What’s that odd white building along the Cry Baby Hill route, with the geometric fountain, big circle window, and double staircases? That’s Bruce Goff’s Riverside Studio, also known as the Tulsa Spotlight Theater, which has hosted weekly showings of The Drunkard and The Olio since November 1953. This past weekend the show celebrated its—what? how?—70th anniversary. I’m a native Tulsan but I’d never been, so this seemed like the time to check out both the historic space and the enduring production.
The building itself is something to behold: when you walk in, you enter a different time. First you come to the box office, then a bold celestial-style carpet gives way to two more mirrored staircases up to the theater. The walls of the lobby are a seafoam-ish teal, and there’s a small concession stand with big black-and-white tiles fancying up the floor.
If you don’t know the story of The Drunkard, it’s a temperance play about a miller-turned-tavern/hotel owner, Simon Slade. Basically, Slade tries to make a better living than he could at the mill—but his career change brings the evils of alcohol into his small town of Cedarville.
Tulsa is small, and it was none other than my high school environmental science teacher, John Beasley, emceeing the event. Beasley, the board chair of this historic venue, was charming and candid. He set the tone of the night: playful but respectful, classy but casual.
Something I learned: The Olio is not part of the play’s title. It actually refers to the opening acts, which that night were Harponix, a duo made up of a harpist and a vocalist (the pair also performed in the play), and Shawna Blake, a local comedian. There were two whole—brief—shows before the show.
Before, after, and during pauses in the play were audience singalongs to traditional songs like “I’ve Been Workin’ on the Railroad” and “Bicycle Built for Two,” among others my partner and I might have been too young or too ignorant to recognize. Bill Rowland (who also plays for Circle Cinema’s second Saturday silent films) accompanied us on piano, keeping us on track so we could at least sing the final line of each stanza.
The Drunkard calls for audience participation, which might seem scary, but you’re only one in a crowd. We were coached to “boo, hiss” the villain (the dude with the twisty mustache and long face, duh) and applaud the heroes. Old-fashioned, sure, but you might find it worth it when you’re asked to throw plush tomatoes during a particularly villainous scene.
Overtly “moral” dramas are not my thing. Maybe this is why I never went to see the show for all these years. But throwing tomatoes made my night.
Bruce Goff once said, “I don’t think talent is so rare that only few people have it. But I think what is rare is when anyone does anything about it.” A 70-years-running morality tale might not be your preference either, but the Spotlighters are showing up and doing the damn thing—doing something about the "it" they care about. Actor Nick Bushta showed us a complicated and dynamic Slade, and several senior cast members stood out for their chops. Mark Roberts’ drunkard felt genuine and possessed a delicate balance of funny-sad.
There’s all kinds of programming starting to crop up at the Spotlight. They want their community theater to thrive, and it’s a remarkable venue that needs our support to do so (and to stay on the National Register of Historic Places). Consider checking out a Drama Club or Frequency dance night, an Evan Hughes comedy show, or some of the varied children’s programming. Just make sure to take in the beauty of the piano-key windows—and maybe the unfortunate signs of wear this vintage venue’s endured—as you enter. Tomatoes (for The Drunkard only) are for rent at the box office.
