Phoenix - Fall 1975

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editors EDITOR Susan Betts MANAGING EDITOR Connie Jones NON-FICTION Tom Wright FICTION Eric Forsbergh POETRY Marla Puziss Paul Roden ART Phil Rose PHOTOGRAPHY RonHarr EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS John Furlow Ruth Garwood Micky Harris Lynn Hoiferberth Lori Kildgore Rick Sanders PRODUCTION Jeannie Sprague

(c) Copyright 1976, by the University of Tennessee. Rights retained by the individual contributors. Send contributions to Phoenix, Room 5, Communications Bldg., 1340 Circle Park Drive, Knoxville, Tennessee 37916.

the performing arts The Phoenix explores the performing arts, dance and the theater, in this issue.

Dance opportunity at UT is limited. There is no degree program, but the desire for such a program exists. Already a dance company, open to the most advanced students, has been formed. The Phoenix urges continued expansion of the dance program.

Theater at UT and in Knoxville is another matter. In addition to the UT Theatres and the Professional Company, the Square Revolution Series and the Busker's Dinner Theater provide outlets for talented students on campus. Off campus, both The Play Group and Carpetbag Theater offer a highly diversified experience in the performing arts. The variety of theatrical expression available in Knoxville is impressive.

The Phoenix has interviewed Anthony Quayle, visited dance classes, viewed alternative theater productions and talked to professors, designers, and actors. We hope enthusiasm these performers share is transmitted because all are concerned with the same thing-the audience. Without an audience to appreciate, or at least react to, their art, performers are nothing.

"Let your support be loud, clear and quite unmistakable," said Anthony Quayle in a theater publication. "You are not a passive audience - you are active participators, with a direct and massive influence."

Phoenix theater

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alternative theater in Knoxville-The Play GrouP. by Connie Jones

the Phoenix interviews actor/director Anthony Quayle, by Tom Wright and Frank Limpus from the Bijou to Clarence Brown - Theater at UT, by Tom Wright and Frank Limpus

~S "Macbeth, your hem is crooked," costumer Marianne Custer, ./.

by Susan Scarbrough

dance

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that's modern dance?-profile of dancer Lura Able,

by Max Heine

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dance practice-photo essay, by Jonathan Daniel and Joe Willis

feature

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grass roots education for the South - The Highlander Center, by Eric Forsbergh

art/photography ~ a camera's eye-photos by Karen J. Petrey, Jed DeKalb,

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Harry Weill, Ron Harr, and George Holz

~ ~ "Hi Ya Honey" and "Valley of Uncertainty" -art by Johnathan

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Long and Phil Rose

world view-art by Sandra Lee Starck

back cover "Synthesis" - art by Rechichar

creative writing

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comedy dialogue-The liberal Arts Syndrome. by Michael Russo poetry by J. G. Willis, S. Knauth, K. Harris, A. Roney, A. Captain, Nganga, P. Sheraden, Q. Powers. V. B. Menefee and J. Miller

is your postman Robert Redford? - The Key To It AU. fiction by lisa Koger

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theater

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by Connie Jones

alternative theater in Knoxville

A saloon girl and a cowhand play strip tic-tac-toe. Two old-timers discuss cloud formations and diabetes. An Indian attack becomes a shooting gallery, then a monologue on peacocks, birds of paradise, turtles and chickens. The everyday realities of cowboys-rain, mud, sunburn, heat-drift into fantasies triggered by rhythmic movements and chants. This is alternative theater. This is Cowboys #2, performed by The Play Group.

Tom Cooke, associate professor of Speech and Theater at UT, began an experimental theater workshop from which The Play Group evolved.

"The workshops started, and we took advantage of every opportunity we could find to see what was happening in the experimental theater of the sixties," Cooke said.

"We learned a great deal and did a few plays."

Photos by Joe Willis and Jonathan Daniel

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Mac Pirkle and John Craven in Cowboys #2

A workshop participant, Ben Harville, was asked to direct a summer theater program in Fontana, North Carolina. Harville brought several other workshop members to Fontana and The Play Group was organized. "We wanted the freedom to do what we want to do, which changes all the time," said Mac Pirkle, one of the founding members.

What they wanted to do was their alternative theater-alternative in the sense that members of The Play Group did not perform conventional plays. Rather, they gave renderings of original plays, or performed theater pieces suggested by literary pieces: short stories, fairy tales, folk stories. Cowboys #2, one of their recent productions, was a scripted play, but it depended upon experimental theater techniques. It was unconventional in approach,

use of space and audience-actor relationships.

"The Play Group is not concerned with plays," explained Cooke. "It is based on the idea of a child's play-the freedom of child's play. It involves the right to add one's own creativity to the piece-add something that stimulates you as an actor. The script should not be a blueprint. It should be a creative impetus."

In this vein, one of The Play Group's first productions was Every Alice, based on The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland. They have done several other shows for children, including Snow White, Blood Red, and Ebony Black and Higgelty, Piggelty, Pop, done for the Dogwood Arts Festival in 1974 and 1975, respectively.

This freedom and spontaneity of child's play are fundamental to the nonscripted dramas performed by

The Play Group. Voices, performed in Baltimore, New York, and UTs Hunter Hills Theater in 1974, was an improvisational exploration of the Appalachian tradition.

"We talked and read articles aloud," said Pirkle. "The basis of Voices was songs, stories, actions and the religion in Appalachia. We did what we felt comfortable doing and combined it into a sequence, a feeling."

Achieving the openness and spontaneity demanded by productions like Voices is difficult actors trained in more for conventional theater techniques.

"Experimental theater uses psychophysical exercises which enable the actor to prepare his instrument-his body, his voice-for reaction to any stimulus, to overcome the tendency to stereotype, to plan rather than simply to do," Cooke said.

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The Play Group performed Higgelty, Piggelty, Pop, based on the children's book by Maurice Sendak, in the Dogwood Arts Festival of 1975.

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Three of the group's members went to Poland this fall to work with one of the most influential proponents of such experimental theater techniques, Jerzey Grotowski of the Polish Lab Theater. Grotowski's work has had great influence on experimental theater groups since the 1960's.

