Everyman will never be de-feeted!

One week before Everyman opened, Hallie Martenson, who plays the eponymous role, gave us quite a scare.  On the cast's night off, she broke her big toe, seriously impeding her ability to walk.  All turned out well, despite the injury.  What's it like it do a physical show on a serious physical injury?  See her journal below!  Just don't tell her to "break a leg"!  She might actually do it!

November 4th, 2013

It's our day off from rehearsal, but excited as I am for Opening next week, I can't keep myself from the set.  I sneak into the Theatre after my evening class to practice a sequence in which I run up the set's amazing sloped wall (designed by incredible student designer Seth Thomas Schmitt-Hall).  Maybe in punishment or karma for being in the theatre when I'm not supposed to, and despite the fact that I had run up that wall about a hundred times before without an ounce of trouble, something goes wrong.  I can't say what, but when I came back down that wall, my big toe was completely numb.  When I looked down, my stomach turned.  Imperceptible to anyone outside of my own body, my toe was pointing in the wrong direction.  

So what's an actor to do?  An actor who holds the titular role in a show that previews in eight days?  An actor who has a whole department full of people depending on her to anchor a production?

Ignore it, obviously.  Go to a rehearsal for another scene, stomp around on an injured foot in physical character work.  Enter the sweet state of denial.

November 5th, 2013

Why the other two toes are bruised is beyond me.

7:00am

I wake up and my foot is swollen to twice its normal size.  I decide to go to Villanova Health Services, who I'm sure will just tell me that I banged myself up, that I would be absolutely be fine.

9:30am

The nurse balks at the swollen state of my foot.  She says she is going to send me to go get x-rays.  I quickly intervene.  "That's not necessary.  I'm sure I'm fine."  She tells me to stay off of it, and to bow out of any physical work I do in the show.  I smile and nod, ignoring every word she says.

Leaving the health services building, I call the office of Father David Cregan, our director and chair of the Department.  His assistant answers the phone and tells me he is in a meeting.

"Okay, well, I just wanted to talk to him before he heard any rumors.  I'm totally fine, but hurt my toe.  I'm about 12% worried that it might be broken.  Please don't worry him, just tell him to call me back."

Next thing I know, Father David is in my office, winded from sprinting across campus.  He assures me that he isn't worried, but I can read the concern all over his face.  He insists that I go to the hospital immediately.

3:00pm

After two consultations with nurses and two sets of x-rays, I am sitting in the doctor's office, awaiting judgement.  I am confident, almost cocky, that she will walk in with a smile and say, "Yep, just bruised.  Nothing to worry about."  I am sure that I will be dancing in rehearsal in a few hours time.

She walks in.  There is no smile.  "Oh yeah.  It's broken, alright."  The air leaves my body.

"Bad?" I ask.  It is the only word I can croak out.

"It's very serious.  Looks like you'll need an understudy."  Great bedside manner, doc.  I immediately burst into tears.

As those tears transform into uncontrollable, embarrassing, hiccuping sobs, my doctor's sternness fades.  She tells me to take as much time as I need.  I hobble out of the doctor's office on my crutches, tears still running down my face.

4:00pm

The tears have finally stopped.  I get Father David on his cell.  He is confident and comforting.  "Well, I said at the beginning of the process that we didn't know what the show was going to be.  Now, the show is Everyman with a broken foot.  We will make it work."  But my heart is still broken.

I crutch my way into my Script Analysis class.  Half of my cast mates are there.  They look up and do a double take.  I can hear them muttering to each other in concern from across the room.  I can't look any of them in the eye.  My professor Valerie Joyce, a director in her own right, tells me not to worry.  "These kinds of things happen.  We will make it work."

7:30pm

Rehearsal.  Father David tells the cast about my toe.  He is, once again, kind and confident.  He tells me to sit in the house and deliver my lines while sitting.  Even in my chair, I am able to get myself to the emotional heights I need to reach.  I am comforted.  Immediately after rehearsal, I get myself home, crawl into bed, and fall into a deep, dark sleep, emotionally and mentally spent.

November 6th, 2013

7:30pm

Rehearsal.  Father David lets me onstage, as long as I keep my boot on.  I am thrilled to be back onstage - until I'm actually there.  My boot is heavy and clunky, and makes loud noises as I hobble from moment to moment.  

About two thirds of the way through the show, our stage manager stops us.  "We're almost at time."

