When the house lights dim…

Recollections of the Drama Club at Kishacoquillas High School in the 1960s

FOREST K. FISHER Kishacoquillas High School

Class of 1967

Those dimming house lights, that was the signal for my heart to start pounding!

Standing just off stage awaiting my cue when the curtains parted, my palms would dampen up quickly. I can still feel that excitement and anticipation!

Not just me, but every other member of the cast in our high school drama club, the stage crew and makeup artists, props, publicity, program committee, all were ready to go! The drama club advisors, after months of preparation, costumes and practices, were equally ready to get on with it!

Of course, our parents and grandparents, other teachers and friends, were in the auditorium seats beyond, waiting, all prepped to enjoy the production.

Standing behind those closed curtains was agony, given the stern admonition from our late drama club advisors John P. McElhoe and Linda Wilson Titzel, “On opening night, don’t peek at the audience from behind the curtains!”

How many years ago now? Well pushing 60, since that stage debut with the drama club at Kishacoquillas High School.

The theater group was called “The Masquers,” a name derived from the classical masks of Greek comedy and tragedy. The great thing about the Kish Masquers was that there were jobs for kids from 7th to 12th grade, opportunities very much still at play in today’s high school musical productions, only more so!

I joined the drama club in tenth grade. The frst play I participated in was Cheaper by the Dozen, portraying the father, Frank Gilbteth, Sr. The play described growing up in a family with twelve children. Based on a book by the same name, the autobiographical story tells about the family’s life. The title comes from one of the real Mr. Gilbreth’s favorite jokes, which played out in a 1950 flm of the same name, as he and his family were out driving and stopped at a red light. A pedestrian would ask: “Hey, mister! How come you got so many kids?” Gilbreth would pretend to ponder the question carefully, and then, just as the light turned green, would say: “Well, they come cheaper by the dozen, you know”, and drive off.

The 1965 play program cover shows the Gilbreth family car, loaded with all the kids. Our classmate and artist, Grant “Skip” Treaster, created the old Ford with a number “12” on the front plate.

At least two of my teachers, Ray Deamer and Hope Reigle, told me I was perfect for the part of the senior Mr. Galbreth since I was born grown up!

I don’t know about that, but my character died in act three, off stage “while on a business trip.” The sad news arrived to my stage family. Mama and kids persevered in honor of Papa’s life and work, an uplifting message the audience appreciated.

My senior year, the play was Old Doc. Yep, you guessed it, I was cast as Old Doc, the town’s favorite, aged physician who set the kids’ broken bones, warded off illnesses, and, if staged in the 21st century, probably delivered all the town’s babies, to boot! At least one baby is shown in a promo photo.

I’m shaky on the plot after all those years, but believe the story line went something like this: an older doctor is saddened that his son won’t be joining with him in practice. His hopes for a father-son team seem unlikely until the son joins Old Doc on a serious case.

And yep, I died in act three of this one, too. Sadly missed, but highly respected and beloved by the townsfolk.

Close curtain.

Type cast before I was even eighteen!

But one of the perks of belonging to the drama club was a trip to New York City to see a professional Broadway musical!

Picture this… a Luther Yoder tour bus from McVeytown makes an early morning pick-up of the drama club at the high school. Loaded with kids and chaperones from central Pennsylvania, the troupe arrives in the Big Apple. This is 1966. We’re dropped off at the famous Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, 205 West 46th Street in the Theatre District of Midtown Manhattan. Our chaperones inform us we’re all on our own until the matinee performance. Be back on time!

Groups split up and scatter into the largest collection of people and buildings most of us have ever seen or been around in our lives!

However, some of us planned for a brief city tour for lunch. I was with senior class member Joe Brindel. His father, William (Bill), of Brindel’s Hardware Store fame in Reedsville, told us of a renowned old restaurant we had to hit when in NYC.

Paddy’s Clam House was at 215 West 34th Street,”

The address is a few buildings down from Macy’s Department Store.

With Bill Brindel’s directions and a NYC map, we headed for the eatery, and lunched where the elite meet to eat! Google Paddy’s

Clam House, and get a look at this place in its heyday. White linen tablecloths, heavy restaurant dish ware, white-aproned waiters sporting bow ties, and noise, noise, noise! The intermixing of muddled conversations, clattering plates and silver made it hard to hear conversations. The waiter passed out oversized illustrated menus with all the seafood delights a metropolis near the ocean could offer… clams, oysters, shrimp and lobster.