FIRE!!!!!! ....curtain!

"...the most stringent protection of free speech would not protect a man in falsely shouting fire in a theatre and causing a panic."


-Oliver Wendell Homes, Jr


While I am not out to promote socialist draft-dodging, I may be guilty of Justice Holmes' defined crime. The theatre is a funny place, where it seems nothing is forbidden, but this edict is an important one that I often relied on when I was a debater. Luckily for me, my outburst did not cause alarm, mass hysteria or injury, or I might be behind ethical bars. Allow me to elaborate...

Last night, I was working in the theatre at my school. There was a combined orchestra and chorus concert that featured most of our middle school girls. The coordinator (P) that tasks me during productions was behind the video camera in the audience, while I was in the booth running the lights and prepping the two maintenance crew members who help us shift from an orchestra setup to a choral one. P, the "guys" and I have accomplished this massive changeover in the past with few complications and surprising speed.

This time was different. We successfully moved the girls off stage, the chairs and stands that were in front the red curtain were pushed back, the curtain was closed and we transitioned into super-fast, messy mode of clearing objects one direction and loading risers from the other direction just behind the exiting clutter. It was all going quickly and smoothly, with the exception of barriers in our level of common theatrical language with the guys and my hindered communication with the boss. I was practically "orchestrating" my own concert behind a curtain. Meanwhile, P is waiting--no, anything but waiting--impatiently next to the $100,000 grand piano across the stage from me. I could read his face: Let's move the piano now; no, now; okay, let's move the piano! I kept telling him to please hold so we could get everything big on the stage, open the curtain, and then move it down into its place which was in front of the curtain anyway. However, my words were fewer, and my voice was, for once, quite low. I was sure this was the only way. But, no. That would not do.

As he is anticipating his "big move" (after the two guys and I single-handedly did all the other manual labor) I see him summoning the help of our accompanist. Now I love her, but she is all of 5 feet tall and 100 pounds soaking wet. I was planning to help move that piano. P and I were the only people behind the curtain that had on official polo shirts (the guys in their blue work shirts) and who were not performers in the production. We do the labor for them. I thought we had an understanding? The guys and I had an understanding, after all! They knew that they needed to be off the stage before I opened the curtain. So here we go...

I start opening the red curtain, the audience starts clapping. Oh, dear! Minor mayhem. The boss just starts moving the damned thing AGAIN! With only a sprite of a helper, they careen into the red curtain, I see the piano dragging yards and yards wide and high of thick rose velvet...."Jesus. This never ends well," I think to myself. But I'm still pulling the curtain open, then SNAP! I hear the distinct whirring of steel aircraft cable releasing off of a reel. Holy crap. The FIRE CURTAIN!!!! I knew exactly what it was when I heard the snap, because I have experience with fly systems that use cable reels and cranks, but we don't have flies!

So here I am, curtain's open far enough to suit me; I have a much bigger problem on my hands. The clapping is keeping P and the pianist from hearing anything and they were oblivious to the FIRE CURTAIN! that was falling, very quickly, toward our Mercedes of pianos. So I take off, pointing up and saying (in as calm an audible voice as I can muster) "fire curtain!" However, I have been substitute teaching for a coworker on maternity leave, so a dozen of seventh graders in the audience who just performed in the orchestra, are all hyped up and start screaming "JA NELLE!" P is even more oblivious! I get across the stage, plant myself opposite of both of these numb skulls and use all of my brute force to push them and the massive piano out of the way of the very bulky, steel enforced, flame-proof barrier that is racing toward everything in it's path to the floor. Success! ...at least in saving the piano.

Now we have a bloody emergency safety feature deployed that has not ever been unfurled in our three and a half year theatre's history. And, it's dark backstage to boot. And, there are still JaNelle whoops coming from the audience. Oh dear. With the guys onlooking, mouths agape, I race back to where I know the reel is for the fire curtain, and I have to assemble the damn crank! I knew that, I just haven't had to before. As I feel my way around the gears and levers in the dark I get the thing together and start cranking. IT'S HEAVY! I mean, I knew it was heavy, but it was really heavy! I point to the brother of these two that I know could easily bench two of me, and I say "come here, turn this, and DON'T LET GO until I tell you!" I run back across to the boss who has found the point of release in the system. We struggle to get this pulley locked down in the release latch, then the other brother comes over and with no common language or basic knowledge of pulley and counter-pulley systems, informs us that little bro can't move the curtain anymore. Duh. I knew that would happen, but why would P, a guy that knows these things waaaay better than me convince me to help him anchor the counter-pulley?!?! Oh boy! Okay, "P, undo that; continue cranking; get curtain to the reset position; then we'll set the anchor." We're ready to go! Of course, I still had to run up to the booth and get the lights going again. It felt like a million years in stage technician land, but it was only a couple minutes in real time.

Another day saved thanks to the whipping girl! It turned out that the harpist broke a string and was able to restring, tune, re-tune and be at her best for the performance during our "break." And, no gasps, no claps when we succeeded--it felt like no one even saw it, but that is impossible! My irreplaceability in times of technical crisis was reinforced, the harp got fixed, we got to see our fire curtain...uh, work? I will write this one off as a happy accident.

...but as you can see, I had to write it. You can't make stuff like this up.