Longtime BTE friend and supporter LuAn Keller contributed $3800 for the purchase of  new tools for BTE’s production center workshop and costume shop. Earl Martz, BTE’s technical director, gets a brand new table saw, to replace our ancient and much used Grizzly, while in the costume shop, a new serger will let BTE’s Costume Shop Supervisor Michael Mengine sew stretchy fabric fast. The costume shop also received a commercial sewing machine and a dress form, helpful in costume design and construction. The gift is in memory of Clarence and Kathleen Keller, circumspect farmers from whose dairy Miss Krause bought her milk. Early students of Miss Krause were familiar with Clarence, and Kathleen, who ran her own table saw until the age of 80, when she figured she had built her last dog house and bequeathed it to a much younger woman. If you’d like to donate to BTE, please contact us today!

Michael, a Bloomsburg native and Bloomsburg University graduate, is thrilled to be starting his ninth year working with BTE and his second season as company stage manager. Over the years, he has worked in many capacities for the Ensemble, and is looking forward to the new and interesting challenges our 34th season will bring. In addition to working with BTE, Michael has also worked with Bloomsburg University Players on several occasions, most recently as the Stage Manager for Bat Boy: the Musical. He has also worked with the Simpatico Theatre Project and American Theatre Arts for Youth, both based in Philadelphia and was a Fellow in the Hangar Theatre’s Lab Company in Ithaca, NY.

BTE Backstage: What’s been your favorite show to stage manage at BTE?
Michael Yerges: Last season’s production of Ghost-Writer, Michael Hollinger’s latest work. I’m the type of person who really enjoys words – how you use them, what they mean, and how they affect us – and working on a play that in some ways was all about ‘getting the wording right’ was very enjoyable to me. I also tend to enjoy pieces with smaller casts and the intimacy that is created both on-stage and off to create a piece for our audiences.

BTE: How is it different stage managing for an Ensemble versus, say, a college cast, or other actors?
MY: The major difference for me is consistency. Within reason, you are working with the same actors and directors all the time. Most theaters are constantly bringing new actors, directors, etc. to work on their productions. Here, you have a better opportunity to really develop a working relationship with your cast and director as you work together on multiple productions. And I think that creates an atmosphere of comfort, which can really help us do better work.

BTE: Do you also enjoy performing?  What other positions do you enjoy in theatre?
MY: I have enjoyed a wide variety of positions working in theater. Over the years I have been involved in almost every aspect of creating a production. I have designed, performed, built, directed, managed, painted, draped, lit, programmed… it’s a long list. And I’ve enjoyed it all. I like the idea of looking at things from different perspectives, and luckily for me, I’ve had the opportunity to do that, both in college and here at BTE. Admittedly, this had led to some rather interesting and sometimes spectacular mistakes, but I’m glad to have the opportunity to try it and see what happens next.

BTE: How did your interest in theatre develop?
MY: I found theater by accident in high school. I had seen plays before, but never really thought about how they were made; or thought that there was any opportunity to find out in Central Pennsylvania. But then I discovered my high school had a Drama Club. It was small, underfunded, and had no real resources whatsoever, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was it existed. So I joined and soon discovered one of the advantages of a small drama club: you try anything you wanted. So I did. And then I enrolled in college as a Secondary education/history double major. After one education class I realized that it wasn’t for me. After a good year of going back and forth about what to do. I drank a ton of coffee, auditioned for BU’s production of The Adding Machine, and for some unknown reason was cast. One year later I switched majors and here we are.

One of those volunteers is Phil Pelletier.  A patron and donor since 1987, Phil served as TreeFest chairperson from 1988 until 2003, when he passed the torch to Mary Clapp (TreeFest chairperson from 2003-2010; current chairperson is Bonnie Crawford).

BTE Backstage: How did you first become involved with BTE?
Phil Pelletier: We moved to Bloomsburg in the summer of 1987. As we began to meet new people, I was introduced to Bob McCoy, a local banker, who invited me to join the Development Committee at BTE. Bob was a member of the board at that time, and in his words, joining the committee would only take, “… and hour a month.” I have been a part of BTE in so many ways ever since.

BTE: As a volunteer for BTE, what are some of your favorite experiences or memories?
PP: My involvement with TreeFest provides many wonderful memories for me. The first TreeFest show was in 1988, and my sole contribution was to sell popcorn in the freezing cold of the industrial building at the fairgrounds. By the third year I had become the chair of the event, a position I held for the next 15 years. I continue to support the show. Over the years, I watched the event grow and prosper for the benefit of BTE. I was fortunate to have so much wonderful help and to watch as the show became an integral part of each year’s holiday season. Thousands of area folks have been a part of this wonderful event.

BTE: How does BTE contribute to our community, in your opinion?
PP: When I first joined the BTE family, it seemed remarkable to me that a professional theater company could exist in this small rural community. Its presence has added a remarkable depth to our town’s life. Certainly the main stage performances give us something to relish. It’s a truly unique experience to watch live theater that will never be surpassed. Having the ensemble members as part of our community makes me feel even closer to the action. Mounting the main stage makes it possible for BTE to add other activities such as Theater School, Theater in the Classroom, NOH theater.I believe Bloomsburg is a richer place because of the ensemble’s presence.

