Dear Mrs. Drum
(perhaps you prefer “Bon Bon" for short),
Where, o where does one begin? Perhaps with the success, or failure (depending on how you look at it) of the venture I left N.Y. for in early January. That was the last time I spoke with you and titillated your taste-buds for looking after a long lost goldielocked-fairhaired maiden in distress. I have not heard a word from Karen since that time and I wonder if you have . . . for that matter, I have heard only once from George and he spoke of your possible travels to Europe this summer. Should it be true, perhaps we will all see each other in that sleepy little village and have a 'Berliner' or whatever it is they drink.
My plans are to be in Edinburgh or Macclesfield by end of august with my traveling band of minstrels and a bag of tricks or two. Sometime known as the Garden Theatre Troupe. All that comes latter when I tell you of what is happening with it here in L.A., but right now I wish to bend your ears-eye with a word on STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE. It was the play I worked on for the last two and one-half months in the capacity of assistant director ... it was a boref (thats 'bore' spelled with an f). I only mean to say that it could have been a great experience working with those GIANT people (Jon Voight & Faye Dunaway) but instead there were tooooo many egos in the way and everyone spent their time fighting to keep the head above water.
Needless to say, leaving that job of renown gave me wings and I was soon in touch with the freedom one is used to when you work for yourself. The prestige isn't worth the aggrevation. So . . . with my new found freedom (old enthusiasm regained) I set out to conquer the world, or at least England, by this summer. The plan I had to put into action was simply one of gathering strength and initiative to put reality into the dreams.
The Garden Theatre was reborn . . .
CHAPTER TWO....................................."A SAGE WHO
KNOWS HIS ONIONS"
There is an aquarelle framed on a butterfly path of my memory where I envision the glass glory of one spring weekend opulent in sunshine and honey. With work flung aside in pursuance of celebration unconfined, rugged soul caught among the brambles of my heart. But what moment exists that cannot be replaced by another? And so we charm the garden with orchestration of culture "now"-composed for sostenuto listening and vision.
Those were just the flowery words used to say "let's have a
jour de fete to end all" .... no holds barred......give everyone
a gold invitation and let them dress to the nines (Edwardian, of
course)..........A TRUE CELEBRATION OF THE ARTS and maybe
a good party to boot. On Memorial Day weekend (May 25-28), The Garden Theatre Festival '73 will be presented to the community of Los Angeles as a gratuitous celebration of the arts.
Since the project is an endeavor to provide cultural events, at no charge, to the public at large ... all the exhibitions and
university of southern California daily trojan los angeles, California volume Ixv, number 126 monday, may 14, 1973
presentations are contributed by the artists participating in the festival. As it went into the printer yesterday there were sixty-one events covering the entire spectrum of the arts media.
Included in this count are ten plays from five of the community theatres in town; a few films from several of the film makers and their distribution companies (including an academy award nominated film short); ten musical groups from the los angeles and san diego areas (this includes a concert chamber orchestra and a baroque jazz ensemble); a couple of magic shows; and various dance groups (flamenco and middle eastern belly), jugglers, tumblers, singers,
lutes, guitars, auto harps, etc. etc. etc..................Also food that
was donated by the local merchants will be provided at no charge.
NOW ... as anyone can see a madman is at work. This kind of insanity can only end in tears .... (joyous ones I hope). The sky is the limit. CAMELOT IS HERE and living at the carriage house.
O.K............that all inclusive question . . WHY???? Until one
is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unfor-seen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. The community of Los Angeles is a beehive of cultural activity . . . much of it never seen because of the "specialization of interest" we as audience members have developed. Film buffs only go to see film, play-goers only go to see plays, music fans only go to hear concerts (and then again, only special kinds). This neglect of the other arts has isolated us a bit and limited our tastebuds for culture. Some of us never get exposure to any of the media outside of television, and attendance and interest dwindle till we become complacent and completely out of touch with the live arts. My thought then was to initiate a festival and bring it ail together.
I have heard tell in the expensive producing books I have been reading that there is a SAGE in the East who can define true happiness and its relation to the garden theatre project. So I ask direction . . . and received them. "YONDER—WILKES-BARRE, PENNA-SARDONI PALACE—WRITE TWICE AND ASK FOR MONEY" . . .
Because of my scholarly charm, youthful sincerity, boyhood innocence, and overall willingness to be used I immediately secured a favorable reply. I had written something to the effect that I was a naive young producer filled with boyish wonder, and that I had availed myself of the standard procedures relating to the solicitation of funds . . . only to find much of the past and present methods scanty and slipshod and to say the least of it in rather
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