When disaster strikes in the middle of a project, it helps to remember that what appears catastrophic may be a sign that space is opening for something wonderful to emerge. This was one of the great lessons we learned as we began moving into the production phase of EDWIN. The actor who had filled the role of Edwin Booth through several years bowed out. Two weeks before auditions were set to start, the director who’d been with us since we began moving from page to stage resigned. On the first day of rehearsal, the musical director who had worked with us so masterfully in the past, informed us of a change in his own schedule—and, well, you get the picture.

By then, we’d begun to discover the magical pull of the “Great Circle.” When our director resigned, Eric and I reached out to people in the field, but the directors we knew, and others recommended to us, were already engaged. In a moment of inspiration, we asked our gifted casting director, Stephanie Klapper, for help. She recommended three people and we immediately contacted the first person on the list: Christopher Scott.

Chris came to my home to meet with us and within five minutes of conversation, Eric and I knew we’d found the right person—a warm, brilliant, responsive, and experienced director. Chris proved a sheer delight to work with, creating a relaxed, supportive, and stimulating rehearsal environment, collaborating seamlessly with the designers, and offering tremendous insight and imagination to the work. But his gifts to us didn’t end there.

Chris brought us a new musical director, the superbly talented Evan Alparone, as well as a remarkably efficient assistant for our marvelous stage manager, Maxine Glorsky. Maxine, in turn, encouraged a long-term colleague, the gifted scenic and lighting designer, Chad McArver, to join us. Slowly but surely, the “Great Circle” began to widen, drawing more people into its orbit—including our wonderful audiences and supporters. And it’s still expanding as we reach out to others and they reach out to us. And that’s another lesson about the power of circles. Lines can expand, but they can also divide. Circles embrace.

Most people, when they hear the name Booth, think “Oh, the guy who shot Lincoln.” (Disclosure: I responded the same way when Jane first described the project to me.) As Jane outlined Edwin’s story, I was by turns fascinated and surprised—and ultimately appalled. One of the greatest actors our country has ever produced had been all but erased from history. I found myself thinking, “A hundred years from now, will Meryl Streep, Marlon Brando, or Paul Newman be similarly erased?” Probably not. None of the genuine legends of recent vintage have had their names stained by an appalling crime committed by a family member.

In short order, I set out to learn as much about the man as I could: combing Internet sites, poring through the very few biographies of Edwin, reminiscences of his friends, and collection of his letters. Necessarily, the search took me into related terrain: the history of the Civil War and accounts of the harsh travel and performance conditions of itinerant actors of the period (no airplanes, or buses, or even two star hotels; these intrepid men and women trekked from city to city in tumble-down coaches, steamships, and painfully slow-moving trains, often lodging in places infested with fleas, lice, and other critters).

What emerged from this voyage of discovery was a portrait of a courageous and conflicted man who was coping with challenges to which many of us nowadays can probably relate. A child of an alcoholic, who later struggled with his own alcoholism and more than a dash of dysfunctional family tension. A man plagued by financial insecurity, grief, guilt, loss, and tremendous self-doubt. A single parent.

Yet in the midst of all this he managed to transform the art of acting, stepping past the conventional devices of posing and declaiming, and adopting a naturalistic style that anticipated by decades the approach that has come to define American acting.

This is the man I determined to bring to life on the stage—so when people hear the name Booth, they won’t think, “Oh, the guy who shot Lincoln,” but “Oh, the genius who triumphed against the odds.”

photo credits: Folger Shakespeare Library