E.
T. W.
Combatting Common Sense: An Anthology of Scripts
CONTENTS:
INTRODUCTION:
COMMON SENSE AND DEAD METAPHORS
IN THE ENVIRONMENTAL THEATRE WORKSHOP
See Also:
The
Insect Play
Prometheus Bound
Six Puppets and a
Fish (not to mention the fisherman)
INTRODUCTION: COMMON SENSE AND DEAD METAPHORS
IN THE ENVIRONMENTAL THEATRE WORKSHOP
Tentative Conclusions written originally for participants in the Hamilton Ecoresearch
Project
by Stephen Johnson
Introductory Anecdote: Early in the history of ETW, we organized a van tour of Hamilton Harbour, as a performance workshop. As participants entered the van, they were each given a sheet of paper with basic information for a character and a situation that would be site-specific–a resident of the area next to the steel mill, an owner, a fisherman, and so on–and as we arrived at each location, the appropriate participant was to give an improvised talk, and answer questions based on their fact sheet. It’s a simple workshop, that might work to create ideas for later use–and make the tour more interesting. As often happens in interdisciplinary events early in their history, all the participants were actors, except for one woman, who sat in the back of the van, quiet and clearly nervous from the moment we gave her a sheet of paper and told her she would be performing later. Again, as often happens.
Late in the tour, we arrived at an old graveyard, the site of a cholera epidemic in the 1830s, the result of poor sanitation. We walked into the centre of the graveyard, and just as we wondered who was supposed to speak at that location, this young woman rushed up to us and asked if we’d seen her husband. She was quite distraught, clearly shaken, out of breath, distracted. She proceeded to beg us to help her find her husband, who had disappeared some time before while helping to bury the dead from cholera, who were dropped at the entrance to the graveyard and abandoned. She was afraid he’d died, she was desperate. She continued.
And we were mesmerized. For some time, I was completely out of my world and into that other, frightening place. This was certainly–and acknowledged by everyone to be–the best performance of this tour, and in effect accomplished what we all wish we could do as actors. Move us, change our minds about a time and place, make us think.
The participant, Tanya Burgar-Suligoj, was a graduate student at the university, in the Genetics program. She had never acted, but had joined us because she believed in the interdisciplinary nature of the project. She had a passion for the cause that made her give a powerful performance, in that moment. She remained involved with ETW throughout its life, and her example served us well. That monologue–altered somewhat and, of course, without the immediacy of her emotion and spontaneity–is in this anthology as ‘Lillian: the cholera epidemic.’What follows is an introduction to some of the texts produced by ETW for the McMaster Ecoresearch Project–that is, it is not a conclusion, though the project has ended. You will find what follows, out of necessity, tentative and disjointed. It is the nature of such experiments.
Communication:
The first question you will have is, "Why theatre?" in the midst of an interdisciplinary–but primarily Science/Social Science–project on the environment. The answer is, because all non-written communication is performance. Any lecture-demonstration, any sermon, any video documentary (even), involves a performer and an audience. The performer constructs a persona/character and, most likely, prepares a script or a scenario. The performer rehearses, and then performs. Any performer prepares for an imagined target audience, and alters the performance as the relationship with the audience develops. This is no secret. Any lecture–the seminar series run during the course of this project included–will bear this out.
Theatre is a species of the genus Performance. It is the species that foregrounds, or exposes the workings of the genus. It acts as microcosm. A theatrical production is, for the most part, about the performances that we give in the wider world. For that reason, theatre can be about how we communicate; and it can be a tool for better, more effective communication. It doesn't have to be, of course; this paper isn't about Cats, although I'm sure there's an environmental message in there somewhere.
Interdisciplinarity and Communication:
The Ecoresearch Project is interdisciplinary. Interdisciplinarity is all about
the communication between organized groups that speak, if not different languages,
then at least different dialects. Again, we only have to go to the Friday seminars
of this project to see how this works itself out in practice. The language of
the discipline must be altered; a translation must be made so that those not
initiated into the historical and intellectual context--the culture--of the
discipline can still understand what is being said.
How is this accomplished? In my experience, by several means. By longer, fuller
explanations of basic ideas. By an avoidance of specialized language. But there
are more extreme ways: in particular, by the use of visual and verbal metaphors
to relate the specialized knowledge to the world of the unspecialized (as, for
example, when someone shows me three kinds of cat-tail and compares them to
three kinds of wiener).
Why do we go to such lengths to communicate? We do this because, as a speaker, we want other minds to think the way our mind thinks--we want to change the minds of other people. As an audience, we want to learn what is happening in this other discipline because we want to change the way we perceive the world (I cannot now go to Coote's Paradise without seeing three different kinds of wiener--I mean, cat-tail).
The "interdisciplinary" intention reaches its boundaries--its most rewarding and most problematic region--in the attempt to communicate with "the general public." This is the vaguely-defined, non-specific target audience that does not speak any specialized dialect of scientific English. This is the most rewarding audience to reach, because it is ultimately how people with special knowledge change the world--by changing the minds and habits of this non-specific audience.
On the other hand, the main complaint levied against interdisciplinary studies
is that it waters down--simplifies--the discipline. By this argument, the common
ground between any two specialist world views, technologies, and methodologies,
is either two small or too vague to be of great value. Such activity loses focus,
precision, claims to authority--and power. The distance between the language/world-view
of the specialist and the language/world-view of the layperson only accentuates
this potential problem.
I emphasize this problem because I believe anyone reading the scripts included
here will raise that issue. "But it's so simple," you will say. I
hope that by taking a look at this case of interdisciplinary communication--the
"case" of ETW--we all might learn something about this process of
simplification.
Common Sense and Dead Metaphors:
One of the basic means by which we communicate is metaphor: that is, the identification of similarity in difference. It helps to define and describe the world: "Richard is a lion" is a lie, but it helps to define and describe Richard.
Let's say, for the sake of argument, that there are two kinds of metaphor--living
and dead. Dead metaphors are those we use without knowing, unconsciously. Living
metaphors are those we think about--the arresting, disruptive metaphors that
change our thoughts, allow us to understand a scientific principle--and, not
coincidentally, the kind we find in a good poem ("while the evening is
spread out against the sky, like a patient etherized upon a table"--not
what usually pops into our minds as we look up).
Metaphors help to shape our world-view. When they cease to be recognizable to
us as metaphors, they become unconscious patterns of thought. We assume a great
deal about the world without being conscious of it. We put our garbage out and
it disappears. We flush our toilets, and it all goes away. The clock moves,
and it never occurs to us that the clock is a man-made measuring device, and
not time itself. This constitutes common sense (the way the anthropologist Clifford
Geertz writes about it in his book Local Knowledge): it is what we assume without
thinking. These assumptions are also reinforced by metaphors. To realize how
long-lived a metaphoric habit can last, try saying, "Our position on the
earth revolved into sight of the sun at 7:08am this morning", instead of
"The sun rose at...." The sun didn't rise, and we all know it; but
the habit remains. This may seem a very simple-minded example. But consider
that I know I should compost, reduce, reuse, recycle, carpool, etc, etc, etc--and
yet it is not yet a habit of life. Other habits formed early in my life run
strongly to the contrary. These are simple matters to change; but I never knew
where my garbage went until one mind-bending, nightmarish trip to the dump as
an adult. And I never thought about it. There was nothing there to make me think
about it. Such unrecognized habits are all "dead metaphors."
In order to communicate new information and a new world-view to a group that is not "like-minded", you must disrupt its "common sense" through the aggressive use of "living metaphors"--aggressive, eye-opening metaphors.
Lecturing Using Metaphor:
When I watch lecturers trying to communicate to a general audience, I can identify the use of three metaphoric tools (there are, no doubt, many more):
They visualize (perhaps schematize is the better word): this is a picture of an atom, a molecule, a process, and so on.
They humanize (or anthropomorphize): a cancerous cell is "an ambitious bad actor".
They analogize: the amount of oil dumped down the sewers from automobile crank-cases adds up to so many oil tankers; cat-tails are like wieners.
It is only one small step from these to the world of the theatre. The recent seminar on cat-tails included a staged interview, by the lecturer, with herself on video. This exposed the fact that she was giving a performance, and playing a character. It disrupted the audience's expectations by dividing her character into two parts. It identified (metaphorically) herself with a reporter in a nature documentary (not The Nature of Things, surely), and emphasized the technical information she was giving. It was good theatre; it addressed the problem of communication, and tried to resolve it through role-playing.
There are more obvious examples of the use of metaphor. Laidlaw's Earth Academy
sends volunteers into schools to teach children about the environment. One volunteer
wears a dress made out of tin cans. Another uses a map with garbage velcroed
all over it. These are visual metaphors for conservation and for pollution.
They disrupt the audience's world view by their artificiality.
In another part of the world--New York City--the puppeteer Paul Zaloom tells
an entire story, set in an industrial park, using puppets made entirely of the
garbage we would find in that setting. Of course it is part of his point that
the garbage is villainous, and can take over, destroy. His point is made by
anthropomorphizing the garbage (as a metaphor: The garbage is a living monster).
The point is also made by its very artificiality. If it looked like our preconception
of "a puppet", the point would be lost.
The Monologues--The Character as Metaphor:
The most simple--and easily missed--metaphor of all is the actor playing a character. The performer is "this historical character", and is not; the performer is in the past, and is not. The actor is "a turtle", and is human. By playing a role--any role--a performer creates a connection between him/herself and the role, that constitutes a metaphoric identification. If we as an audience forget about the performer and lose ourselves in the character, of course, then the metaphor is invisible--dead. Realistic theatre aims for that. But, at least by some theatrical theory, this kind of theatre isn't very good for changing minds, or disrupting our "common sense". Only if the audience can connect the performer with the role can minds be changed.
I would ask you to remember that as you look at these simple scripts. Sitting on the page, they are dead metaphors--or nearly dead. Their effectiveness depends in large measure on the actor's performance. The actors disrupt the audience's assumptions by, for example, playing more than one role, or playing the role in an extreme fashion.
The Monologues created by ETW's 1994 summer company are a good case in point.
At first glance, no doubt you'll find entertainment and information. The historical
"North Shore" monologues offer a sense of the history of humanity
in its local environment. The contemporary "South Shore" monologues
offer the extremes of humanity's relationship with its environment. No strain
there; decent, useful theatre, but they do not seem to fit the metaphoric disruption
I have just argued for.
For example, the monologue of Lillian, who has lost her husband to cholera,
is quite straightforward. It is certainly possible to lose the actress in the
role. But consider the context: you are standing in Cootes Paradise at dusk,
in 1994; she is talking about death and diseased water in the past as you stand
beside water in the present; you have already seen this actress play Mrs. Simcoe,
so you're not completely fooled; and you can probably hear traffic somewhere
close by. It is a subtle notion, but I would propose to you that the actor,
if successful, has changed your mind by identifying the past with the present
physical setting. That historical sense, however basic it seems, is by no means
typical of our "common sense". We do not assume a history to the water
at our feet.
"The Home Show"/"Perfect Paradise"--Sympathetic Anthropomorphism:
So often in workshopping any performance, ETW anthropomorphized--made human--the nature we meant to explain and defend. This should come as no surprise, since the only world-view ("common sense") we know is based on egocentric, human perceptions. This seems reasonable. So, too, does the use of such tools as the creation of animal characters. By humanizing animals--human actors playing animals does that quite well--we build sympathy for them. We feel what they feel, and so we have a vested interest in not hurting them.
