Bristol Renaissance Festival, or how it all started

Back in 1989, I lived in Plainfield, IL. I'd always loved history, fantasy and music - so when my best friend's mother organized a trip to the Bristol Renaissance Festival, I decided to go immediately. At the time (meaning - before I moved to Texas and my perception of distance became...warped...), it was a very long drive up to Bristol, Wisconsin - about an hour and a half. This was back in the dark ages, before the Internet, so I had no idea what I was about to step into.

To say it was magic would be cheapening the word magic. I was absolutely enthralled with EVERYTHING: I loved the trees, I loved the stage acts, I loved the cheesy garlands, I loved the joust, I loved the costumes. More than anything, however, I loved the music. I wish now that I'd brought just a little more money with me, as the one thing that stuck with me more than anything else was their recorder consort. I'd never heard actual recorders before - much less a whole ensemble of them in different pitches. I was hooked.

When I got home, I told my parents (where I got all that fantasy/history love from) all about it. We resolved to go check it out again next year.

By the fall of 1990 we had moved to Kingwood, Texas. I thought about the Bristol Faire, and how I'd never get a chance to see it again. As luck would have it, though, there was a big, well-promoted Renaissance Festival down here in Texas! Perfect!

One cold October morning the family trundled off for the drive to Plantersville, Texas. I was beside myself with excitement - I knew how much my family was going to love it, and boy was I right! We went back three more times that year. The next year I made my high school boyfriend take me, then my family went twice more. I was hooked - but all I had to show for it was one garland, a pewter fairy and a bamboo flute.

I resolved to get a job out there - but I had no idea how to do so. My mother told me to write the Plantersville Chamber of Commerce, which seemed like a logical choice. I dashed off the most professional letter I could in high school, elucidating my love of the site and my musical proficiency, and sent it off.

Two weeks later, I got a response written on Festival letterhead asking me if I would be interested in an audition for the Performance Company. Would I ever! I gathered up two friends and set about creating a completely historically inaccurate music ensemble. We practiced and practiced, and I thought we might do alright at the audition. I had been thinking I'd be working in a food booth or selling garlands, so the mere thought of a professional audition was both exciting and daunting.

For those of you who have never been on a Festival site when there is no one there, I don't know if I have the words to describe it. Even years later, there is a peculiar specialness to the early morning: the whole place becomes real somehow. In the off season, its almost like discovering a secret, abandoned town. The morning glories are growing out of control, the grass unmown and spreading up into the merchant shops, birds nesting on the flagpoles of the jousting track. I pulled up, friends in tow, and tried not to stare slack-jawed at the pure, spine tingling backstage magic of the site. I'm not embarrassed to say I still feel that spark every time I slip into a quiet, empty site.

Our audition was overseen by David Casey - a man I would later come to admire more than almost anyone I've ever worked with. Then, though, I was too nervous to pay very much attention to him or anyone around us. I do remember I auditioned with Steve Fenley, but that is all I can recall. We did well - as well as we could - and then stayed to watch the rest of the specialty acts. I was too intimidated to do the acting audition, so after the auditions were done, we quietly slipped off. If I could have, I would have snuck back to look around the site, but I was too frightened.

Three weeks passed, and the audition slowly faded from the forefront of my mind. I figured we were completely outclassed and probably needed to rework for next year. Imagine my surprise when I got a phone call from David. He offered me a contract - as a street musician! I would be playing a fairy - Crystal - who played the flute ... and also had to interact one-on-one with the public. One of my friends had decided the pay wasn't enough to offset the costs and backed out. My other friend was offered a spot as a noble. I enthusiastically said yes! yes! a thousand times yes!

Good, he said, you'll need to come to Performance Company rehearsals to learn to be a street performer. Alright, I said. You'll learn improv acting, he told me. Sure, I said, full of false bravado, I'll see you in August.

Acting? Oh dear. I thought I was a musician.