Off Headset: Essays on Stage Management Work, Life, and Career

Rafael Jaen, Christopher Sadler, Rafael Jaen, Christopher Sadler

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2022
• eBook ISBN: 9781000435344
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Performing Arts

Off Headset is a collection of chapters containing essays by a richly diverse group of stage management professionals and educators covering the challenges stage managers face on the job, in their lives, and in their careers.

The book starts with the intersectional history of stage managers and the actors' union. In "Part 1: Work," the contributors share a wide range of experiences, from regional theatre and Broadway to operas and cruises—and even running with the circus. The essays in "Part 2: Life" explore the relevance of stage managers claiming their identity, their resilience, and practicing self-care. Finally, in "Part 3: Career," readers receive aspirational and business advice for life in the real world: leadership, networking, unemployment, managing demanding calendars, and career planning. The book ends with a moment of pause during tech—a direct response to the absence we have been enduring throughout the COVID-19 pandemic and a tribute to a world we used to take for granted.

Intertwining practical advice with personal anecdotes, Off Headset: Essays on Stage Management Work, Life, and Career is the perfect accompaniment to students studying stage management in a university setting and professionals working in the field.

Part 1 Work

1 The Big Picture

Joseph Drummond

DOI: 10.4324/9780429321672-3

As a stage manager I embraced several “mantras” during my 42 years at the Goodman Theatre in Chicago. One that served me well was “Always carry a fork; you never know when you might encounter a chocolate cake!” Weeks and sometimes months passed between cake encounters, and co-workers were always impressed when I pulled out my trusty fork at the sight of an unexpected treat. What they didn’t realize was that, as a stage manager, I encountered the unexpected on a regular basis. Being prepared was simply part of my DNA.

Prepare for the Unexpected. It Will Happen

As a young, inexperienced assistant stage manager, I observed unexpected situations handled well and many that were not. One stage manager I worked with requested a backup gun in case the onstage gun that shot a main character did not fire. On opening night, the onstage gun did not fire, but the stage manager didn’t fire the backup gun either! Later he said he assumed the onstage gun would eventually fire, because it had gone off for all the previews. The next day, the review headline read “Benito Cereno Misfires at the Goodman.”

This was a major learning experience for me. I realized that being prepared was more than just having the gun in your hand. Preparing for the unexpected is key in many professions and life situations. Pilots go through a pre-flight checklist before every flight. I have read that people who focus on the flight attendant speech before takeoff go into auto response during real emergencies. The same holds true for people who check the route from their hotel room to the nearest emergency exit. Something as simple as counting the number of doors between their room and the exit means getting out of an unexpected situation safely. Once the brain has processed the info, that file pops open with the escape plan, and you execute it without thinking.

In the same vein, stage managers rely on completing pre-show checklists prior to each performance to ensure that everything required during the performance has been accounted for before the curtain goes up. Defending yourself when a prop is missing because you skipped using your pre-set checklist is impossible when it comes to being honest with yourself. No one’s safety has been compromised, but you have lost the trust of your cast. Additionally, I always assumed that every understudy will go on. During pre-production week for every show, stage management compiled a document for each performing actor that covered everything that needed to happen if said actor was not able to perform. The unexpected I was prepared for was learning at half-hour that an actor would not go on. When it happened, I consulted my “If X is out…” document and checked off all the necessary items, even though it meant opening the house late.

Although the document provided a blueprint of what had to happen during a performance, much of the preparation took place during regular weekly understudy rehearsals run by the stage management team. Understudies need to know more than the lines they must say; they need to physically experience the stage set. For example, expecting an understudy to get offstage safely in a blackout without rehearsal is totally irresponsible of a stage manager.

For technical issues, I drew on my past experiences to prepare for possible issues. I let my brain do the work in advance, so I was ready with a plan if needed. To be clear, I wasn’t thinking about how to tell someone how to fix something in an emergency; it was about asking the right questions in the moment.

Absorbing and organizing the different elements in advance is the plan that has served me well. Nothing beats a detailed checklist for pre-production, pre-tech, and pre-closing. When I started at the Goodman there was no generic checklist for any of the production stages. Each stage management team did its own thing. Eventually fellow production stage manager Chuck Henry and I decided to create shared checklists. We started with two pages; when I left the Goodman the pre-production checklist had grown to 13 pages. It was edited every time a stage manager encountered a new situation that warranted documentation or there were changes in policy or technology (making sure there was enough carbon paper for paperwork was deleted within months of creating the original checklist). There were sections for working with different kinds of animals (dogs, birds, chickens, and fish); another section for working with young performers; and several pages for musicals.