Father David pulls me aside and lets me know quietly that they had stopped us when we were already 9 minutes over the length of time it had ever taken us to run the entire show.  I am mortified.  My worst fears has come true.  My foot has negatively impacted the show.

I try hard to bite back tears, but Father David sees them immediately.  He puts his arms around me.  "Hallie, you need to know that I'm not worried.  I am not worried," he repeated.  "This is what the show is now."

November 7th, 2013

10:00am

I go see a specialist, a orthopedic podiatrist.  It is the fanciest doctor's office I have ever been in.  I fill out my intake papers on an I-Pad.  

I explain to the doctor, who specializes in sports injuries, that it's kind of like the quarterback breaking his toe before the big game - we need to do whatever we can to get me on the field.  I think I'm cool.  He doesn't crack a smile.  "A quarterback would be benched with this injury in a second."

He explains that my toe snapped back at the first joint, shattering through the joint.  It would almost certainly require surgery.  My heart falls again.

But then he gives me a gift.  An inflexible graphite insole for my stage shoe.  It would prevent my foot from bending at all.  A spark of hope flashes in my brain.  My hearing is dulled as he talks about how I need to scale back on my activity.  All I can do is stare at that graphite insole and imagine the possibilities it holds.

12:00pm

I get back to the theatre and sit down with Parris, the theatre's Production Manager, to explain my woes.  He is appropriately funny and sympathetic.  Father David appears and we visit the Costume Shop, where Courtney Boches, the Costume Designer, and Janus Stefanowicz, the Costume Shop Manager, are waiting.  They present me with a pair of combat boots, with a hard outer shell that would protect my toe.  They shove in the new graphite insole before asking me to try them on.

My MIRACLE BOOTS

I squeeze my swollen foot into the boot carefully and lace them up.  I stand.  I take a few steps.  And I almost cry.  But this time from joy.

I am not even limping.  My foot is completely stable and protected.  Father David and I visit the stage and I walk through some of my blocking.  I am nervous, but there is no pain.  Father David looks as relieved as I feel.  For the first time, I actually believe that everything is going to be okay.

In this moment, those boots, simple, cheap, innocuous, become my MIRACLE BOOTS.  Gratitude doesn't begin to express how I feel toward the costume shop and designers.

November 12th, 2013

It's preview day!  Over the last five days, which include long tech days, I experiment more and more, and become more and more confident.  I dance.  I run up the wall.  I walk the runway.

On the second day of tech, Father David approaches me.  "You're back!  Can you feel it?"  I nod, smiling.  

And now, hearing the audience a few feet away muttering and fidgeting, I feel no fear.  Just excitement.  And something else, something very important that shadows all other emotions.  Something that blossoms inside me as I glance around at my cast mates, who have  held, and comforted, and supported me through every step of this process.  

Gratitude.  A whole lot of gratitude.  Which, for Everyman, feels exactly right.  

My toe twinges.  I shake it off.  I have a show to do.

The Fashion of Fierceness: Designing Strength by Courtney Boches

Courtney Boches, Theatre MA student and costume designer for Villanova's upcoming production of Everyman (opening this Wednesday!), spills about building one of the many INCREDIBLE costume elements present in this show.  

COURTNEY: Everyman is a visually fascinating, but complicated show.  When thinking about how to explain it in a concise (and mostly spoiler-free!) blog, I thought the most interesting thing to do would be to take you on a journey for one piece.  Here's an inside scoop on Strength, particularly his headpiece, from inspiration to completion.

COURTNEY:  One of the first things that happened early in the process of designing Everyman was a trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City to see the new exhibit "PUNK: Chaos to Couture."  Much of the inspiration for the show grew from that trip and the pieces featured at the museum and in the accompanying book that the Met published.

COURTNEY:  When thinking about the character of Strength, one of my initial ideas was to explore a military theme.  His jacket evolved out of that thought, and the detail on his shoulders is meant to recall the armor of medieval knights.  This was an attempt to bring in aspects of the time in which the original play was written.

COURTNEY:  Another thing that I did early on in the process was to research and identify all of the punk "stereotypes" that should be incorporated, like safety pins, tartan fabrics, use of found objects, and, of course, the mohawk.  It made sense to me that the mohawk should be worn by Strength - an imposing hair style for an imposing character.  

