Four days before the first on-site rehearsal, a production studio was secured in San Francisco (San Quentin is North across the bridge in Marin County, ironically set on one of the most beautiful promontories in the Bay Area.) The idea was to recreate the tour location in detail and test the production. Of course, this had to be done without the actors. An elaborate bridge-work truss was brought in, lights were hung, projectors mounted, cameras set. We worked on the details; it was an impossible task. On Tuesday night, all of the studio-placed production had to be dissembled, packed, loaded on trucks and brought to San Quentin the next day at 6:00am. What the four days gave us was some working view of what had to be done and a blur of details which we didn’t know. The trucks arrived early Wednesday morning; the rest of the production and staff shortly thereafter. It took half of the day to clear security and arrive at the space. Half of the day and a half. The afternoon and early evening were spent setting up, struggling with those unknown details, trying to get to a tech rehearsal mode. There was a short one, with the actors (their first time on the space). And that brings us to the witching hour on Wednesday evening where I had my epiphany at the West Gate. Tomorrow was opening night.

Opening-night day... under the circumstances, the professionalism was redeeming. The haul through the stone wall continued and we reached a run-through tech rehearsal that was marred by many interruptions. By 5:15pm only Act 1 had run with a only a few key cues set. That meant that no production people had ever seen Act 2; it was to be “winged”. Suddenly, at 5:30pm, the prison guards began to bring in audience. At 6:30pm, it began.

A fact... in my long theatre experience there were less apparent-to-the-audience mishaps in this Opening Night performance than in any other I can remember. Not sure why. What did happen is what continues to make live theatre the treasure that it is for me. The actors, bonded to the beauty of Benet’s words absorbed the production and made it their own. They were blessed with little theatrical baggage, so they didn’t know nor were  concerned about the mania that preceded their performance. They believed in the reality they were creating and they poured that belief into the audience. They deserved the standing ovation they received from the 250 invited guests and 75 inmates. Another fact... as far as we or anyone else knew, this was the first time that John Brown’s Body had ever been staged with the actors working off-book. In its 50-year history it has always been performed as a reading.

The second-and-last-performance day... Friday had been set aside exclusively for taping, to pick up shots that were not available during performance. It was also an opportunity to do a full run-through in order to pin down cues. Everything went wrong. We never completed a full rehearsal and little footage was obtained. At 6:00pm, it began again. It was a different performance, as it should have been. Generally, not quite as good as the Opening, but better production values, and a new array of special acting moments. Ken Beckman, who handled the video engineering, remarked: “I finally liked what I saw.” Again, a standing ovation from a full house.

The post-production strike was probably one of the fastest on record. When it was all clear, it was as if it had never happened. It was all in memory, never to be performed again in this situation.

When he began, De Francesco set out three objectives for the project in this priority:

Create a significant relationship between inmate-actors
and the images of Stephen Vincent Benet;
Create a live staging of their experience;
Capture it on tape so the whole world can see it.

He accomplished all of that. What it will finally look like is, fortunately, in his award-winning, film-editing hands. What the final personal cost is to him is indeterminate and probably irrelevant.

I am left believing that almost everyone involved in the production would do it again even under the same circumstances. I know I would.

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