While it sounds tedious to maintain this working document, we knew that once each item on the pre-production list was completed, we were ready to enjoy first rehearsal. Beyond that, the checklist serves as the communal brain of the stage management department. Over the years as the Goodman grew from a local institution to a national theatrical force, the lowly checklist provided consistency in stage management performance, so that each production team could maintain the high production values and rehearsal process that the Goodman is known for.

Grow Where You Are Planted

What honed my attention to detail and affinity for documentation that led to a 46-year career in stage management? Two words: summer stock. I trained to be an actor and transitioned into stage management under the guidance of producer/director William (Bill) Putch at Totem Pole Playhouse located near Gettysburg, PA. I worked for Bill—a former stage manager himself—for 12 summers. When I started in 1970, we did one-week stock, rehearsing one show during the day and performing a different show at night.

Bill taught me not to lose sight of the Big Picture. One-week stock taught me to be fast, efficient, and accurate. This meant cutting windows in stacks of blank paper to paste in the pages of a Samuel French script. This allowed me to see both sides of the published script and provided room for taking blocking and writing cues. My first stage manager (SM) kit was a small cigar box filled with pencils and pens, as all paperwork was handwritten (in the 1970s, summer stock theatres in the woods had no computers, no copy machines, and no air conditioning; yes, there was indoor plumbing).

In 1974, I started my long career at the Goodman. However, at the time I didn’t know it was going to be a long career. Since I was basically a self-taught stage manager, I was in for an education of making a lot of mistakes. Regional theatre is a whole different ball game than summer stock. Like any young person who makes a big leap professionally, I felt out of my depth for a while. I kept a log of items I felt were requirements of the position and stole ideas, procedures, and paperwork from the other Goodman stage managers. When I felt uncertain or insecure at any given moment, I would do what I did as an actor: I pretended. It worked! Just giving the impression of confidence made others think I was and in turn made me more confident.

I was an assistant stage manager for several years, working with three different stage managers. The Goodman mainstage season consisted of six productions with two teams of stage managers working on every other production. Each team also had to be on hand for the other team’s tech weeks. Observing the other stage management team during this time allowed me to take in the nuances of the job—those things that weren’t in Bert Gruver’s Stage Manager’s Handbook.¹ For example, developing people skills was always a challenge. On one show, a crew member was consistently late on a deck cue. The issue, I finally discovered, was the location of the cue light. He had to be a contortionist to see it but didn’t feel he had the power to tell me. Solution: move the cue light.

As I moved up from assistant stage manager to production stage manager, I kept hearing Bill Putch’s admonition, “Look at the Big Picture.” In doing so, I realized what an ideal situation I had at the Goodman. My arrival there coincided with Chicago’s great growth as a theatre mecca. During this time the Goodman grew in stature as other theatres came on the scene: St. Nicolas, Wisdom Bridge, Steppenwolf, Victory Gardens. This creative synergy attracted a multitude of talented directors, designers, choreographers, and actors. I worked with many established names: Tennessee Williams, Edward Albee, Hal Prince, Gregory Mosher, Robert Falls, Michael Maggio, Frank Galati, Chita Rivera, David Mamet, and hundreds of other professionals. I was fortunate to have the stability of an established yet forward-thinking theatre as my home base.

I worked on 133 productions at the Goodman, including 12 musicals and 12 seasons of A Christmas Carol. Early in my career I took the Goodman production of David Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross to Broadway. Another career highlight was opening the Goodman’s production of Death of a Salesman on Broadway. I was turning the show over to another stage manager after the opening. Previews were not going smoothly as we approached opening night in New York. The production stage manager replacing me commented that “It’s unnatural that you keep so levelheaded in moments of stress.” I answered: “Twelve years of doing Christmas Carol trained me to remain calm.”

It’s another way of saying that every production is a rehearsal for the next production. My cumulative stage management knowledge kicks in automatically in times of crisis. Whether Tiny Tim is throwing up in the wings or a major star is throwing a fit on a Broadway stage, I remain focused on running the production.