COURTNEY:  I also wanted the mohawk to evoke the feeling of a helmet, both of knights and other military eras.  I was particularly interested in the plumes found on helmets of various eras - Greek, Roman, and even the metal pieces that run down the center of medieval knight helmets.  To me, the mohawk was the perfect modern punk interpretation of this classic military style.

COURTNEY:  Our undergraduate work-study students had fun using papier-mache to construct this awesome headpiece.  We won't give away all the details of Strength's headpiece or any other fabulous costume here - you'll just have to come to a performance of Everyman to see the finished product!  It's been an honor and a phenomenal learning experience for me as a student to work on this production and I couldn't be prouder of what we're presenting onstage.









The costumes in this show are to die for!  Come see Courtney's breathtaking design in Villanova Theatre's production of Everyman, running from November 13th-24th.  For ticket information, call the box office at (610) 519-7474, or visit www.villanovatheatre.org.

Translating EVERYMAN, or: Wait, What's the Original Written in, Latin?

As a production team, we had a great debate: is my work to be considered an adaptation, or a translation? Everyman, after all, is written in English and one, typically, does not translate a text into its own language. The English of Everyman, though, demanded revisiting as a modern stage would be inhospitable to the low-intensity sloppy semi-rhyming ramble to which the original text falls victim.

So, why not adapt? Adaptation requires imposition. It requires shifting and revision of character and story arc, or reexamining the essential form of the work and making a shadow play of it, a thing separated from the source by a chasm of light and darkness. My play m4m is a true adaptation—a tinkering with Measure for Measure that captures the original energy of the play and adapts it into a new form to convey the same sex-and-power-fueled tragedy. We were not interested in doing this with Everyman, as we agreed that the core of the work is valuable dramaturgically and aesthetically, and as such, should remain unchanged and unaltered. I am not a man of faith but a cultural record of the medieval man’s coping with the threat of death in a fideistic world is vital to our understanding of our pasts and therefore, ourselves.

We’re back to translation, then—but how to translate? The language is outdated and dull, so it needs to be torn down and rebuilt, but a subtle hand is required in the reconstruction to retain the structure, intent, and intrinsic energies of the original piece. The words are new, but the story must remain old.

God is big, the world is small—a piteous and saddening place sullied by mankind’s rebellion against his maker. So sayeth the medieval mindset that pushed Everyman into being, and how odd a work it is that almost finds joy in the sinfulness of the world so that salvation seems sweeter. The play revels in worldliness until the blood of penance is drawn, and in doing so, somehow, the work becomes darker. Light fades, strength fails, the dampness of the earth encroaches upward and draws us down. Death is not to be withstood but feared, and as we move closer to it, we find ourselves longing for a just and punishing God who will brutally beat the world back into harmony with his own desires. That God is good the work never questions; how terrible that goodness is—well, that’s another matter entirely.

Fear and angst are universal feelings but particular in expression, with language and experience forming each other in a shared striving toward meaning and truth. Everyman is a medieval text written in an early modern form of English and as such, an early modern English politic. Take, for example, the interaction between God and Death:

GOD: 
Go thou to Everyman,
And show him in my name
A pilgrimage he must on him take,
Which he in no wise may escape;
And that he bring with him a sure reckoning
Without delay or any tarrying.
DEATH:
Lord, I will in the world go run over all,
And cruelly outsearch both great and small;
Every man will I beset that liveth beastly
Out of God’s laws, and dreadeth not folly;
He that loveth riches I will strike with my dart,
His sight to blind, and from heaven to depart,
Except that alms be his good friend,
In hell for to dwell, world without end.

I delight in the risk of sounding anti-academic: dead language expresses dead thoughts, and if the work is to be vital, it needs to be revised. It is unfair to impose upon a 15^th century text the concerns and fears of the 21^st century; while they had our hearts, minds, guts, and groins, the language of expression—at least, artistic expression—was simpler for a simpler audience. We’re eternally evolving in thoughts and deeds, and as our fears have evolved, so must the language we use to convey them, which is what my translation strives toward:

GOD:

Go to Everyman
and renew his fear of me
by placing him on an inescapable pilgrimage.
Bring him to his final reckoning, unhindered by his world.

DEATH:

My God: I will scour the world with cruel exactitude.
Great and small, every man that delights in living in beastly hovels beyond God’s law
without dread of folly, loving riches more than grace—
in their flesh will my sword sing its song of reckoning.
If he will not make his account clean,
he will be forsaken by heaven, live and die in hell, world without end.

