Full

My amazing dad spent the majority of his career managing what became, under his leadership a thriving and well renowned theatre.

Actually, it wasn’t a theatre at all. It was a 700 seat public lecture theatre in one of our prestigious universities. Dad’s brief was simply to manage the venue. It could have been a cushy job. After all, the venue was unused for the bulk of the year because of the long periods of student free days. But Dad is not one to be idle, and at heart he is a theatre man who cannot bear the idea of an empty theatre.

He realised the opportunity to fill the calendar with what he loved best, beginning with children’s Christmas pantomimes. Soon he added more children’s shows during the remaining school holidays. Then came the Saturday clubs - theatre subscription series’ for children. Amongst all of these came other musical concerts, dancing schools, school concerts, amateur theatre company productions, occasional films, and eventually, subscription series’ for adult theatre. Oh, and somehow he squeezed in the fulfilment of the original brief - university concerts and graduation ceremonies.

The Alexander Theatre became known for being “dark” for only one day of each year: Christmas Day. It averaged about 260 performances per year, with rehearsals filling the remaining days. Its busiest year saw approximately 420 performances!

There were two entrances to the auditorium and a stand at each of them that displayed slide-in signs relevant to its current use. These signs were inherited from the manager of the venue previous to Dad, and included statements such as “No Smoking in the Auditorium”, “Performance in Progress” and “Auditorium Closed”. But there was one sign that was missing. One that ideally would have been used every day, if my dad had anything to do with it.

“Sorry. House Full.”

One of the first jobs he assigned to his polymath theatre technician, who was a sign writer by trade, was to design and create this final sign for the collection. This he did with his own personal flare, which did not necessarily match the designs of the original signs, but it did the job.

The House Full signs were not used as often as Dad would have liked, of course. But the times when I’d walk into the foyer and see them on display would bring a wide smile to my face. Of course those occasions meant I was not able to see the shows from a comfortable seat, instead having to sit in an aisle or sometimes backstage. However, it was well worth it to experience the joyful noise of a full and happy house.

When my amazing dad retired three decades later, the university redesigned the theatre and some of the auditorium signs mysteriously found their way to his backyard shed. For several years I’ve been nagging him to clean up and repair our favourite sign for me to display in my own home. Recently, the day finally came.

I had not expected the moment to be as precious as it turned out to be.

Dad’s shed is, literally, the size of a small house. It contains about 70 years’ worth of stuff that “might come in handy one day”. And because my dad is amazing, over those years the stuff always has come in handy.

I cannot explain the sheer joy of watching him nut out a suitable way of hanging a sign that was originally designed to slide into a display stand. To see him mentally sort through his decades of experience and knowledge, then search his memory for what he might have on hand in his shed to do the job; then to watch him walk the walls of his shed to locate the drawers categorising his collections of decorative chains, picture hanging wire, rivets, bolts and screws; to see him search for the correct sizes and use his vices and files to accommodate needed changes…

Watching history happen, be honoured and used in that moment, brought just as wide a smile to my face as when that sign appeared outside the auditorium for all of those performances, a few decades ago.

A visitor to my home today may now be a little confused to be confronted by the sign saying “Sorry. House Full” as they enter. But I hope to one day hang a similar sign along with it.

“Thank-you. Heart Full.”

Nikki

My amazing dad, outside “The Alex”. Photo taken sometime during his “reign” between 1969 and 1999.