Anyone who has ever walked out onto a bare stage with only the ‘ghost light’ on for illumination knows what the developer of the Westbury Theater forgot: an empty theater is only a shell, until the moment a show is in it. The occasional one-day event booking may be nice, but one can’t keep a building alive, much less an entire community, with a policy like that. He needs a resident producer/director to fill the space with ongoing entertainment, offering runs of at least one week as the old Westbury Music Fair and Mineola Playhouses did in their heyday. Oh, and while I am at it, let me throw out a few other observations: [1] from their web site, the new interior looks tacky, and glitzy in a cheap sort of way, but that may be a matter of taste. What is not a matter of taste is the fact that the photographs are all too dark and are shot using the wrong lens. One gets no sense of the feeling the space can have and the relationship between the house and the stage. Loose the lobby photos that look like the place is still under construction and lighten the others up using basic Photoshop functions and/or take new and better pictures if you really want to attract business/rentals. [2] Further along those lines of thought, the owner/managers should add some basic technical information about the stage’s equipment package and capabilities for potential renters (they can look at the site for the arts center in Raleigh, NC for a good example of what I am talking about. And [3] ‘The Space at Westbury’ is a LOUSY name for a theater. Better to call it the Westbury Theater and Event Center. At least that conveys something…some identity and purpose! When it comes to theaters, I am VERY DUBIOUS about villages and property owners taking advice from ‘marketing’ and other MBA type hucksters, who come up with concepts/names like ‘The Space.’ They’d be much better off talking to theater people, with a measure of horse sense, instead. :>)
From 1983 to 1986, I was a member of the Opera Company of Boston [beginning as an intern and ending up as their production stage manager and occasional onstage actor] and I have such fond memories of working at the Opera House.
Although it was somewhat run down at that time, and replacement parts for everything from the seats to the heating system were hard to come by, it was still very elegant and a fascinating place to explore.
The lobby, fashioned after the Paris Opera, was beautiful and was used for a series of lunchtime and holiday concerts, as well as the company’s 25th anniversary dinner. [A kitchen was tucked under the grand staircase.]
A nursery, whose mirrored walls concealed closets for toys and other supplies, floated above the theater’s entry hall. This was one of the remnants of the services the theatre offered in its day as a movie palace.
Our offices were located in a five-story attachment to the back of the theatre. Some of the rooms had full baths, which implied they could double as overnight accommodations for visiting artists.
Under the stage, off of the dingy orchestra “green room,” was a tiled room with a large rectangular tub in the center. The room, which was a mess, appeared to be a slop room and was filled with discarded buckets of paint. I asked our tech director one day what the room originally was for and he replied, “It was the seal room.” “The seal room…?” I repeated. “What was that?”
He led me to the stage’s pin rail. At one end was a bricked up opening. It had originally housed a small elevator, which lifted the animal acts from the basement “seal room” to the stage. [i told you the place was fascinating!]
My first production for the company took place during a very cold Boston winter and marked Eva Marton’s first American performances in Puccini’s “Turandot.†There was no onstage heating and numerous small openings in the stage house roof. For rehearsals we scattered a few small space heaters about the stage on extension cords. It was mostly a psychological gesture. It was only through Ms. Marton’s good graces and that of the other leads and company chorus that we managed to make it through to a spectacular opening night.
But the most wonderful aspect of the theatre, to us, was its perfect acoustics and clear sightlines. That made suffering all the house’s mechanical problems worthwhile…for the singers, the company members, and our audiences alike.
Restoration of the theatre at that time was not a financial option for the Opera Company of Boston. There were occasions when Sarah Caldwell would take a drive and return with a check from a Board member just to forestall Boston Edison from terminating service!
A year or two after I left, the Opera Company shuttered and the theatre went dark. There it stood for many years alongside the old Paramount Theatre, both decaying away. It filled me with sadness just to think about that.
I am so happy now that Clear Channel has saved the Opera House in time and beautifully returned it to use as a theatre.