This is a reasonable lesson for an environmentalist to teach--and an old one. For "The Home Show": we all need a home, and so we should share "the commons". For "Perfect Paradise": we all have very narrow views of what an environment is, and what its needs are; not surprisingly, they coincide with our needs; it is a revelation to find that the needs of others must be met as well. These are not simple concepts, although they are simply presented using a strong, living metaphor.
"James Pond"/"Inspector Fish"--Satiric Anthropomorphism:
Likewise, workshops often tended toward the satiric when playing animals. This is an ancient and venerable form, common to caricature and the political cartoon. It is a natural tendency when actors build non-human characters that they will find the human "type" in the animal "type" and play the similarity for all it's worth. If sympathy is achieved by seeing what's human in the animal, satire is achieved by seeing what's "animal" in the human. The two tend to go together, as I think you will find. "The Home Show" and "Perfect Paradise" lean toward the sympathetic, but have some satire; "James Pond" and "Inspector Fish" lean toward the satiric, but not without sympathy. They both make their environmental points; the tone of voice is different.
The Problem of Anthropocentrism:
If you browse through the pages of the journal Environmental Ethics, you will find that one line of discussion focuses on the "problem" of anthropocentrism. It is a problem, says this line of enquiry, because all morality is centered on the needs of the human animal. Despite the expenditure of much thought, ink and paper, no one has yet created a "non-anthropocentric" ethical system--at least, not one that might become the "common sense" of the general population. If this is a problem--and that is beyond the scope of this letter--it is a problem well-illustrated by ETW's work. It is human-biased because it must be. The identification of humanity and the rest of nature through the person of the actor subscribes to this anthropocentric view of the world. It should, then, be possible to explore just that problem, in all its complexity, through theatre. That's a hope for the future.
"Kill Water"/Sound&Movement– Ritual and the Creation of New Habits:
After a volunteer planting program at a Prairie Restoration site in the midwest, a folk band plays and the participants are invited to "dance the seeds into the ground." At another site, a marriage takes place. In Eramosa, Ontario, a "community play" tells the story of the loss of land to Toronto real estate speculators; it is told to a large audience in an abandoned quarry. In a variety of locations across America, the Bread and Puppet Theatre creates public rituals inspired by local events; they are site-specific. These are manifestations, ranging from the experimental theatre to the work of ecologists, that point to a need for ritual.
A word about ritual. The key word in its definition, and distinction from theatre--to which it is related--is "efficacy". Simply put, historically, ritual was a performative act that actually changed the natural world. In primitive religions, the performance of a ritual healed the sick. In Christianity (depending on the denomination), the ritual act of communion changes the bread and wine into body and blood--not figuratively, but physically. Ritual has a powerful hold over the human mind; we and it are inseparable. It also has a good deal to do with our relationship to the environment, since its roots lie in the effort to control/appease that environment. If I do this, the world will do that.
Another word about ritual. There is a strong remnant of it in the varieties of culture we refer to as "folk". Even if these non-urban cultures don't quite subscribe to the efficacy of ritual, the habits of superstition, and wisdom, and song and dance constitute a legacy of that tradition. When any folk culture performs a song/dance that follows the rhythms and movements of their work, they are tapping into a ritual aspect of their lives. Their song and dance may not change nature, but the work in the field it formalizes and reinforces does. We may not see anything spiritual in it; but that may be our own contemporary failing. The use of ritual traditions reinforces the roots of the community, the habits of life, the skills and capacity to work together that allow the community to exist. In this sense ritual is spiritual, and also eminently practical.
When I mentioned to one scientist the case of the "dancing of the seeds", he quite rightly--poignantly--asked, "Isn't the work enough?" That is, isn't the knowledge that this small piece of the environment will be better for my work, enough? That's a good question. I believe the answer is no. The dance following isn't a reward for hard work finished. It's a ritual that reinforces the power of work to change the landscape, and the power of the community to change its relationship with the land.
All right--"potentially." That's the way the theory goes, at least. Ritual has made a strong comeback in the world of experimental theatre. In particular, dance movement taps into the world of ritual dance and the group character that defines much of primitive ritual.
As it happens, some of the improvisational games and rehearsal techniques used in the preparation of our performances has been influenced by this kind of theatre. Although you may find this a stretch, I would like you to read the description of "Kill Water!" (it cannot be a "script") as if it were a ritual. What does it teach about the environment? Does it teach differently than the other pieces in this anthology? What does it teach to try to create an "personification" of "smog" or "water"? We have not tapped ritual as an aid to communication as much as we might have. We haven't had time.
Venue:
These monologues were devised by ETW participants for performance out-of-doors.
In this setting, audience members walking along a trail in Cootes Paradise,
guided by a member of ETW, happen upon a character who interacts with them.
There were significant variations to this. A so-called "Compilation Sketch"
was created with excerpts from all the "North Shore" monologues connected
by movement into a more traditionally presented stage performance.
Also, selected "South Shore" monologues were presented at the Environmentalist of the Year Award dinner in 1994.
Theatrical idiosyncracies:
Typically one performer plays more than one role. There is an exposed theatricality intended in this. The actor wears regular clothing with a patchwork of costuming (say, a vest for the Raspberry monologue or a straw hat and glasses for Thomas Keefer). After the first monologue is over, he or she races through the woods ahead of the walking audience to meet them later on the trail, with different costuming. There is no effort to fool the audience, for several reasons. Practically, exposing the hard work of the performer builds interest (how did he/she get there?), suspense (who will appear next?), and a respectful sympathy (this person is working hard; he/she must really want to say something). Thematically, such doubling of roles ties distinct characters together in the audience member's mind; and (in intention at least) exposing rather than trying to hide that doubling raises questions of thematic connection between characters. And, finally, there is no effort to fool the audience because it is impossible anyway--best to admit the artificiality in all honesty and get on with the job of communication. Typically, the monologue is altered through improvisation. Each audience will interact differently with the performer. Each performer will judge the needs of the audience by various means, in particular age. And each performer will adjust the length of the monologues depending on such things as audience attentiveness, the time frame for that day's activities, and the weather. There is nothing worse for conjuring the feel of a performance than a script; but it's all we have. It also happened that the company, during its summer together in 1994, became so familiar with its stock "characters" that it did not need a script. Each member simply reacted to each audience with the stock of information/attitude at his or her disposal.
What follows, then, is one sample of the kind of monologue series performed by ETW (with some variations added for comparison).
Frame: Historical
These monologues are exercises in communicating a sense of human history within
a natural setting.
Characters played by each performer:
Young Jesse, old Jesse and Nika
Mrs Moodie and Anne Morden
Clinton and Keefer
Mrs. Simcoe and Lillian
Begue, Flowers and BeasleySample "staging" for the North Shore Monologues,
in the Royal Botanical Gardens:
1 Eastern entrance to Cootes Clearing Alex Begue/ Desjardins
2 Western Entrance to Cootes Clearing Young Jesse
3 1st waters edge at " no fire sign " Mrs. Simcoe
4 Big tree before uphill path Clinton/ Rasberrys
5 1st path intersection OscarFlowers/Shacktown
6 Triple silver maples Old Jesse
7 2nd path intersection Mrs. John Moodie
8 Lookout after 1st boardwalk Anne Morden
9 Sycamore tree after foot bridge Nika / La Salle
10 Top of stair at sediment pond Thomas Keefer
11 Tree roots half way up last hill Lillian / Cholera
12 Big tree at the end of the trail Capt. Coote
Alexis Begue--The Desjardins Canal, 1820-1895
"Coller avec moi...coller avec moi." Stick with me. That's the advice Pierre Desjardins gave me, Alexis Begue, in 1825. "There's a fortune to be made building canals. They are the cornerstone to commerce and trade in the 19th Century. A canal leading directly to the village of Cootes Paradise would secure our collective economic futures." So I listened to him. I stuck with him. I invested every penny I had in his canal company and all I have to show for it are these worthless pieces of paper.
I have to admit, at first it seemed like a brilliant idea and perhaps my greed had got the best of me.... It all seemed so simple and foolproof. All we had to do was to get a charter from the government which permitted us to raise the ten thousand pounds necessary to complete the project in the form of shares offered to the public. The time was right. Work on the Welland Canal was well under way and a permanent canal through the beach strip connecting Burlington Bay to the lake had already been built. Our canal would begin at the western tip of the bay, near the mouth of Grindstone Creek.. From there the canal would make a kind of "S" curve following the marsh, Initially moving northward, then eventually turning southward back to the main marsh and straight down the middle of Cootes Paradise, along a portion of Spencer's Creek until we reached the western end of the marsh where the canal would end and our system of warehouses conveniently began.
Simple...foolproof...right?...Wrong! Public interest in the share offering was weak and the money flowed in slower than expected. In 1827 Pierre Desjardins was out Grimsby way trying to sell some shares to a farmer friend of his. Well he sold those shares but never lived to see the fruits of his labour. That same day Pierre was found dead in the middle of a field, next to his horse. A coroners jury concluded that he died as a result of, and I quote, "a visitation from God." Seems quite appropriate...Pierre truly was a visionary but not a very good businessman or for that matter a good horseman.
It took another 10 years of intense effort, loss of men's lives to the cholera infested water and another seventeen thousand quid before the canal finally opened in 1837...to great fanfare. A Ferry ride from Burlington Beach to the west end of the canal was offered to all inhabitants of the area. Suddenly everyone was there to take credit, including that underhanded, train lover, Allan MacNab. True, we did have a number of good years, even profitable years, but the canal constantly required repairs and injections of capital to keep it...afloat as it were. The channel cut through Burlington Heights in 1857 helped by straightening and shortening the canal but the advent of steam locomotives and machinations of certain city of Hamilton politicians proved too much for our struggling company to survive. By 1876 the canal company went into receivership and by 1895 the canal, in dire need of dredging and more money, was closed for ever...
At least Pierre got the canal named after him. Me...I've got my memories. And these! (shows stocks)
Young Jessie--The Dundas Valley, 1845
Oh - you've startled me - I'm just trying to dodge that Billy Holmes. He's chasing me because he wants his letter back. He gave it to me earlier today, then got shy, and decided he wanted it back. But I say, he gave it to me, and it's addressed to me, so it's mine. Here, let me read it to you.
July __, 1845 (that's today)
Dearest Jessie, (that's me)
"The mossy marbles rest
On the lips which I then pressed
In the cellar."With all my adoration,
William Holmes XXO
You see, four days ago, I was working at the Valley Inn -the tavern at the junction of Snake and Guelph Roads, near Carroll's Point. It was a really busy night because all the shipmen from one of the big logging sailboats had stopped off on their way to Brown's Wharf, and the stagecoach from Toronto had drawn in. Whiskey all round. Boy, the old sobering barrel got a lot of use that night. Those sailors -even took a barrel of whiskey with them in the morning. So I was busy doing my bit, and in walks Billy. I've known him since we were little, he's working at Johnny Applegarth's flour mill now, just up the road. He saw me serving near the bottom of the staircase, made his way through all the singing sailors and other barmaids straight to me. He grabbed me by the hand and without saying a word led me down past the chimney foot and around the potato bins -then he was very bold - he kissed me, twice! So when he came in tonight for a meal, and I saw this letter I knew it was for me and I was right. Ahh.
