It’s Worth Telling
The stories behind the stories...
I was completely unaware of theatre superstitions when I first embarked on a career as a designer. Today, nearly 30 years later and as a more seasoned theatre professional, I promise you that the superstitions are real and must be respected. Not doing so can have results ranging from annoying to dire. I had to experience a couple of incidents for myself to fully understand.
My husband Kevin and I met when I was an adjunct instructor teaching costume history at University of Houston School of Theatre for the Fall 1997 semester. He was a visiting professor that semester and we shared an office. I was an MFA student and a teaching assistant in costume in the same program by the following Fall. I was assigned to teach how to make and alter costumes.
During one of Kevin’s visits to the costume shop between classes, he noticed peacock feathers lying on my worktable and nervously asked what they were for. I replied that they were for a hat for the upcoming production. He seemed aghast!
“You know you can’t have peacock feathers on stage, right?” I was a relative newbie to working in professional theatre and did not know what he was talking about. “The evil eyes on the feathers are bad luck,” he explained. “They could bring misfortune or injury to the production.”
He insisted that I nix the feathers. I reminded him that I wasn’t the costume designer and could not make that decision. I was also adamant that I would not change another designer’s work based on a superstition. We were both on a deadline with technical rehearsal only a few days away, so we agreed to table the problem for later.
Because opening night is never delayed, the pressure ranges from uncomfortable to terrifying. Kevin was the scenic designer for this production. We worked through the play, scene by scene, and finally came to the moment the peacock feathers appeared. I looked at Kevin. I could tell he was tense. The actress entered wearing the peacock feathered hat, crossed in front of the red grand drape and stopped at center stage. Only a few words into her monologue we heard a horrifically loud ripping sound followed by a tremendous crash behind the drape.
Everyone except Kevin froze. He bounded down the aisle to the front of the stage. He discovered the cyclorama curtain had ripped nearly the full 60 feet of its length. Both the curtain and the pipe it was attached to were now precariously hanging 30 feet up on stage left. Kevin carefully approached the section still in the air and stood directly under it to investigate the cause. Suddenly, it gave way and came crashing to the floor, narrowly missing his head. Everyone collectively gasped. He turned, looked directly at me in the audience, and yelled, “Now can we get the @#$%ing peacock feathers off the stage.” I did not say a word but the peacock feathers were eliminated, and we proceeded without further incident.
Were the feathers truly bad luck, or was it just a coincidence? Another first-hand incident a few years later, involving Shakespeare’s “Scottish Play,” made me a true believer. Since then, I will not say the title of that play or the titular character’s name aloud – anywhere – unless I am involved in directing a rehearsal, and maybe not even then. Actors who have worked with me know that if they do, I will make them go through a specific ritual to remove the curse. But, that is a story for another time.
Trish Rigdon is a director, designer, and producer who has worked in London’s West End, Broadway, Regional, and local theatres for the past 28 years. She served as a department administrator and instructor at Rice University and The Art Institute of Houston.
