Dear friends and readers,
Last night I went to the first of five plays I mean to attend, just a small number of the many events sponsored by the Capitol Fringe Festival this summer. It was a one-woman story-telling play: The Hello Girls: A Tribute to Women Veterans of WW1 written and performed by Ellouise Schoettler. I was attracted to it because I so enjoyed The Bletchley Girls (a BBC mini-series) about young women hired to break codes during WW2: I did not realize this show was also about women doing hard important work who are not recognized for it. Schoettler is a professional storyteller whose plays include Eloise, I presume an amalgam of the Eloise books which my older daughter when she was 11-12 just reveled in.
In this 75 minute play Schoettler enacted three historically real women who around 1914 volunteered for military duty as switchboard operators in France in WW1. What happened is when the war was over, and the women came home, an official person phoned each and told them they were not regarded as veterans, were not therefore entitled to benefits, and the only recognition or thank they would be getting was the parade of ceremony General Pershing went through once when all the women from all the stations (over 100) were brought together and thanked. Each was chosen as representing a type: Schoettler could not know what was their personality so I assume she extrapolated from what she could find out about their previous and subsequent jobs, their education and what they did precisely when they were in this military corps.
She began as Olive Shaw, the least educated and most timid of the three, the most trained to acccept, who had been, working in some kind of shop and had taken French in high school. She was one of the ordinary switchboard operators. Then we met Grace Banker Paddock, the most upper class of them, had gone to Barnard College, and put in charge of the first group of 33 women. These first told us where they were right now: it’s 1989 and Olive is in assisted living and is just thrilled because at long last she was visited and thanked by a general; she had been told that she was recognized as a veteran as a codicil to a GI Improvement Bill of 1977, but after that heard nothing about it. Alas all her friends from the corps had died, one two weeks ago; there were now only 18 women left. It is 1938 when Grace is talking to us; she is now married and has tried to find out why the women were not recognized as vets — and presumably denied benefits, thought this was not said. An unfortunate lacuna. As part of their riveting stories (as told by the story-teller actress), we heard of the hardships, the way they were treated as in servitude (the way men in the armed forces are especially when of lower rank), the real dangers, the moving about, never told where they are going, warned everything is a secret (or they will be in trouble), and briefly about their return.
The third woman, Merle Anderson had the shortest speech. It is 1977 and she is exultant. She is clearly a pushy kind of woman, mid-western accent (from Montana she tells us) and tells much less of her experiences in the war; but rather how she led the political fight to get the women recognized and managed it in 1977. How indignant she was when she was told she would not be recognized (no talk about money again). How she lobbied and fought with this and that other group, how the bills they brought up were buried before they got to the congress floor. She told us about the group leader, Grace, who died in 1938 and so will not know. She regrets that.
When she was done, she asked if we had anything to say. There were but two minutes and I was not quick enuogh to ask a question.
The problem with the play was it was conceived as a tribute to being “feisty,” and the moral was that if you fight for something steadily (like Merle) did you can move mountains or some such idea. Its subtitle is A Tribute to the Women Veterans of WW1. That’s why I regret not asking if they got any money for pensions. But I’m not sure that this was not a ploy on the part of Schoettler because what her playlets showed was the exploitation, lack of respect, the (I presume) lack of compensation at least until 1977 for these women. Perhaps afterwards for those still alive. Her title does emphasize that the women were endlessly greeted by a “hello” and their job of sending on and receiving needed information began with a “hello.” This was a feminist play but the feminist was muted because of the way it was conceived. The only woman of the three given some words talking about the power relationships exposed and exploitation and lies was the third.
Among the incidents told about how these women were treated and the risks they were made to take (several unnecessary) was one by Grace that struck me most because I have a personal identification or similar experience. Grace shows how the women were often forgotten (she was organizer and would know), and once in a building about to burn down where they were at first hesitant to flee though everyone else did (all men), she gets a phone call just before a bomb did hit, and she was told to get these women out or she would be disciplined. This reminded me of how when my husband was dying of cancer, very weak, emaciated, and I was similarly traumatically pressured as well as treated disrespectfully and without any regard for my or my husband’s true interests.
So I admit their hardships are not just experienced by women who as a group didn’t (and most still don’t) matter, but anyone without power who others treat as if they don’t count because they don’t count. Jim counted even less than me. But there was only one man in the audience, and he was there as one woman’s husband. Most of the women in the room were past forty and somewhat older. Schoettler looked in her sixties. She said on the stage after she had finished she was pleased to see so many younger women. Maybe it was 20%? Wasn’t she pleased with women over 50? don’t we count too?