I should probably head back to the Inn before they miss me. I wouldn't want to lose work there. It's a splendid place. Everybody comes in and has such a jolly time. Some boatmen think our old canal, that runs past the Valley Inn and up towards Dundas is too windy and their logging boats will get jammed in the marshy areas. I think that even if the big boats stop coming, the people will still come, to drink with friends and have a nice hearty meal, or just to hear exciting stories. Because everyone loves the Valley Inn.
I'd better get back...if you see that Billy Holmes, tell him I'm keeping it!
Old Jessie--The Dundas Valley, 1880
Oh- hello. Excuse me, I'm just taking one last look. I'm on my way to Dundas Valley to catch the train to Toronto, or beyond. Where the new action is. There's just not enough customers at the Valley Inn anymore. Most of the sailors have found new taverns to carouse in, closer to town. That's a real pity. I just loved all those brawny boatmen. When the old canal was still open, and the big logger boats would stop off on their way to Brown's Wharf, we'd have a jolly time singing show tunes over by the piano. Whiskey all round. And those sailors could sure drink, let me tell you. The old sobering up barrel on the corner of the Inn got a lot of use in those days.
Mr. James Kenney had just hired me at the Valley Inn, summer of 1849, when they cut the new channel through Burlington Heights. Some of the boatmen thought that the old canal that ran right past the Inn, was too windy, and their boats may have gotten jammed in the marshy areas. So, they cut that new canal, which took some of the Inn's business. There was still lots of action though for a couple of years. Pleasure boaters often stopped in, we still had Johnny Applegarth's millworkers until he moved his business closer to town, and plenty of lumberjacks with all their stories. And the stagecoaches still pulled in. Fancy ladies and marvellous gentlemen used to pass through. Some of them were famous, and I used to serve them so I could overhear their tales of the big cities and show life. In fact, we got a lot of the travellers in those days. We actually built a second story on to the Inn just to add some extra sleep bunkers. When the Grand Trunk railway came through, they had to fill in most of the old canal to make a solid ground for the rails. That stopped some of the river traffic. I guess it stopped some of the road traffic too, seeing as the train was quicker and shorter than most roads.
I hope another boom comes for the Valley Inn, it's a lovely tavern. It was home for me for 30 years. It'd be a pity to let such a loved, merry place disappear.
Mrs. Simcoe--Coote's Paradise, 1793
I am so very happy that my husband Governor John Graves Simcoe allowed me to accompany him on this journey to the Head of the Lake. It is not often that one is able to drink in the splendour of such a magnificent habitat. We had not planned that our visit should last very long but the weather has blessed us with a stay at this lovely bay. Allow me to read to you what I have just written in my journal for today.
August 11,1793
At 8:00 we set out in a boat to go to Beasley's, at the head of Burlington Bay, about eight miles. (aside--That would be Beasley's over there. [pointing to Dundurn Castle]) The river and bay were full of canoes; the Indians were fishing; we bought some fine salmon of them. When we had near crossed the bay, Beasley's house became a fine object. We landed near it and walked up the hill...... Further west of this terrace we saw Coote's Paradise, so called from a Captain Coote, who spent a great deal of time shooting ducks in this marshy tract of land below the hill we were upon. It abounds with wild fowl and tortoises; from hence it appears more like a river or a lake than a marsh and Mordaunt's place in the distance takes a fine shape. I was so pleased with this place that the Governor stayed and dined at Beasley's. A strong east wind prevented our sailing back. We therefore arrived late and found a salmon dressed for our dinner.
This really is a splendid place and rarely in my journeys through this land have I seen such an array of species of plants, birds and animals. One could spend an eternity watching nature in this sheltered area if not for insects, which also appear quite abundant.
Mr. Clinton: The Raspberry Monologue
Yeah, I know the Raspberrys. They own all this land back up in here. It's good farm land, the soil's nice and rich and there's good irrigation from all the streams around here. Their property runs right along Grindstone Creek and down to the marsh. You know, that's where the freight steamers going up to Dundas used to come through. They'd have to wind their way around the lowlands to get into Coote's Paradise. It wasn't till just before they brought in the train that they cut the straight path out to the bay. I used to sit right about here with the kids and watch as the big old paddle boats came along with those wheels a-turning and steam pouring out of the stacks. Wow, what a sight!
Boy that was a money maker for old John at one time. Aside from farming he had a couple of swing bridges on his property. One on the road to Toronto and the other on the road north. No one could get by Dundas without giving John a little money. Dairy farming is a good living I guess--but controlling the main transportation line is better. Of course that only lasted until the train took over and they cut that new pathway through the heights. Did you know that when they dug that out they found some bones? A scientist was called in and he said it was called a woolly mammoth and it lived thousands of years ago. I tell ya that caused quite the stir around here for a good long while.
Heck, around here a man doesn't have to earn a lot to keep his family fed. Me and John used to come here together fishing and hunting. We used to pull in all kinds of fish--and big too. Well, you wouldn't believe the size of some of them puppies. I've pulled in sturgeon the size of my wife and in the spring the salmon were so thick you could reach in and pull them out with your hands. In the autumn we used to come down here for ducks and geese. Why all you would have to do is walk down to the marsh, fire you're shot gun, pick up you're bird and walk home. My youngest boy can't shoot worth a hill of beans but he could usually bag one down here.
But with the town getting so big and all the people moving to the area there doesn't seem to be as many fish or birds around. And the train too. I think all the noise is scaring off the game.
You know just last winter there was a big accident over there at the bridge. The darn thing collapsed and the train went right into the water. A lot of people died. Now when you see the train come up to the bridge it always stops to let off anyone who is scared so they can walk across by foot.
You know, what with the loss of the toll bridges and all the game, it wouldn't surprise me if John didn't have a bit of a hand in that train wreck. Nah, that's just my imagination acting up.
Oscar Flowers--Shacktown, 1917-1946
Who's there?... Herb...is that you? It's me Oscar!...Oscar Flowers. Why Herb Matthews, I never thought in a million years that I would ever see you again....Oh! I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else. I thought 50 years had faded away and it was 1944, only a couple years before shacktown disappeared forever. Well whoever you are, I can say you are the splitting image of a friend of mine, Herbert Matthews. You see Herb was one of the last people evicted from his home here at Coote's Paradise in 1946 by the City of Hamilton Parks Board. I lost my home here on the North Shore in 1939. The City gave me a relief room at the Fisher Hotel as compensation, so whenever I could, I'd sneak down to Herb's place to do some fishing like we used to in the old days...
Geez, back in 1924 there must have been around 80 homes over here on the marsh side and another 40 homes on the bay side by Carrol's Point. Well actually they were more like permanently docked houseboats or shacks made from small trees for the frame, bits of lumber we'd find scatted along the shoreline and tar paper or tin, if you could afford it, for the roof. All sorts of people lived down here. George Bolton, the caretaker at Woodlawn Cemetary got tired of going back to the city every night during the warm months; built a place just over there. Walt Duckworth, the best hunter, angler, trapper and frog catcher there ever was lived over by Bull's Point. Everybody's place had a name, a little sign above the door. I can remember names like Jakaloo, Kildare, Idle Some More, Cosy Within, Seldom Inn, and Tumble Inn. And after a busy day fishing a bunch of us would head over to Brunt's Cafe for a drink and maybe a little bit of cards...
When the Great Depression hit us in the thirties a lot of us couldn't afford to live anywhere else, so we started living here all year round. Back then Cootes Paradise was too far away from the city to be of any real concern but as Hamilton grew so did its bi city aspirations and it was soon decided that Shacktown did not fit the image the Ambitious City wanted to project. We were called an eyesore, squatters, a blight ruining the western entrance to the city. We didn't care what they called us as long as they left us alone...On a night like tonight with the summer sun setting lazily in the west, surrounded by Rocky Mountain clouds, far from the noise and bustle of the city, we what we had here and what to call it...PARADISE.
But you cant stop progress. I know because we tried. We went to the papers
with our story... hired lawyers, went to court...all to save our homes and all
to no avail. We had never bothered to get clear title to our land or deeds for
our homes.
The last shack was torn down in 1946 and so came to an end to our own paradise
and the beginning of a paradise that could be shared by the whole community.
I hope you treasure it as much as we did.
Mrs. John Moodie--The First Automobiles
Hello... Hello... umm, excuse me but have you happened to see a car coming along the road there? No? Oh dear! My husband John was supposed to pick me up here ages ago. At least, I think he said to meet him here. It's the best road around. Oh, I imagine he's just fiddling around with that old horseless carriage of his. Men and their toys, eh?! Gasp! I can't believe I just said that! Oh, he'd kill me! You see everyone thinks the automobile is a passing fancy--not to mention a nuisance! Call it nothing but a toy. Everyone but my husband, that it!
How are you? The name's Mrs. John Moodie. My husband was the very first man to drive a car in Canada. Before that he introduced this beautiful country to the first high-wheeled bicycle it had every seen! Won every race he entered with that thing! Won every race for a while in his 1898 Winton automobile, too. That wasn't especially hard to do, mind you, when the speed limit was 10 mph, and only 6 in the city. That's 6 miles per hour. But that Winton--what a car! He tells me "she purrs". Now, I don't know about you but the only thing that I like tohear purr is my cat, Fluffy! All of these new contraptions spark a passion in John, though, that even I have never sen before. Most folks, myself included, are content enough with riding our horses and taking our time. Not John, though. He can go as fast as, oh, 25 miles per hour--when the police and I aren't breathing down his neck! Whew, that thing sure can fly!
It's funny, but we're having a heck of a time with that old "horseless carriage" of his! Picture this--you're cruising into town in the pinnacle of modern invention, crowds gather everywhere staring in amazement. John and I drove straight to Hamilton from Toronto in 2 and 3/4 hours--beating the boat--arriving at the corner of King and James Stret relaxed, tidy and without a scuff on our shoes. Unheard of! Even the animals don't quite know what to make of it! You know, he had to put a row of nails, sharp side up, on the rear bumper to keep the kids from hitching a ride on the back.!
But a toy! They actually think it's only a toy! Oh, it's definitely exciting, something to marvel at--but a toy?!? Unvelievable. You'll have to forgive my change of tone, but you have to understand that we re constantly onthe defensive. Soon there'll be hundreds of cars in Canada. Why, John has helped found the Hamilton Auto Club, so all the automobile owners can band togather against the histility they're receiving. Practically everything we do is against the law, you know. If a car breaks down the driver can be fined for obstructing traffic. If he doesn't give notice of his approach he can be fined for negligence. If he goes, oh, 8 or 10 miles per hour he's charged with speeding! I mean fine, I can understand laying down some guidelines and maintaining some order, but some things are just way out of hand. Farmers have started laying huge poles, the size of this tree over here, across the roads so that the cars can't get by. They acturally bury their rakes andhoes into the groud, sharp side up, to sabotage the tires! Roads are being deliberately neglected. [Sigh] You'll hae to pardon my frustration. Change is always hard to adapt to and many new things in the all-too-recent frontier have often led to trouble. But people don't realize the extraordinary benefits to be reaped from the automobile! They don't even try to imagine the luxuries it offers. This so-called menace John introduced carried my sister Becky over to Dr. Mason's house in the middle of the night last week when there were complications with the baby she was delivering.