BTE: What’s your favorite BTE show?
PP: It is difficult to say which my favorite show is without slighting others. However, I do especially enjoy the annual holiday shows. They always seem to add something special to the season.

Live theater in Bloomsburg is always exciting. There is something about a live performance that sets it apart. Keep in mind that no two performances are exactly the same. Only skilled performers of our ensemble can bring these differences, whether from on stage or from the audience, to life. Having BTE in our community simply makes Bloomsburg a better place to live.

Cassandra Pisieczko as Sister James and Elizabeth Dowd as Sister Aloysius in BTE's Doubt, A Parable.

Elizabeth Dowd: We had our first [Project Discovery] matinee today.
Dillon Naylor for BTE Backstage: That’s right, how did it go?
ED: Really well, really well. We had about 270 kids, and I thought they were pretty attentive. They seemed to be really very quiet and very focused, so it was good. It was exciting!

DN: I wanted to start by asking you – since you have had a weekend of shows and now a school performance, you’ve had some reaction from these audiences in Bloomsburg. Any interesting topics of discussion that have come up so far in talkbacks?
ED: Well, I feel like what’s notable to me is that, despite however Danny [Roth] or I might feel about any given performance – and that has changed from night to night – where I feel like, “Oh, Father Flynn is so charming tonight, they certainly are going to absolutely, to a person, side with him,” – that hasn’t happened always. So, that filter of what life experience people bring to it still seems to create a Father Flynn who, in some minds, is guilty. I guess what is more interesting to me is that we’ve had probably a good number of people who say they just don’t know, which is so cool to me – that people are willing to admit their doubt.

DN: Right! And they seem comfortable with that, to a certain extent? Or do they seem frustrated?
ED: Well, they say they really wish they did know – that it bothers them that they don’t know. They really wish that they could have a definitive answer, and they recognize that in the way the play is crafted that there is no definitive answer, and that is very unsettling.

DN: That’s very interesting, that they recognize that it’s intentional in the play.
ED: Yes, absolutely. The play is designed to create this doubt, and they appreciate the shifts in their own perspective in the journey of going, “Well, maybe he did – well, no he didn’t – well, no he couldn’t have – well, maybe—” You know, that shifting. A good number are left with their absolute opinion, but I would say more than when I was in Boulder [at Boulder Ensemble Theatre Company in 2010], people say, “I don’t know.”

DN: My husband assumed that most people come away from the play compelled to solve a kind of mystery. But you’re basically saying that that’s not completely true. That enough people don’t.
ED: No, it’s not, and that’s what surprises me. A good number of hands today – we asked the students how many felt that Father Flynn was innocent of the charges that Sister Aloysius was making specifically, and a good number of people put their hands up. And then we asked how many felt that Sister Aloysius was correct, and about an equal number put their hands up. And we asked how many just couldn’t feel clear to decide either way, and I would say the majority of hands went up there. That really surprised me, because I think it’s human nature, as your husband probably was suspecting, to decide one way or another.

DN: Right. And to think that it’s my decision that is the last piece of the play, or something like that.
ED: Yes, and I think that’s true.

DN: In general – you can only speak from one weekend, obviously – have there been differences between the audience reaction in Boulder versus here?
ED: Well, I think I was surprised in Boulder – it was a much smaller space, which was really wonderful. I think this play operates at its best when you are close to the actors and you can see the subtlety of eye movement. I think in our theatre when you get back to a certain point you can only watch bodies, you can’t get inside and you have to kind of create your own – imagine what you’re not able to quite see. The result of that was that – and we always puzzled about this, but a lot of times audiences in Boulder were very quiet, almost respectfully so. I think there are parts of the play that are just hysterically funny – or not hysterically funny, but quite amusing. And at the first preview [at BTE], the audience was rollicking, they were just laughing so hard at their recognition of what type of nun Sister Aloysius represents and that sort of sternness, and all the jokes that have been made about that kind of nun, Nunsense and all those kinds of shows. It was tapping into that, I think quite deliberately. So, I am never dismayed by laughter, and I was quite thrown in Boulder that it didn’t happen. Then we were talking amongst the cast and we started to suspect that maybe it was because they were so close that they felt it would be disrespectful.

DN: It’s funny, because that’s what my husband and I were talking about after seeing the second preview. He was very thrown by the amount of laughter there was, and he told me afterwards that he thought it was inappropriate.
ED: Oh, no, I fully expect it. I think it’s written for that. I think there is no accident that John Patrick Shanley has the first laugh-line when Sister Aloysius says, “Art. Waste of time.” You know? I guess two nights last weekend there was really good laughter there, and then one night it was quiet, and I was asking [director] Jim [Goode] about it and, “Just tough them out.” He said, “Just stare them down until they laugh, because,” he said, “we need that laugh.” And I do think that it works like the laughter in Hamlet – the gravedigger. I think that John Patrick Shanley builds laughs into it to allow the audience to kind of settle into the story and then – oh my goodness, something different is happening than I thought – and then the tension builds to such a point and he releases it. I think it’s very skillful, but I think it is not inappropriate. Although I have learned to play it either way. It doesn’t dismay me now – I am not afraid that they are not with us if people don’t laugh. Does that make sense?

