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TD Talk
By Dave McGinnis
Elves Unseen
Without hands to do the work, all the brains in the world accomplish nothing.
Every day in tech world subjects a TD to the requests,
demands and implications of everyone from the lone
spectator who thinks the air conditioning is set too cold
to the donor who swears up and down that they should have a
special seat set aside for them whether they show up or not.
The adage holds true — $*@&+ rolls downhill. Our gear
breaks down when it’s most necessary, and every structural
issue, from leaks to fires, creeps into our house at the most
inopportune moments. So why do we do it? Why don’t we
take the easy way out and — I don’t know — take on new
careers as forest rangers in the Rockies? I don’t know about
you, but in those moments when the aspirin runs out and the
director asks for a new 18-foot-high weight-bearing platform
with two days to go, I find my sanity in my crew.
Yes, you heard correctly. Those very folk whom I constantly
find myself badgering to “get it done yesterday” and
to “remember that nothing gets done on break” keep me
sane when all else crumbles. No, it’s not always peace and
harmony and, yes, my vocal chords do still receive their occasional
workout, but I take great pride in my service to them.
When the chips are down, their hands are doing the work,
and they’re the ones keeping the saw blades turning.
This month, I would like to give credit where credit is due.
For the show that we just closed, I had crew in house on
weekends, weekdays and weeknights. Whether I came in or
not, the work kept getting done. And guess what. It didn’t
happen all because of me, and it didn’t happen at the hands
of gnomes who crawled out in the night to magically get sets
built and lighting set. It happened because my crew put in
the hours and effort.
I have to admit that I appreciated it when my colleagues
and superiors took the time to let me know how great a job
they thought I did. It always feels great to receive that validation,
but I also take the time to remind them that I did very
little — we did everything.
Every month — if you’re the diehard Stage Directions
reader you should be — you hear me ranting about my rabid
belief in my crew and the work they do with their own hands.
Hopefully for you, you’ve seen the reasons in action in your
own house. If, however, you don’t work in tech, and you’re
flipping back here more out of curiosity than necessity, then
let me share with you where the statement, “I won’t ask my
crew to do that!” comes from.
For this last show, the build itself took very little time. I
actually overestimated my man-hours — always a nice surprise
— but a new design element got introduced a third of
the way into rehearsals that involved tea staining hundreds,
maybe thousands, of sheets of paper with which to paper the
walls. This process takes a lot of time, especially considering
that my shop already has limited space and virtually none for
this kind of work.
One of my crew — Cassie — took it upon herself to get
this done. I never asked her, and she never asked me. She
just did it. Many nights I left to the sounds of Cassie in the
back dipping typed-out sheets of white paper into a sink full
of the stoutest tea she could muster. Every night ended with
the same conversation, too.
“You sure you don’t need a hand?”
“No, I got it. Don’t worry. I’ll get the lights on my way out.”
After every version of this conversation, I would make my
way to the parking lot with the knowledge that everything
would be all right. I could have been worried that she might
forget to lock the door. I could have panicked and thought
that she might not stain enough. I could have done a lot of
things, but I didn’t need to. Every day I came back, and every
day, those stacks were right where they needed to be.
And she never asked, and I never said.
That’s why I don’t ask my crew to do what I myself would
not — because they’re willing. It may sound backward, but
my crew goes to the mat for me every time that I ask. I have
the hardest working crew on earth.
But that’s the beauty of it — we all do, and they deserve to
have somebody speaking on their behalf.
Dave McGinnis is an assistant professor of theatre at St. Leo
University. Let him know who you want to thank at dmcginnis@
stage-directions.com.
www.stage-directions.com • January 2008 39