In past issues we’ve told you of our need for actors and people to work in marketing our shows.

Now we want to tell you about our need for costumers. Every show requires costumes, even if they look like street clothes to you.

The costumer’s work usually doesn’t start until after the show is cast—about two months before production. To be a costumer, you have to be a scavenger. If it’s not in our costume shop, you’ve got to find it and in the right size, style and color. Also, it’s always nice to be able to sew since alterations are often necessary.

A costumer knows every thrift shop and Salvation Army store in western Kansas.

Except for the nights of production, when at least one costumer needs to be behind stage to help with costume changes and emergencies, the time spent by a costumer is flexible and can be spread over several weeks.

It’s a chance to be creative and to have a major visual effect in the show.

Our spring production (April 28 - 30, May 1 & 2, 1998) will be the drama Richard Cory.

The play, in its revised version, was first pre-sented in 1984 with Christopher Reeves in the lead and is based upon the poem of the same name by Edwin Arlington Robinson.

A. R. Gurney, one of our times most masterful playwrights, allows us to vicariously explore the well springs of a man’s life—and death.

Each fall RCT holds its season ticket sales drive with calls placed to those who have attended shows in the past year. For several years, UMB National Bank of America has permitted us to use their bank of telephones and Pizza Hut has donated pizza to our volunteers. We think both UMB and Pizza Hut should be recognized for their support as well as all those who called or were runners delivering tickets sold: Aldean Banker, Debbie Maier, Dave Baldwin, Rosalie Wood, Carol Dawson, Beth Foster, Bill Walters, Barbara Krug, John Dumler, Alice Graham, Ted Lindahl and Taunya Lindahl.

Moliere’s most popular farce was a new experience for our theatre. It called for a different concept of acting and involved a lot of physicality. Because it was a different kind of theatre, it was difficult for both our actors and the director. However, it was a lot of fun to produce and we think our actors really enjoyed the chance to do something out of the ordinary. We hope the 468 patrons who attended had as good a time as we did.

To someone driving down Main Street, the building looks like all the rest. It’s an old building with a freshly painted awning and front windows decorated for a show or the season. Unbeknownst to the casual observer, the inside will make all your dreams come true. This vessel of treasures is the Russell Community Theatre warehouse.

As I step inside, I am reminded of my grandpa’s basement by the smell of dust and old clothes. As time passes, I can pick up on the cigarette smoke lingering in the corners, old perfume hanging in the costumes and the dampness in the walls.

The myriad of "stuff" I see is overwhelming. The two double clothes racks are like the World Trade Center looming as if waiting for King Kong. Looking around the room, I see an array of boxes, sacks and other types of packing cartons ready to open for their acting debut in bringing magic to the stage. An assortment of lighting fixtures, pictures, wall hangings, hats, shoes, purses, draperies and wall coverings lines the outside of the room daring you to look further and inviting you to explore their potentiality.

I feel the stillness in the air and the quiet of the closed building and can escape into the solitude. I look at a statue and imagine I’m a Greek goddess or try on a dress that takes me to the 1940’s when I’m a USO entertainer for the troops. I can just taste the cold beer or feel a soldier’s gentle kiss when I’m suddenly brought back to reality by a car honking on Main Street.

I walk through a doorway at the rear of the prop and costume area and am smothered with a mountain of furniture. There is everything from dressers, beds and mattresses to sofas and chairs of every style and shape. The chairs are piled as a child’s pickup sticks or building blocks whereby if one was disturbed, the rest would come tumbling down. My attention is drawn to the ceiling that was probably installed when the building was built. It is a beautifully molded metal and very ornate and seems a little too perfect for this imperfect room.

My travel through the warehouse now brings me to the scene shop. I see a wall of hammers, screwdrivers, squares, wire, ropes, electrical cords, sanders, saws and many other miscellaneous items. It is evident each was as carefully placed as a doctor’s instruments in surgery. Shelving filled with coffee cans and jars lined in perfect rows are filled with nails and screws that have been recycled and sorted many times over. The scent of lumber mixed with paint and solvents causes me to turn and see a wall of shelving filled with bins of paint cans and racks filled with new and used lumber.

I start to taste a little of the dust in the building and am no longer aware of the old dank odor. My appetite has been whetted and I’m left with a lingering flavor of the fantasies that have come to life through the "stuff" of theatre. My mind will forever be restless in a way that only imagination, creativity, and the theatre can soothe.