John got her in the car and drove her safely to Dr. Mason in less than twenty minutes. Now can yo imagine what might have happened if Jhn hadn't had his car? No horse or shaky buggy could have delivered her and to go and fetch the doctor personally takes up to an hour. By the time that old geezer gets up and dressed, anyway! No, I believe this new technology is a true miracle. Cars can carry the sick, help to put out fires, save incredible amounts of time, and they're a heck of a lot of fun just to be in. And so clean, too. Not messy, like horses. Just a little smoke.
Mark my words, technology is going to win over those farmers, and cars will one day be a necessity, taken for granted. Roads will be wide and flat and they'll take people to places they never dreamed existed. people won't even have to live in the city anymore. they'll be able to travel in to their workplace and then leave to go home to a calm paradise, like this one. My, it is beautiful out here. Someday everyone will be able to drive out here and relax, and so easily. Well, I'm very happy to know that all of you can see our point of view. thanks for listening, but I am afraid i might be waiting at the wrong road. I'd better look about up here... or here... If you do see a car wandering about out here, would you kindly point him in this direction? Thank you so much. Bye!
Anne Morden--The First Residents, 1780s
Hi folks! How are ya? Careful now! Stand back! I don't want to set you on fire as soon as these two rocks start to spark! It'll happen you know...it will..if only it would happen soon...whew! Forget it!I'l l get the hang of this someday--just not today. Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me...Anne Morden, pleased to meet you. I wanted to start a fire to keep the bugs away - especially the mosquitos--but it doesn't seem to want to work for me today. Gee you folks must be new in these parts--you don't look familiar and there sure is a bunch of ya. Well, welcome to the village of Cootes Paradise. Just up there is Dundas. Now don't get the too confused; lots of folks do. It's much prettier down here though; that's how you can remember to call this area 'paradise'.
I was the first person to settle here! I didn't discover it, mind you. Robert Land found this area for me and my boys. You may run into him...Robert Land...he's a British officer... Oh mercy!!! You folks aren't with the army now, are ya? Oh sure, I've seen your type before - especially you little ones! The American Revolution is over now, or hasn't anyone told ya? You people are lower than a snakes belly following me up here! Isn't it enough that you hanged my husband Ralph? You'll have to hang me too, if you expect me to say he's anything but innocent! Well...? Umm... judging by the looks on your faces...you're not with the army, are ya? Well, that's a relief! I'm sorry for doubting you and all, but you can't be too careful nowadays. The revolution may be over but there's still a lot of hurt feelings wandering around, if you know what I mean!
Hey! You're not Quakers are you? It's all right, you can tell me. I'm a Quaker too! It's quite safe to admit it in the Canadas. No, huh? Well, so you're clear on it, a Quaker is someone who doesn't believe in taking any side in any war. Quakers show mercy and kindness to all. That's all my husband Ralph ever did, a right true Quaker he was--and the American army hung him--called it treason.
So you're not with the army and you're not Quakers; but you're awful quiet. On the run, huh? Keeping things hush hush? Trust me, I understand. One word of advice for ya--learn to count on yourself. For everything--especially you women. Look at me, I was born and bred a right lady and now here I am sitting in dirt and fighting off bugs! Who'd have thought it? I'm helping my boys to build me a log house too! Not very big, it's just over these lakes and on the far side of the escarpment there, on top of that twisty old York Road. I want you to remember all this because if you ever run into trouble you'll know where to come. And don't you be letting your pride get in the way--especially you men. Now I mean this, if you ever need some victuals or a place to rest for a bit you just come right over. And if you ever get split up from your families you're welcome to use my place as a meeting place, all right?
Oh, I should warn you though... I don't quite know how to say this...well you're in for a few surprises, I might as well be the first! Ahem...y'know... and don't tell anyone this on your travels...but when you come up to my house, you'll discover that...well...that I wear trousers. Yes it's true!!! It's quite liberating really! Feel like I'm prancing around in my bloomers, I do, but trousers are the most practical thing to wear when you're building a house. They're a heck of a lot easier to get around in out here in the bush too, I'm telling ya! Oh I'm probably shocking you. Well like I said, get ready for a few surprises. It sure is pretty in this new settling land but it's mighty rough too. Take care of yourselves and best of luck to you! I'd best be going before it gets dark! Now remember, the name's Anne Morden and my house is past the lake, past the escarpment, on top of twisty old York Road. If you run into Robert Land he's a close friend of mine and a British officer--you can trust him. Take care. Bye now.
Nika--LaSalle and the Neutrals, 1669
It is good to feel these winds on my face. They often whisper stories to me. The winds tell me of times, days when many more white men will come to these shores. I am Nika, I am of the Neutral Tribe of Indians. We are peaceful, friends of the Huron and Iroquois tribes that border our land here at the head of the lake. My family has built our longhouse just inland. There is also good land for growing our corn, beans, squash and sunflowers. We also grow much tobacco, which is good for trade with the few white men who visit. My favourite white man, is that pup Rene LaSalle, who arrived in 1669, and has stayed for a long time. He is kind and interested in our people. I have taught him our language, and he is eager to learn the many other native tongues that I know. He is a curious white man. He tells tales of treasure and gold on a Mississippi river. He is travelling west to reach Ohio and this place of riches.
Although he is a brave man, who has travelled through many dangers, there are
times when he acts like a coyote, running with its tail between its legs. I
remember--he stayed with us for a night to trade and feast. Before the meal,
he left us to walk up the shoreline on the rocks. Suddenly, we heard him shriek
in terror, and he came running back to us, shaking like a big leaf. He had seen
3 giant rattlers, thick as a man's arm, black and coiled ready to strike. Guess
he was not quite ready for the marshy land and its snakes. His big adventure
left him with a fever and sickness, for a few days. I stayed with him. You know,
I do not think he was too sick from those rattlers. I think he was sick of those
2 priests, who had come with him on the journey. They slowed him down, stopping
to convert all we Indians to Christianity. He wasn't here to do that, but to
see the world! I think he pretended to be sick, and hoped those priests would
grow tired of waiting and move on. And they did--the mosquitoes finally got
to them and they moved on. LaSalle stayed here, with us, for a while longer.
He is a good white man.
It is late. I must leave. Goodbye.
[Nika: An earlier version, for reference]
I am Nika. I am of the Shawnee Nation. We live south of here. I travel because of the European settlers who have come into my land. I met Rene Cavalier La Salle in the winter of (16) '64. I wintered just outside of Quebec. I met him and his brother Jean. That's right, the Jesuit priest. It was just outside of La Salle's Garrison. He was interested in my people. He asked me about the many Native languages I knew. He was a curious fellow. He told tall tales of treasure and the search for gold at the end of the Mississippi. He was making plans to travel throughthe Great Lakes to the west. In September 1669 we travelled west, by canoe, to these shores. There were twenty in our party, seven canoes, each carrying three men and supplies. Two of the party were priests--Galilee and Dollier. Well, the church funded the expedition. I don't think La Salle figured on travelling with them. He did not care where the money came from. He did not care about converting all of us. He just wanted to see the world! We made our camp over there [points]. It was dusk, but we hunted to save our supplies. I went down this path, and La Salle went along the shore near that large rock. After only a few steps I heard La Salle screaming in terror. When I had made it back to camp he told us he had seen three giant rattlers as thick as a man's arm, entirely black and coiled to strike. La Salle doesn't like snakes, I guess. He was only twenty-five, and wet behind the ears. He didn't get bit. He stayed in a blanket by the fire with a fever for a few days. Looking back I think he was faking it. Why? I think it was his way of getting rid of those two priests. That time of year, around here, it wasn't really very pleasant. Giant mosquitoes, swampy smells, and dark mountain looming overhead--and of course the snakes. He was right, you know. After two days the priests got tired of waiting for La Salle to get better. They left for the west, to find the village of Tinawatawa. We broke camp soon after, and went--exploring.
Thomas C. Keefer--The Poet-Engineer, 1850s
[Delivered with great arrogance]
Due to the huge population explosion from 6000 in 1846 to 16000 in 1855 the city of Hamilton needed a more extensive and powerful water works, and so the Fire and Water Committee of Hamilton called upon the "tireless and prolific writer" Thomas C. Keefer. From the age of five Keefer was interested in being an engineer, due to the engineers who had billeted with his parents during the Welland Canal project. He was schooled at Upper Canada College in Toronto from 1833 to 1838. He has written several papers on rail roads including the widely read The Philosophy of Railroads in 1849, The Toronto, Simcoe and Huron Railway in 1850 and the fascinating 500 page Report on the Preliminary Survey of the Kingston and Toronto Section of the Grand Trunk Railway in 1851. Ladies and Gentleman, I am Thomas C. Keefer.
Now, you may not recognise me from my treatises on railroads but you most certainly remember my Ballad of the Iron Horse that great poetic work. That was the Ballad of the Iron Horse written in 1850. You remember "...." (Keefer attempts to recite his poem but somehow loses his thought). Oh well I came to talk about my wonderful work on the pump house any way. My task was to assess the situation and to find out how to correct the dire problem of the water shortage. To solve any problem one must first find its source. After much research I came to the conclusion that the increased need for water was taxing the creeks and streams of the local watershed. The first plan was to draw water from Ancaster into huge reservoirs. Unfortunately after much testing I found that the water could not sit for any period of time and still remain fit for consumption. And so after much debate and conjecture, I conceived and proposed the idea of a pumping station with the capacity to draw millions of gallons of water daily from Lake Ontario. The price would be a 300 000 pounds but well worth the money. The completed pumphouse was a marvel to behold, glistening and gleaming, Chrome and mahogany everywhere, 40 miles of pipe and a huge reservoir on the escarpment just east of the city. In 1860 the pumphouse was opened in grand style by the Prince of Wales and a local orphan boy. You may have seen my likeness on the front cover of The Canadian Illustrated in the September 1863 issue. They did a wonder article with a full page rendering and a write up of my life's achievements. Yet somehow they overlooked my poetry.
Lillian--The Cholera Epidemic, 1830s
[In the event, delivered at dusk.]
My name is Lillian. This was my husband's favourite spot. David--that's my husband--died in '32. 1832, when the cholera epidemic hit the town pretty hard. The papers told us to prepare. David was smart. At the town meeting he told everybody to clean their houses, scrub the streets, and burn the garbage. But none of it seemed to help, when it hit.
It was June, a hot dry spell. It started in the town jail. First the prisoners got it. Then the jailer. His wife, their children. Then everybody. It didn't seem to matter who you were, or where you lived. And if the cholera wasn't enough we had problems with fires, too. You see, we had a real problem with the water supply in town. Sure there were private wells and public cisterns on most of the mail streets but it usually wasn't enough to stop a fire. The dry spell also brought problems with the dust from the roads. People got scared of the dust demons. It sounds silly now, but we just didn't know where the plagues came from.
We should have known the water was the problem all along. Water that sits for too long, no matter how clear, could be filled with disease. Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Well, we didn't know that. Not way back in '32.
If David wasn't putting out fires he was helping with digging graves. He wore gloves and a scarf aroudn his face because of the smell--and to protect himself. Him and Robbie Berrie were the only ones in town who would do it. Robbie insisted, and rightly so, that the bodies be buried. People would drag the poor, poor souls by long ropes and leave them by the cemetery entrance--it just wasn't right. And then my David would have to drag them the rest of the way in. Hamilton wasn't that big a town, some of them wre our friends and he knew nearly everybody he buried. It tore him apart inside. "Such a waste," he used to say. Later that summer David died, too.
