When I think back on my most memorable experiences of the year thus far,  it would be very hard to top the evening I spent in jail.

Yes, you read that right:  I spent the evening of May 18th, 2018 in jail – specifically, the Racine Correctional Institution.

I hasten to add that I was there very much of my own free will (thank goodness) thanks to an invitation from Dr. Jonathan Shailor, Professor of Communication at the University of Wisconsin-Parkside and a frequent and favorite guest on my radio program.  He had invited me to come and see the latest production of his Shakespeare In Prison Project, an undertaking to which he has given his heart and soul since 2004 – and which has results in 8 productions of Shakespeare plays plus 3 presentations titled “Shakespeare’s Mirror,” which he describes as “original theater based on the performers’ personal stories.”

From the first time I heard about his project, I was intrigued-  but it was intrigue laced with a bit of skepticism.  It’s not that I didn’t believe or couldn’t believe it to be the amazing, life-changing experience that Dr. Shailor described; his reputation was such that I knew it had to be true.    I remember trying (and failing) as a high school student to read Romeo and Juliet, one of the Bard’s shortest and most accessible plays.  I found its antiquated language to be impenetrable, and I just couldn’t summon the patience to persevere.    And I must confess that I still have never read a Shakespeare play from start to finish- nor even tried.  I’ve read scenes and plenty of sonnets, and I have seen performances of A Comedy of Errors and Taming of the Shrew, plus abridged versions of several other plays …. and the operatic versions of Othello, Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, and The Merry Wives of Windsor.   And one of my all-time favorite films is The Dresser,  which is based on Ronald Harwood’s marvelous play of the same name – and based on Harwood’s real-life experience as a personal dresser for an aging Shakespearean actor.  (The play and film feature extended excerpts from Shakespeare’s magnificent tragedy King Lear.)  I think I’m trotting out all of my Shakespeare encounters here to redeem my reputation as a decently well-educated person, but the fact remains that I have never read a Shakespeare play start to finish.  And that might be why I found it so astonishing that a group of prisoners (including men with no theatrical experience whatsoever)  would willingly undertake such a gauntlet – and not just read a Shakespeare play, but then study a role, memorize it, and perform it in front of their peers.   I hoped I would get to see this with my own eyes someday.

(By the way, two encounters on my Morning Show helped ease my skepticism.  One of them was a series of phone interviews I did with several people from across the country who engage in similar programs.  Their efforts were chronicled in the book Performing New Lives: Prison Theater, which Professor Shailor edited,  and they included the creator of a program called “Shakespeare Behind Bars” that very much resembled Professor Shailor’s efforts at the Racine Correctional Institution.   Hearing their stories  very much made me a believer.  But what truly sealed the deal was a later Morning Show program in which Professor Shailor came to the studios with Haisan Williams,  a former inmate who credited the Shakespare In Prison Project with helping him turn his life around.  His inspiring testimony was compelling and undeniable.)

Professor Shailor had invited me on at least two previous occasions to attend performances at the Racine Correctional Institution, but it was only his most recent invitation that I was able to accept- which is what brought me to the front gate of the Racine Correctional Facility on May 18th.   His preliminary email spelled out a long list of strict rules: we would not be permitted to enter the prison with any personal items at all, including ID.   I had to leave my wallet, cell phone, car keys – everything – either in my car or in a secure locker in the front lobby.  Just the act of stripping one’s self of all of those personal effects dramatically underscored how we were about to pass into a very different sort of world.   (Professor Shailor also said in his email that only three passes through the metal detector were allowed per person per visit- so if there was anything that continued to set off the alarm, we would be denied entrance.  Fortunately, I made it!)