We are no different from our medieval cousins and kindred in our lustful embrace of Death and the Deadly. The original text gives Death a measured and careful cadence that folds into the generally bland and inoffensive language-scape the entirety of the urtext employs. We, however, are on the other side of immeasurable cruelties, unconscionable devices of warfare, and death by phantom sexually transmitted viruses. Death has descended upon us like a shawl, has become comfortably omnipresent, and our new language must match. Death can no longer throw a dart—he must sink a sword singing reckoning into Everyman’s flesh. This, after all, actually pulls us closer to our medieval counterparts, for whom the threat of death by any number of easily preventable maladies was constant. Here is where we walk the line between translation and adaptation: death is constant, but the language used to engage with it over the past 500 years has changed quite a bit.

Heartbreak and loneliness are no different:

EVERYMAN:
Whither away, Fellowship? Will you forsake me?
FELLOWSHIP:
Yea, by my fay, to God I betake thee.
EVERYMAN:
Farewell, good Fellowship; for this my heart is sore;
Adieu for ever, I shall see thee no more.
FELLOWSHIP:
In faith, Everyman, farewell now at the end;
For you I will remember that parting is mourning.

Our approach to abandonment and desperation in modern theatre is far more active and confrontational now, with language demanding immediate change or response. The core of the original must remain—Fellowship must abandon Everyman, with perhaps a twinge of sadness, but the language has to become softer to drive the point home:

EVERYMAN:

You have forsaken me.

FELLOWSHIP:

Yes.
Go to our Lord.

EVERYMAN:

Goodbye, then, and know you’ve wounded me to my core.
We will not see each other again, you know this?

FELLOWSHIP:

So be it, Everyman—farewell, then.
Rest knowing that when I think on you years hence—
I will remember that our parting was sad without the benefit of being sweet.
Know you will be mourned, at least.

Mourned at least, indeed—the most we can hope for, perhaps. The subtle shifts in syntax give actors actionable dialogue instead of melodramatic ruminations, but elsewhere, the opposite has a stronger effect. The simple and ordinary sometimes needs to be made more eccentric:

CONFESSION:
I know your sorrow well, Everyman;
Because with Knowledge ye come to me,
I will you comfort as well as I can,
And a precious jewel I will give thee,
Called penance, wise voider of adversity;
Therewith shall your body chastised be,
With abstinence and perseverance in God’s service:
Here shall you receive that scourge of me,
Which is penance strong, that ye must endure,
To remember thy Saviour was scourged for thee
With sharp scourges, and suffered it patiently;
So must thou, or thou scape that that painful pilgrimage…

This won’t do! Someone’s being scourged onstage, the language must bleed:

CONFESSION:

Your sorrow has the ring of sad authenticity, Everyman, and well I know it.
You come with Knowledge and the good intent she inspires, so here is a gift:
Penance, a precious jewel and little comfort, the painful obliteration of adversity.
Chastise your body and when it is pure, abstain: and so, persevere for your Lord.
The whip is sharp and strong, and you will scream under the arcing crack of its hymnal moan.
You will see blood rise in spurts as you let the tendrils cut deep into your flesh,
but then when you gasp you draw in God. Breathe easier with each lash,
for your body approaches pain as a sacrament.
Remember that we scourged our Savior, who suffered it for us.
And now, you: be Christ-like, and fully so—heaven detests a false wretch; prove yourself.

The original text delights in having Everyman flayed onstage in an attempt to bring him closer to his God, and lucky for us that the intervening centuries have given our culture new words and syntax to make lusty that interaction. The joy of penance approaches sexual ecstasy, and both ebb as quickly as they arose, leaving behind the faint glow of having undergone a great experience, and a great change. Such complexity was unknown on the medieval stage, whose primary concern was reinforcing the status quo through simple didactic rhetoric. Everyman is unique in the medieval cannon for allowing a character an arc: Everyman starts sinful and ends saved, but only for having changed thoroughly over the course of the play, and fittingly, I wanted to give the work sexual charge to fold into the status quo of the modern era. Theatre is the language of power in conversation with itself.

Indeed, we know what the play is and we know what modern theatre is, making translation not so much the search-and-replace function of linguistic substitution but rather, the conversion of source material into a new but familiar form. English isn’t English when we look back at it and it speaks the depths of our hearts in a foreign vernacular. It requires updating to convey its meaning, keep it vital, and satisfy the modern ear.