I took our daughter, Sarah, out to the cemetery. She was only five the first time we went. In one section of the cemetery there are no grave stones because too many were dying. And there was no money, or no family. She was playing on some of the mounds and asked me, "What are these little hills, Mama?" I told her they were graves. She got very serious and stopped jumping from one to the next. Then she asked about the bigger mounds nearby. "They are graves, too," I said. "Oh, Mama, no one is ever as big as that." I couldn't tell her that they were mass graves. Early on they just died one at a time. But by July they came by the cart load and David couldn't keep up. There were just too many.
I've looked for David's grave since then but I can never seem to find it. So I come there, to his favourite spot. I feel him here with me sometimes, and that makes me less lonely.
Richard Beasley--about Captain Coote, 1770s
Hello there friends, welcome to what we like to call "Cootes Paradise" at the Head of the lake. I'm Richard Beasley. I was the first settler in this area; I came here just prior to Mr. Robert Land's arrival. Oh, of course there were others before me. Why just the other day I was digging a new garden behind my trading post and I came across some flint arrow heads. They must have been left there long ago by some sort of Indians but I had never heard tell of any tribe that lived in this area. My good friend Mr. Joseph Brant lives across the heights from me but he and his people had settled here from elsewhere. I asked Mr. Brant about my rare find and he told me that there was once a group called the Neutrals that spent their summers around the Head of the Lake just a little more a century ago. It seems that they were torn apart by famine, disease and a war between the Hurons to the north and the Iroquois to the south. These Natives called the Head of the Lake and the marsh "Macassa" which in their tongue means "beautiful waters". Later when French explorers and missionaries came to the area they renamed Macassa Lake Geneva and Governor Simcoe called it Burlington Bay.
When I arrived at the Head of the lake in 1777 I decided to set up my trading post over on the Heights because it was on the main route (pronounced r-out in this instance) used by anyone travelling from York to Niagara or to Detroit. I also had the most beautiful view of Coote's Paradise. Of course then it was only a Marsh. It didn't get its present name until the 80's.
You see, between 1782 and 1787 there was a young captain named Thomas Coote stationed at Niagara who used to spend his leaves of absence fishing and hunting in the marsh. Often I would look across the heights and see him sitting on his chair firing at the fowl as they flew over his head to the bay. People travelling along the road to York would often stop to ask me where they might see Coote's Paradise, as this is what the men of his regiment began to call his hunting grounds. He loved the place greatly and it was a sad day for sure when his turn for duty here was over.
Governor Simcoe decided that the little village at the end of the Marsh should be named Cootes Paradise as well. Mrs. Morden and her children were the first to build down that way. They were brought to the area by Robert Land. Mrs. Simcoe has drawn for me one of her maps showing where all that now inhabit the area live. (show map and refer to some of the places) With the building of the King's Head Inn, the Head of the lake is becoming a very popular place to live and visit as well. I do hope that we are able to preserve the Marsh. I have never yet met the person who didn't marvel at the splendour of Cootes Paradise. It would be a shame to lose this for others yet to come.
Not many years ago the Irish poet Tom Moore visited with me and as he was leaving he handed me this verse
"I knew by the smoke that so peacefully curled
Above the green elms that a cottage was near;
And I said, if there's peace to be found in the world,
A heart that is humble might hope for it here"
It was written as he sat down by the marsh and looked towards my home.
Frame: Contemporary caricatures
Theatrical idiosyncracies:
Typically, one actor played two roles. The exposed theatricality ties together the characters through the performer. One example is included:
The Hypochondriac and the Politician are twinned through the actor. One is overly sensitive to the environment, one not sensitive enough. Both are centered on the environment's effect on them, rather than the other way around.
The Poet and the Doctor (not included here) are twinned.
The Waitress (not included) and the Reporter are twinned.
The Steelworker and the Industrialist (not included).
Extremes: The Steelworker
Hi I'm Martin. I work for one of the big industries down on the harbour. I've worked there for twenty years. Came right out of high school and right into the labour force. I'm the third generation to work there. Both my grandfathers worked for the company one was in sales the other was a welder, later a foreman. My dad worked there as well. He went to school to become an engineer. He made it pretty high up the ladder. Retired last year after 40 years service. Good pension he and mom live pretty well.
I started with the company the summer after grade thirteen. Went in as a summer student but at the end of August there was so much work people were invited to stay on. It was good cash. Well it wasn't long before me and Ann got married. we were able to put a down payment on a house after only two years. Six years after that there were three little rug rats running around. The economy was changing and it began to appear that there may not be a fourth generation in the company. Today I'm wondering whether the third generation is going to be around when the time comes for a pension.
You see when I started the company was the most important thing around here. It was the city. McDonalds, Canadian Tire, Jackson Square, they wouldn't be here if not to serve the families of the men who worked in the factories down by the harbour. Laws were made to keep us going.
Now its like everybody's coming down hard on us. Like it's our fault that the harbour is polluted, that there is a yellow haze over the city everyday, that grass is dying in Cootes Paradise. Okay sure back in the beginning we didn't give a rats ass what we chucked on the floor or dumped down the drain but the guys have become pretty self conscious about what they do. And the company too, they've done a lot. Things are being cleaned. We had a plan and were sticking to it. Until recently.
Some gung ho tree hugger starts bitching that we're not doing our share that we should do more. Starts a frigging letter writing campaign to the Spec and to the government. Now Bob and his boys up in Queens Park got it in their heads that the company needs a new filtration system for all liquid discharges and scrubbers for all the stacks and they gotta do it now. Well the company already told us they can't afford all this right now. Sales are down we can all see that and we gave up everything we could in the last contract.
Hey man I've got a mortgage, car payments, a wife and three kids to feed, and a daughter who wants to go to Mac next year. I can't afford to lose my job over this. I mean I love nature as much as the next guy but I gotta eat, I gotta live.
Extremes: The Politician
First, I would like to thank you all for assembling on such short notice for this news conference. I will begin by issuing a brief statement regarding recent allegations levied against me and my office in regards to accepting bribes and kick-backs as well as knowingly and wantonly using hazardous materials as land fill in the creation of Happy Hamilton Harbour Park. I would like to assure you that the events surrounding these circumstances are purely coincidental, accidental and truly just a bizarre twist of fate. While it is true that my sister is the major share holder in the numbered company that owns the property from which the contaminated soil was excavated, and my brother has a controlling interest in the trucking company that transported the soil to the waterfront site to which my mother owns the real estate options to and where the city is planning to build a park--I would like to remind you--and I do stress this, ladies and gentlemen--that we were not a close family. In fact, we only get together on Boxing Day to exchange income tax receipts.
[Lost in thought for a moment. Remembers s/he is in front of people, and adjusts.]
Yes, well. [Clears throat.] As I stand here before you, members of the media,
I understand that it is questions, the big questions that give meaning to our
lives. And the question I would propose to you today is what is the question,
because every question deserves an answer and like every good answer the question
contains the answer. So, the question may not be what is the answer to the question
but what is the question to the answer that contains the question. This itself
is a good question or perhaps a good answer to a question that has no answer.
Now you know that I know that you know that I know you know me as a clear, simple,
uncomplicated, straightforward, plain-speaking, ordinary, average, concise,
everyday, common, mundane, straight-to-the-point kind of public official. I
do not hide behind favourable public opinion polls nor do I spout statistics
that show 95% of all statistics are untrue. In short, I love the environment
and since we are all part of the environment it is clear that you must love
me.
Are there any questions? No... thank you, this press conference is over.
Extremes: The Hypochondriac
[Enters hesitantly, sits in chair quietly and primly, checks for dust, takes off dust mask and smiles and tentatively looks up.] Hi,
I'm Milly. I'm a bit early for my appointment. I don't go out much. Have you been waiting long? You all must be new. I've been coming to Dr. Johnson for two years and three months. This is my 120th session, and it's free on the 120th visit. That's something for you to look forward to. The worst thing about waiting for the doctor is, the patients can all be so sick, you know? You don't have any airborn diseases, do you?
[Reaction accordingly. For example: "Oh, phew!" and relaxes, takes off gloves or coat, etc. Or for example: "Ohhh!" and gets nervous, breathes through mask and tightens coat.]
The nurse doesn't like me to wear my small particle dust mask in her waiting room. I think it reminds her of her own vulnerability. Oh, why can't they have separate doctors for healthy people!
[Takes out gloves and blows nose. Takes off gloves.]
You can't be too careful. And I can't wash the germs off here.
I have been off work for the past few months. It started out with a harmless cold, and then other symptoms started to develop. Mysterious pains. And then I developed this cough, and my lungs felt heavy. The doctor says there's nothing wrong with me. Of course I don't believe that, so I've done some research. Does my tongue look yellow to you? [Sticks out tongue] It tastes a bit metalicky today. I hope it isn't mercury poisoning.
The thing that is really scary these days is our own environment, and the water
supply.
Is it hot in here or is it just me. Do I look peaked?
You see, all of the water that ever was or ever will be is here, and it has all been used for hundreds of thousands of years by all living organisms. Now that is a revolting thought. I still get sick just thinking about it. So my biggest worry is the cleanliness of our water supply. I mean we can't live without water, now can we?
[Takes pulse, times it. Smiles and continues.]
You'd think with all of this technology they would invent new unused water. They have been doing tests for all kinds of minerals and metals in the water. You know--arsenic, cadmium, chromium, copper, lead, mercury and zinc. And for persistent organic chemicals--pcp, pcb, tcdd, ddt, mirex, lindane, endrin, and clordane. If all of these things are present in our water, you can bet that some of that stuff is in us. We are higher up on the old food chain, so you can bet all those pesticides are doing a job on us. Right?
[Scratches the back of the neck and feels a lump.]
Oh, my God, do you see a lump there? No? Maybe it was just a muscle spasm. Or a lymph node reacting against some infection. Oh God. Why do I even leave the house? You do know that there are hundreds of millions of particles in the air all terribly bad for our immunity system. It's a wonder we all don't just break down. [Checks watch.] I seems we have been waiting an awfully long time. I hope the doctor hasn't come down with something. Oh God, I hope it's not contagious. Well, I'll wear my mask, just in case. It's time for me to take my vitamin b6, and put my eye drops in to prevent cataracts from the ozone depletion. I hope you enjoy your visit. If you'll excuse me.
Extremes: The Poet
Hello! Gorgeous day, isn't it? [Melodramatically describes the appropriate weather.] To celebrate, let us dance the dance of nature! [Jumps and soars joyfully, trying to include audience members.] Oh, that was lovely! You know--before you came along I was just standing here, all alone, writing poetry about this environment. Would you like to hear it? Good!
Ahem! Ahem! [Poses melodramatically] "Grass. Grass. Grass is--Green!" Thank you! Thank you! You know, the green grass is very much like each and every one of us. [Picks a blade of grass.] It stands alone in a wilderness of others, reaching for sunlight--planted in filth. But its beauty--its beauty is everlasting. Look closely at it. Closer. Closer. Shh! See how it's--. It's--. IT'S DEAD! [Gasp] I'VE KILLED IT! And you stood there and watched me! Watched me destroy the delicate balance of nature! This blade of grass will no longer provide shade for ladybugs--no, no, no. They will no longer rest in their favourite spot and will have to dredge onwards, tired and weary. Defenceless. Likely to be EATEN or STEPPED ON!
