The Invention That Changed Documentary Theatre Forever
Imagine walking into a theatre in 1936. There's no playbill with a neat synopsis. No curtain speech explaining what you're about to see. You take your seat – probably for free, or maybe you paid a quarter – and the lights go down.
Suddenly: Projections flash across the stage. Headlines. Photographs. Government statistics made enormous. Voices shout from every direction. Actors embody data, become witnesses, and transform into the machinery of policy itself. You're watching the news become visceral, immediate, felt.
Welcome to the Living Newspaper. And in 1936, it was unlike anything American audiences had ever experienced.
When the Government Decided Artists Deserved to Eat
In 1935, saying "I'm an actor" often meant "I'm starving."
By the time Franklin D. Roosevelt took office in 1933, the entertainment industry had collapsed alongside everything else. Broadway saw half its theatres go dark. Vaudeville circuits shut down completely. Film studios slashed payrolls. Thousands of trained actors, directors, designers, playwrights, and technicians found themselves unemployed with no prospects.
Then, Roosevelt did something unprecedented with his Works Progress Administration. The massive jobs program employed millions building roads, bridges, and schools across the country. But Roosevelt went further. He included artists.
Harry Hopkins, FDR's advisor and architect of WPA relief programs, put it bluntly: "Hell, they've got to eat just like other people."
Leading with Heart: When Passion Becomes Smart Business
I've always been told I have tons of passion. Makes sense - IVP started as a passion project but then grew into a business. And it's there that I've wondered: am I too much passion and not enough business?
I choose people and projects because my heart is affected by both - and because I trust the artists who bring their hearts into the work alongside me. But my brain reminds me to be cautious. To go with the project that brings in more funds. But IVP's biggest project began with a gut feeling and collaborators who came into it with tons of...you guessed it - heart.
Walking In Their Footsteps
I have the honor of playing Ann Kelsey, a brave and intelligent woman who served in Vietnam as an Army librarian. I keep reminding myself that she will actually be in the audience seeing her story told onstage. That feels like such a privilege, to know the person you are portraying is present and trusting you with their memories. You always want to do your character’s justice and tell their stories to the best of your abilities, but this just raises the stakes and makes the experience all the more special.
What does it mean to create something “meaningful?”
I was writing plays about women or women’s events from history. Then I discovered Hallie Flanagan, the Living Newspapers, and their mission and influence on this country. That discovery opened a portal—and sent me into many nights of joyful research.
Documentary Theatre. The forms vary - actors repeating transcripts word for word, one performer embodying every character, or an ensemble building whole communities on stage - but they share one thing: the power to break barriers. Between past and present. Between artist and audience.
Nine Years Later: Why Their Stories Still Matter
It’s been nearly a decade since I first sat across from those five remarkable women who served in Vietnam: Ann, Judy, Jeanne "Sam," Lily, and Lucki. I had no idea how profoundly their stories would affect me. Each brought a different perspective: Ann as a Special Services Librarian, Judy in Special Services Recreation, Jeanne "Sam" with the Red Cross as a "Donut Dollie," Lily as an Army Nurse, and Lucki as an Army Intelligence Specialist. Their stories have lived with me ever since, growing and evolving as we’ve found new ways to share them with audiences around the world.
Look Back in Hope
Right now, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. The endless corruption, the fear for those we love, and the uncertainty of how to even begin to fight back—it can be paralyzing. The arts community, too, is weighed down by these same forces. But if there’s one thing history has shown us, it’s that those in power have always tried to control the work of artists. This is a fight as old as art itself. And though the current moment may be terrifying, the quote “history repeats itself” doesn’t always have to be a bad reminder. As a historian, sometimes looking back gives me the exact story I need to remind me that artists always find a way to resist.