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Published June 24, 2005
Local playhouse celebrates 40 years
TOM TITUS
The Costa Mesa Civic Playhouse is celebrating its 40th birthday
today. I know, because I was present at the creation.
Back in the spring of 1965, when I was barely out of knee pants, I'd
just started reviewing local plays and writing about the theater for
the Daily Pilot when it occurred to me that my columns might be more
informed if I had some practical experience.
(Besides, it looked like a lot of fun and a great way to meet
girls.)
In May of that year, the Civic Playhouse, under its founding
director, Pati Tambellini, announced plans for its first
community-theater project, having already put a children's play and
a youth show on the boards. The maiden production was the comedy
"Send Me No Flowers."
I auditioned, won the cameo role of the cemetery lot salesman (the
smarmy guy played by Paul Lynde in the movie version), and got my
feet wet in community theater on this day in 1965. And I experienced
my first and last taste of entrance applause.
I'd been a reporter at the Pilot, covering the city of Costa Mesa,
for about a year and a half, and many of the local city officials
were in attendance on opening night. When they responded
enthusiastically to my first entrance, the resultant shock nearly
erased all 40 or so lines I'd painstakingly committed to memory.
The Costa Mesa Civic Playhouse was born the same year, at least
locally, as South Coast Repertory, which dates its birth from its
fledgling summer in Long Beach as the Actors Workshop in 1964.
While the repertory was stretching its artistic muscles in a
converted marine swap shop on the Balboa bayfront, the Civic
Playhouse was making do in what once was the base theater on the old
Santa Ana Army Air Base.
I was around for quite a few of those early productions -- the most
memorable being "Mister Roberts," in which I played the role that
won Jack Lemmon his first Oscar, Ensign Frank Thurlo Pulver. It was
worth all the hard work (and transporting the goat to the theater
and back each night) just to be able to rattle off that last line:
"Captain, it is I, Ensign Pulver, and I just threw your damn,
stinking palm trees overboard. Now what's all this crap about no
movie tonight?"
As the years went on, I appeared in several other shows for the
playhouse, as well as other local theater groups, then I started
directing in 1968. For 31 years, I was artistic director of the
Irvine Community Theater, a pro bono but exhilarating position I
finally hung up two years ago.
But the Civic Playhouse always was home, since that's where it all
started. In 1985, Pati announced "Father of the Bride" as the
theater's 20th anniversary show. Feeling nostalgic, I auditioned and
wound up with the title role (the father, not the bride). By that
time, the playhouse had relocated from its vintage auditorium on the
fairgrounds to its present location in the Rea School complex on
Hamilton Avenue.
My fondest memory of that show was walking with the actress playing
my daughter, Kelly Miller, arm in arm off stage in the final scene
-- then having my own 6-year-old daughter, Mindy, come backstage and
take my arm so I could escort her to the dressing room. It turned
out to be good practice for that day more than three years ago when
I walked Mindy down the aisle for real.
Now 20 more years have passed, and the playhouse is celebrating the
big 4-0. It serves to remind me just how fast time really does fly
when you're having fun. And believe me, performing or directing in
community theater is about as much fun as you can have with your
clothes on.
Yes, it's a lot of work, and it's very time consuming. And the show
doesn't always come off exactly the way you'd like it to. But that's
part of the exhilaration of live theater, the part that
differentiates it from movies or television. When it really does
work, it's a terrific high.
Pati Tambellini finally retired after about a quarter century at the
playhouse helm and died a few years ago. Younger, fresher talents
are maintaining the legacy, though now it takes about six volunteers
to do what Pati did. The show, as they say, must go on, and it is.
Here's to at least another 40 years of the Costa Mesa Civic
Playhouse.
* TOM TITUS reviews local theater for the
Daily Pilot.
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