The Play Group rented the Epworth Church in 1975 and transformed it into the Theater at Epworth. A nonprofit corporation, The Play Group received grants from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Tennessee Arts Commission. "We are reorganizing our board, seeking further community involvement, and maintaining our own work. We're in a period of diversification," said Katharine Pearson, member and bookkeeper of the group.

The Play Group has begun a Sunday night music series and has expanded its children's theater program to three productions in the schools during December, February and May. The group also has a grant to hire a managing director - "a good lawyer interested in theater," said Ken McCaslin, who acted in Voices. The members are also interested in establishing an acting class in order to gain exposure to university students.

"We are very interested in physical development and its relationship to expression, and in the dialectic between fantasy and reality," Harville said. Fantasy and reality expressed in movement, song, and spoken words-this is The Play Group . •

theater

Phoenix Interview: Anthony Quayle

by Tom Wright and Frank Limpus

Phoenix - What were your thoughts about coming to Tennessee to appear in the play Headhunters?

Quayle - I didn't have any thoughts. I knew where Tennessee was, but I didn't know where Knoxville was, so-dead honest-I just thought, "How interesting to work at a university I don't know and haven't heard of."

found Ralph Allen, and I found that he was not only saying it, but he was doing something about it. That's how it all came about, really. Ralph Allen induced me to come back here.

Phoenix - What has been your reaction to the reception that has been given the professional theater here?

Phoenix - What encouraged you to stay here after Quayle-Well, I think it's very encouraging. So far, so good. There's a lot going for it and a certain amount Headhunters and do Everyman? going against it. You've got a lot of ingrained attitudes Quayle - What encouraged me was something in my in a theater like this, which have grown up, really, from own nature. Whenever I came to America I'd seen it the community theater's marriage to the university. If falling on bad days as far as the ordinary commercial you now try and establish a professional company, you theater was concerned. And I had been advocating to run up against certain hostilities, which are quite any influential friends that I had that something natural and understandable. And these are hostilities ought to be done to get theater going through that have to be overcome, and people must be made to universities. But nobody had listened to me, maybe I feel that they are not threatened. There's room for hadn 't spoken to the right people. But I came here and both things.

Photos by Jonathan Daniel

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the United States, they say, "Well, I don't know, there's the chance at this movie, that series, or such and such production. Three months down in Tennessee and Alabama? Hmmm ,I don't know."

Phoenix-Do you think your work here is going unnoticed by people in the theater?

Quayle - I would say more or less unnoticed. There are a few friends who know that crazy Quayle has got himself hidden down in Tennessee somewhere. And they think, well he's out of his head, but that's the way he is. We are trying to get a certain amount of national recognition from the press, and to some small success.

"There are a few friends who know that crazy Quayle has got himself hidden down In Tennessee somewhere. "

Phoenix - Some have said that the professional company is getting all the attention and the student program is suffering. Is that what you are referring to?

Quayle - Yes, but I don't think the student program suffers at all, actually. The student program is something all of its own, and it is a program which isn't aimed at professionalism. Most of the students are not thinking of being professional actors, designers, choreographers, directors. It's just a corollary to their ordinary academic life. I don't see that this takes away from the student program. I don't see that it interferes at all.

Phoenix - Have other theater people gotten excited about this experiment-Actor's Equity for example?

Quayle - Actor's Equity, on the whole, is benevolent to the idea, naturally, because their concern is to f!nd employment for out-of-work actors. They will go quite a ways to encourage it and give a certain latitude on students performing on stage and playing a few lines, and so on. They've been, on the whole, very helpful. As far as actors are concerned, the middle and lowermiddle group of actors are very happy, because, again, there is good work going on and there is employment going on. The difficulty in getting more famous actors is that there is no tradition in the United States for eminent actors and actresses to come back and, for a very modest salary, contribute their services. The financial rewards and the lure of success in New York or California, are so strong that they are very reluctant to chance it. They're most reluctant still to chance it in a place where there is no national recognition. To come and more or less get buried in the Southeast comer of

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A man like Clive Barnes, who is a friend of mine, said he is trying to come. But the New York Times has fiscal problems and they don't reckon that there's enough reason to send a New York critic to Tennessee.

So whether Clive will come or not, I don't know.

Phoenix - Have the local media given the productions "here enough attention?

Quayle - You know, I honestly try not to pay attention. My main concern is what happens on the stage. If I start looking at reviews or seeing ,the amount of publicity, I get thrown. Whether it's praise or whether it's blame, it's no concern. You've just got to do what you have to do and do it the best you can, either as a director or an actor.

Phoenix-Have you seen the review in the Daily Beacon?

Quayle - I haven't seen it.

Phoenix - It was somewhat hostile to the Macbeth production.

Quayle - Yes, well, students are apt to be hostile.

That's a sort of prerogative of youth, I think.

Anthony Quayle's career in the theater spans more than 40 years. During that time he has given celebrated performances on stage, in motion pictures and in television. His most recent successes include his role as Andrew Wyke in Sleuth (in London and New York) and receiving television's Emmy for his work in QB VII. He first appeared at the University of Tennessee in 1974, in Henry Denker's Headhunters. Since then, as head of the UT professional theater company, he has starred in Everyman, and most recently produced, directed, and acted the title role of Macbeth.

Quayle was interviewed on October 29, near the end of the Macbeth run at Clarence Brown Theatre.

Phoenix - What is your opinion of the student actors here at UT? Quayle - You see, as far as Macbeth is concerned, there's not a lot of them that have got a great deal of chance. There's a few of them that are playing speaking parts, and I think they've come up to it marvelously well, consjdering that they do not have any training. They're better than any comparable group of young actors that I've ever come across. They look fine; they wear their costumes well; they're intelligent; they're full of enthusiasm; and they make an enormous contribution to this production. And that goes also for the students who are involved on the technical side of things. They're quite remarkable.

There are a half a dozen people here - young students - who I think are very talented. And if some of them wish to become professional actors, they may be very successful. I think, though, that the theater department is not geared to train professional actors.

