My Sister The Star

I received a frantic phone call from my sister, Fawn Wilderson '79, one evening toward the end of September. In between gasps of breath she was trying to tell me how she'd finally been successful in reaching her childhood and college dream: a leading role in a professional theatrical production the lead in Albert Camus' Caligula. I was surprised. Yet as she talked, my mind began to wander.

I thought of the days when we were younger, when space wasn't the only thing my little sister edged me out of. From day one, she cornered the market on attention. No matter when or where, if she was hungry, she cried and they fed her. I was lucky to catch dinner. If she hit me with her rattle and it broke, she cried and got a new one. They gave me glue and told me to play with the pieces. The bulk of my parents' income went into a Similac slush fund. Fawn had the attention racket down pat.

Small wonder she went into drama and dance by elementary school. "Don't you want to go see Fawn's recital?" Mom would ask, dragging me out to the car. "Your sister has a solo in the dance." Big deal. She had a solo in every performance. What did I care? In sixth grade, ballet didn't interest me. She had talent, all the instructors said so, and she deserved to be a soloist. But I had talent too, and I never got all the attention she received. We spent hours making costumes for her after dinner while she twirled around the room quoting Shakespeare.

I thought coming to Dartmouth would let me shine in my own right. During Thanksgiving break freshman year, however, I made the mistake of praising a few performances I had seen on campus and dropping a few names, like Professor Errol Hill. You guessed it. She applied, got in, and hooked up with the right professors in no time. While I'm blaming people I'll name two others: Professors John Rassias and Keith Walker. Professor Hill was her adviser; he also cast her in The Mandrake her freshman year, and although she had only a cameo part he gave her as much coaching as he did the leading lady. Throughout her Dartmouth career she kept appearing in plays, including one-acts written by other students. Her junior year she directed the Black Underground Theater and Arts Association. She studied in France where she familiarized herself with French theater, and after graduation she lived there for a year, working for a while as Professor Walker's assistant. She spent the fall term of her junior year in Connecticut at the National Theater for the Arts at the Eugene O'Neil Center. The group of professional actors and directors there told her what her instructors had told her in grade school: Continue in theater.

"Well, what do you think, Frank?" Fawn's anxious tone brought me back to our conversation. "Here I've been trying to tell you I got the leading role as Cesonia in Caligula," she continued, "and you haven't said a word. Do you realize where it's playing? In. downtown Minneapolis at the Hennepin Center for the Arts. The Downtown Council has bought out an entire showing!"

I was happy for her, and I told her so, in spite of all the childhood neglect she made me suffer. The lead role at a professional theater. I could hardly believe it. After spending the month of September auditioning, she had finally made it. Then I thought of something. "Is Caligula the film Peter O'Toole stars in, the one causing so much commotion because of all the raw sex and violence?"

"Yes, dear brother," she replied, "but we are stressing the beauty, the power of the original script. But now that you mention it, the movie will be playing in Minneapolis at the same time as our performance, which can't hurt publicity:"

Brass Tacks, the acting company she is in, "has the approach of a theater collective," Fawn said. "The actors have more freedom in the beginning rehearsals to improvise and explore ideas and interpretations. We all talk together about our roles and the play. The director serves to coordinate everybody's creativity."

Had I been a visionary in my youth I might have seen it coming. Then I wouldn't have minded the sacrifice. But it's not easy for a kid to look that far ahead. Now, I guess it was all worth it. How many brothers' sisters' names are in lights? The fact of the matter is that I like the theater but I hate the balcony. If this attention-getting racket of hers one day guarantees me a pair of tickets in the front row at a Broadway show, then I'm all for it.

Fawn Wilderson '79 plays Cesonia in a production of Albert Camus' Caligula.