DN: It does, definitely. Did you think that – take the ballpoint pen example – that some of Sister Aloysius’s views are just either considered so ludicrous by the audience or so reminiscent, as you said, of a certain kind of nun, that it keeps them almost at arm’s length, or keeps them from taking her views seriously? Do you think that’s a problem at all?
ED: I don’t know. I mean, she certainly presents – I think they take her seriously. I think they start to see, despite the almost absurd severity of her views, that she is someone to take seriously. And it’s 1964, and those views were – I mean, I can remember writing with a fountain pen, and I can remember that ballpoint pens were discouraged. This is not made up, this was real. Danny remembers the same thing. We were allowed cartridge pens, but we were not allowed ballpoint pens. It’s just change – there are people now who are saying that penmanship is dying all over the country because of computers. And I think [Shanley] put that line in there specifically to remind the audience that there are people saying that now. I think he’s just so clever in terms of putting harsh things in her mouth and then putting things in her mouth that people would recognize. I’ve heard people say, “Handwriting is dying – nobody knows how to write good script anymore. Computers have ruined handwriting.” It’s like people who say computers have ruined the art of letter writing. I think Sister Aloysius would be the first person to say that. It’s just an attachment to a beauty, and the time that things take, and a way of life.

DN: It’s wonderful that it’s so specific in the play, and it’s not just her saying that handwriting is getting so bad, but it is the ballpoint pen.
ED: Yes!

DN: Let me ask some questions about you and the other actors. Everyone always wants to know the answer to this: did you and either of the actors, in Boulder or Bloomsburg, who were playing Father Flynn discuss any kind of backstory that he, the actor, would be using for Father Flynn?
ED: We were both aware that we had very complex backstories, Stephen [Weitz] and I, but we never discussed them. And we chose not to share them with each other even after the production ended. We had talked about maybe after the last performance going out for a drink, and we never did. We just wanted to keep it. And I think the same is true – I don’t know whether Danny and I will share ours or not. I did share with my director in Boulder what I had constructed for myself, so that if she wanted me to make adjustments, she would know where things were coming from. And then, because I did not want to repeat what I did in Boulder – I wanted this to have its own life and to be its own production, I didn’t want to remember something, I wanted to create something new – I reinvented those for this production, so I kind of rewrote my history.

DN: Can you say something about that, about the process of rewriting the history of the character, and kind of recreating the character, after playing it?
ED: Well, I think the important facts for me – and I won’t go into details, of course – were, clearly this a Sister who has had a secular life, who has lost a husband in a war, a war in which people had to kill in the name of pursuing evil. Men of faith had to take lives – they had to step away from God. That was a big thing for me. I don’t know if another actress playing Sister Aloysius would have thought of that, but for me the fact that [Shanley] makes her a married woman – not for nothing does he do that. And so then you have to think, this is someone who has seen the price that people pay, and seen the courage that it takes to step away from God in order to fight a true evil. So that was very important to me in my thinking. And then I had to spend a lot of time on what happened “at St. Boniface, eight years ago.” I thought that it was tremendously important for me to have a very clear progression of events. Because I think that is what informs – when asked how does she know, she says, “Experience.” When Father Flynn says, “How do you know?” she says, “I know people.” I don’t think those are just snappy comebacks. I think she has witnessed harm done. And, of course, the more specific you make that, the stronger the spine is.

DN: So, those two pieces – did new things come into the backstory this time?
ED: Yes, I just changed the facts of them to help me more. I really can’t be more specific than that.

DN: That’s okay. I was going to ask a question, actually, about that very line [of Sister Aloysius]: “When you take a step to address wrong-doing, you are taking a step away from God, but in His service.” I wanted to ask how you have come to understand what she means here, and I had not thought of that connection, when she talks about her husband.
ED: Oh, I think it’s huge. What would it be – we don’t have anyone, fortunately, in our immediate lives, but to love someone as a spouse, see them go off to war – and I’m assuming that she and her husband were devout Catholics, that’s something I have certainly created as part of my backstory – and to see the price that he paid? To come back and say, what do I do with “Thou shalt not kill”? How do I reconcile that? And I would imagine that it’s possible that you would say – in the pursuit of wrong-doing you step away from God, but in His service.

DN: We loved how Jim [Goode] pointed out in the Director’s Note that it was the whole WMD issue with Saddam Hussein that lit the spark – it was, actually, something connected to issues of war that gave [Shanley] the idea to write this. The resonance is really remarkable.
ED: Yes, and if you listen to Father Flynn’s first sermon – today I did that, in the talkback I said, “Danny, would you say the things you say right after ‘When President Kennedy was assassinated’?” And he said, you know, “’It was a terrible event, we all felt despair, but we were in it together. Everyone felt connected by their despair and their hopelessness. What do I say? What do I tell my children?’” And I looked at the students, and I said, “When in your lives have you felt that?” And they all said, “9/11.” And I said, “Exactly.” Because one of the teachers was saying, “This isn’t about Iraq.” And I said, “Well, no, it’s not about Iraq, but it is a parable, it is a teaching story, and it’s very clear if you listen to those first lines, where he wants you to connect the dots.”

DN: What I find interesting is how it’s a parable, but I think people get distracted and confused because it’s about such a hot-button issue.
ED: Oh, absolutely. I think people get very caught up in “He did it” or “He didn’t.” And that’s what keeps them watching. You know, nobody wants a finger wagged at them, nobody wants anything like that. So, I think that [Shanley] is a very clever man. Seldom are parables as compelling!