It doesn't try to be; it is an academic program. It has a great number of student productions in which youngsters who are primarily studying for an academic degree get practical experience in being in community-type productions, but it does not give them the movement or the voice production or the other things which go towards making a versatile professional actor. So what you have is a lot of raw talent.

Phoenix - Is that because there is no immediate market for these actors?

Quayle- Yes, I dare say so. This particular area, I guess historically, has been for a long time - retarded.

It's not had the economic growth, the industrial growth, or the population that the Northeast had. But as the population grows and as people's interest turns from primary producing people will say: "What do we

do with our leisure?" There will become a movement to say, "Well, why have we got to be dependent on New York? It 's time that we had our own theater! Where are the writers, the novelists, the playwrights, the actors, the musicians? And I think that down here, this is the state that is evolving.

Phoenix - So, really, your purpose is to get the whole thing going.

Quayle-I, personally, am happy to get great theater going whenever and wherever it is possible. Ralph Allen feels, and I'm rather inclined to agree with him, that if you want to get something exciting going in the theater, you could do a lot worse than trying to do it in an area like this rather than trying to do it in an area which has already got umpteen things going. But you have to overcome a certain kind of dissidence on the part of the public, who say, "Well, we get along fine!

We've got trotting horses and everything. Who the hell wants Shakespeare? And you say, "Well, just try this," and they say, "Boy! That's terrific!" Then they acquire a taste for it. But there is a certain prejudice to overcome. It depends on so many factors: the chancellor, people of your age and of your influence, the press.

"There are a half a dozen people here-young students-who I think are very talented. " I'm not seeking personal praise. If I were, I sure wouldn't be acting Macbeth in Knoxville, Tennessee.

Sure, I was told there was a bad review in the student newspaper. I don't give a damn about that! What I think is important, is that the effort is recognized.

Anyone is free to say, "I thought this was pisspoor," if that's what they thought. But when you're trying, trying, trying to get something like this started, it takes so much sacrifice, so much effort. So I say, "Fuck you! Can't you recognize at least that one's trying to make an effort?" It makes me angry.

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Phoenix - How are the productions chosen? Why Macbeth -it was the first time you've done Shakespeare in this country.

Quayle - Well, we decided that we better try and nail our colors to the mast and do a Shakespeare play. If on the whole this was to be a classical company and not just one doing Neil Simon or Bus Stop, then we said, let's fly high and do a Shakespeare. Well, in my opinion, there's nothing more difficult than a Shakespeare comedy because it requires enormous skill on the part of the actors-a lightness of touch and a sense of style. And it is very difficult to get a skillful company. ' 'Well, let's do a tragedy." A tragedy because-sincerity and passion-they carryon a surge of feeling. Then which tragedy? It came down in the end to the one which has the smallest number of vital

parts. If you've got, say, three or four, you're in business. You've got a Macbeth, you've got a Lady Macbeth, and you've got a Macduff. I'm not saying you don't need a very good Ross, a very good Angus, or the rest of them, you do. But you're not beset with hideous worries that the show won't stand. So that's why we plumbed for Macbeth, whereas, if you try Julius Caesar, you need ten; Lear, you need a dozen; Hamlet, well, you've got to find a Hamlet.

Phoenix-I understand next you'll be doing Rip Van Winkle?

Quayle - Right. This came about simply because it was important to play in some national shop window, which means Washington or New York. Well, in order to get to the Kennedy Center, Roger Stevens said, "You've got to do one of these American plays that

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I'm doing for the Bicentennial program." We looked down the list of plays and we said, ' 'Well, the only one that an Englishman has any justification in playing in what is an American season is Rip Van Winkle, who is

"I'm not seeking personal praise. If I were, I sure wouldn't be acting Macbeth in Knoxville." a Dutchman." So I can at least get away with it by sort of having a funny Dutch accent. Anyhow it's rather a dear play; it's a funny old-fashioned comic play. It should be fun. Our hope is that if the company can win esteem nationally then local people will wake up and say, "Hey! Our team has done very well in the big leagues." It is both for the sake of the production and for the sake of local pride and support.

Phoenix - How much longer will you stay with the company?

Quayle -Oh, I don't know. I enjoy being here. I really do love the work. It's exciting. My problem is, I've got a horribly difficult equation. That this is worthwhile and worth giving up a lot of years to, is obvious. I think that, though, at my age, I've got only a certain number of years in which to see this little seedling grow into a healthy tree. But what I can ask of my family, or myself? You know, I've got a boy who is in college and I never see him. I have a wife whom I see a few weeks and then she has to go back there to taking care of the family for months on end, which is asking a lot of her. A person has different duties. There's the duty to your family, the duty to your society, the duty to yourself, and all these things make an equation.

Really, if one could see the thing growing and growing stronger, I think that I would stay here again. I'm very ambitious for what happens in the theater. This is what I think my lite is mainly about-to create a movement, to create a theater. Whether I contribute to it personally is of secondary importance. But if the limitations of this thing prevent it from growth, then at that moment I'll drop. I'll fall out and say goodbye, goodbye, because I'm paying personally a big price.

I've got my agent saying, "Well, what the hell is the matter with you?" But I said, "I don't want to know any offer, just don't tell me. This film, or this play or

"This is what I think my life is mainly about-to create a movement, to create a theater." that, I don't want to know. I'm not acting in London or New York and I'm not making films or anything.

Don't distract me." But if suddenly one finds that for some reason the theater here won't grow, it can't grow-the roots have concrete round them, and the roots can't push out-then I say, "That's it. Cut." •

photography

Karen J. Petrey

Jed DeKalb

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dance

Lura Able

by Max Heine

A woman stuck out her tongue. The man facing her, only inches away, stuck his out.

The woman scratched her belly and the man scratched his. She lifted her extended leg, then drew it back quickly. The man followed suit a half second behind, as if playing a silent version of "Simon Says."

Behind the pair, Lura Able and her partner went through similar mirror exercises, improvising each move in a sequence of simultaneous turning, stepping, and squatting-laughing when they found themselves in strange contortions.

Lura, her partner, and the two other pairs practicing in Alumni Gym are part of the New Repertory Dance Company. She is one of five or six members who are performers; five others are apprentices. Lura, a senior fine arts major concentrating on dance, has been with the group since she was a freshman.

