop … the end of the show lost 10 minutes. But, could the cast remember the changes? The had only minutes or review and rehearse.

The end of the intermission came, the lights went up on the last part of the show. Oscar and Felix were on stage, and then suddenly we poker players showed up. We immediately sat down and started to play poker. I have no idea of what our lines were, but they were really short. The doorbell rang and we were playing poker. The bell rang again, and we still played poker. Felix was supposed to answer the door, but he forgot!

One of the poker players said, “Hey, the doorbell is ringing”.

Felix kept playing poker.

I said something about the doorbell, but Felix kept playing poker.

Finally, one of the poker players suggested that, “Maybe you should answer the door, Felix.” With that, Felix “came to” and jumped up and ran to the door. He opened it and there were the sisters from “next door.”

The sisters came in, said hello, then somebody said something else, and then they all said goodbye and Felix left. End of show, cue lights out, cue lights back up, quick curtain call, and final cue lights out.

Instantly, the props crew ran on stage and started packing props. BAM! We had the first lightning strike in the vicinity, and the cast and tech crew tipped the lighting trees down and dashed to the locker room with the fixtures still attached. Bill ran away with the lighting control console, and as we rolled up the cables the first of the rain started to fall.

At first the audience was baffled when everyone started running around. It looked like we were desperate to go home! When that first thunder rumbled threw the park the audience got the message and headed for out, and fast!

Well, we made it. We got all the props and materials cleared without damage or injury. We barely got wet, if you can imagine that. It was a close call. Best of all, our production of The Odd Couple was a big hit, and it pulled the theatre group out of their financial hole so they could continue on, which they are still doing to this day, 30-plus years later.