Anyone who has ever walked out onto a bare stage with only the ‘ghost light’ on for illumination knows what the developer of the Westbury Theater forgot: an empty theater is only a shell, until the moment a show is in it. The occasional one-day event booking may be nice, but one can’t keep a building alive, much less an entire community, with a policy like that. He needs a resident producer/director to fill the space with ongoing entertainment, offering runs of at least one week as the old Westbury Music Fair and Mineola Playhouses did in their heyday. Oh, and while I am at it, let me throw out a few other observations: [1] from their web site, the new interior looks tacky, and glitzy in a cheap sort of way, but that may be a matter of taste. What is not a matter of taste is the fact that the photographs are all too dark and are shot using the wrong lens. One gets no sense of the feeling the space can have and the relationship between the house and the stage. Loose the lobby photos that look like the place is still under construction and lighten the others up using basic Photoshop functions and/or take new and better pictures if you really want to attract business/rentals. [2] Further along those lines of thought, the owner/managers should add some basic technical information about the stage’s equipment package and capabilities for potential renters (they can look at the site for the arts center in Raleigh, NC for a good example of what I am talking about. And [3] ‘The Space at Westbury’ is a LOUSY name for a theater. Better to call it the Westbury Theater and Event Center. At least that conveys something…some identity and purpose! When it comes to theaters, I am VERY DUBIOUS about villages and property owners taking advice from ‘marketing’ and other MBA type hucksters, who come up with concepts/names like ‘The Space.’ They’d be much better off talking to theater people, with a measure of horse sense, instead. :>)
From 1983 to 1986, I was a member of the Opera Company of Boston [beginning as an intern and ending up as their production stage manager and occasional onstage actor] and I have such fond memories of working at the Opera House.
Although it was somewhat run down at that time, and replacement parts for everything from the seats to the heating system were hard to come by, it was still very elegant and a fascinating place to explore.
The lobby, fashioned after the Paris Opera, was beautiful and was used for a series of lunchtime and holiday concerts, as well as the company’s 25th anniversary dinner. [A kitchen was tucked under the grand staircase.]
A nursery, whose mirrored walls concealed closets for toys and other supplies, floated above the theater’s entry hall. This was one of the remnants of the services the theatre offered in its day as a movie palace.
Our offices were located in a five-story attachment to the back of the theatre. Some of the rooms had full baths, which implied they could double as overnight accommodations for visiting artists.
Under the stage, off of the dingy orchestra “green room,” was a tiled room with a large rectangular tub in the center. The room, which was a mess, appeared to be a slop room and was filled with discarded buckets of paint. I asked our tech director one day what the room originally was for and he replied, “It was the seal room.” “The seal room…?” I repeated. “What was that?”
He led me to the stage’s pin rail. At one end was a bricked up opening. It had originally housed a small elevator, which lifted the animal acts from the basement “seal room” to the stage. [i told you the place was fascinating!]
My first production for the company took place during a very cold Boston winter and marked Eva Marton’s first American performances in Puccini’s “Turandot.†There was no onstage heating and numerous small openings in the stage house roof. For rehearsals we scattered a few small space heaters about the stage on extension cords. It was mostly a psychological gesture. It was only through Ms. Marton’s good graces and that of the other leads and company chorus that we managed to make it through to a spectacular opening night.
But the most wonderful aspect of the theatre, to us, was its perfect acoustics and clear sightlines. That made suffering all the house’s mechanical problems worthwhile…for the singers, the company members, and our audiences alike.
Restoration of the theatre at that time was not a financial option for the Opera Company of Boston. There were occasions when Sarah Caldwell would take a drive and return with a check from a Board member just to forestall Boston Edison from terminating service!
A year or two after I left, the Opera Company shuttered and the theatre went dark. There it stood for many years alongside the old Paramount Theatre, both decaying away. It filled me with sadness just to think about that.
I am so happy now that Clear Channel has saved the Opera House in time and beautifully returned it to use as a theatre.
— EJC