Sometimes, within the context of a class, the Company will do one public performance a quarter. The group itself may do only one major performance a year.

"We have committed ourselves to a performance, so eventually one will come up," said Lura. "If we set a date, then we practice almost every night. As it is, I practice three nights a week."

She practices mostly at night because technique classes meet during the day.

One of her current technique classes is composition and improvisation, which Lura said is her favorite area of dance.

"Improvisation is a form of modern dance," she said. "It borders on mime. I feel that I have the most opportunity in modern dance."

The opportunity she hopes for is in education. She already has taught dance to kindergarten children in Knoxville and children in the parks last summer at her home in Greenville, South Carolina. "I'd like to be certified to teach so I could teach older people," she said.

Before she came to UT, Lura had done some civic ballet, but no modern dance.

"Modern dance is different from jazz dancing and ballet," she said. "Jazz dance is like the funky dances you see on 'IV. Modern dance is close to ballet, but not as dainty."

The company's practice could not be mistaken for daintiness. Their series of mirror exercises included the partners supporting each other by pushing; then again by pulling; both partners on the floor; and then the males as a group mirroring the females.

They finally combined all their different moves. In the process, they formed a tangled mess of slow-motion limbs. Each person moved as gracefully as possible, though still not able to anticipate the moves of the others. They pushed, pulled, laid over each other and slowly worked their way to the floor. Lura appeared to be on a human rack as her arms and legs were pulled briefly by the others.

"It's like modern art," said Lura. "When you see a really bad painting or a bad modern dance, it's nothing. But when you really study it, and learn to use techniques selectively, there is still plenty of discipline there. For me, that's where the expression of modern dance comes in." •

Photos by Jonathan Daniel

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photography

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H arry Weill

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George Holz

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satire

The Liberal Arts Syndrome

by Michael Russo

Wallers: Hello, I'm Mike Wallers.

Shatner: And I'm Morley Shatner.

Wallers: Welcome to another edition of 50 Minutes.

Shatner: This week, 50 Minutes looks at the Liberal Arts Syndrome, its causes and some possible preventions.

Wallers: Many people think of liberal arts as something which only happens to other families, yet statistics show that one out of every six young people in America will be afflicted by the time they are twenty-one.

This is Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Dione at home with their three children, Robert, twenty-six; Judy, twenty-four; and Bud, sixteen. As you can see, the Diones appear to be a typical happy American family. Yet their son Robert was a liberal arts student, a fact that Mr. and Mrs. Dione formerly tried to hide from neighbors and relatives.

Mrs. Dione, what made you decide to come out of the closet, as it were, and admit that your son, Robert, was a liberal arts student?

Mrs. Dione: I just felt that if sdme other reluctant parents had talked freely about their children becoming liberal arts majors, perhaps we would have recognized the syndrome in our own son, Bobby, before it was too late.

As it is, there is very little that can be done for Bobby now, and I just thank God we have two normal children.

Wallers: Mrs. Dione, looking back on it now, were there any indications that Robert was developing into a liberal arts major while he was just a youngster?

Mrs. Dione: Oh yes, now that I look back on it, but these things weren't so apparent at the time. Bobby used to be gone from the house for long periods at a time. He told me that he was working at a drug store, but neighbors told me that they had seen him in the library reading books. One day, when I was cleaning out Bobby's room, I found a copy of John Locke's Essay Concerning Human Understanding in his drawer, under the socks. I became frantic, at first, and then decided to confront him with it when he came home. He denied ever having seen the book, but when pressured, he admitted that it was his.

Dione: I blame myself, not the poor boy. Perhaps if I had been more of a father to him things would have turned out differently, but as a salesman, I was usually on the road and couldn't provide much of an example to my boy. With Judy and Bud we are doing things differently.

We encouraged Judy to go to secretarial school, and now she's pulling down 14 thousand a year. With Bud, we're Illustration by Nancy Merritt

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making him take a computer course in his high school.

Wallers: And what about Robert today?

Dione: (Tears about to come) Well, there's not much we can do. Nobody's willing to give him a job, so he just keeps deteriorating. He's talking now about going on for his doctorate in history. (breaks down crying) Shatner: Such is the sad case of the Diones. But we at 50 Minutes learned that Mr. Dione is wrong for being so pessimistic. There are some liberal arts majors who do go on to lead fairly normal, healthy, and productive lives.

We spoke to Mr. Louis McFarley, owner of the Salty Dog restaurant in Uniondale, Long Island.

McFarley: This man from the Federal Institute to Aid the Liberally Educated contacted me and asked if I would be willing to hire some liberally educated people on a trial basis. I told him that I didn't think it would be too good for business if my customers learned that I was using those kind of people.

Shatner: And how have they worked out?

McFarley: Well, I'll tell ya, I was surprised at what these liberal arts majors can be trained to do. We have one boy now who tends bar for us who is doing very well. We trained him on the job. As long as nobody excites him with talk of literature or something like that, he's OK. Shatner: The Federal Institute to Aid the Liberally Educated is located in Washington, D.C. It operates on federal grants and private contributions from the Ford and Rockefeller foundations. The institute operates on the principle that former liberal arts majors are not hopeless cases and can be treated early. We spoke to Dr. Bernard Coleman, who heads the institute.

Dr. Coleman, what precisely are you doing for the liberally educated?

Coleman: We've found that they can be trained to do a variety of simple functions. We've placed rehabilitated liberal arts majors in such positions as cab drivers, shoe salesmen, certain types of factory work, and of course for some, manual labor.

Shatner: What is the cause of the Liberal Arts Syndrome?

Coleman: Well, Morley, like most diseases of the mind, there is no one cause, that's why it is so hard to treat and prevent. Most doctors agree that the problem is somewhat inherited. For instance, we did research into the case of the Dione boy whom you mentioned to us, and we found that he had an uncle who studied philosophy at Southern Cal and his paternal grandfather was a fine arts major at Duke University.

In further research done in France, it was learned that monozygotic twins reared separately have a very high degree of correlation concerning Liberal Arts Syndrome; di-zygotic, or fraternal twins, have a somewhat lesser

rate of correlation, although still significant, and siblings also correlated, again to a lesser extent.

