When you go to Leicester’s Curve Theatre, you might think gravity is playing tricks on you. “As you walk by, you’ll see someone spinning on their head,” says Jim, who often encounters breakdancers practicing in the foyer. “Every time I pass by he says, ‘Do you want to go?’ they say.” He nodded. “I pull my muscles looking at them!”
Jim, 64, has been volunteering at the Curve for four years, checking tickets, giving directions and helping people to their seats. “The show starts as soon as you walk in the door,” he said warmly. “I know you can make someone’s day with just a smile.” Theaters across the country are lit and supported by volunteers like himself; These volunteers are often uncredited individuals who offer their time, effort, and energy for free.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever done,” says Lizzie Owen, 45, one of 15 volunteers at Curve. “I have loved theater since my childhood, but as a wheelchair user, it was not possible to pursue a career in theater at that time.” Volunteering revealed skills he didn’t know he had. “I thought I would have a hard time talking to people I don’t know,” he says, “but there’s a point in being here. I feel lighter, more confident, and I can talk to anyone.” This sense of generosity seems to permeate the building: During the pandemic, Curve’s artistic director Nikolai Foster became a volunteer vaccinator, protecting the community while the stages were dark.
A theater belongs to the people who make it more than just a building. This includes stars, staff and audience members, as well as volunteers. Jim and Lizzie describe volunteering as a mutually beneficial experience; A well-managed theater can return a vibrant sense of belonging in exchange for skill and effort. “It’s very friendly here,” confirms Pete Brookes, 78, wearing a T-shirt identifying him as Battersea Arts Centre’s longest-serving volunteer. “They seem to have chosen the right people.” He taps on a desk in a bright office at the top of the theater. “There were only a few people I didn’t like,” he lowered his voice, “but they got rid of them.”
Pete and his wife, Joan, have helped BAC together for more than two decades, visiting the building since the 1970s. They drank coffee for Punchdrunk, built a fire, fed resident cat Pluto, worked front of house and wrote letters to save the building, which was in danger of closing. They were presented with an award at Wandsworth Town Hall in 2008. A framed dedication to Joan, who died in 2021, stands just off the foyer of the old town hall.
Volunteers have played an extraordinary role in BAC’s recovery following the disastrous fire in 2015 that severely damaged much of the Great Hall. Support came from the local community, offering space, materials and time. “It’s not about the money,” artistic director David Jubb wrote in the weeks after the fire. “It was about your acts of kindness, it was about the time you volunteered. Our healing belongs to you.”
Volunteering is not just an activity for later life. Chanté Frazer, 28, and Diogo Varela, 24, both actors, have been supporting the Talawa theater company as youth trustees for the past two years. Varela applied for the position to learn more about what programming a theater involves, but was unsure about what being a trustee would entail. “I didn’t understand much of what was going on at the first board meeting,” he admits. However, over time, his confidence, knowledge and skills improved. “It has allowed me to grow a lot as an artist.” He also adds that he likes to find out which shows will be aired before anyone else.
Talawa supports Black theatre, focusing on the work of the Caribbean diaspora. “A large part of our community feels like we don’t have access to theatre,” says Chanté, “partly because of the price tag and partly because some people feel like they don’t see people who look like them in theatre. What Talawa is doing is breaking the stigma to help people understand that theater is accessible to us, too.” As youth trustees, she and Diogo have a hand in influencing the theatre’s marketing, the types of stories they tell, and the expansion of its audience. “They volunteer,” says Chanté. Being a trustee isn’t paid, of course, so it’s a choice, but the reward you get is knowledge, confidence and the voice you have. Being a trustee really helps you be in the middle of things. Diogo agrees: “It’s an exchange of energy and knowledge… and free tickets! What more could you want?”
Organizations like Curve, BAC and Talawa are supported by volunteers, while others rely entirely on them. When 81-year-old Jan Bland moved into her home, the first thing she did was find a local theater she could attend. Fifty years later she is one of the longest-serving members of Harborough Theatre, which is run entirely by volunteer members. “I’ve done just about everything here,” Jan says proudly, repeating what I hear from almost every volunteer: “It’s almost like a second home.” If we spend enough time on a building, it gets into our bones and becomes much more than a stage for other people’s stories.
Ten years after Jan, Marilyn and Ralph Holderness appeared on stage at the Harborough theatre. Because their two little daughters wanted to take part in the pantomime, Marilyn was dragged in as a chaperone for two weeks. When they wanted to do it again a year later, Ralph insisted that he would not be left sitting at home. “So you came and asked if anyone needed help backstage,” Marilyn said to her husband, who nodded. “This was the beginning of my apprenticeship,” she says. Marilyn, a third year and former hairdresser, left her job as an accompanist and joined Ralph as a stage manager. “We became known as the A-Team,” she giggled. He is currently 80 years old and she is 76 years old. They are still an essential part of Harborough Theatre, stage management, working front of house and generally making the rounds.
The three of them have seen and done it all: Ralph knocks countless objects off the walls, while Marilyn becomes the hind end of both camel and dragon. They also encountered people from all walks of life. “I had a couple of undertakers in a play I was directing,” recalls Jan, who still teaches. “Looks like they learned their lines in the hearse.” The team continues to sell out most of the shows in the 115-seat theater. The shows run for a week, every day except Monday, when the church next door hosts bell-ringing practices.
This isn’t just about theater plays. Jim recently assisted with homecoming ceremonies at the theater at the Curve, and this Christmas Day Pete volunteered at the BAC when the building opened for a public dinner. “It was beautiful,” he says. “They prepared the tables like a banquet and piled the food on top of each other.” Everyone whose name is on the list is welcomed. He whispers that even then they didn’t turn anyone away.
Theaters are extraordinarily lucky to benefit from the generosity of volunteers across the country, these good neighbors who help with love above all else. But with the right support structures in place, these buildings can pay off big time. The walls are full of meaning and memories, with friendships, love stories and self-confidence formed as a result of years of volunteer service. “You take a lot and you can also give a lot,” Diogo confirms.
However, as they all say, volunteering should be approached with some caution; It seems that once you’re in, it can be very difficult to get out. Jim nodded dutifully, “I’ll be here as long as I’m useful.” Lizzie agrees wholeheartedly. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.” Pete has lived right across the street from BAC for forty years. After living there for three years without Joan, he decided it was time to move somewhere new. “But I don’t want to go too far,” he says, tapping the table, “because I don’t want to leave here.”