Oh, the tragedy of it all! And you watched me do it! You stood silently by! What next, huh?! Are you going to stand by and watch me pluck a tree? A forest? Victimize and torture all of Cootes Paradise?!?! How could you?!? This pitiful piece of grass is screaming out. Screaming out for justice. For vengeance. As it nobly dies its humiliating death. Plucked from life. Destroyed. All for a whim, for a good time. for NOTHING! Well?!
I think we owe our slain friend a farewell. A POEM. Don't you? Who will begin? [Picks an audience member.] Quickly! Quickly! Begin our poem. [Chooses audience members randomly, each adding to the last's words until a "poem" has evolved] THAT WAS--beautiful! I think you should leave me alone now, alone with my thoughts, alone with nature. Go along. Shoo. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. Goodbye!
The Tabloid Reporter
Hello. Hi. I'm Marci Maxwell, assistant to the assistant top reporter from the Harassing Hamilton Herald. Our tabloid has been in circulation now for over ten years. Highly read. Highly respected. And highly revealing. Our motto is "No News Means Make News". Always draws the readers.
I am working on a short survey concerning environmental changes, and I was wondering if you would be willing to answer a few questions. Yes, yes. Good.
Questions #1: Recently, there have been reports throughout the area, of increased levels of harmful fish--specifically, carp. Have you heard anything about the carp? Have you heard anything about the carp? The carp. Any comments? Have you noticed anything--fishy? Hm? Have you? No. No. No. NO!
Of course you haven't noticed anything! And you won't! "CARP CREATURES
INVADE UNSUSPECTING COMMUNITY!" Recently, reliable sources investigated
rumours about these supposedly harmless "fish". It has been discovered
that they are actually--aliens in disguise! YES! "EVIL INVADERS! PERMEATING
PISCES!" Scientists--and other experts in the field--have been tracking
and studying their every move. In fact, the information collected does suggest
a highly intelligent plan to capture--the Bay. Then the city. Hamilton. Then
Canada. Oh, I can see it now! "CARP CONQUER THE WORLD!!"
Comments? Questions? Comments? Anything to say? Good--"CITIZENS SHOCKED
AND APPALLED OVER RUTHLESS ALIEN PLOT!!"
Hm-m-m. This is going to be a real winner, all right. Rungs on the ladder. It's not every day that a story like this lands in your lap. Sometimes you really have to work for a good story. But, the carp--ah, marvillous! Of course, not only does it take a good topic, but a great write as well. Someone who can add a little spice, a little razzle-dazzle. For instance, perhaps you saw the article I wrote for last week's edition--"MAN TRANSFORMS INTO BIG BUSTED BLONDE--After Eating Too Many Bullheads". Oh, it was a gem of a story, let me tell you. I used the old "high estrogen in the water" twist. You--they lapped it up. And you know, it was the absolute truth--sort of. But that's what they want. That's what they buy. It's my duty as a responsible reporter to display the news in an appropriate manner.
Hm-m-m, ok, let's see, question #2. Oh, God, would you look at the time. I'm going to be late for my interview with Cobain's ghost [old, topical reference--replace with equivalent]. You're going to have to excuse me. Thanks for your help. Don't forget to subscribe. Must be going. Ta-ta.
The Scripts include:
"The Home Show", presented in schools as part of the Bay Area Restoration Council's planting programme. It was presented following an introductory lecture by a representative of BARC, and followed by discussion in small groups.
"Perfect Paradise", presented in schools in 1995, followed by discussion in small groups.
"Pond. James Pond" (The Carp and Biotic Recovery). Workshopped in 1993-4.
"Finley and Scales". Workshopped in 1993-4.
#1 -<in a monotonous voice> Hi, we are ETW and we're very excited to
be here. Before I begin, here are a few rules for you to follow. Number 1, no
smiling, that means you <pointing at someone>. Number 2, definitely no
laughing <a stare>. Number 3, no breathing, I need all the available air
for my performance. <#'s 2/3/4/5/,who are planted in the audience decide
they don't like what #1 is doing, so they sneak up behind #1 while she/he is
still speaking>.
I'm here to talk to you about the environment. The environment is everthing
around us, that includes all plants, animals, the air, ground and water. We
should all try to help the environment. To do this we should all reduce, reuse
and recycle.< #1 is turned off on the last word, picked up, turned around
and dismantled for repair, during which #2 explains>
#2 - We are experiencing some technical difficuties with one of our actors.
Please bear with us, the repairs should take only a few moments and then the
real performance can begin. <#1 has been repaired and is about to be turned
back on>. It looks like we are ready to start again.<#1 is turned on>
#1 - <excited> Hi ! We are ETW.
#3 - That's the Environmental Theatre Workshop.
#5 - An environment can be a small thing.
#4 - Like the place you live, your home.
#2 - And places that are even smaller.
#1 - Like my room.
#5 - Smaller than that.
#4 - A fish aquarium.
#3 - My lunch box.
#1 - Oh ! Oh ! Like the inside of my mouth <tries to talk with tongue out>
#4 - The environment can also be a big place.
#2 - Like the neighborhood around your home.
#3 - Or cities which are made up of many neighborhoods.
#5 - And the creeks, marshes and lakes all over the province.
#1 - The whole world is my environment !
#5 - No matter how big or small each environment is a home for somebody or something.
#2 - The play we are presenting today is about Hamilton Harbour, Coote's Paradise
and the cities and towns next to them.
#3 - The places we call home.
< 1,2 and 5 create a moving tableau of a marsh. #3 moves into the audience
>
#4 - Hundreds and hundreds of years ago there were all sorts of plants and animals
living in this area. Imagine, no houses or streets, just forests, meadows and
bodies of water, brimming with life. It was the perfect place for the people
of the First Nations to hunt and gather food. Look ! < pointing at #3 who
is gathering berries in the audience. #4 joins the marsh>
#3 - < singing > Picking up berries and put them in the basket, Picking
up berries and put them in the basket, < moving to D.S. of marsh tableau.
> Mmmm, there sure are lots of good berries around here. This place is great,
I love it here. The area around my village where my family and friends live
is beginning to run out of good places to hunt and fish. Maybe this place could
be our new home. It has lots of food and plenty of room < starting to swat
bugs > and for some strange reason nobody lives here. I wonder if it has
a name.
#1,2,4,5 - < out of character > Canada !
#3 - I know that. But where is it exactly, so I can find it again and bring
my family and friends.
#4 - You're at the bay.
#1 - At the tip of the lake.
#2 - In a marsh.
#5 - With us reeds.
#4 - And arrowheads.
#2 - And cat-tails.
#1 - And water lilies.
#3 - Yes, but does it have a name ?
#1,2,4,5 - We call it home. < starting to crowd #3 >
#3 - There are so many of you. I can hardly see.
#4 - It's crowded and very comfortable.
#1 - We like it like this.
#3 - I,m hungry. Do you have any berries for me to eat ?
#2 - I'm sorry, we don't.
#5 - But we do provide food for fish.
#3 - Fish ? I don't see any fish.
#4 - Look closer and you'll see millions of fish.
#3 - Millions of fish ?
#1,2,4,5 - Go talk to the fish.
#3 - I don't see any fish < moving D.S. , looking in audience for fish >
How can I talk to the fish if I can't even see them. < U.S. the marsh plants
have transformed into fish > Here fishy, fishy, fishy < turning U.S. and
sees fish > Wow ! Look at all those fish.
#4 - Hi, I'm sunfish.
#1 - I'm laketrout.
#2 - My name is pike !
#5 - And I'm muskie.
#3 - I didn't know there were so many different kinds of fish in these waters,
< swatting bugs > or so many bugs !
#5 - Yeah it's great isn't it. < eyeing dead bug on #3's arm > Are you
going to eat that ?
#3 - Be my guest. < #5 picks up bug, throws it in the air, #1 jumps up and
swallows it, followed by general sounds of approval > Brrrr. The water is
so cold in here, how can you stand it ?
#2 - It's the perfect temperature for us.
#3 - With all these plants in the water it's hard to see and ALL THESE BUGS
!
#1 - That's the whole point. This is our home.
#4 - < taking #3 by the hand and moving D.S.R.> Over here is our kitchen.
#2 - < taking #3 to D.S.C.> This is my bedroom.
#5 - < taking #3 to D.S.L.> And this is the nursery where we hide our
eggs from the snapping turtles.
#2 - Oh, Oh ! There goes our school. We need to get going or else we'll be late.
< 1,2,4,5 form a line U.S.C. from left to right and pretend to exit by zig
zagging left to right while moving further U.S.>
#3 - Okay, bye ! Well this sure is a beautiful spot, a wonderful home for the
plants and fish. But with all these bugs I'm not so sure this would make a good
new home for my village. I think I'll try and find some higher and drier ground.<as
#3 exits, joining 2,4,5 U.S., #1 moves to D.S.C. as narrator >
#1 - The people of the First Nations did find other places to live so the area
around the bay continued to be home for the plants and fish for a very long
time. Meanwhile, across the ocean, over in Europe, people were looking for new
places to live. They heard about this vast country and it's natural resources.
Many of them came to this area to build new homes and raise their families,
but the very first to arrive were the explorers. < one at a time 2,3,4,5
go to D.S.C. carrying an imaginary flag.>
#5 - I claim this land for England !
#3 - I claim this land for France !
#2 - I claim this land for Italy !
#4 - I claim this land for Portugal !
#2,3,4,5 <plant their flags inthe ground at the same time > O oh! <they
begin fighting for possession> Mine ! I was here 1st
#1 - Well Canada quickly became very popular, and since many of the people wanted
the same land they had to learn how to share. Eventually they worked it out.
<the explorers are still fighting > I SAID eventually they worked it out
! < they stop fighting and slowly begin to shake hands > And learned how
to work together. It was a tough life for the early pioneers. Some didn't survive
but many more did and went on to become prosperous land owners. In fact they
were so successful that more and more people from all over the world were coming
to Canada and make it their home. < 2,3,4,5 become foxes running single file
> Villages became towns and towns grew into cities and as they grew the forests
and wetlands around them became smaller destroying the homes of the animals
that lived in them. Here are some of those animals now. < the foxes are now
D.S.C. > I think they're foxes. Hey foxes! < foxes freeze> What are
you doing? < foxes relax >
#2 - Whew ! it's just you. We thought you were one of those farmers. You know,
before the farmers came these were big open fields.
#4 - Yeah, there were lots of places to live and plenty to eat.
#5 - You see farmers have tractors with ploughs that dig up the fields and wreck
our homes.
#3 - At least they have chickens on their farms and they're nice and tasty.
#2 - We decided to move our home down by the creek. Problem is every time it
rains the water just runs off the fields. Then the creek floods and our den
is washed out.
#1 - What are you going to do ?
#3 - We're not sure. We have to find a new home.
#4 - But every where we go there is a city close by.
#5 - And foxes don't like cities. < general agreement>
#1 - Well good luck in finding your new home.
#2 - Thank you.
#3 - We've got to get going, Bye.
#5 - Yep got to go. <does not move until the rest have left> Oops.
< 2,3,5 climb into a canoe >
#1 - I suppose we all have to move once in a while. It's too bad the foxes have
to move all the time. < 2,3,5 start paddling>
#4 - Big boats and big factories, every where I go, big boats and big factories.