Shatner: Then the disease is chromosome linked?

Coleman: Precisely. We have isolated the chromosome, and found that it is the same one which carries the genetic information for intelligence, curiosity, literacy, spirituality, and inspiration. This is why the syndrome is so very difficult to treat, because we can't yet eradicate it without also destroying the other linked traits.

Shatner: But not all carriers of the Liberal .\rts Chromosome become afflicted?

Coleman: No, of course not, because the disease must first be triggered off by an environmental stimulus.

Shatner: And what would such a stimulus entail?

Coleman: Liberal arts majors normally come from loose families whose parents neglected to see that their youngsters developed a proper value structure. As a result, the children become interested in self improvement rather than in making money. For instance, while other youngsters are delivering papers, your liberal arts child will be pondering the meaning of life. We've had cases of children who were addicted to reading as early as eight years old.

Shatner: What are you doing to prevent liberal arts?

Coleman: Well, we are reaching the children while young, through the classroom and especially through television to educate... if you'll pardon the expression . .. to educate them about the dangers of liberal arts and the concomitant unemployment.

Shatner: This is one of the institute's commercials soon to be aired on national television.

Employment Office Man: Let me see now, Lincoln, right?

You were here once before, weren't you?

Lincoln: That's right. You told me to go out and get an education, so I enrolled in college and I graduated just last week. Here is my transcript and sheepskin, as you called it.

Employment Man: Yeah, but uh, Lincoln, where's your courses in business administration? Where are your computer courses and accounting?

Lincoln: Well, I majored in anthropology and political science.

Employment Man: Look, you're not exactly executive material, but I'll see what I can do. You wouldn't happen to have a chauffeur's license by any chance? (On the phone) Hello, Hopkins' Shoe Repair? How would you like someone down there to shine shoes?

Announcer: That could be you; the Federal Institute to Aid the Liberally Educated reminds you, to get a good job, don't get an education. •

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The Clarence Brown Theatre, which opened in 1970, is the main staging area Jor UT Theatres productions.

Theater at UT

by Tom Wright and Frank Limpus

60m its beginnings, theater at Tennessee has been a blending of a variety of ingredients: the community, students, faculty, and - more recently - professional theater people. UT theater is alive today because of the strong university-community bond which formed in the early years of its history.

The work done in the 31-year period from 1939 until the opening of Clarence Brown Theatre-the searching for money, stages and personnel, and the building of the relationship with the community - was largely the work of Dr. Paul Soper.

Soper - when nobody cared about it-kept the whole program going," said Dr. Ralph Allen, who became head of the Department of Speech and Theater in 1972. "He and his staff got the Carousel and Clarence Brown built, and none of the present activity would have been possible without the early work."

The present activity Allen mentions includes the student-community program and, of course, the professional theatre company, headed by actor Anthony Quayle.

When Soper took over the program at UT, two people made up the theater staff. There Was not even a staging area on campus, and plays were staged in various places around Knoxville such as Tyson Junior High School and (beginning in 1945) the Bijou theater.

"It was a lot of work trucking everything down to the Bijou and back," Soper said, "but all the while we were hoping to get some sort of theater structure on campus."

Soper and his staff conceived the idea of working with the community on theater productions. Community people were brought into the plays, giving new impetus to the program. As interest and support grew, Soper and his colleagues were able to obtain a $30,000 loan from Photo by Jonathan Daniel

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the university, and construction of Carousel Theater began. It was finished in 1951, and the success of its plays enabled the staff to quickly repay the loan.

"We had something almost unique-a combined UTcommunity operation," Soper said, "and we paid our own way."

More people were hired for the theater staff in the fifties and sixties, and additional courses were added. In 1966, Hunter Hills amphitheater in Gatlinburg-a gift from Mr. and Mrs. R. L. Maples-added another dimension to the theater program. With Hunter Hills UT brought theater to thousands more Tennesseans and visitors from other states.

Still one thing was lacking - a standard theater facility.

"We had two or three designs worked out," Soper explained. "But we just did not have any money."

Former university president Andrew Holt was trying to raise money for a theater building, and the theater department itself was searching for ideas. Eventually a plan was worked out to use funds from student activity fees. Those funds were added to a $500,000 gift from UT alumnus Clarence Brown, and with the assurances of more money to follow, a proscenium theater was built.

The theater, named for Brown, opened in November, 1970.

The professional company formed four years later.

Allen has great hope for the professional company. In the program for Macbeth he wrote: "Our aim is ambitious-to create a classical theater company which challenges national and international standards and which serves as a major cultural resource for the university, the community, and indeed for the Southeastern region of the United States."

The company has had a great deal of success.

Productions have done well on campus (Macbeth played before 26 sell-out audiences) and have toured extensively and successfully, attracting national attention.

"I don't think there's any professional company at any university in the country that uses actors like Quayle or tours as extensively as we do," said Allen.

Yet, there still are problems, one of which is money.

The professional company receives no state appropriations. It is supported entirely by grants and gate receipts, which are considerable, according to Soper - "especially with a big name like Anthony Quayle." Allen spends a

good deal of time seeking grants. However, whether or not the professional company receives a grant depends on the amount of coverage it receives in professional magazines and the national press. Thus, Allen tries to attract critics from national magazines, theater publications, and newspapers to review the productions.

Allen is quick to deny the existence of another problem which has been suggested by some-that is, that the professional company is in some ways injurious to the student program.

"In no sense has the advent of this professional company diminished opportunities for students to act or perform," Allen said.

However, Dr. Fred Fields, head of the Hunter Hills program, thinks there is a problem.

"The question is whether the professional company has improved the situation for the student, who is primarily important," said Fields. ''The students don't get as much out of it as they should. Very few students get any close contact. All they do is see the productions on stage, and that's it. So it really doesn't do the theater program much good in that sense.

"It's also a question of whether too much of the money and staff's energies is going to the professional company when it should be going to the students. That's my concern," said Fields.

Allen explains, "We've tried to do this (professional company) as an extra thing, rather than replace something we already have. I don't think there's any theater in the country which offers as many productions for students as we do. Last year we did 28 student plays.