I now have a preponderance of older women in the classrooms am teaching in with me — in their 50s to 60s. At Oscher Lifelong Learning Institutes, the women outnumber the men full-stop, and in literature and art courses, there is one man for every 7-8 women. Most people avoid the world feminism; it is now a word that stigmatizes. Most are reticent to speak of oppression as this is “complaining,” and may ostracize them, or (heavens forfend) make a man in the room uncomfortable; some will deny the meaning of what they see if you make it too clear. But these women older women having had much experience of the world (unlike younger ones) at least are quick to see misogyny, recognize it and remark on it, or conversely feminist stories. They are not fooled by faux feminism (apparent strength, mainstream capitalist behavior, imitations of men), and not fooled by presentations of women as violent as necessarily positive. In a way they don’t wouldn’t need explanations for The Hello Girls. Except without explicit talk, it is not clear who understands what. Not everyone can go further than experiencing their instincts since they too are reticent to speak — as if it were complaining (a no-no), not protest, reluctant to be seen “as feminist” as that’s now a stigma, want men about and men don’t come back when feminism begins to be discussed openly too often. You can only stand up for yourself if you are “feisty,” not questioning any deeper values that give rise to the situation.
The Iconic Ending of the first episode of the first season of The Bletchley Circle
I don”t know how many other events were on at the Fringe at this time — there is a perpetual cabaret in a tent this year. There are raw caucus kinds of plays going on, electronic music. I doubt any young men would come to a play like this on their own; this helps explain why despite good ratings The Bletchley Circle was cancelled after the second season (they were told the ratings weren’t high enough; or the new Upstairs Downstairs similarly cancelled.
The Fringe Festival does have here and there real feminist pieces in its at least 50 events — I don’t know how many they put on, it goes on for 3 weeks, a few starting at mid-day, most at 6 pm and ending around 11 pm, most about 1 to 2 hours at most, one after another in numerous venues. This is the only one I picked out — the other political play is about the Israeli soldiers who refused to carry on slaughtering Palestinians and spoke out against the slaughter last summer. Then I chose 2 Shakespeare and one Middleton play (transposed to the French revolution). Mine is actually a staid and conservative taste aesthetically (see Season 1; Season 2).
They seem to be in different venues this year from previous — few in the center of DC, hence harder to find the first time. The Hello Girls was done in a seemingly gentrifying neighborhood in northeast Washington — I say seemingly as it was also clearly poor, many of the shops in open air hovels below high-rise buildings, most though art stores, for and selling painting, some book stores too, two theaters in not bad shape, people sitting out on the sidewalk in front of cafes. I was almost late getting there because my pro-quest map gave me unnecessarily and puzzling instructions once I got off the Metro stop: Brookland-CUA (Catholic University of America). Luckily I had the nerve to ask people and several directed me aright. Then when I got there, the doors on the building were all locked. I almost left in despair, but went next door which was a building decorated with signs from the Fringe Festival. Yes it was next door and I was told to go back. I said the doors are locked. It transpired the doors are kept locked and someone was supposed to be sitting by that door with nothing else to do but let patrons in. A young man got a key from a chain of them and crossed over with me and let me in. Just in time.
I did not have the kind of acute anxiety and STUGS I experienced last summer. I think about what Jim would have said (making the second man); he might have remembered key incidents in his life from his time as a day boy (ages 11-17) wearing a different colored shirt so as to stigmatize him as there because he was so smart but could not pay, much less board. When I got back by Metro and car, I bought myself some penne (pasta) from a nearby Noodles and Company and settled down with wine in front of my computer to watch Amy Goodman’s DemocracyNow.org. Had Jim still alive we would have gone to one of the bookstores, eaten out in one of the cafes.
Normally I would have “filed” this blog under My Reveries under the Sign of Austen blog as about women’s art, or my Sylvia one as partly autobiographical and political, but I thought I’d put all the Capitol Fringe reviews I do on this blog site so they may be found together.
Ellen
A fascinating review of a play and, yes, isn’t it funny the way they’re so happy to have young women in the audience? Theaters tend to have older audiences, have for decades, and that is always the complaint. But why? as you say. Presumably the young will be old someday and may support theater then…
I do like the idea of this Fringe Festival. The Hello Girls sounds like a brave piece. Yes, you’re right: it is the powerless, not just women, who receive the bad treatment. At a bookstore recently, I was charged $20 rather than $10 for a small-press chapbook. It wasn’t till I had walked a block that I looked at the receipt. Of course I went back and they fixed it. But HOW did that happen? Do they find it easy to rip off old people? I have white hair, and though I am not sure when old age officially starts, I am certainly old to them!
So we must all watch out for ourselves every minute. We are women and we are older!