From there, it was quite a long walk through many hallways and across a large court yard before we finally ended up in a classroom.  (By “we” I mean Professor Shailor and several other guests, including a Shakespeare scholar from Great Britain who had helped to edit the edition of Cymbeline which they were using for this production.)  It was there that Professor Shailor and several of his assistants had to take a large trunk and complete empty it of its contents …. all of the costumes and props for that evening’s performance …. and present them, one by one, to a jail officer before they could be re-packed.  The process was necessary so jail officials could be absolutely certain that nothing was being smuggled into the facility,  and Professor Shailor has always been very meticulous in following prison rules to the letter- no matter how arbitrary or even ridiculous certain rules might seem.  That was an essential in the two-way trust that would allow such a program to exist.

From there, it was another long walk down more hallways before we finally came to a gathering of over a dozen inmates who were waiting for us – and once the trunk was opened,  they proceeded to change out of their prison uniforms and into their costumes … right there in the hallway!  That moment was one of the biggest surprises of the evening, but they seemed to think nothing of it.  I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to be engaging with the prisoners in conversation,  so I didn’t say much until one of the inmates came up to me and complimented me on my tie (which was a Shakespeare tie that Neal Scharnick gave me many years ago.)  That was a nice ice-breaker,  and it felt easier to engage in some friendly banter before we made our way down the hall to the prison chapel where the performance itself would occur.

When I first heard about these performances inside the Racine Correctional Institution, I just assumed that the audience pretty much consisted of family members of the prisoners themselves who were performing.  Somehow it had never occurred to me that the audience would in fact consist almost entirely of other inmates.   Actually,  on this particular night there was a bit of tension in the air because the inmates in one part of the prison had been told that if they opted to attend that evening’s performance, they would most likely not be able to visit the canteen that night- which was a big deal, evidently,  and also a violation of proper procedure.  It was a good example of the delicacy of the situation and the fact that even a fully-sanctioned program like this one could be undercut by certain staff within the prison who might not look kindly on it.  It was a situation that might very well have discouraged quite a few prisoners from attending the performance-  but I believe that the situation was resolved; at any rate,  an audience of perhaps 35 inmates soon gathered … and much to my surprise, we who were guests were seated amongst them. (I said that the performance was in the chapel,  but the room did not look like a chapel in any way.  It was basically just a nondescript large room adjacent to the prison’s small library.)

When the men were in the hallway changing clothes, they seemed like a bunch of normal guys-  energetically and light-heartedly carrying on with each other like teammates in a locker room getting ready for a game.  But as we reached the performance space,  one could sense the seriousness of their endeavor as they immediately snapped into action: moving chairs, placing props, and doing other pre-curtain prep.  As I watched them,  I began to realize that my expectations had been for an evening of barely-contained mayhem.  I thought I was going to see lots of rowdiness … and Professor Shailor having to bark out reprimands as one would with middle schoolers.  But instead, I saw a group of men working with the precision of a marching band – or a pit crew at the Indy 500.  It was incredible.

But even more incredible was the performance itself, which exceeded my expectations in every possible way … despite the fact that the performance had almost none of the technical bells and whistles that one would expect in the typical school or community theater production.  There was no stage as such … just the empty space at the front of the room.   There was no curtain  … just a large bolt of plush fabric.  There were no furniture except for the aforementioned trunk – and very few props.  The only ‘offstage space’ was the hallway.  And during the course of the performance, there were several moments when security guard strolled into the room through the same doorways through which the actors were entering and exiting the stage area.  In short,  the setting and circumstances were far from ideal.

And yet, for those of us fortunate enough to be in the audience,  these men created an astonishing theatrical experience.  Most of the actors were remarkably skilled, delivering performances of eloquence and nuance.   Others appeared to be a little less comfortable but were still consistently engaged and focused.   Perhaps more important than the high quality of individual performances was the powerful sense of chemistry between the actors, far beyond what I would have thought possible for such relatively inexperienced performers.  That was especially impressive in this instance because the play they were doing – Cymbeline – is a show with a complex blend of tragic and comic elements.  That it all came together so cohesively is a tribute to Professor Shailor’s direction and to the complete commitment of every one of these men.