We have cut down the number of major productions this year, but that's because of the overall budget problems, not the professional company.

"I've raised a lot of money for this professional theater," Allen continued, "but it has to be spent on the professional theater. I mean, I can't divert it to the other part of the program because it is a for a task outlined in a grant proposal. And if you don't spend it the way you say you will, they'll put you in jail."

As for now, the question of the survival and validity of the professional company remains to be answered, but ultimately the success of professional theater at Tennessee will depend upon the interest and the commitment of the community. "The final partner in any dramatic production is the audience," wrote Allen.

"Without the audience we are nothing." • 17

Phil Rose

18

poetry

The Gods at Play Driftwood Waves wrap around the driftwood carry it to shore .. . it floats gently .. . toward the beach at Roanoke Island/ Beside the large dead cypress, stood momentarily a lonely man & woman who were looking but across the waves ... driftwood is what they hunt fordriftwood bleached white/ at Sandpiper Trace Mallards squawk at sunrise by the old boathouse ...

Ideas come like driftwood from the sea the mallards' cries keep each thought company; from every life is made waves of creation which are entwined momentarily Waves wrap around the driftwood carry it to shore ... it floats gently/On & On & On

John G. Willis

I wanted to splice the Mississippi into a continuous loop, declaring its geometric center.

You said no you'd rather thread all the trees in Chad or perhaps British Honduras.

You were always that way.

Always threatening to take the sky and go home. I swear I could paper my walls with your cheap theatrics.

A torch for your quivering wings; a javelin for your fleece of pouting skin.

Stephen Knauth

(untitled) There are times when a single spoken word sends me reeling into catacombs of gloom, when the secret, opiate places of my mind lie as fallow and as silent as a tomb.

Often in the hottest swoon of midnight I have trembled at a single sharpened note and the starkest concupiscent voices quiver, disembodied in my hollow throat.

In all my limbs I have been cruelly wrenched by the motion of a melancholy face and my blood falls back into my center at the sight of ones who move with daggered grace.

It is the pale, fragile ones who sear me, whose bones press near the surface of their white skin.

In their dim eyes lies the hope of heaven, in their sweet mouths, the dearest promised sin.

Kaye Hams

19

morning - an observation Refugees Children of the dark pond dank mist and flat stones we threw that afternoon we had a decade left before you were to die like the moth we dwelt in moonless reverie a soft close cocoon bakes unborn to death light divined to molt seasons spells circles round to reach the apogee burst into our midnight air flames to feed old bones of war you are the fragile fallen ashes in my garden brother still this universe burns so tranquilly

breakfasting on stale popcorn and a lukewarm cup of coffee i regard the room with a philosophical air: so end we all, etc., etc., a mild cynic i see the kitchen as a prophecy (at least the bomb's a little cleaner it doesn't leave cigarette ends in coffee cups ... ) the popcorn shoud've been saltier and we a great deal wiser why-oh-why didn't i clean it up last night then i move my head too suddenly and all of that comes back to me so i turn to reascend the aching stairs and climb back into bed.

Valere B. Menefee

Pandora Sheraden the early afternoon spread her white fingers and tossed her green hair back from her windy shoulders

Hammock Hanging Joyce Miller Smell the roses, Palms of nature rubbed clean With the aroma of beauty.

Deep in their eyes you will find An army of sun, the dark energy propelling even man, The soft talent of un caressed power.

To believe in the sound of things Is to be true to yourself.

It is best to sling your wishing layers Your sweet concentric onion Of dreams, in sleep and rest in your wonder.

No one will watch, and you stay until summer.

Quentin Powers

a play with "you" and "me" scene: "you" and "me" sitting on the edge and looking out me: it's time to write again you: it's time to write a play again me: it's time to play again you: it's all right again me: april may june july august of wind

Joyce Miller

20

Christmas on Horseback The scalloped potatoes Ran over in the oven, Milk turning to Blood at the edges.

The lemon-scented cleanser Does its thing in ten minutes, Ten minutes galloping with Anne Sexton Across a landscape in The Book of Folly Where the sea recedes everywhere you look And the landmarks you never saw Are in the right places: the ambition bird perched on Tallahatchie Bridge, yes, the ship of euphoria anchored by the Nana-hex, yes, Jesus walking around in a chefs hat, yes, angels at a beach house picnic, yes, eating oysters with Father. yes, and the other-----The buzzer blots out Pegasus With the speed of Disney's wand, Returning me to the kitchen rites, Incense of lemon dragging its heels across the room, Cold water righteously thawing the turkey, The snores of the old woman rattling Like the valve on a pressure cooker While the question simmers over Which shelf to put her on, Like Bill's pretty tree lights That won't fit modern sockets But can't be thrown away.

Anne Roney

Poem the parking lot paradise stretches clean into eternity the yellow lines breaking the monotonotonotony

Andy Captain

Blues for an Old Brother I was moved To tell the Old Brother (as he finished his blues fugue) "Goddam you can sing" Naw, I just opened my mouth and you heard my heartbeat.

"Can you teach me to play?"

All I can do is teach you the notes You have to learn the song yourself It's B flat blues Looking for God In an ungodly situation Stripping manmade Realities From my mind and telling how I feel Amen Little Brother Singing your song Singing our life Lord knows I love To tell the story Me being You For 2 minutes and 35 Words never did make sense But that's alright You can't always say what you sing I feel the spirit Little Brother Go on and sing your song Doing 65 years In 2 and 35 Go on Big Brother Sing our song In life sharp For a B flat blues progression Nganga

21

Johnathan Long

22

feature

Ron Short, Highlander's director, in the woods surrounding the center.

Photos by Max Heine

24

During the thirties and forties, it assisted workers in the violent labor struggles, and provided a meeting place for blacks and whites in the civil rights turmoils of the sixties. Today, their work is concerned with strip mining, the destruction of mountain culture and the economic problems of Appalachian people.

Highlander is most involved, in director Ron Short's words, with "People confronted with daily problems, not having enough to eat, not having a place to live, not having the right type of medical treatment." Highlander stresses education, but not in the conventional sense.