DN: That’s exactly right. Give me a little bit of a sense of what it was like to work with a new Sister James and a new Mrs. Muller – not to talk about specific personalities or performances, but just how that aspect of your performance grew, working with new actors.
ED: Interestingly enough, I think that the change in those two didn’t affect me as much. There were certainly different rhythms, different energy, different phrasing, different things that you noticed, and you enjoyed the difference, but it wasn’t – you know, it was a year ago, and I was quickly in the room with the people in front of me. I guess I would say that the biggest change for me was working with a different Father Flynn. Stephen Weitz is younger, noticeably younger, and I felt that that was palpable. I thought that there was a generational difference that was more noticeable. Even though I think I look older than Danny, clearly, in this – I think that the habit ages me quite a bit, which is good – it hasn’t been a problem here at all, but I found it an asset that I could play, something that I could use – that there was a generational difference, particularly pertaining to World War II. Someone who had lived through and lost someone in World War II and someone who was just probably born during World War II. You know, she mentions it twice in the play. A good playwright doesn’t give you anything for nothing. It all counts.

DN: Does she mention it in his presence?
ED: No, she never mentions it in his presence, but you know that that has shaped her worldview, and it has not shaped Father Flynn’s. And, I think too, maybe because of that age difference, I found Stephen Weitz as Father Flynn to be more paternalistic. A little bit more of the privileged priest who is so connected to the status of the priesthood. That’s not in a way that is unwarranted, it is a fact that even today priests have dominion over the lives of nuns. Vatican II accomplished much, but it did not accomplish that.

DN: From watching Danny’s performance, I actually felt like I saw some of that, and we were trying to figure out how much this character embraces the spirit of Vatican II and how much he respects the traditions – it was very interesting, and I had not expected to see that from Father Flynn.
ED: Yes, yes. You might have heard me say this on the [WVIA] interview, but I see – I think as I’ve worked on it, it didn’t become clear to me until this production, but I think Sister Aloysius is a reformer at heart, and I think she is desperately hoping for reform within the Church, as nuns absolutely were at this time. During Vatican II, nuns had a tremendous hope that they might be permitted at the end of Vatican II to say Mass, that they might be able to have autonomy in terms of how their lives were conducted, that they could decide for themselves whether their habits were shortened or not. None of that happened, but they were standing on the edge of a cliff – and for some of the nuns, they didn’t want that. But I believe that Sister Aloysius desperately wants to see that change. What she does not want to see changed is the relationship between the lay community and the clergy. She wants reform within, and wants to keep that strange distance that makes the clergy – I think, for her, she feels that separateness is essential to what makes them effective. That difference. They don’t want to be like everybody else. And I think that, certainly, there were nuns – probably are today, too – who maybe miss that aspect. I think Father Flynn, on the other hand, desperately wants the priests to seem like everybody else, but is not at all interested in reinvesting the structure within the Church. And I feel like at the end of the play – I don’t want to give too much away – but I feel like she is, for whatever the audience makes of her, however they add it up, I feel that she is absolutely rigorous with herself in the rightness of her actions, and the need for this to protect that child and to protect the children under her care. And that she takes no joy in bringing him down. But, I think the comment, “And cut your nails,” – I think that is petty! And I think that is the part of her that doesn’t like the ballpoint pen, it’s the part of her that chafes against his modernity, his connecting himself to the secular world, and having vanity. It’s so funny to me that I feel like she completely changes tone there, and I think it’s this one last petty jab. I think in that moment it is exactly what Sister James accuses her of – “You just don’t like him.” I think that “Cut your nails” is connected to – Yeah. I don’t like that kind of priest. He wants to be liked.

DN: Like she accuses Sister James.
ED: Right.

DN: Do you think that there are other things that audiences tend to overlook or misunderstand about Sister Aloysius? I could see that might be one of them – they might not see that desire for reform within.
ED: I only came to think that because there are so many references to obedience. She talks about the fact that nuns aren’t permitted to talk to the bishop, that she’s not allowed to work in the garden because a 79-year-old Monsignor might come out and pray in the garden, and if she were out there, she couldn’t be alone with him. I mean, all those rules. Even Father Flynn coming into her office. She says, No, we’re just short Sister James. No, I’ll keep the door open for form’s sake. She doesn’t approve of these rules, but she abides by them. And then, you know, Father Flynn is very free to say, No, I’m going to close the door. I can do that. And talk to Sister James alone. I can do that. And Sister Aloysius, even though she does lie and she does things that are not admirable, she doesn’t break those rules. Isn’t it interesting, the rules that she chooses to observe and the rules that she does not. There’s something about that obedience that I felt was a big, big issue for her.

DN: That makes it all the more powerful when [Father Flynn] comes back at her with, “You are a member of a religious order,” you’re under obedience, you can’t do this – and then what she says to him [“I will step outside the Church if that’s what needs to be done, though the door should shut behind me”]. And it makes you think, wow, in the service of something greater, she, of all people –
ED: Yes. She pays a big price, she pays a big price to do what she thinks has to be done. And she says earlier, “Dealing with such matters is hard and thankless work.”