And they were an intriguing mix in terms of age, size, and race.  Several of the actors were formidably well-built, looking like they could be starters in the NFL – in stark contrast to one chubby, bespectacled actor who looked like he might be the member of a high school chess club.  Most of the other men just looked like normal men- not menacing in any way whatsoever.   In fact,  it was not long before I found myself forgetting that the actors I was watching were convicted criminals- some of them having committed serious felonies.  They became actors only-  and remarkably effective actors at that, bringing this compelling Shakespeare play to life in a way that I would never have dreamt was possible.   In fact, the performance was so powerful and moving that I had tears in my eyes as it finished- and I was applauding and cheering not out of sense of obligation- not out of sense of appreciating their effort (as one might applaud at the end of a middle school band concert)  but because I was completely and utterly blown away by the performance that these men delivered.    I cried because I was so happy for them – so impressed by them – and so embarrassed that I had expected so little from them.  (It’s not that I thought the performance was going to be bad.  I expected it would be inspiring.  But never in a million years did I expect such excellence.  Shame on me.)   And in some ways,  I was just as surprised and impressed by the attentiveness of the inmates who came to watch the performance.  True, there were occasional moments where someone in the audience would make an audible comment, sort of like the parishioners in certain kinds of churches are apt to call out with an occasional “Amen!” or “Yes, Lord, Thank you Jesus!” during the sermon.  But those guys were really listening and very much appreciating what they were seeing.  And for that matter, one had a sense that the guards in the room were paying attention as well, completely transfixed by the story unfolding before them.  We all were.

Of course,  the Shakespeare in Prison Project is not so much about performance itself as it is about the journey to get there …. and the profound personal transformation that happens along the way.  Part of the experience is just the satisfaction that these men must feel in accomplishing something so impressive and making use of talents that they might not have even realized they possessed.   But beyond that is how their direct encounter with such an important theatrical work allows them to open themselves up in ways that they may have never done before- making themselves vulnerable- and learning invaluable lessons about themselves and what is most important to them.  And perhaps most important of all, the vast majority of men in the program find healing and wholeness and redemption.

“95% of the people who go into prison come back out.  And how do you want them to come back out?  Do you want them to be bitter, angry and hostile?  Or do you want something in place that maintains their humanity and keeps the human side alive?”    Grady Hillman, co-founder of the Southwest Correctional Arts Network.  I cannot think of any better way to ‘keep the human side alive’ than for someone to be given the priceless opportunity to engage with a great masterpiece and bring their heart and soul to it.

Come to think of it, that’s something that all of us need to experience at least once in our lives.  And if we have, we are blessed indeed.

 

 

 

<Let me add one personal note:  I think one reason why this performance of Cymbeline was so touching to me was because of something that happened earlier that day.  May 18th happened to the the last day of spring semester classes at Carthage, and it’s also the day that the students in opera workshop gathered to talk about our production of Don Giovanni.  It was a thorough and illuminating conversation about everything good and not-so-good about the process of putting the production together…  and it’s an important and valuable opportunity for the students to talk about whatever frustrations they have about the way we do opera at Carthage.  It was certainly no surprise that there were going to be plenty of concerns shared about all of the challenges and complications that were part of this production,  and by the time we were done I was feeling a bit bruised and discouraged, lamenting both my own shortcomings as coordinator of the program as well as the logistical hindrances that make it so tricky – and frustrating –  to do opera at Carthage.  (Limited rehearsal time, no satisfactory performance space, almost no technical support, etc.)  But then I saw these inmates of the Racine Correctional Institution creating an amazing theatrical experience with next-to-nothing in the way of tools … and it reminded me that challenges and limitations can do a lot to fire up our creative energy and ingenuity beyond anything we might imagine to be possible….  especially if we bring to it all we have to give.   It’s an experience that is both intensely humbling and incredibly uplifting.  What a miracle. And if we have experienced that, again- we are blessed indeed.