Remembering Ellen Stewart

Last Jan. 19 at De La Salle University, I performed a one-act monologue entitled Dear Tish. The monologue is taken from my unfinished play, entitled Bienvenido’s Santas, the third in my trilogy on my literary father, Bienvenido N. Santos.

The first play, entitled The Lovely Bienvenido N. Santos (2004), has an all-male cast consisting of the various identities that Santos adopted in his writing career. The second play, entitled Bienvenido, My Brother (2004), is a monologue featuring Santos talking about himself. Both were published by the University of the Philippines Press in 2005.

The last time I performed a theatrical piece was in PETA back in the early 1970s, when Cecile Guidote (not yet an Alvarez) forced me to try out all the different tasks involved in putting up a play. She correctly believed that one cannot be a playwright without acting (to find out how to help actors memorize lines, how to end lines so actors can easily remember cues, etc.), directing (to find out how easy it is for directors to misunderstand a script, how hard it is to block badly-written scenes, etc.), being a stagehand (to find out how long it takes between scenes to clear furniture and props), and so on.

This was the reason I enjoyed my performance last week. My joy at returning to theater, however, was not complete, because I was mourning the death on Jan. 13 of Ellen Stewart, founder of La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club in New York.

The New York Times captured the essence of Ellen: “Not only did she introduce unusual new work to the stage, she also helped colonize a new territory for the theater, planting a flag in the name of low-budget experimental productions in the East Village of Manhattan and creating the capital of what became known as Off Off Broadway.”

Among the famous artists Ellen trained are Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Richard Dreyfuss, Bette Midler, Nick Nolte, and Sam Shepard. She paid particular attention to playwrights. As New York Times put it, “She would typically appear onstage before a performance, ring a cowbell and announce La MaMa’s dedication ‘to the playwright and all aspects of the theater.’”

I had four plays staged at La MaMa during my theater career. In 1974 an American, a Korean, and I translated a Korean play entitled Jilsa. The director of the play was Duk Hyung Yoo, Ellen’s adopted son. Ellen allowed me to stay in the famous Playwright’s Room, where theater icons such as Samuel Beckett and Edward Albee had previously stayed. I was literally in playwriting heaven.

It was Cecile who introduced me to Ellen, as she had introduced a number of Filipino theater artists to her. I was already back in the Philippines when another play of mine was staged at La MaMa - my Tagalog adaptation, entitled Ang Tatay Mong Kalbo, of Eugene Ionesco’s The Bald Soprano. Cecile directed it at La MaMa in 1979, then toured it around the US.

In 1984, while I was teaching at Ohio University, I took a side trip to New York and helped write the script of Tribute to Benigno Aquino Jr., a political theater piece against the Marcos dictatorship. It was directed by Cecile at La MaMa.

In 2006, I wrote most of the lyrics of Something to Crow About, the musical that National Artist Alejandro Roces conceived, based on his popular short stories. The play attracted full houses at La MaMa and later in Los Angeles and San Francisco.

I was devastated when I learned that Ellen had passed away. But in the true spirit of theater, as embodied by both Cecile and Ellen, my show had to go on, and it did last week. (Thank you to the organizers!)

Cecile, who is really Ellen’s artistic daughter, wrote a tribute to her. Here is a portion of it:

“We deeply grieve the loss of a theatre titan and a caring mother, Ellen Stewart, who nurtured the creative growth of her children in all corners of the world. We know she had a special place for the Philippines in her heart. Her commitment to human rights and freedom was most manifested in providing a haven for 13 years for the Filipino exiles fighting for the restoration of democracy and continuously providing even now a center for creative expression for Filipinos in the homeland and those in Diaspora.

“Serendipitously, we were 11 countries meeting in the International Theatre Institute (ITI) Board at Fujairah when news broke on the 13th that Ellen had died. I was stunned. I always took it for granted that she was immortal and will continue to be the fairy godmother of artists. I held back tears. Of course, her memory will always be cherished by the thousands she guided, inspired and encouraged to realize their impossible dreams. Our paths have crossed in the ITI since 1969 and she has always championed our cause to veer away from American and Eurocentric theatre paradigms and to include a parity of attention to the wealth of the diversity of cultures in Asia, Africa and Latin America interacting with ethnic minorities in developed countries.

“I am certain, in her special seat in heaven, she smiles, applauding, as she sees that her efforts are not in vain. We love you, MaMa Ellen, forever.”