The Marquee

*Let me start this entry by saying that nothing I write here reflects the opinions of the Wisconsin Union Theater as a whole, and while I may not always be impressed with the goings on here, this does not mean that we are anything less than quality. Bluntly, this means that I’m a bit of a bleeding heart liberal. I am not ashamed. (You can still go ahead and be conservative if that’s how you want to roll. That’s coo. I won’t stop you.)  Further, keep in mind that not everything that goes on here is part of the Wisconsin Union Theater season. We rent this venue out to student orgs, who fill it with whatever they deem appropriate.

The names in this entry have been changed to protect the guilty. *

This job has its perks; presently I’m chilling in the green room with the very talented, very British King’s Singers. Swoon. However, I should say that, while I often get to meet some great people, on occasion, I encounter some not so great ones. Now, let me reiterate, this means not so great by MY personal standards, not not so great by your standards or by the theater’s standards or by other members’ of this university standards.

So now that I’m done with all possible disclaimers, let me dive into the purpose of this blog entry: a speaker that used our facilities the other night, a conservative, gun-toting crazy man that I will affectionately call Det Tnegun.* I remember it like it was yesterday. I was typing at my computer, singing to Kelly Clarkson on the boombox when I hear a loud belch in the hallway. Enter Det.

“Hello, lady. CATCH!” says Det, as he pretends to throw a pair of deer antlers at me. Soon I am surrounded by a dozen stocky men wearing camouflage, all here to protect Det from “any hippies that might try to start insert explicative here.” (Little do they know that their camp has already been penetrated by the enemy. Mwah ha ha). They turn off my Kelly Clarkson. This just keeps getting worse. Det begins to talk, and it resembles painfully addictive reality television. You know, the kind that’s like a train wreck, but you can’t look away? Think Jessica Simpson on the Newlyweds, or any moment of TV with Anna Nicole Smith. Trimspa, baby!

I become frozen in my seat, careful not to make any sudden movements, as one of the men has just made the comment that they should all take their guns out of their pockets to pose for a photo. Sweet mother of insanity! I then begin to wonder why these men think it’s cool for them to not hold back a single one of their bodily noises in the presence of a “lady” or this Det guy that TCAFC* thought was worth their money.

I’m not sure if I’m allowed to repeat any of Det’s next words. First of all, none of them should have ever been said to begin with, much less relayed via this blog to you, the innocent public. What I can say is that I was remotely impressed with his ability to slam homosexuals, Koreans and vegetarians in one disturbing swoop of a statement.

But the week after this trauma, I get to meet a group of 6 men with British accents, so I guess life has a way of working itself out.  

Recently our very favorite Operations Manager, Mr. Bruce Ehlinger, left our beloved WUT and ventured all the way to sunny California for the League of Historic American Theatres’ Conference. I would hardly believe it myself, except for the fact that pictures have surfaced.

As you may have heard, the Student Union Initiative passed, and if it doesn’t get overturned in the appeals process, we will be undergoing some much-needed major renovations here at the Wisconsin Union Theater. The League of Historic American Theatres conference provided us with the insight as to how to approach renovating our unique historical theater and, better yet, kept Bruce in another state for a few days.

While Bruce being absent from the office for a week is payment enough, he doubled our perks by bringing back 85 stacks of conference notes, which I have been privileged enough to scan through with hopes of discovering informational gems that I may in turn pass on to you. Oh, life as an intern!  

More of the support for many theaters comes from contributions rather than through ticket sales. What could this factoid mean for all of the potential donors out there? Well, let me tell you what you’ve won!  It could mean your name on a board, or, equally as cool, a sweet-shaped floor tile. It could mean a coffee mug or a T-shirt or a private peek at our space during construction…the possibilities are as endless as these stacks of conference notes!  While the construction drags on, we want you to know that we are still in existence, spiritually and physically. Of course, physically, we’ll be in more of a state of disarray than backstage is on a show night.

Now the actual process of renovating this theater will probably be as unpredictable as…well, backstage on a show night. If these walls could talk, they’d tell you great stories about Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy and Itzhak Perlman and Louis Armstrong.  It’s not what the walls have to say that worries us so much as what we will find behind these chatty room dividers: asbestos, pipe configurations crazier than anything found in a Dr. Seuss book,  possibly even the approximately 2.4 million pens that keep disappearing from my desk.

So I guess the moral of the story is that we’re now relying on Bruce to provide all the answers. We’re doomed.