DN: That’s right. I was struck that at the very end – perhaps this isn’t something that happens every night, but your hands were folded in prayer, and your head was down. Can you say something about working with the idea of her faith – even though there’s not much said about it in the play – how did that figure in your backstory? Let’s say, her spiritual journey through the action of the play.
ED: I think she’s out there in the garden trying to – trying to – trying to feel God. And I think she has been so betrayed by the hierarchy of the Church and so desperately – I think she has risked everything that she stands for, and everything that she has promised that she would do, which is to protect the children. … It’s so interesting, because when that question comes up – people’s interpretation of whether Sister Aloysius is doubting her faith or doubting what she did to Father Flynn – it’s 50-50. People see both things. … And, you know, it’s so well-written that, because people don’t explain what they mean, you just see the after-effect of the action.

DN: I’ve always felt that what you think about her last lines has to affect what you think about her saying, “He was what I thought he was,” just before that. I know that I felt very angry with the playwright when I completely changed my view on the last lines. I felt like I had been duped the first time I read the play, or something!
ED: Ah! Well, I think you could make a case either way. And it doesn’t actually matter, because I have been unwavering in my clarity… And yet, as clear as it is to me, there are just as many people who don’t see that. So, he’s not duping you, because some people are coming to that conclusion!

DN: Right. Also, that whole line of obedience that she mentions – it’s the Monsignor, it’s the Bishop, “all the way up to the Holy Father.” Well, if you keep going, all the way up to God! She’s under obedience. And then her line about moving away from God, but in his service – what an incredible tension for her to feel that she’s doing right, and yet she’s been betrayed by her superiors – almost, you could imagine, all the way up to God.
ED: Yes. My heart breaks for her. I don’t in any way take issue with people who don’t like her. I can understand. I had people say, “She’s a monster.” And all I say in response is, “If you had a child in danger, who would you want protecting them?” You know, this woman is a lion, and she will not back down. You could debate from here to eternity her methods and whether she’s right or wrong, but I’m not given any choice. I just have to fill what the playwright gave me.

DN: Thank you so much!
ED: It’s really fun to get to talk with you about it.

Dillon Naylor performed with BTE as a young actor. With her husband and two sons, she splits the year between boarding school life near Wilkes-Barre and the running of a small farm-to-table restaurant in rural Luzerne county.

Daniel Roth as Father Flynn in BTE's Doubt, A Parable

Deb: We both grew up Catholic. Did you go to church?
Danny: (laughing) Did I go to church? Did I go to church? One of my first memories as a child, was that I was in awe of the holy water fonts. I remember doing this, I must have been three of four at the time, and I would run up and down the aisles and try to dip my hands in the holy water. I think it was embarrassing to my mother.

Then I got a little older and realized I would have to be an altar boy. This memory was pre-Second Vatican and I remember very clearly being in church and the priest with his back to the congregation and all of that Latin and I had anxiety as a little kid thinking, “I’ll never be able to remember all that Latin.” As it turned out I became an altar boy post-Second Vatican so I didn’t have to learn the Latin.

First Communion was in 1966, second grade. It’s funny; I do very much remember being very scared of having the host stick to the roof of mouth as you weren’t supposed to touch it with your teeth. I was a very anxious little boy. I remember confession and what sins could a second grader possibly have? It was very mysterious; it was dark, and that voice coming from nowhere, the mystery. Obviously it has changed.

Deb: What was your childhood church like? Was it similar to the parish in Doubt?
Danny: No. Pottsville is very different from the Bronx. My parish was Mary Queen of Peace, there was ethnic diversity there. No racial diversity. There were a lot of Irish, there were a lot of Germans, a lot of eastern Europeans, and a few Italians so that was one of the parishes in town that had that mix. There were three other Catholic churches, there was the Irish parish, the German parish, the Italian parish, and we were the mutt parish. So the congregation was not as large as I imagine St. Nicholas (in the play) to be serving. Masses were always very well attended. I always remember a lot of people being around, sitting with a lot of people.

Well, there was a school attached and I attended there for two years, in first and second grade, which was in the basement of the church. At one time it served 1st through 8th grade, over the years the schools were consolidating, so I spent first and second grade there and at that time it was first through fourth. First and second were combined in one room. Because of that we were taught penmanship in first grade.

Deb: Any rulers?
Danny: Oh yes, a big Alcoa aluminum ruler which I got a lot because I was left-handed. My first grade teacher, I don’t remember much but that she was mean, a lot like Sr. Aloysius. We were learning numbers in kindergarten, I made an entire page of sixes backwards, and I got a big fat F, then it was realized that I was left-handed. It was alright until I got to first grade. The nun wanted me to write with my right hand as being left-handed was a sign of the devil. She whacked me and I went home a bit of a mess. Both my parents were working parents and my maternal grandmother and aunt lived with us. My nana called my mom, who worked at one of the local hospitals at the switchboard. My mom took me to the convent after this all happened and on the steps, this all happened on the steps of the convent I remember, my mother told the nun if I was touched again she would pull me out of school and leave the church. That was the end of the ruler. I developed beautiful penmanship with my left hand and I always got an A in penmanship. I think of the tenacity of Mrs. Muller and how she takes on Sr. Aloysius. Yes, my mother was like that too. Certainly a different set of circumstances but she was a lioness protecting her cubs.

The nun I had in second grade was beautiful, Sr. Thomasina. She was a young woman who had this smile. It was truly very warm. She looked like an angel. She was sweet and I have good memories of her. As it turned out she was killed a few years later in an automobile accident. It was very sad as she would have done quite a bit of good to the kids who would have had her. There’s a picture of me with her on my First Communion day. She is radiant and being with her made me smile even on that day when I was so nervous.

