Shakespeare.

Near the top of the list of topics I wanted to talk to Dad about for this family blog was his – and Mom’s – love of Shakespeare.

Over the months following Mom‘s passing in 2019, I found it best to introduce a potential story topic to Dad during one of our nightly calls, with the intent to bring it back up three or four times.

As Dad reminisced, I scribbled notes madly. Alas, we only talked about Shakespeare once or twice before we lost him, too, last April.

It was such a treat when Dad would come upon a memory long buried. When he proclaimed: “Oh, I haven’t thought of that in 50 years!” it was such a win.

We promised each other we’d figure out what Shakespeare plays Mom had performed in while in high school and college. I never dreamed what that search would involve.

While clearing out Mom and Dad’s house last June, I came across two black-and-white photos. They looked like publicity stills from a theater production. No notes on the back, though.

At first glance, none of the players looked familiar.

But wait … those eyes … there’s something about those eyes.

That bearded guy in the chair. That guy … is my mother!

You may remember from high school that during Shakespeare’s time, his plays were performed with all-male casts. During my mother’s time, it was the exact opposite. She attended Saint Joseph College in West Hartford, Connecticut, which was then an all-female school.

It’s taken till recently to figure out which play this photo was from and which role Mom played.

Mom and Dad tucked away in their attic the many letters they wrote to each other during their college years. I felt nervous reading the first few, not wanting to snoop. But knowing Dad had spent last winter going through their cartons of memories, with the intent of adding them – with his blessing – to the family archives here in Indiana, I took a look.

Here’s a paragraph Mom wrote to Dad on January 16, 1950:

“Sister Ancilla had me try out for a part tonight. Guess who I am! Duke Orsino. No, darling, you never did get a romantic lead, but I never thought I would fulfill your desire. Sister said my love of poetry would help me in expressing the lines. I just hope I love the art as much when the play’s over. I would have loved Viola. Sister said she thought of giving me the part but the girl who would be Sebastian would be shorter than I – and that ain’t kosher!”

As you may have noticed, Mom didn’t mention the name of the play. I guess she and Dad knew Shakespeare’s characters well enough that Twelfth Night was simply understood.

Today, January 5, is the 12th Day of Christmas. It is the Twelfth Night, celebrated in some places around the world as a night of … merrymaking. And so, Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night is a romantic comedy, full of mistaken identities and sneaky ploys to win multiple characters’ hearts’ desires. (The script has a few bawdy parts, too. Oh, I’d love to know what Sister Ancilla did about that!)

In another letter to Dad, Mom describes her costume:

“Today I met part of my costume: a rose velvet cloak from Paris. Gorgeous material. Then I have to wear a black velvet jacket and black tights. O, brother. I’m glad my cape isn’t any shorter.”

There’s Mom’s name – Joan Cassidy – right up top in the program.

How I would love a chance to go back and ask Mom what technique she used to memorize her lines. Shakespeare can be tricky. (She was also in a college play that was all in Latin! I have a feeling that once she conquered those lines, the challenge of Shakespeare’s phrasing wasn’t quite as insurmountable.)

Here’s the back of the program, resting on one volume of my parents’ collection of The Bard’s work:

This is another clip from a letter to Dad, who was at school at Providence College at the time, and unable to attend:

“I heard several people say it’s the best one Queene’s Companye has done. Even the skeptical Freshmen enjoyed it. I received quite a few nice compliments. It’s the beard that gets ’em.”

The extra “e” on each word of Queene’s Companye is so Elizabeth I. USJ’s English Department Chair, Dr. Mark Zelinsky, responded quickly when I emailed to ask about the troupe, which still exists. In fact, he has directed it for two decades.

Thanks to Dr. Zelinsky and the school’s Systems Librarian/Cataloger, Ann Williams, for their help in researching this story. But even more so – for their enthusiasm in support of this quest.

Here’s one last bit from a letter to Dad:

As Mom auditioned for other plays, her mother and gram encouraged her to go after roles that didn’t require wearing a beard. Facial hair simply isn’t refined for a red-haired lass …

Checking the notes I took while chatting with Dad about Shakespeare, he remembered that Mom’s height and ability to deepen her voice seemed to often place her in male roles. “She was such a lady, but could play a man.”

… while some have beards thrust upon them!

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