Everyman must die, but the text need not.

My translation, as well as the quotes in this article, used the edition of the original text available through the University of Fordham’s Internet History Sourcebook.  You can go see my translation of Everyman in Villanova Theatre's production November 11-24th.  For tickets, visit their website here.

Seth spills about the EVERYMAN set!

Every second-year graduate student in the Villanova Theatre MA program must complete an Orals Project, a capstone thesis within a chosen discipline.  Seth Thomas Schmitt-Hall, set assistant and actor in the Villanova Theatre MA program, chose to combine two of his passions into a single project: acting and set design.  Below, Seth shares with us a little bit about his process in conceiving of this beautiful and challenging design, and how he designs through the lens of an actor.

*NOTE: In this post, we have chosen to include only build shots.  You'll have to come see the show to be wowed by the final product.  And trust us, you'll be wowed.

SETH:  In Everyman, I have been given the rare opportunity to act in a show for which I have designed the set.  Having worked with Father David Cregan in Salome, knowing his interest in physical theatre, I hoped to create a set that would challenge the actors physically. Approaching the design process where the script was a malleable object, I conceived of the design as a playground for the actors, giving the largest amount of choices for the director to play with while sticking as close to the dramaturgical needs of the script as possible.

SETH: My design for this production consists of three major scenic elements; a non-symmetrical cruciform runway, two non-symmetrical staircases, and a large sloped wall that ranges from 18 inches off the stage floor to the top of the upper platform.  The sloped wall is an obstacle that Everyman cannot climb. It acts as a wall and a road, an obstacle and an entrance.

SETH: As a son of two Episcopalian priests, my life has been filled with vacations to explore old Gothic and Nordic cathedrals. So when considering a way to have structure based in Medieval England, my mind was drawn to the remnants of an old cathedral floor.  The floor of a cathedral is a common place for a gravestone.  Every sunday, priests and lay people walk over bodies from the past, as if the gravestone were just another tile on the floor. This is a wonderful symbol of how Everyman walks by Death everyday without a care, and yet Death is always present. 

SETH: As an actor, I explore a role, challenging myself to find new ideas and make discoveries until opening night. What if I were to include in my actor exploration the mind of the scenic designer? As an actor, I will be there for the whole rehearsal process.  I’d like to investigate how I as set designer can fluidly adjust the design of the set, even after the fundamental structure has been rendered and created.  An actor has a script that cannot be changed.  The actor creates a role based upon the words of the playwright, but the character is much more than words. So too, my design has a basic structure; but how can what I learn as an actor in rehearsal - and what I learn from my fellow actors - influence changes in my design even after the foundation has been placed? 

SETH: My goal in the rehearsal process is not only to have the design fit my own needs as an actor, but to see how the set (as I live with it as an actor) can help create harmony with the entire cast. I plan on talking with my cast members, seeing how they feel, how they interpret the set, what they can create based on the ground plan given to them by me as designer and the blocking given by Fr. David.  Already, discoveries have been emerging.  One of my fellow cast members mentioned to Fr. David after a rehearsal, "It really seems like this set isn't just a playground for us.  It is our obstacle, as well."  Play on, friends!

     

Victoria Talks Turkey

Victoria (bottom center) pictured with past Brian Morgan award recipients

A GIANT congratulations to Victoria Rose Bonito, who was awarded the Brian Morgan Award this past Saturday.  The Brian Morgan Award, which honors a second year actor who displays talent, work ethic, and a playful and generous spirit, could not have gone to a more deserving candidate!  

On their path to graduation, all Villanova Theatre second-year students complete an Orals project, basically a Master's thesis, in a chosen area that they have studied over the past two years. Options range from academic to artistic and have taken on many forms over the years. Victoria, currently playing Maggie in Villanova Theatre's Red Herring, is using her role in the fast-paced, period comedy to apply to her Orals project in Acting. Victoria speaks about the process, obstacles and rewards involved in readying Maggie for the stage every evening.

