Lasting the Distance

Friends sat chattering in the winter sun, can of soft drink in one hand, sausage sizzle in the other. Specs of dust wafted out of the open side doors and laughter could be heard from various spaces within. Sweaty and sore, conversations ranged from family to the weather to the council skips to details of the next show.

What colour should we paint the walls? Do we still have the nun costumes? Where do you want to store the lounges? Anyone for another sausage?

I looked from my 14 year old daughter to my 72 year old mate, both giggling together, completely unaware of any great divide. The sun’s warmth on their worn faces. 

The skip truck beeped back into the carpark, the leftovers were wrapped up and we all went back to work - up ladders, on hands and knees, to the sewing shed, to the foyer, to the now seatless theatre, to the green room. There were jobs to do, despite friendship in the sun. 

Working bees at a community theatre always attract a good crowd. You make the call and they’ll be there, particularly if it involves a sausage. But maintaining volunteers who are willing to run the marathon on a regular basis can be challenging for small groups. 

How do you keep a community theatre running? And what do you really ‘get’ for volunteering?

I’ve always been involved ‘behind the scenes’ of my community theatre groups. Even at the age of 13, I attended general meetings and contributed to discussions. I was voted onto a committee at 18 and felt as though it was important, and that my voice mattered. 

Training needs to begin early. It’s why I involve my children. Whether it’s at working bees or Front of House, young performers must learn the humility of teamwork. The magic and illusion of theatre doesn’t happen in isolation.

And fresh ideas from fresh faces are necessary. 

However, I have to say, they’re not always welcome.

Like any group who have operated a certain way for years and years, there can be a fear of change. The same pair of joggers have kept them racing - they have a few holes and they don’t have the support and agility that a new pair might allow, but they’re trusted. Reliable. Comfortable. They do the job.

The problem is, they won’t last the distance. 

I know from experience that often these groups are an aging population - people who joined in their youth to act on the stage and who, now retired, enjoy the company and social cohesion. They are the heart of any theatre group. 

But they can prove to be the hurdles too.

There’s always that stalwart who claims, “we don’t do it that way,” or the grumpy ‘know it all’ who questions, “why do we need that?”

I think it does come from a place of love and experience - if we spend money, we’ll have no money, if we change too fast, we’ll lose audiences. It’s always valuable to consider the consequences of our choices.

But community groups have to realise that people are reluctant to volunteer for anything if they remain voiceless - limited to following along at the back of the team. Understandably, there are good and bad ways of doing things, but with guidance, new tracks can be trodden and, in doing so, volunteers feel valued and respected.

Those hurdles can take a delicate balance of speed and distance to leap over. 

I think the most difficult part about passing on the baton is finding capable people who are willing to commit.

People are busy. They work, they have children, they are time poor. And some of the volunteer work required at a theatre can be pretty thankless and pretty all encompassing. It can feel like an unpaid job. 

It can become something that impedes on the love of performance.

For this reason, there are always those who are ‘happy to help,’ but they can be reluctant to actually ‘do’. 

Often it’s the same small group of people who are continually relied upon to take the lead.

I sometimes wonder if the prowess of this pack is off putting for others. Do others feel inadequate and not up to the challenge of keeping up? Or do they simply not have what it takes?

Despite its daunting distance, though, I do believe the benefits of volunteering for theatre out run the challenges.

Theatre people are fierce. They’re bold. They’re accepting. They’re generous. They’re funny. They’re caring. They’re unique. They’re creative. They’re thoughtful. They’re compassionate. They're family. 

These people are what keep community theatre running.

What you ‘get’ from volunteering is relationships. Inter-generational connections. And trust.

That and a sausage and laughter with friends in the winter sun.