Then in third grade, I was shipped off to St. Stephens. We were transferred there because the Immaculate Heart Nuns taught there as well and my parents thought it would be good to stick with them as they were perceived to be the nicest nuns.

Deb: When you read the script what did you think of Fr. Flynn?
Danny: I knew I needed to play him. The play itself leapt off the page. It doesn’t happen often and when it happens you must embrace that and figure out why. The beauty of the writing, the efficiency of John Patrick Shanley, so much is covered in 90 minutes. The characters are so real. I had a great compassion for Fr. Flynn. Perhaps even an empathy. He’s a really good person who is committed to the vows that he took as a priest. He’s also real. You see his humanity. He didn’t let the collar get in the way of his reaching out and trying to do the job of what I think priests and all clergy in the Christian faith, at the least, should be enforcing: taking on the teachings of the head, their savior, the teachings of Jesus Christ in the New Testament. He is doing it with all his heart. And some things get in the way.

One of the things that I think gets in his way, maybe not so much directly, is actually the mandate that is coming from the Vatican, and all those Cardinals and others that were involved in the creation of the Second Vatican Council, is that the congregation is no longer thought to be servants of the church but people of God. That was a real task that these priests were asked to perform after years and years of maintaining that mystery, this was going to be cracked open. The mass was no longer going to be said, the consecration was no longer going to be done, with the priest’s back to the congregation. They were going to see what was happening. There was the change of “I am a member of the church” to “I want you to think about me as a member of your family, a friend.” A shift to priests asking “How’s it going?” And “How can I help you?” These are big changes. The one thing I don’t think the priests were prepared for was the opening of that door being in direct opposition of how priests and sisters are trained in seminary and the convent. They have very structured and somewhat restricted lives. And they have all the other demands that come with having chosen a religious vocational path.
What comes to mind is the notion of the vows of celibacy and obedience and other demands that are not placed on people who are living in the outside world. There is the potential for conflict right there. All of these things about Fr. Flynn interested me and I recognized character traits in Fr Flynn that I had noticed in priests over the years. Which fed my desire to want to play him even more, being raised Roman Catholic.

Deb: Ethan tells me you had a bit of a fantasy about being a priest yourself. Growing up Catholic, I can relate to that idea. When did you realize that was not your path? Was there a moment of epiphany or a gradual process?
Danny: There were moments I considered becoming a priest. There were a number of instances that allowed me to conclude it was not my path. At the time the church’s views on homosexuality were in direct opposition to mine. I had a problem with that and still do. I have a problem with the hypocrisy, the knowledge that many members of the priesthood were engaged in really heinous indiscretions that directly opposed, number one, the Roman Catholic Church’s view on that particular issue. The cover up was appalling to me. And there was a moment in my life that I was accosted by a priest in high school and it was devastating to me. And I thought, “Okay I’m gay.” At that time I wasn’t completely out to everybody. I was thinking, “I’m gay, and the church that I am a member of has very different views on this which are in direct conflict to mine.” For all those reasons I couldn’t do it.

There was a time too when I was speaking to friends who told me that I could minister to people just as effectively through being an actor type. I remember a friend of mine honestly sitting me down and saying, “You can do the community a much better good, offer them something much more meaningful doing this than doing that.”
And then the feeling left me. It took a while. And I’m glad it did. I have to say too, and this goes back to what we were talking about earlier, there is a quality in a good human being, whether or not they are wearing a habit or robe. There were nuns in my life that influenced me very positively. There were priests in my life that influenced me very positively. Both heterosexual and homosexual.

Deb: Did you tell your parents about being accosted by the priest?
Danny: No. I couldn’t tell anyone. His indiscretions finally caught up with him.

Deb: Did you think people would believe you?
Danny: I didn’t know. I had doubts. It’s interesting because I tried to maintain a friendship with him. I couldn’t close him off from life. I still had school. There were instances that brought me into his company.

Deb: Why do you think Shanley left out the kid’s voice?
Danny: Interesting question. Someone asked about this during talkbacks. You have four adults, really, who are determined to protect this one child and they all have very different ideas of how that should be accomplished. He’s a twelve year old without a voice. I believe that is very indicative of the time that Shanley has structured this play around.

Deb: Shanley wrote and released Doubt about 40 years after his own altar boy days were completed. Do you think this play could be set today, 2011 Small Town, America or has it become more of a historically relevant piece?
Danny: It would have a completely different tone. If it were taking place in 2011, I don’t think the play would be called  Doubt. I don’t know what it would be called. I am not certain. You need to answer that question yourself.

Deb: I think in today’s society, parents view their children differently. It started with helicopter parents, now they’re Velcro parents. Colleges have deans of parents. I work at a church and we have “Child Safety Plans” and people who work with children have to get clearances. I’m not saying it couldn’t happen, but it would be harder. Parents are much more involved, which is good and bad. But I’m not in the Catholic Church, so I don’t know how much it has changed.
Danny: When I was a kid there was a freedom. Children were not so attached to their parents. When I was in first grade I walked to school from home and it was at least a half mile. By myself. It’s a different world, which is sad.