The horrible two medical groups who were supposedly caring for Jim (Kaiser Permanente and the Hospice at home we had) had not communicated with one another and a pharmacist from another company who from a phone far away and never showed up in the house at all issued orders to to Jim to take a blood thinner all screwed up. His blood platelets were just about dissolved and he was in great danger of bleeding to death from his skin pores. I had actually driven him to a Kaiser center to have his blood tested; he had been made to wait unconscionably long for a man in such pain on a feeble uncomfortable wheelchair.
I was viciously pressured to take him to an emergency room by both hospice and Kaiser people. It would be my fault if he died. Emergency rooms in the US are terrible places. I envisaged us sitting there for hours and him dying there or on the way, and his painful sufferings. Well I did succumb so far as to phone 911. The man who drove the 911 emergency truck came to my door and when I explained, he said “this happens all the time.” He advised me not to go, it would be horrible and dangerous. I had the courage to tell everyone “no” and “go away.” Jim had told me to protect him.
Many hours later a nurse arrived with this substance to my house; it took many hours because the doctors were paid by different organizations and the pharmacy by a third. She was irritated when I was not grateful; she was doing this on her off-hours and not getting over-time; when I criticized this profit-driven structure, she was indignant and sat down and preached to me. I waited until she finished and then threw her out.
Weeks later after Jim died, the corrupt pharmacist [what kind of man does this kind of work) phoned unware Jim was dead; I told him was a corrupt evil man he was to be doing this kind of work in this way. He wanted me to sign something for his salary so I had to repeat this to several people and never signed anything.
Ellen,
This play sounds very interesting, and I am not surprised the gov’t decided the women “weren’t veterans.” As I have read about for both blacks and women, it is all these seemingly small denials of money, smaller raises, etc, that, over time, that accumulate into big wealth differentials. I seem to be reading a lot too about older people participating more in public events, such as plays.
The undelying realiy of the BletchleyCircle was the same; Ta Nehisi Coates has written about the in effect cnsistent obstcles put in front of black people preventng any accumulation of wealth or security.
I see something more: that lots of people are thrown away carelessly, used as beasts of burden or to exploit their services, and then thrown away. People who don’t count.
[…] was the second of five plays I’ve chosen; the first was The Hello Girls. I had trouble getting an Uber cab back to the Metro: something about me, the way I was dressed (a […]
[…] was the second of five plays I’ve chosen; the first was The Hello Girls. I had trouble getting an Uber cab back to the Metro: something about me, the way I was dressed (a […]
Hello Ellen Moody,
Thank you for coming to see The Hello Girls. on the Opening Night.
And, for writing about it so thoughtfully. I am sorry there was not time for your question that evening. The Signal Corps Women were awarded benefits when the GI Improvement Bill was passed in 1977 – It took two years to implement the Bill in 1979. My understanding is that the benefits began at that time.
You made my day when you said I looked to be in my sixties – several days after you saw the play I celebrated my 79th birthday. I admit to admiring plucky women who press on to achieve important rights for women like Alice Paul and all the women who persisted until they won the vote for us. I am a veteran of the campaign to ratify the Equal Rights Amendment and deeply admire and thank the women and men who continue that fight for that.
Best wishes,
Ellouise Schoettler
Dear Ms Schoettler,
I’m honored you read my blog. I much enjoyed the show. I was glad I persisted in finding the place. I find great interest in stories about WW1 and WW2.
I’ve not been watching The Crimson Field and friends have told me I’m missing something. I can try for it on Netflix and sometimes these things are online at PBS. I watched The Bletchley Circle two years later. I have just started Danger USB. A dark and hard to watch mini-series but truthful: about the men who worked to defuse bombs in WW2 — about the effect of these bombs, the many deaths and destruction.
We nowadays have worlds of things to reach by the Internet but probably this further hurts live theater in the sense that alternates are yet closer. There is no alternative for real for live theater.
I feel better to hear you say that you skipped the Guillotine theater too [in a separate letter to me not intended for the blog]. I’ve been feeling bad that I did not go on Sunday to the Guillotine Theater at Gallaudet. I had bought myself a ticket, but two things got in the way: it felt like 107 degrees, and I live in Alexandria, Va, which has a sub-story: 68, I get lost, and worried that the supposed 15 minute walk from the Metro was much further (arthritis, bad shoulders and so on). So I didn’t go. I bought less too because so much is not in the center of DC and hard to get to. By moving to Brookland they lose their center. It may be they were forced into this, but if not, they have (I think) made a bad decision.
Ellen
[…] So for me ends my second year of going to the Fringe Festival on my own. I enjoyed this play and The Hello Girls. […]