Their leaflet reads, "There are no exams, credits, degrees." Workshops of up to a week are organized on specific topics such as legal rights, consumer co-ops, community health, music and poetry, and alternatives in education.

The sessions have no teachers, and are termed "peer group education." Each member contributes suggestions so that all may benefit. The staff provides information so that currents of thought can spread from one community to many. "We can offer a resource, to be used as these people see fit. We may make suggestions, but we would never be directing these people," Short explained.

"We have people who are professional workshop goers, throughout this region . . . they are educated, mobile, in most cases socially active, but now there are people who are housewives, miners, farmers, common laborers, people on welfare, unemployed and retired, who are people living day to day, trying to get by," said Short. Former students include the Reverend Martin Luther King, the Reverend Ralph Abernathy, and the folk singers Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger. In order to spread its ideas, Highlander sets up workshops in other communities. They might, for instance, go into the coal fields of West Virginia to inform the people about property rights.

Horton developed the school's tenets. Since he retired in 1973, the staff has carried on his idea of a radical approach to democracy. The "radical approach" means that disadvantaged Southerners organize to correct society non-violently. Short explained, "You should become politically active in your community to the point that you realize that you as an individual are important, and that you are a part of this country."

Highlander has always been controversial. It began in 1932 as a folk school, teaching reading and writing in Monteagle, Tenn., but Horton soon became involved in the plight of laborers. The school organized a number of strikes. Horton was arrested repeatedly (a friend of his-a labor organizer-was murdered in the street).

Highlander was also responsible for allowing the Congress of Industrial Organization to gain a foothold in East Tennessee.

From 1935 through the civil rights movement of the fifties and sixties, it served as a center for interracial meetings. Though Jim Crow laws tried to prevent interracial meetings, black people began to come. "It gave them an opportunity to come together and express their ideas, where they never had a chance before," said Short. Rosa Parks attended a workshop at Highlander shortly before she started the Montgomery bus boycott.

Stories were fabricated about Highlander being a nudist colony where orgies were held or an armed Communist training camp.

The State of Tennessee revoked the Highlander Charter on false charges in 1960 but a new charter was granted soon thereafter. The school was burned twice in the 1960's. Short described the ten years (1961-1971) Highlander was headquartered in Knoxville: "People threw rocks through the windows, painted the Communist hammer and sickle on the front gateposts and the Klan marched on the schooL" A nationwide billboard showed Martin Luther King and Horton sitting at a Highlander conference. The caption indicated that the photo was proof positive that King had attended a Communist training school.

In 1971, because of urban renewal, Highlander moved to a farm outside Newmarket, Tennessee, and began building its present facilities. There are two wings of dormitories and a cafeteria. The "old farmhouse" contains the main office and library. There are four other houses, which are staff residences.

Eighty percent of the school's funding comes from private individuals and the remainder from foundations like Ford and Rockefeller. No one source provides more than twenty percent of their budget. "If you are controlled financially, then you can be controlled philosophically or politically," said Short.

Besides workshops on the economic problems of southern Appalachia, the school is focusing on the preservation of mountain culture. "Appalachia has been in the process of being rediscovered and this time it's cultural. That's the music, the dress, the crafts-everything," said Short.

This "rediscovery" has diluted and altered the culture.

Many old local musicians have been taken on national tours. Corn husk dolls are being mass produced in Gatlinburg. In response to this, Highlander holds cultural workshops.

The school plans to remain small so that the individual is not overlooked. It will continue to educate people of the South, whether they are from the cities, the coal towns or the hills. Highlander will spread its basic ideas, which former director Mike Clark described as "helping people focus on their genuine grievances and nurture the seeds of discontent." •

The painting above is a visual representation of the purpose of Highlander-to support oppressed peoples through education.

Below, the main building contains dormitory space and meeting rooms.

25

dance

Photos by Jonathan Daniel and Joe Willis

26

Although UT offers no specific degree in dance, the combination of course work and outside activities provide an outlet for the creative dance student.

Courses are available in ballet, jazz, and modern dance techniques and in composition, rhythmic analysis, and dance history.

Interested students, guided by the dance faculty, have formed a student performance group, the New Repertory Dance Company. The members, chosen by audition, work to improve their technique through performance and expand their ideas for choreography. Less skilled students may join the apprentice group and work up to a performance level.

27

theater

Marianne Custer "T0 design the costumes, the very next thing you do-after reading the script, of course-is to talk to the director. He's the On opening night of Macbeth, the one who designs the concept of the show. audience admired the costumes of DunThen you go to historical resources, like a can, the Weird Sisters, and Macbeth. One costume history book or museums and exaudience member, however, was in pand from there," said Custer.

In her research for Macbeth, Custer anguish, noticing every crooked hem, found that clothing from the era of the play every hanging string, and every slipping was less barbaric than that pictured for the cloak. show by director Anthony Quayle.

She was Marianne Custer, the costume designer for the Clarence Brown Com"The costumes are actually earlier than pany's fall production of Macbeth. the period of the play, but you're answering Besides working on Macbeth, she dethe dramatic needs of a show. If the cossigns costumes for all Clarence Brown and tuming from that period is not as barbaric as you want, find a period that is," she some Carousel Theatre productions. explained.

Custer also supervises a cutter, four fulltime seamstresses, and several work-study Custer has been at UT for two years, and volunteer students. She shops for all coming from the University of Colorado, fabric.s and accessories, provides make-up where she was costume designer. Shows and wigs for actors, and teaches a cosshe has designed at UT include Everyman, Our Town, Henry IV, and Music Man. Her tuming class.

"With so many things going on, it's diffi- bachelor's and master's degrees. in theater and costume design are from the Univercult to maintain control. The little pieces sity of Minnesota and the University of get away from you," said the slight, Wisconsin.

28-year-old Custer.

Custer would like to see some improveDespite the frustrations of limited time, skills, and money, Custer enjoys her role in ment made in costuming at UT, such as the production of a play. "The good part of someone hired specifically to handle the job is really designing a world in which make-up. She would also like a bigger budget to allow finer quality costuming. the drama takes place. I derive my pleasure from creating that picture."

