When Rachel Sterner was growing up in Boiling Springs, Penn., she saw a summer stock production of “South Pacific” at the Playhouse at Allenberry. She was hooked.
“By 8, I was ushering. Two years later, I was running the spotlight that follows people across the stage,” Ms. Sterner said. “We did a new show every month from April through November. I loved it.”
Now she’s on Broadway, serving as the production stage manager for “Almost Famous,” the musical version of Cameron Crowe’s 2000 movie of the same name.
“People think stage managers are frantically running around backstage with a clipboard and a stopwatch. It’s the opposite,” she explained. “You need to be as far away from panic as possible. I’m the center of communication and the funnel through which everything is happening for the entire production.”
Sometimes that funnel includes last-minute cast illnesses and overpriced or late supplies, if they’re available at all, because of the pandemic. Still, the show must go on, and it’s Ms. Sterner’s job to make sure it does.
But she only has one more week to make the magic happen: “Almost Famous” is scheduled to give its final performance on Jan. 8.
Ms. Sterner, 38, lives in Prospect Lefferts Gardens in Brooklyn with her two cats, Lucy and Frankie.
WAKE UP TO DRAMA I wake up around 8:30 or 8:45 a.m. to the sound of a chirping bird that gets louder on my iPhone. I take off my eye mask, which I learned to sleep with while I was touring, and check the phone to see if anyone is sick or needs to call out. Then I decide which understudy will go on for them and if they need anything. Penny Lane recently called out — that was a bigger deal. I drink a 32-ounce Mason jar filled with water, shower, stretch for two minutes, and make the bed because that’s the way I want to come home and find it.
CINNAMON FOR THE WIN I feed the cats and make breakfast. I can go weeks making the same thing. I’m into English muffins and Beyond Sausage, which is fake meat that’s really good, and I drink a Kombucha. The flavor at the moment is Golden Pineapple. Then it’s coffee. I make Stumptown Coffee Roasters in a Le Creuset French press, add warmed Califia Farms creamer and some cinnamon. The pandemic taught me to find pleasures in simple routines.
LIVING THE DREAM I’m out the door at 12:15. I take the Q at Prospect Park. I love going over the Manhattan Bridge. I never get over the view of the city. I’m out at 42nd St. and 7th. I cut through Shubert Alley, which is this historic theater space. I pass three other theaters to get to ours on 45th, which reminds me that I’m living the dream I’ve had since I was 6.
PATTI VIBES Once inside my theater, I check in with the Covid safety manager who makes sure everyone submitted a test for that day. Our office is one level up. There’s four of us in a tight room, which was Patti LuPone’s dressing room from “Company.” The walls are still blue and the bathroom is pink, just as she had it.
PREP From 1:30 to 2:15, the stage wakes up. The crew resets the props. Wardrobe resets costumes, mics go out, sound is checked, lighting makes sure the video wall is set. I touch base with the various department heads. I like to be physically present and for people to see me in case they have questions. Forty-five minutes before the show, we have a lift call, where we run the opening number: William, who has a trampoline in his bed, is picked up and moved around the stage. It involves half of the cast. It’s like a fight call. If there’s something physically involved that requires practice, we do it every day.
PLACES Then I stand onstage and yell to Ron, who mixes the show at the sound board, that we’re ready. A preshow playlist that Cameron put together himself plays. The doors open and the audience comes in at 2:30. I make sure the actors have signed in, then I page everyone in the building. I do a 15-minute call time, then a 5-minute call, a quick pee, and then call places at 2:56.
CUES The challenge of “Almost Famous” is that the set pieces are huge and the theater is not. It’s very tight in the wings, and nothing fits. It’s like a game of Tetris. The big pieces need to come in and leave in a certain order exactly at the right time or the show will stop because it will become dangerous. I sit stage right, eight feet off the stage, with a headset talking to everyone and calling the show. I’m super focused because I cue the lights, the scenery, the sound effects and make sure everyone is where they need to be.
THE REPORT A 17-minute intermission happens around 4:10. The crew is on deck setting for act two. Actors are changing costumes and wigs. There might be troubleshooting. If not, I start writing the show report. It’s an official record of what happened that day and is sent to the entire production team. I keep track of the show’s timing, if anyone was injured, how the audience reacted and responded, and if anything went wrong or broke. Then I call places for the second act.
CURTAIN CALL Bows happen around 5:35. This is my favorite part. It ends with a little rock concert as each person sings our main theme. The audience is on their feet. When they leave, I cross the stage and go to my office. I finish the show report, submit payroll for actors and my team of stage managers, and send out a schedule to the entire company. Slowly, we have started to transition out of work mode. We laugh a lot in the office, which is everything.
FRIDAY NIGHT I love the energy of a Sunday. It’s like our Friday night. We get out early, people are punchy and we’re all relieved to have the next day off. I’ve made many friends through other shows. Most recent was “Harry Potter.” I was the stage manager on that for four years, which I left to do this. Every couple of months, two other stage mangers, Andrea Saraffian and Johnny Milani, who I met through “Harry Potter,” and I, go to Gallaghers for steak and martinis. We all ran away with the circus, and it’s nice to connect with people in this specific way. We talk about the stress of the job, and I remember I’m not crazy — it’s a bonkers thing we do.
THE FUN DECISION Around 9 or 9:30 we might go to Dutch Fred’s afterward. It’s not the right decision but often it’s the fun one. They make fabulous martinis. We run into more people we know and hear their stories. By 11 p.m. or midnight, I’m in an Uber home.
HOME I feed the cats and see if there’s anything I didn’t put away from the morning. I have a weekly planner and I write down bullet points and succinct facts from my day. When my grandmother died in 2016, we found a bunch of these that she did. It’s her own personal history. When I toured with Cirque du Soleil, I started doing them, too. I was having these experiences and thinking, I’m never going to remember this, and I want to. It’s interesting to go back and see what I did a year ago. It’s a flashlight on your memory.
Source: Theater - nytimes.com
