Kristen Turner A house divided against itself cannot stand.

It is an idiom most take with a grain of salt, but there are many times this simple statement speaks a profound truth. Most dont realize that in day to day life, this is one of the essential things that keep our society running smoothly. Whether it is in a corporation, or a classroom, teamwork is an essential part of making things work. There are times that individuals dont feel that they are important, or an integral part of what they are involved in. What they dont recognize is that without them, things may not turn out the way they are supposed to. It had been a long show season, and many actors and crew were worn to the bone in exhaustion, including myself. I was involved in a small theatre group from the private university I was attending at the time, and many of those at my side were fellow students and professional colleagues. Our starring show at the time was Othello, a classic Shakespearean tragedy that we had set in the modern wartime region of the Middle East. It was a challenge for all involved, and for me, the Assistant Technical Director, it had been a nightmare. The set alone was enough to make my hair stand on end, a massive two story military fort, made to look worn and beaten. There were two towering turrets, each eight feet wide in diameter, sixteen feet tall, built round instead of square. A long breezeway was constructed between the two, supported by a row of flats and thin wooden beams, just stable enough to support a fight scene that was one story up in the air. Two thin ladders were built into the wall between the turrets, providing access to the walkway between them. All in all, it was massive, and most of it was built under my direction.

Putting aside the difficulty of building the frame of such a massive structure, the details started to fall into my hands as well. Every inch of our visible set was covered in a sort of industrial-grade blue foam. It was my job to take every square foot of that foam, before painting and applying it to our structure, and splattering straight acetone to its surface. This gave it the weathered look we were looking for, but also sent me home every night with a massive headache. Another project that was left exclusively to me was to construct a custom-made, heavy slanted bed for a particular scene. It was set close to the end, where Othello and his wife are discussing private matters in their room. In a jealous rage, Othello kills not only his wife and her friend (who enters the scene later), but himself as well. The three end up spread out on the bed in an eerie, and somewhat morbid, reminder of what unbridled jealousy can bring about. It may not have been that big of a project, but it was important to the show, and if forgotten, would ruin the act. Because our university lacked a proper theater, we often had to resort to renting out one of the theatres in the downtown area. This meant one thing and one thing only to me We would need to load and unload everything from a semi-truck, the entire cast and crew lugging about for an entire day to do so. In some theaters, you have the option to build your set right there on the stage. With larger productions, you can only hope for that. Unfortunately, even with the expansive set we were constructing, we had to build it piece by piece, setting it up the week before the show debuted. This left our crew exhausted before the show even opened, setting nerves on end. The night of our premiere, a thick bustle of activity flowed through the halls of the historic downtown theater. It was nestled on the corner of a busy intersection, and was lit up like

it belonged on the Sunset Strip. The Polk, as it was nicknamed by many of the students that spent their nights tucked warm inside of it, was a lively little venue. The ceiling in the house was painted dark blue, small lights dotted across it to make it look as if you were sitting under a clear night sky. The arch was ornate, hand-carved in decades past, swirls and twists sculpted into its framework. Hidden backstage were the cast and crew, preparing for the long night ahead. The cast varied in position, scattered amongst the three floors of dressing rooms. The crew readied the set behind the thick, red velour curtains, touching up paint and dressing the stage. I stood with a binder in hand, dressed in black like the rest of the runners, directing students to their assigned posts. The show would start soon enough Thirty minutes later, the signal was given to quiet all behind the curtain line. Three, two, one Go. The lights went up, the curtain was raised, and it was all I could do to stand by and watch our hard work come to fruition. Some of the student volunteers grew restless, shooting out hushed complaints about needing to stay, when what they considered their work was complete. It was understandable, considering the long days and nights they had needed to work in the few weeks prior to get the show running. Still, I tried to keep them in line, but most ended up leaving before anyone of higher authority could notice and say anything. After intermission had passed, we only had a few more scenes to go. The stage remained the same until the final, and most important, scene of the play. The bed. It took four to six stagehands to move it into place, and we only had a few moments to do so. We would need to rush the bed onto the set, dress it with the sheets and pillows, and lower in the soft drapes that surrounded the back half of it from the ceiling. We wouldnt get a full intermission. We would have to set it out with the curtains still drawn, hundreds of eyes watching our every move.

The swift scene change ran through my mind a million times, every aspect being double checked for accuracy. Minutes ticked away as I suddenly realized The crew assigned to move the bed had deserted the theater. The only people left backstage, that werent dressed in full costume, were the assistant stage manager (required on headset and unable to help), two stage hands, and me. My heart raced against the walls of my chest as I tried to come up with a solution. Surely, we wouldnt have time. Even if we managed to get that bed out onto the stage with no injuries, we would still need to dress it and fly in the curtains. A string of curses slipped past my lips as I ran through the dressing rooms, holding on to a string of hope that our costumer and make-up artist were still in the building. If they could help, just for a moment, perhaps we would be able to pull everything off. They were nowhere to be found. Five minutes to transition, and we were going to have to go through with just the people we had at hand. I rushed back down the stairs two at a time, out of breath by the time I reached the wings. The show had to go on, and even if it took an extra minute or two, this bed needed to be center stage. We flipped it on its side as the actors streamed off, starting to slide it instead of carrying it as planned. It took a little longer, and stubbed a crew members toe, but it got set up. Pillows flew out and onto the mattress, blankets being laid out quickly. Within a few moments, it was set, and we were backstage once more, our job officially done for the night. Although we were able to get the bed out and primed in time for the lights to rise once more, it was a close call. The handful of stagehands that had left prematurely were reprimanded, and were present for every other showing. Each of them considered their job backstage unimportant, thinking a simple scene change was nothing to be concerned with. How wrong they were. Every task, no matter how little it may seem, is an important part of the bigger

picture. Without that bed, the show wouldnt have been the same. Each member of the cast and crew played a role in helping make the show not only a success, but a magical experience for those attending. We all worked for a common goal, and although it may not have been evident at the time, everyone worked together to achieve it. A house divided cannot stand. Thats what teamwork is for.