Despite these limitations, Custer said cos¡The design process for a production tume designers she knows at universities takes about two months-three weeks for from North Carolina to California are designing the costumes and about five amazed by the quality of facilities here. weeks for building them, said Custer. For "I suppose the closer you get to perfect, a production such as Macbeth, Custer and the more you want," she said. "The more I her crew in the costume shop of Clarence do, the less satisfied I am. I always think, Brown Theater are accustomed to workif I just had more time, more money, more days which begin at 8:30 a.m. and end at 1 energy ..." • or2a.m.

by Susan Scarbrough

Photos by Jonathan Daniel

28

29

Sandra Lee Starck 30

fiction

Tile Key to It All

by Lisa Koger

L. Englebaum. 417 Grant Avenue.

He tried to guess what the L. might stand for in the newcomer's name, as he placed a thumb on the bottom and a thick middle finger on the top of the blue envelope and squeezed.

The name behind the cellophane window jumped back, as the front of t he letter bulged out, and tilting it at just the right angle, his squinting eyes were able to peep at the secret inner contents through the rectangle window.

PAYMENT DUE: $21.83. His mouth split into a wide, horizontal grin. His bill was much lower; never went over the base rate. He did not make long distance calls, or for that matter, any other calls, but had decided that a telephone would, indeed, be a handy thing to have, just in case anyone ever called to commend him for the superb job that he had been doing with his route, for the past 14 years.

Lately, he had been having his uniform pressed more than usual and had even purchased a pair of blue-gray undershorts, trimmed with stars and stripes, to match. He was going to be ready when the governor, surrounded by a throng of civic-minded citizens, approached to bestow upon him the Mailman of the Year Award. Not that he had ever heard of such an award, but these days there were Awards of the

Year for almost everyone, and he was sure that mailmen would be the next honored. He would accept the glistening, gold trophy with modesty, cough once, perhaps twice, and begin a little impromptu speech that really was not so "impromptu" after all, one that he had been working on for these past few months to make certain that the elocution was grand enough for the occasion. It would begin: "Governor Berry, Competent Staff, Mayor Blister, Praiseworthy Friends, and Good Citizens of This Progressive Town of Auburnville...... He would have to say no more. The frenzied crowd would be wild with applause and would lift up a thundering cheer of: "Spence, Spence, he's our man!

Let's give him a great big hand!!!!!!

Yea!!!"

Applause, whistles, adoration, cheering, more applause, more adoration.

He deposited the smooth blue envelope into the mail box hanging on the wall, by the door labeled 417, and wondered how long it would be before some hand, probably L. Englebaum's hand, would touch that same envelope and open it casually, without emotion, as if he could care less about its contents.

Not Spence. His landlord included all of his utilities in the rent, so the

only piece of mail that ever graced his mailbox was a telephone bill that came on the tenth of each month.

He would prolong it until he was almost delirious with ecstasy and then tear into it with the wholesouled ardor that only first-time experiences deserve.

As he left the porch, he tried to guess, one more time, what the L. might stand for.

Something common, no doubt, like Lester, Larry, or Luke. He dug out the mail for 419, while saying his own name out loud. "Raymond T. Spence." He had never been quite satisfied with the sound of it, especially since the T did not stand for anything: not Timothy, or Thomas, or Turlington, just T. And he hoped to God that no one would ever ask him what it stood for, so he would not have to lie.

"Spencer T.," "Raymie Spencer," "R. T. Spence," "Spencer Raymond." He liked the sound of Spencer Raymond best of all. It had that little Hollywood ring to it, he thought, and made it easier for him to picture himself in sneakers and one of those expensive pullover sweaters, with the pointy tips of a freshly starched shirt peeking over the neckline, casually. That was the key to it all. Casualness! His trousers would hang on his lean, muscular hips and he would look just the way Robert Redford did in

31

~

:::=

The Way We Were. He would smile that lop-sided smile, while a puff of wind marched through his thick, straw-colored hair and ....

A drop of moisture from the morning wetness of the trees tapped him on the head. He quickly wiped it off before it had the chance to travel down his neck and spoil the starchy blueness of his U.S. mail shirt, and he hated his hand and the dreadful drop of water, instantly. His head, which at first appeared to be totally路 free from the contamination of hair, was, at a closer glance, covered with a soft, blonde down, at the back and extending around to the temples and ears.

"Good morning, Mrs. Furr!

Almost didn't see you there. Nice morning, isn't it? Supposed to be an even nicer day. Supposed to be up in the eighties today. Kind of hot weather for this time of year but then I guess that's why they call it Indian summer. Yea, I guess that's

why they do, call it Indian summer, I mean."

Mrs. Furr, standing in her purple bathrobe, touched a finger to two jumbo-sized curlers, frowned, snatched up her cat, who had just accomplished his morning mission and was daintily covering over the traces with a hesitant paw, and disappeared back inside.

Raymond placed her October issue of The Writer's Digest, with the picture of Muhammed Ali on the cover and the caption saying, "For Some Real Heavyweight Selling, See Page 9," into her mailbox. Last month's issue had featured an article on "How to Get Rave Reviews for Your Book" and had announced the poetry contest winners. Ail of this was interesting and informative, he thought, but he liked the True Confessions magazine that Mrs. Lou Ann Kimble down at 449 subscribed to, much better. Once, he had become so

::=---

interested in a story, "Tillie Tells It All: How I Seduced My Mother's Step-Father," that he had gone right up and rung Mrs. Kimble's doorbell and told her that she must read that story first of all, and gave her a hint about how it ended. She had thrown down her cigarette, yelling "Jesus Crimeney, you snoop!", grabbed her magazine, and slammed the door in his face.

"Should have known better," he thought later, "than to try and tell her which one to read first or spoil the endings for her."

Raymond could chuckle about all of that, now, as he stuffed the mail for the Williams family into the box but held back the perfumed letter addressed to Billy Williams. The envelope had the name, "Denise," surrounded by "love love love love," in the upper left comer, with lipstick prints and "S.W.A.K." written all over the back side. He held it up to the sunlight, in front of him, and Photo montage by Phil Rose

32

.~ ' -

Rechichar