This is a story of resilience. It is one of a structure that began as temporary, received a second life through modifications, survived abuse, and became an icon.
I am not talking about the Eiffel Tower, but the Prep theater’s stage extension.
It all began in the spring of 2017. I was a scrawny freshman, who was building his first set for Cape & Sword’s production of The Music Man. I will cover the remainder of this set in a later post, but the stage extension was my major contribution to this production.
The task at hand was demanding: Create a sturdy platform in front of the stage that would effectively double the space for the actors. In its original configuration, this platform was slightly lower than the remainder of the stage, and contained two flights of inlaid steps to each theater aisle. We additionally built the front to imitate the spindle designs from the remainder of the set.
At its core, the extension was simple. There were five connected box structures made of 2x4s and 4x4s with 3/4″ plywood on top of them. This was a beginner level project, which I spent the majority of my time doing that spring. I learned what screws to use, how to do cuts, and how to measure items properly. The decorative front was an irritation, but it brought me up to the level of intermediate builder rapidly. I learned to make my cuts precise, paint very carefully, and depend on spackle like it’s the savior.
After the show closed, we thought that the beautiful creation was slated for demolition, but as our school unexpectedly got the launch position for Disney’s Newsies, the structure was called back to action.
As a sophomore, I raised the level of the platforms, by raising a new, identical 2x4s main frame structure over the existing stage extension using 4×4 blocks. We covered over the decorative spindles with poster boards containing newspaper articles because of Newsies!
I had learned to modify my current resources to perform a new function, and I climbed up the stage crew ladder to become an advanced builder.
Newsies was not kind to my baby.
The constant tap dancing and choreography wore out the structure quickly and taught me my next essential skill: maintenance.
Throughout 1776, The Murder at Ramsbottom Manor, Spamalot, and All the Answers, the next four shows, I poured my heart into upkeeping the now indispensable structure.
That is the backstory for my pose in this crew photo after Spamalot. There was a single, small trap door in the top of the extension that could be used to access the dusty, trash-filled interior. I spent many hours squeezing through this door, replacing full support bars, and fine tuning the extension, so it wouldn’t squeak when actors stepped on it.
It survived, until I left. One of my last tasks as leader of the stage crew was to demolish this structure, to make way for a sturdier one. It was very satisfying to go at my extension with a sledgehammer, and the items we found on the inside were pieces of nostalgia from my four years at the Prep.
The previous videos were taken of my teammate getting a turn with the weapon of mass destruction.
Within two weeks of the demolition, school was called off due to the pandemic, and the show production was canceled.
My first and last tasks at stage crew, as a novice and a moderator, revolved around the extension. As I disposed of the spindles I had focused so much work on three years earlier, I realized how far I had come as a builder, and how much this pile of lumber had taught me.
Sometimes it’s the little things in life that teach you the most.