Everyone Is Part of the Team

The Goodman stage management staff often felt we were working in a vacuum. Working at a major regional theatre, we weren’t looking to move to Broadway. We were putting down roots in Chicago. When the Stage Managers’ Association (SMA) formed in the early 1980s in New York, production stage manager Chuck Henry and I joined and waited for snail mail to bring us news of what was happening with stage managers elsewhere. The SMA was hosting events, roundtables, forums, and workshops in New York, difficult for any of us to attend. So, Chuck Henry, Marsha Gitkind, Malcolm Ewen, Alden Vasquez, and I started our own mini SMA by getting together and re-creating those events in Chicago. We built a stage management community that worked to improve some of the issues stage managers were facing in Chicago. That community has thrived: the Chicago Kick-Ass Stage Management Facebook group now stands at 1,061 members, many of whom are SMA members.

Bill Putch’s Big Picture guidance reminded me to look beyond my own world and acknowledge the help of others. For example, I learned the value of working under great leadership from Goodman’s executive director Roche Schulfer. My fellow Goodman staff members also taught me respect: when you give it, it’s returned.

As the Goodman grew in stature, it also grew in staff size. I was responsible for maintaining communication with this growing and ever-changing staff. Stage management issued daily reports on rehearsals and performances and I needed to keep staff updated on what was happening onstage and in the rehearsal room. FYI (For Your Information) was my solution. By giving staff FYIs in the reports—for example, if script pages that involved design elements were being cut—I allowed them to decide if the info was important to their department. I also tried not to overreach in my information. For example, prop master Jimmy Swank told me to give notes without the suggested solutions. I wasn’t respecting his talents with my suggestions. I understood his point of view, and it illustrates how difficult it is to determine what or how much information is needed.

The stage management team is the hub of the wheel of a production; we had to determine where the information needed to flow, how much and what kind. I preferred to err on the side of too much than to be in the position of seeming to withhold valuable information.

Tech week was always a time of intense stress and little sleep—often self-inflicted—as the clock kept ticking towards first preview. In the 1970s, Goodman management started providing beer to the crew and stage management after the first preview. It was a way of say thanks for getting us through yet another tough tech week. Years later pizza was added to the thank you. As one who latches onto mantras, I embraced “You can’t stop beer night.” No matter how stressful tech week is, there is always a first preview and then beer night. Just focus on what you need to do to keep tech moving forward.

Acknowledging your own team members is also important. While working as an assistant stage manager, I wasn’t always included in production discussions and it made me feel less valuable to the team. I decided to address this issue when I worked with assistant stage managers. The Equity rule book defines the stage management staff as stage manager and assistant stage manager, not assistant to the stage manager. I introduced assistant stage managers as team members; included them in discussions and decisions; trusted them to take care of our agreed responsibilities; and laughed with them whenever appropriate, often after everyone left for the day. While dealing with some stressful issues after opening, Assistant Stage Manager Marsha Gitkind and I found that throwing the leftover break-a-way china from the previous show was extremely therapeutic. As the production stage manager, I sat in the hot seat, but creating a strong cohesive team meant a better working relationship.

Make the Career Work for You

Many young stage managers burn out at an early point in their careers because they allow the position to control them. I made a conscious decision to manage my time effectively. I worked with my team members Malcolm Ewen and Lois Griffing to set up daily habits that worked for all of us. Since we could not control the number of hours we had to be in rehearsals, tech, or performances, we could require ourselves to complete as much of the day’s work during those hours as possible. I wanted us to complete the day’s tasks during the rehearsal hours, focusing on the reports and schedules at the end of the day. Once those were completed, we could leave the job at the theatre. It took time to make it work, but our mental health rewards were well worth the investment in making the change. I also made some healthy choices for myself. I upped my trust level, delegated responsibilities to my team members, and made sure our interns felt valued and respected as team members, even providing them with networking connections to the Chicago stage management community.

In 1999, as the Goodman was preparing to move into a newly built theatre, we had to throw out items that did not need to be m...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title Page
• Series Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication Page
• Contents
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction Intersectional History: Stage Managers in the Actors’ Union
• Part 1 Work
• Part 2 Life
• Part 3 Career
• Afterword Moment of Pause—Tech, 09.26.20
• Biographies
• Index