All I want is just a bit of water so I can build a dam , raise the water level
a bit, then build myself a nice lodge where I can raise a family. What is a
beaver to do ?
#1 - I suppose your feeling a little, trapped !
#4 - Traps ! Don't talk to me about traps. My grandfather told me all about
traps. No, todays problem is boats and factories. I'm not talking about little
boats like canoes or row boats. It's those huge self unloading lake freighters
crashing through my dams to get to those factories. Why if I had a nickle for
every broken dam I could afford to build myself the biggest lodge in the bay.
#1 - What's a lodge ?
#4 - A house, a home, a place to rest your tail.
#1 - So where are you going to go now ? <2,3,5 stop paddling>
#4 - I'm headed up north . Pike, muskie and laketrout left a long time ago and
I hear the foxes may be leaving soon as well.
#1 - It seems like everyone is looking for a new home. < #2 as an eagle,
swoops past #1 > Yikes ! What was that ? Wow it's an eagle. Hey eagle ! What
are you doing ?
#2 - I'm looking for a place to build a new nest. < 3,4,5 start to chop and
saw down trees > The problem is I can't seem to find a tree that's tall enough.
You have to understand that us birds of prey build our homes to last our entire
lives and only at the top of really tall trees. I think I may be wasting my
time looking around here. From way up here in the sky, I could see it all happening.
First all the tall trees were cut down for boat building and telephone poles.
Then the shorter trees were cut down for lumber to build houses. It's true that
trees are being replanted but what I am supposed to do in the meantime. <
3, 4,5 cover their ears as the trees crash to the ground > I think I'll go
up north and see if there are any tall trees left up there. Bye
Perfect Paradise
Workshopped by the Environmental Theatre Workshop
Taras Cymbalisty - Dramaturge
Scene : An invisible character known as the Mysterious Message Sender mimes
the following actions : M.M.S. picks up a handfull of dirt, inspects it ; sniffs
the air ; tastes a handfull of water.
The situation is not good. Sends 4 messages through the air.
Scene : Four animals living in different habitats around Cootes Paradise receive the messages sent by M.M.S. Carp gets the message from inside a returnable bottle ; Raccoon finds the message in a discarded plastic toy ; Seagull discovers the message on a newspaper littering the air ; Turtle receives the message in a floating fast-food container. Their reactions are communicated in the form of their own species.
The message states :
TURTLE : You can have your own perfect paradise , if ...
SEAGULL : ...you have wings , fins ,legs or a tail and ...
RACCOON : ...come to Princess Point on [ todays date ] 10 minutes before sunrise
to ...
CARP : ...answer one skill testing question which is...
TURTLE : ... " What is your most secret wish come true ? "
SEAGULL : What a breeze ! I have a thousand wishes. Picking just one will be
no problem.
CARP : I was going to go for a swim in the harbour but this looks like the chance
I've been waiting for.
RACCOON : I wonder if any body else got this message. If I get there first maybe
the wish will be all mine.
TURTLE : It's a good thing I live at Princess Point otherwise I might never
get there on time.
[ they all travel to their destination point and arrive simultaneously ]
SEAGULL : What are all of you doing here ?
RACCOON : I came here to claim my prize.
CARP : Looks like we're all here for the same reason.
RACCOON : But first you have to answer the skill testing question.
TURTLE : So, what is your most secret wish come true ?
SEAGULL : That's easy. I want a world full of french fries!
Mountains and mountains of greasy french fries piled up to the sky.
CARP : Where are you going to get french fries ?
SEAGULL : People are always leaving little bits all over the place. In fact
I have a poem on the topic. [clears throat]
The French Fry
You can find them on park benches
Or lying on the the street
Unusual places like the bottom of feet
You can spot them in car lots And on sandy beaches
I'll get them wherever
My long beak reaches.
TURTLE : Cool.[everyone nods in agreement]
CARP : French fries remind me of my favourite food.
RACCOON : And that would be..?
CARP : Worms ! What we need is lots of worms. [singing] Worms, glorious worms,
how I like to eat them. Big ones fat ones, short little juicy ones, long ones,
thin ones, shiny, slippery slurrpy ones. Hmmmmmmm, worms. My world would be
one huge can of worms.
TURTLE : Cool. [all agree again]
RACCOON : Yeah, yeah ! French fries, worms ...or even better, tons and tons
of leftovers and.... garbage.
CARP : Garbage ? Isn't that rather stinky.
RACCOON : Yeahhh. Just imagine. The streets... full of garbage. All the backyards
and parks... full of garbage. Every home, every school, every building, all...
full of rotting garbage. And me...its all for me. I'd walk through my garden
of garbage testing this [smells] and tasting that [eats] and its all for me.
That's my perfect world.
[ All look to the Turtle for a comment]
TURTLE : [slowly] Ooops, sorry. I fell asleep for the last one.
CARP : O.K. Turtle we've all made our wish, now its your turn.
SEAGULL : And hurry up about it !
RACCOON : So... what's it going to be ?
TURTLE : Bugs.
SEAGULL : That's it ? That's all you can think of, that's all you want ?
TURTLE : Yep.
RACCOON : There must be more you want, like bugs filling the sky.
TURTLE : Nope.
SEAGULL : Ah, I think my friend is mistaken. You'd like bugs filling the water.
TURTLE : Nope.
CARP : Excuse me but I think the bugs wold prefer to cover the land. [ All but
Turtle stare each other down , then turn to Turtle and ask ] WELL ?
TURTLE : ....... Actually, I don't mind the occasional baby carp, seagull egg
or even sleeping raccoon... if I could move fast enough.
ACTION IMPROV - All begin arguing , first in English, which turns into animal
sounds at which point all move away from each other. Message Sender mimes action
to stop them and draw them all back together.
SEAGULL : Who did that ? Was it you Raccoon ?
RACCOON : It wasn't me, but something FISHY is going on here. It was you , wasn't
it !!?
CARP : No, I didn't do it ! So.. if I didn't do it or you or you... it must
have been...
ALL : YOU !! [pointing at turtle]
TURTLE : Nope , wasn't me. [ they all search for the force that pulled them
back together] I think we're running out of time. Instead of worrying and arguing
about what just happened, we had better figure out what our one true wish is
going to be.
SEAGULL : Well, I know what I want and that's that ! Give me fries or give me
death.
CARP : Wait ! Can I change my wish ?
RACCOON : Oh Carp ! We don't have much time.
SEAGULL : Yeah, if you have to change it, hurry up.
CARP : I...I...I...
ALL : I what ?!!
CARP : Eyes !! I want eyes ...all over me...so I can see everything... everywhere.
[manifesting wish]
RACCOON : Heyyyy. that's not a bad idea. Yeah... yeah maybe garbage isn't what
I what after all. Yeah, I know , I know ! What I need is bigger claws ...so
I can grab more food at once. [manifesting wish]
SEAGULL : I would looove to have bigger wings ...so I can fly faster and control
more of the sky. [manifesting wish]
TURTLE : Faster... Hmmm. I wouldn't mind being able to move faster either.
ALL : Yeah... that would be nice...we think.
ACTION IMPROV - All begin to exaggerate their new abilities which leads to physical
chaos. MESSAGE SENDER shakes her head in disbelief and taps her watch.
RACCOON : Wait a minute !! I know we may be running out of time ... but I don't
think that bigger claws are what I REALLY want. These big claws are good for
garbage cans but when I try to eat a chunk of food I end up cutting into pieces
too small to pick up.
CARP : Now that you mention it with eyes all around me, I can see everything
but I don't know where I'm going. I've got so many points of view that I've
lost all sense of direction.
SEAGULL : Well that's just great, just absolutely fabulous. Here we have the
opportunity of a life time, a chance to create a perfect environment for ourselves
and we don't even know what we want. Hrumph ! These wings may be great in the
air but a darn nuisance on the ground.
TURTLE : My head hurts. I keep crashing into things. I can move fast now, I
just don't know how to stop. Besides, I'll never be able to move faster than
time and that's exactly what we're running out of. Look over there, to the east
and tell me what you see.
CARP : [terrified] The carp barrier.
TURTLE : Farther.
RACCOON : [horrified] The highway.
TURTLE : Farther !
SEAGULL : [petrified] The smoke stacks.
TURTLE : Alright, it's clear you need a new perspective, one that's closer to
the ground. Everyone lie down beside me [ they all do so] , now tell me what
you see.
ALL : Ahhhhhhhhhh !! It's sunrise.
TURTLE : Don't panic. By my calculations, given the colour of the sky, the angle
of the north star to the setting moon and the subtle change in wind velocity...
CARP : Enough already. How much time have we left ?
TURTLE : One minute thirty -seven seconds.
RACCOON : Where did you learn to tell time like that ?
TURTLE : I may not be fast, but I'm not slow.
SEAGULL : O.K. This is it. I want the whole world to be sky.
CARP : Well that might be difficult because I would wish for the world to be
all water.
RACCOON : You had all better get used to a world of land, that's my wish. [Seagull
and Raccoon look at each other in disbelief]... I'd still want you all to live
with me.
CARP : No thanks, too dark.
SEAGULL : Too dry.
TURTLE : And I need land, water and sky to survive as do all three of you. [general
grudging agreement] There is however, something we don"t need... People.
SEAGULL : Hey... I think your on to something there.
CARP : I like it, I like it. And there's just too many of them. Always snooping
around the shore line, throwing junk into the water, with their ...PET DOGS.
RACCOON : Yeah dogs, the sneaky traitors. All people want to do is build roads
everywhere over everything, especially killer highways.
SEAGULL : Whatever isn't covered with roads seems to be covered with houses,
factories and office towers. It's getting to the point where I can't find a
place to build a nest.
CARP : So Turtle, your'e kind of quiet. What's your view on people ?
TURTLE : Uh...er...um ... To tell you the truth ...uh... I've never seen people
before. I thought they were imaginary creatures like monsters in stories or
space aliens.
CARP : Oh they're real.
RACCOON : And they're not going away.
SEAGULL : I'm always running into them.
RACCOON : You're lucky, they're always almost running over me.
CARP : Let me tell you about people. A very interesting species. Once they have
found a place to live they very rarely seem to move. It's like they get stuck
or something.
SEAGULL : And when they stop moving they start breeding and swarming like...
insects. Disgusting.
RACCOON : In away, you have to feel sorry for them. They only have two legs.
SEAGULL : HEY !
RACCOON : Sorry, and no wings. Maybe that's why they drive around in cars, at
least that way they have four tires.
CARP : Yeah, poor self esteem.
SEAGULL : I think they do have feelings. They've even started building some
islands in the bay for me to nest on. People make a mess of things and then
they try to fix it up. They're funny that way.
CARP : Talk about funny, I wouldn't even be here had they not brought over my
ancestors from the other side of the world.
RACCOON : And that's people ! [ All look to Turtle for a reaction]
TURTLE : I'm hungry.
CARP : Hmmm. Me too.
SEAGULL : I know a great place to eat on the other side of the marsh. There's
a bunch of areas full of food wrapped up in fences.
RACCOON : Maybe they're presents from the people, trying to be friendly.
CARP : Sounds good to me. [They all begin to exit ]
SEAGULL : Hey look, the sun's up. [ All look ]
TURTLE : Cool. [ All exit ]
One ETW performance includes three parts, each of which involves the audience/class to a different degree.