VICTORIA:

From day one of the rehearsal process, Red Herring has been something special.  After reading the play over the summer, Maggie jumped out at me as a role I would adore exploring, and I thought it would be an interesting challenge to take on as my Acting Oral as well.  Aside from the very clear dialect challenge--Boston sits in a much more "difficult" place for me vocally than, say, the American South or the British Isles--Maggie is not just what she seems on the surface.  She has muscle and is a more aggressive role than I have played in the recent past; being a female cop in a man's world, she must be tough to hold her position toward the top of her field.  This attitude strangely helped me with the dialect, and vice versa, as the vocal quality and sound is a bit more forceful and no nonsense.  I love her for her edge...and simultaneously, her heart.  At the very first rehearsal, Michael said that in writing this play he wanted to "create as much craziness and bury as much truth as possible" in the piece.  This give and take of energy has been (and still continues to be!) the most exhilarating part of the process for me.

The style and rhythm of this play is also exciting and a tad intimidating.  But it all came together with that first audience.  The fast-paced, cinematic style that Michael has crafted his world in leaves little time to think--only time to do.  For an actor, this is both core-shattering and incredibly freeing.  While I still study my scene change list EVERY night, I also find myself in GO mode throughout each run; when I am conscious of and tuned in to what Maggie is doing, I find that I am more specific, nuanced, and on point as an actor.  There is little time to consider feeling--you just do it!  The noir vibe also came to life once the audience embraced it (which they do quite early).  At first, the takes out to the audience and the epic clinchers ("I think it's time to sharpen my harpoon") felt a bit unnatural.  Not out of place in the world of the play, just a tad zanier than one would expect of a largely "realistic" character.  The height of storytelling that these moments allow, however, is astounding.  Finding this rhythm was essential and now continues to be endless fun.

Most of all, I love how Maggie anchors the play in a very real way.  It takes a good bit of sanity to enter into the final scene and ask "will you marry me" while there are guns drawn, people hanging off docks, and general mayhem ensuing.  This is the brilliance of Michael's writing, the beauty of Harriet's directing, and the fun for me--this story is real in so many ways.  Love is not the most straight-forward thing to begin with...so why make a "normal" story about it?  I am having a blast both in the run of this production and in investigating it more deeply for my Acting Oral.  Thus far it has proven satisfying artistically, emotionally, and intellectually, and has led to some fabulous conversations at home in my own marriage.  Here's further proof that art imitates life and life often imitates art.  This sure will be a difficult one to close!

Fishy Fun!

One of the many beautiful things about Red Herring is the whole new world of wordplay it has opened up for us; from commies to gumshoes, there has been a lot of linguistic gambol here in Vasey 5 - not the least of which has been with our fishy friends.  Here are some Fred the Red's favorite fish puns, for your reading pleasure:

Thanks Fred!  While we may have differing opinions on economic philosophy, your wordplay sure does put us in stitches!

Red Herring opens THIS WEDNESDAY and runs until October 13th!  Call (610) 519-7474 or visit www.villanovatheatre.org for tickets.

A day in the LIFE (1952) ...

What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think of 1952? Poodle skirts? American Bandstand?  A gallon of gas costing 20 cents? Villanova Theatre’s upcoming production of Red Herring takes a look at marriage, nuclear espionage, and the McCarthy hearings as some of the iconic images of 1952 America.

Liz Marafino, second-year MA student and dramaturg for Red Herring, currently in production at Villanova Theatre, finds an authentic way to bring the time period of Michael Hollinger’s noir comedy to life.

LIZ: One of the things Harriet Power, Red Herring director, stressed to me was the importance of my role in grounding the actors in the play's time period of October 1952 (as none of them would have been alive at the time!).  I always like to return to primary sources in these cases, so I tracked down a copy of Life magazine from the week that the play takes place. Not only were there great articles about the upcoming presidential election and nuclear weaponry, it was also full of advertisements and other cultural touchstones that could provide a more visceral experience of 1952 for the actors. Below are some of my personal favorites from the issue:

Here are a few other touchstone events from 1952:

- The first mechanical heart is successfully used at Harper University Hospital in Michigan.

- Elizabeth II becomes Queen of England after the death of George VI.

- Dwight D. Eisenhower is elected president of the United States.

- Rocky Marciano becomes world heavyweight champion after knocking out Jersey Joe Walcott.

- Prime Minister Winston Churchill announces that the United Kingdom has an atomic bomb.

- A single episode of “I Love Lucy” is approximated to be tuned into over 10,000,000 homes.

Red Herring runs October 1-13. Call (610)519-7474 or visit www.villanovatheatre.org for more info or to purchase tickets!  Keep an eye out for Liz’s LIFE magazine in the production!