This Is What We Remember

Now, let's see, what do we remember about the history of the Civic Little Theatre?

This is going to be a history written without benefit of notes, clippings, diaries, minutes and not one whit of research.

It will be better that way -- easier for us and easier reading for you. And after all the 30 years of the Civic Little Theatre have consumed so much of our lives -- just about half, if you count the years, and a whole lot more in energy and effort, with a wholesome concomitant, of course, of laughs and tears -- that it will be just a case of thinking back and putting things down on paper.

Of course, we may omit some important achievements and fail to give some credits here and there and, if so, we apologize.

The Beginning

And so having apologized first, let's get started.

Thinking it over, the Civic Little Theatre never did seem to care about omens or connotations or things like that, as witness the fact that the first meeting was held on a spring night in 1927 when a murder was committed just a block away from the meeting place, and the title of the first play was Suppressed Desires, and the title of the first play in the old Madison Theatre was It Won't Be Long Now, and the title of the first play the following season was A Successful Calamity.

In spite of it all, the CLT carried on throughout three decades, sometimes murdering a good play; always giving vent to the "suppressed desires" for expression of its actors and actresses; frequently coming close to the point where every sign pointed that it could not be long now ere the group's demise and then weathering the storm and emerging, "a successful calamity" indeed!

At this point Helen, who is constantly looking over my shoulder as I do the typewriting, says "That's enough of that stuff. Let's get down to facts."

Luncheon Idea

Well, it was Fred McCready and your correspondent who, while having lunch one day in a tea room, known as the Louisanne on North Seventh Street, above Linden, decided to start a little theatre. That was in 1927, and about that time little theatres were being started all over the country.

Promptly, we began writing down a list of names of eligibles and called a meeting. Practically everybody came -- out of curiosity, doubtless -- and there was much enthusiasm, evidenced very concretely by the fact that everybody promptly planked down the dues, which, it was decided, were to be $2 a year.

There were a lot of meetings after that, some in the studios of WSAN in the Morning Call building, and others in the picturesque sign shop of the late Eddie Mann, on the top floor of the building adjacent to the Orpheum State Theatre.

Strange Affair

Finally, by June of that year, we had advanced sufficiently to put on a play -- a one-acter -- Suppressed Desires, which we presented in the National Guard Armory at Fourth and Union Streets. It was a strange affair, what with the theatrical program embellished with a dance and refreshments.

Somehow the Reading group got wind of it, and a number of their members showed up and augmented the program. The Rev. Griswold Williams was their leader, and he offered a barefoot dance illustrative of a poem which someone recited while he danced. We may have been antedating Agnes deMille and her delineative type of choreography -- who knows?

Then, activities ceased for the summer, and it was some time before the torch again burst into flame. It was a call from Rev. Williams that we take part in a one-act program in Reading, together with Reading and Lancaster, and, feeling that he had been most kind in starting us off, we determined to return the favor.

Funny about those titles in those early days -- because the title of the one-act play we presented in Reading was, of all things, Trash!

Join Fine Arts Club

Some more time elapsed, and then a call came from the Fine Arts Club of Allentown, now defunct, which needed men to fill out a cast of a play they were going to present in the high school. It seems they had plenty of women but no men -- so we went along, and jointly we presented The Patsy.

We lower the curtain again at this point to denote the lapse of time, and again comes a call from the Fine Arts Club that the rent on its quarters at 616 Hamilton Street was overdue.

We made a deal that we could use their rooms upon turning over our treasury -- the same dues money that had remained intact since the first meetings, although a couple of years had passed.

So in the winter of 1930, we practically took possession of the Fine Arts rooms, rigged up a stage in an alcove portion from some muslin that the artists had used as backgrounds for an art show, and before the winter was over we had presented two programs of one-act plays. Audiences were limited to the number of chairs the "auditorium" would hold, which was 67!

Again On Street

By that time the Fine Arts Club gave up, and we were again out on the street, but not for long.

Allentown's Recreation Commission had a dramatic group, and the Commission had access to the school buildings and even to the Fair Grounds, and so a merger was negotiated.

Our group now included only a few diehards from the original group, plus members of the drama group of the Fine Arts Club and the new members of the drama group of the Recreation Commission.

At this point, Helen has again interrupted to remind us about Karl Weber and Elmer Huhn.

We answer back that we hadn't forgotten them but were coming to that point right now.

Weber and Huhn were of the original group, the former proving a tower of strength in the matter of technical assistance, while Huhn masterminded the financial matters.

Important as had been their aid up to this time, it became doubly and triply so the next season when we went into the Fair Grounds.

Continued