Deb: But how many children are being molested by adults in today’s world?
Danny: Not so many.

Deb: Is it worth it?
Danny: (emphatically) Yes. That children are not being molested by adults, yes. But we’re such a society of extremes with the structures we have created now to minimize the chances of the corruption of youth. That sounds so antiquated. But that is what it is, ultimately. I think there are things that will suffer. Certain freedoms will suffer. How do you fix that? I don’t know.

Deb: Do you ever go to mass? Has the church changed?
Danny: I do. But one thing that has changed is that I allow myself the freedom to attend different denominations whenever I feel like it. And it’s refreshing and brings me to a better understanding of what it means to be Christian.

Deb: Do you consider yourself a Christian?
Danny: If it means living by the Golden Rule and realizing that the person of Jesus was an amazing guy who had a great message, yeah, I’m a Christian.

Deb: Do you consider yourself a Buddhist?
Danny: I consider myself a spiritual individual who will continue on that journey until that journey comes to its completion. I have great respect for the teachings of these enlightened individuals who have lived before us. As time goes by and people try to stretch and bend and mold these particular teachings to fit their own particular lifestyles there is a problem there. Not for me, but I believe we are all one. I think respect for everybody, and this may be naïve on my part, but that is the fundamental core of the teaching of these enlightened beings.

If I would have known that going to the Lutheran church or synagogue or Methodist church was just as fulfilling, the similarities in the way worship, with the exception of the synagogue, is structured, I would have been a much happier or much more informed kid. The Catholic Church did not allow this to happen. It was a mistake. Many people left the church. A lot of people leave the Catholic Church, some of them return, I don’t know how many or at what level.

There is something about the Catholic Church, the ritual, which moves me in ways I don’t expect it to. What does that mean? What does that mean? You know? Is it just a way of opening a door to the arsenal of life? Those things that you hold so dear to you, how it felt to sit with your family at a High Mass on Christmas Eve or the Easter Vigil, that rich pungent scent of incense filling the church, the music, there’s a beauty in that. And then, that other stuff gets in the way.

Deb: Do you ever feel guilty for not going to Mass?
Danny: No. No, I do not.

Deb: Did your parents mind that you stopped attending?
Danny: My mother was very devout. My father was a good Catholic. She was super devout. It served her well. And I think served the church well. She died the day before my 23rd birthday. Way too young. Almost thirty years. She was a beautiful woman. Kind, funny, and beautiful. So yeah, I remember when I started veering away from going to Mass. She never lectured me. And she would say to me, “When it’s time for you to go back you will.”

Saying the rosary puts me into a state. It puts me into a good spiritual place. I have my mother’s rosaries. She died with them in her hands. I wanted to use them in the play but the costume designer wanted them to be black. If I need them I know just where they are and sometimes I carry them about in my pocket.

Deb: I have to ask, do you think Fr. Flynn committed the act Sr. Aloysius feared?
Danny: I’m going to ask you, what do you think?

Deb: I’m not sure it matters.
Danny: Ask me again? It’s a very tricky question. See I don’t want to answer the question until the show closes. I’m trying to get around it and I can’t. Nobody knows except Jim and it’s hard to draw that line between what I feel as a non-theatre artist and how I feel as an actor going in to play the role. Those ideas could be the same, could be different. I’m not going to tell you until afterwards.

Deb: Why is it important to you that people not know what you think?
Danny: This is one of those plays that the audience really is the last character in the play. I want the audience to create their own opinions and conclusions. They don’t need to be burdened by what I think. There’s enough going on for them to chew on and formulate their own opinions.

Deb: How much did you draw from your story for this play?
Danny: My back story and Fr. Flynn’s are not the same. The character’s back story is informed by what the playwright gives you in the form of text. Those things that need a real fleshing out from a character’s point of view just really inform the performance in regards to how they act and react to the other members of cast in the play.

Deb: Do you think being guilty and having one doubt another’s innocence are the same?
Danny: No. Not the same at all. One person’s certainty does not lead to a truth.

Deb: Does it matter if the audience thinks Fr. Flynn is actually guilty or not?
Danny: No. The play’s success is not contingent on her accusations being correct or his insistence on his innocence being the truth. It’s what happens. And that struggle between these people. That is what makes for a play as good as this is.

Deb: How long did it take to grow your fingernails?
Danny: Yechhh!!! Yechhhh!! Not long. I don’t love them. They are getting in the way of Danny Roth’s life.

Deb: Are they as bad as pirate hair?
Danny: (laughing) Not as bad as pirate hair in the summer. Because I can bring out an emery board and file these down. But it’s the funniest thing because last year at this time we were doing Dracula and there is a direction in the script that suggests Dracula should have very long ugly nails. I tried, but it was a gross inconvenience. Now I have to do this. It’s just one of Fr. Flynn’s personal preferences.

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Jimmi Simpson

Jennifer D Wade
 It’s funny what you remember about “big” events. Often, it’s not the event itself that sticks with you. Rather, it’s the surrounding circumstances that leave the most lasting impression – what you were doing, where you were, the song playing on the radio. Oh, and the irony. That sticks with you, too.

Maybe that’s why when I think of September 11, 2001, I think of the weather. Because, as I walked out the door to head for my regular Tuesday morning racquetball game on Harrisburg’s west shore, I couldn’t help but notice the brilliant blue sky. A few clouds floated above, but they were white and puffy, the friendly clouds that never hurt anyone.

