Gathering Peascods and Philip

My first weekend of rehearsals out at TRF was a blur of so many things. I was TERRIFIED, yet somehow really excited about the whole thing. As some have noticed, I have quite an affection for the empty faire site and the rehearsal process, and I am positive that it started that first weekend.

We were taught - in no uncertain terms - not to be late. Anyone who has ever worked with David can tell you he has no patience for lateness. Terrhan and I were almost late one time - and that was fairly terrifying. The first weekend was a whirlwind of "new" for me. I'd never acted before - only been in pit orchestras. I'd never worked with adults as peers before, I'd never had to do improv. I was completely intimidated and completely curious.

After the obligatory opening remarks, we were taken on a tour of the site, and told to look at it with fresh eyes. We were told to look at everything with the new eyes of our characters, to look for things we might have overlooked before. This grew into one of my favorite exercises years later (and revealed to me, when one of my characters had a ... negative ... reaction to nakedness exactly how many paintings and carvings of decolletage are scattered around the faire site). This time though, I had no idea what I was doing. I followed along, trying to look for things a fairy might find interesting. Trees, canopies, flowers, this fantastic bower near the battle mound that was made of intertwined trees....I was starting to see where this was going.

After lunch, we set about to work. This was David's first year out at TRF, and the Performance Company was quite small - around fifty people at that point. It had been decided that we should learn something together we could use to interact with patrons - a dance. Now this was something I could do!

We gathered in the shade of the old Entertainment Building and paired up. I was just a wisp of a thing, still in High School, and hadn't said more than a few words to anyone all day. I must have looked quite lost, and had been hanging back, near the benches.

"Would you care to dance?" a kind voice asked me. A red-haired man was holding out a hand to me, smiling kindly and quite patiently. I think I looked at the ground and took his hand like all the other ladies around me. We took our place in the circle.

This was my first attempt at Renaissance dance. It was a simple dance - Gathering Peascods - and I focused everything I had on trying to not look stupid. The whole time, my partner made sure I understood what was happening, where I should be going. He made me feel completely un-self-conscious and at ease. When the class was over, he kissed my hand and we all moved back to the Globe to work on something else.

I have never forgotten that. Philip Hafer taught me, in just a few minutes, what being a good partner was all about. I have always regretted not having a chance to know him better. When he passed later that season, there was a sadness that passed over everyone, over the whole festival site, that was palpable and deep. I had just met him, barely a passing moment, and his kindness touched me.

Years later, even after a thousand times through and groans from everyone at the sheer mention of the dance, I always think of Philip. Rest in Peace, your majesty.

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.