A. After introductions and an explanation of the programme, the cast performs a short Compilation of Historical Monologues in front of the audience. The Historical Monologues developed by ETW for performance in the open air by a travelling audience are here cut down and delivered chronologically.
B. "The Map", a illustrated lecture, is delivered. The audience is moved into a circle around the map, and is invited to ask questions, and to walk over it.
C. For "Kill Water", the group then divides the audience into four
for a participatory event.
The Compilation of Monologues was largely improvised; there is therefore no
script. The other two parts of the performance are recorded below.
THE MAP
[The Map is an illustrated lecture using an ETW prop created by Lauren McKinley. This is a canvas painted map of Hamilton Harbour. The base map shows the Harbour as it appeared just before first settlement. There are attachments that are laid over the base map at appropriate points in the lecture.
This is a simple device, and any reader will imagine that the same information might be delivered to an audience using and overhead projector and transparencies, or slides, or posters. This is of course true, and more people would "see" the map/s. The difference, in the performance of the lecture, is in the map itself. Its physical qualities--obviously handmade--make it more user-friendly, and more touchable. The fact that it lies on the ground changes the relationship between the audience and the lecturer/map. They stand around in a circle, straining to see, and are allowed to walk on it at some point (to be determined by the lecturer). It is a matter of degree only, but this map invites greater physical participation.
This lecture can be delivered in any context. Typically it has been used by ETW as the second part of a three-part participatory presentation, "Kill Water". It provides a visual context.]
Lecturer: [who can embellish or abridge, and should ask questions such as "Where do you live on this map?" etc. The Lecturer must be sensitive to the experience of the audience. That is, you should not repeat the experience of getting to the end and discovering that some members do not know what a "map" is, what "Hamilton Harbour" is in relation to their own private ecosystem--house, yard, street. Some will have no sense of the scale. These explanations are not included in what follows, but should be communicated in the event.]
In the year 1600 this area was basically untouched by humans [#1]. The Neutral Indians used the bay as summer fishing grounds and explorers such as Brule and La Salle had passed through on their way to other destinations. The area was beautiful, surrounded by the cliffs of the Niagara Escarpment with several streams emptying into the south side of the bay. The marsh was full of plants like bulrushes, arrowheads and cattails [green cheesecloth].
Soon people started moving into the area. In the 1780s and 1790s Richard Beasley and Robert Land built houses along the road from Toronto. They cleared land for growing food and spent a great deal of time hunting duck, geese, wild turkey, woodcock, and tern. They fished for bass, pike, perch, herring, salmon and sturgeon.
By 1850 the Head of the Lake was becoming well populated. To accommodate the new settlers, forests were cleared to make room for houses, stores, banks, farms, and of course the train.#2 The clearing of the trees for the new community left the soil exposed to the wind and the rain, which washed it into the bay. The train brought even more people to the area and many of the streams on the south shore were blocked as tracks were put down. The changes to the landscape were permanent.
By the turn of the Century the bay was known as Hamilton Harbour. Industry was growing and more and more inlets along the south shore were filled in.#3 Hamilton had experienced several population explosions and the water in the bay began to feel the effects. Careless shoreline industries allowed ash, coal dust, iron filings, and mercury into the air and water. People who didn't know any better allowed animal and human waste, as well as their garbage, into the harbour. Cholera, a disease caused by dirty water, was all around. The once beautiful waters were now unfit to drink.
As the current century progressed, industry grew along the south shore of the harbour. By 1959 industry started to move out into the harbour. Once, as a coal boat was being unloaded, some coal was spilled right here, and what's called a hot spot #5 was formed. This is an area where the water is warmer and more toxic than other areas. Plants and fish are deformed, mutated, or even killed.
All households now had electric fridges to keep their food cool, cars and houses had air conditioners. All of these had freon which escaped into the atmosphere destroying the ozone layer. As farmers competed for bigger and better crops, more powerful and environmentally dangerous chemical fertilizers, insecticides and pesticides were created. As man's demands for production grew, so did his carelessness, and many more marsh plants died. (add brown cheese cloth)
By 1969 industry had "reclaimed" even more of the harbour as the south bank [#6] had become almost filled with warehouses and factories. The harbour was so polluted with suspended silt and toxins that the water was hazardous to touch. [orange cheese cloth] Something had to be done immediately before it was too late. The aquatic life of Hamilton Harbour and the marsh was all but dead.
In 1994 we have clean crisp lines full of docks all along the south shore. It is the ninth biggest harbour in North America. On the north shore there are suburbs, cemeteries, and a golf course. #7 The east shore contains a super-highway and two sewage treatment plants. #8 These plants filter out the phosphate which help algae to grow. They also filter out suspended solids from our sewage and attempt to put clean water only into the harbour. The water is not nearly as poisonous as it was in the 1960s (scrunch up the orange cloth), but we have a very long way to go. There are still bad things in the harbour such as garbage, silt build-up, muck being dredged up by the carp and chemicals that are not easily filtered out of the storm drains--such as motor oil, transmission fluid, anti-freeze, solvents, and paint.
Kill Water
A brief description.
The "audience" is divided into four:
WATER
SMOG
SUSPENDED SOLIDS
TOXIC WASTE ("ALGAE" ALSO USED)
I. THE GROUP CHARACTER:
An ETW member is assigned to each group. Each group has a representative cloth.
The groups, on their own, do some basic warm-up exercises and games, if there
is time. They talk about what their group "character" is like, and
they develop a sound and a movement that everyone can do together. Brief examples
follow, although results depend on the group:
Suspended Solids:
Sound: "We're pee and poop! We contaminate the water and make it yucky!"
Movement: Heavy, Low, Slow.
Smog:
Sound: "We're smog, we're an overbearing, smelly, pollutant fog"
Movement: militaristic, marching.
Toxic Waste:
Movement: Alien creatures, deformation.
Water:
Movement: graceful, flowing, waving of arms slowly.
Sound: "I feel great." A chorus of "Splish Splash..."
Of course the ETW adviser should help to develop these; but the best results
come when the participants feel they've invented them. The Sounds and Movements
can be developed by (a) talking to them about a list of characteristics for
their "character"; (b) helping to break down these characteristics
into specific sounds and movements (heavy, light, slow, fast, loud, soft); and
(c) trying them out. A basic list of sound-and-movement breakdown is attached,
that can be used. Sometimes abstract works, sometimes real words and imitative
movements.
II. THE ACTION:
Another member of ETW acts as "Ringleader". He talks through the action. The three pollutant-groups place themselves in a circle, with Water in the middle. The Ringleader talks the group through the history of the Harbour, at appropriate points moving the pollutants in. He can stop and start the sound-and-movement on command. He regularly stops and asks "Water" how it feels. It answers, as appropriate: "I feel great." and "I'm scared." and "argh, I'm dying." The groups move in toward Water, and, when the Ringleader instructs them, each cloth in turn is thrown over water.
The narration of the Ringleader is improvised, within a scenario including
the history of the polluting of the harbour, as long as he/she controls the
movement of the groups, and as long as he/she stops at four intervals to ask
how Water is doing.
Sample narration: "Okay, it's 1600 and the bay is filled with fish and
plants. Cootes Paradise is a marsh. There thousands of ducks and geese and huge
fish, and the only people around are the Neutrals, who respect nature. Every
thing is blue and green.
Hey, water, how do you feel?
In the middle of the 17th century explorers began arriving--Brule, LaSalle, and with them people new to the area. Brebeuf, Governor Simcoe, Thomas Coote, Richard Beasley, Robert Land, Ann Morden. When these people came they cleared the land, built roads and houses, and--oh, yes--they created sewage, and suspended solids were introduced to the area. The smoke from the many houses and from the blacksmith caused the air to become dirtier--and that was the beginning of smog. And foreign substances, too, were found on the hulls of boats, which were also added to the water in the early stages of toxic waste.
Hey, water, how do you feel?
Then there was an industrial revolution. Factories springing up everywhere--Dominion
foundries, Canada Brick, National Rail Car--all of them spewing up smoke into
the air, pouring pollution into the water and surrounding land. More and more
people and more and more sewage now created havoc in the bay. Hey water, how
do you feel?
[The final tirade would include just about everything you can think of about
pollution today, only exaggerated, out of control. Water becomes weaker and
weaker, sicker and sicker. The Pollutants are very happy to be killing Water.]
Hey water, how do you feel?"
The Ringleader's words depend on the audience, and the time available. If some historical monologues, are not introduced first, for example, then of course the mention of historical figures is inappropriate. If the Map is not introduced first, then some of this information would be incorporated into the Ringleader's speech.
III. THE BIG COMEBACK
Water is "dead"--the group is covered by the cloths. The Ringleader
has all groups sit down. He explains to them that it took water "hundreds
of years" to die. What do we do? Can we make it come back? Is it totally
dead? Are there signs of life? Maybe there are some squeaks and a little movement
from under the cloths. The Ringleader asks for suggestions about what to do
to make water come back again. The participants give suggestions, and as they
do, some of the cloth is pulled back.
These suggestions may be small (recycling, don't flush the toilet as much),
or extreme (don't go to the bathroom!). Anything shows thought, and counts.
The ETW advisers can, however, offer other suggestions as appropriate.
Finally, Water is free of the pollutant-cloths, and lives again. A discussion
follows, if there is time.
APPENDIX #1: HOW TO GUIDE THE PARTICIPANTS
ACTING WARM-UPS
Physical: stretches, jogging, sunrise salutations, arm swings, pancake stretches,
shake-out, balloons, hokey-pokey, press-ups.
Vocal: bubblegum, squish/stretch face, tongue out and count, motorcycle sounds,
ah's, twisters, breathing
EXERCISE EXPLANATION
Character definition
Who, What, Where
Progression of exercise
The Ringleader's role
Respect for the other groups (keep quiet)
WHAT MAKES YOU...
Ask what their character is made of:
ie, water--fish, plants
smog--cars, factories
toxic waste--soap, chemicals
suspended solids--oil, dirt, sewage
Get each of the participants to do a movement and sound for each of the answers:
"What sort of noises? How does a car move? How do you show a person in
a shower?"
GROUP RESPONSES
Ringleader, by way of introduction: "Who are you?" to each in turn.
Try to come up with several different responses, for each time the Ringleader
asks.
APPENDIX #2: ABSTRACT MOVEMENT
It might help to guide the group by breaking down their movements and sounds
into some of the the following.
How does a suspended solid move? slow, light, indirect/wandering (maybe).
How does smog sound? Loud, low, and slow?
Six Directions
UP/ DOWN
WIDE/ NARROW
FORWARD/ BACK
Laban Movement
FAST/ SLOW
LIGHT/ HEAVY
INDIRECT [Wandering]/ DIRECT [Knows where it's going]
Pace Weight Direction
FLOAT...............slow...........light...............indirect
SLASH...............fast...........heavy...............indirect
GLIDE...............slow...........light...............direct
WRING...............slow...........heavy...............indirect
DAB.................fast...........light...............direct
THRUST..............fast...........heavy...............direct
FLICK...............fast...........light...............indirect
PRESS...............slow...........heavy...............direct
Applied to Voice
Pitch Volume Tempo
high...........loud................fast
high...........loud................slow
high...........soft................fast
high...........soft................slow
low............loud................fast
low............loud................slow
low............soft................fast
low............soft................slow