I don’t recall exactly what time I left, but it must have been about 8:45 since we usually met around 9:00. I believe I had the TV tuned to one of the morning news shows before I left the house and certainly had the radio on in the car. Still, by the time I got to the gym and put my purse and cell phone in the locker, this Tuesday still seemed like any other.

The first indication that something was not normal came as we took a break between games. We sat on the benches outside the racquetball courts and that’s where I heard the song “When You’re Falling” by Afro Celt Sound System with Peter Gabriel.  A radio station had been piped in over the PA system. The gym didn’t usually do that. But, all I heard was music, so I played another game or two of racquetball without thinking any more about it.

Not until we returned to the locker room, maybe around 11 a.m., did I realize what was going on. Once again, the radio was my first clue. It had been piped into the locker room, but this time, there was no music. Instead, a reporter was talking about hospitals in lower Manhattan preparing for mass casualties. I remarked out loud that something big must have happened. At that point, another woman in the locker room said something like, “Don’t you know what happened? Someone flew a plane into the World Trade Center and both towers are down.”

The image that formed in my head was of a small, private plane and a pilot who obviously didn’t know what he was doing. But, as I rushed to the TV in the lobby, then rushed to find a phone (I think my cell phone was dead), the reality of the situation became clear. This was a tragedy and I, a veteran broadcast journalist, didn’t know about it until at least two hours after the fact.

The rest of the day is something of a blur. I rushed home to shower then drove to work in Harrisburg, dropping off my dog at a friend’s house along the way. By the time I arrived at the TV station, coverage plans were already well underway. We frequently broke into the non-stop network coverage to provide updates on the local situation: where people could donate blood, steps being taken to secure state and federal buildings in the city, responders from central PA gearing up to head to New York. There was no shortage of stories, and we were so busy covering them that, at least for me, there really wasn’t time to immediately absorb the emotional impact of what had happened.

By 11:30 p.m., things had settled down. We had a crew on the way to the Flight 93 crash site in Shanksville, but with no more local newscasts scheduled until the morning, there wasn’t much else to do. On a normal night, the newsroom would be empty until 5:00 a.m. But, this wasn’t a normal night – there could be another attack, right? – and I didn’t feel that the newsroom should be unattended. So, I stayed at work through the night, not leaving until the morning crews were in and coverage plans for the day after were in motion.

So, that’s how I remember September 11, 2001. A terrorist attack on a beautiful day. A broadcast journalist who didn’t find out what happened until hours after the fact. A work day that started late but ended up being one of the longest of my career.

And, one final instance of irony. In the weeks and days before September 11, I and several others at the TV station had been preparing for a station-sponsored event that involved a series of functions centered around wine. In fact, one of our reporters was scheduled to shoot a preview story on September 11. The name of the event? Très Bonne Année, which translates to “very good year.”

Sharon Abraczinskas 
It was a beautiful September morning, and my older kids had left for school. I was at home with my then 3 year old, Gina. We were outside in the backyard, I was hanging clothes. I remember going in to watch the Today Show, and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The first tower had been hit, then shortly after the camera was on the second, and they showed the tower as the plane flew into it. All I could think about was,”oh my God, this is it..where is my family?” Of course, the girls were in school, my husband at work. I quickly called my mother in Rhode Island and couldn’t get through. She was elderly, and I was panicked. After about 15 minutes, which felt like an eternity, I got through to her. I felt better once I talked to her, but the horror continued to unfold. I truly thought we were going to be attacked from everywhere. The silence outside was eerie,frightening, and surreal. What was happening? Why was it happening?? We found out the what, but will we ever truly understand why? If anyone can answer that question, maybe the fighting would finally stop. I pray for a better,more secure future for my kids, who are now 22,19,16,and nearly 14.

Kymberly Dennis
I was in 10th Grade American History class.  Just settling in and doing the everyday motions, notebook and pen on the desk, bag on the floor, talk to a friend.  The teacher wasn’t there yet and one of the class stoners walked in.  “A plane flew into the Twin Towers!”  I remember people telling him that wasn’t a funny joke and that he continued to say, “No, I saw it.  A ***** plane flew into the tower.”  It was then that our usually cheerful teacher entered with a TV on one of those tall rolling carts.  There wasn’t really digital cable then and he had to plug the long black cable into the wall.  All the while explaining that the second tower had also been hit.  That he was going to turn on the televison because it was important that we be allowed to witness this moment in our history if we wanted to.  We were welcome to leave and sit in the hall.  Some did.  Some would have if they could have moved their bodies.  Most stared with disbelief at the screen as we watched the buildings burn, heard the screams and watched the madness.  After what seemed like hours of silence from a room full of 15 year olds, our teacher turned to face the class.  “This is American History, guys.  What you see in front of you may very well be the most important historical moment of your lives.  One year, five years, ten years from now, some one will ask you ‘Where were you?’ and without a doubt you will remember this moment.  You will remember this classroom.  You will remember my name if for no other reason than we shared this moment.  Like the bombing of Pearl Harbor, like the assassinations of Dr. King and President Kennedy.  We will be talking about this moment for the rest of our lives.”  It’s true.  Mr. Thrash’s basement American History class with its four black boards covered in his sloppy handwriting, last row, second seat.