By Lisa A. DuBois

Having Our Say

Presented by Tennessee Repertory Theatre

May 12-30, at TPAC’s Polk Theater, 505 Deaderick St.

Shows are 6:30 p.m. Wed.; 7:30 p.m. Thurs.-Sat.; 2:30 p.m. Sun.

$10-$37.50, available through Ticketmaster, 255-ARTS

Bessie Delany earned the right to editorialize when discussing a century’s worth of racial discrimination. White people, she proclaimed, can go far by just being average. But African Americans have to be better than average to make any headway at all. “Look at Dan Quayle,” Bessie huffed. “If he were colored, he’d be washing dishes somewhere.”

Bessie is one-half of the sisterhood represented in Having Our Say, the two-woman Broadway hit being launched by Tennessee Repertory Theatre, May 12-30 at TPAC’s Polk Theater. In this treasured little drama, Bessie at 102, played by Sharon Hope, joins her 104-year-old sister Sadie, portrayed by Venida Evans, in a discourse on 100 years of American life as a woman, a minority, and a professional. The entire show is set in the Delany sisters’ kitchen.

“You can learn all about black people in the kitchen,” explains director Barry Scott. “This story has made an impact on the theater world because people walk away from the play and learn that black people had values, loved one another, and were courageous. Having Our Say is subtle, but it’s like a sledgehammer too. It sneaks up on white America and says, ‘You’re racist and you should be ashamed.’ But it does it in a kind way. It sits you down and strokes you.”

The play Having Our Say is based on a 1991 New York Times article by journalist Amy Hill Hearth that was later expanded into a full-length memoir about the centenarian Delany sisters. Sadie and Bessie were two of eight children born to a mixed-race mother and a slave-born father. Raised in North Carolina during the Jim Crow years, the ambitious older siblings moved in 1917 to Harlem, where Bessie became a dentist and Sadie later finished her master’s degree in education.

At the turn of the century, a pair of young, unmarried career women alone in New York City, battling segregation and discrimination, had little to count on except each other. “During the time when they were in school, young girls couldn’t have both a family and a career,” Evans explains. “So the sisters didn’t marry. And it was not a time when it was respectable for a single woman to live by herself. They spent their lives together because they needed to chaperone and support each other.”

Though much younger than the women they play, both Hope and Evans have long experience in the roles of the Delany characters. Evans has numerous regional theater credits as Sadie, and Hope appeared as Dr. Bessie in the national tour of Having Our Say.

“Playing Bessie is cathartic for me,” Hope says. “A lot of things that she had to suppress to accomplish what she wanted are the same things that I’ve had to suppress. She has this seething going on underneath when she talks about certain things—like the college professor who failed her because of the color of her skin. I’ve had a similar thing happen to me. But you’ve got to get on and get out.”

While Bessie entered her twilight years as feisty and outspoken as ever, Sadie stressed composure and equanimity. “Sadie has more emotional grounding,” Evans says. “She saw how Bessie’s approach would sometimes backfire, so Sadie chose to face things in a more serene way.”

Bessie Delany died in 1995 at 104. After completing her third book, On My Own at 107: Reflections of Life Without Bessie, Sadie Delany passed away last January at the tender age of 109. They both remained politically astute and active until the end.

It’s 1999, and Dan Quayle once again has his eyes on the White House. One can’t help but wonder what the Delany sisters would have to say about that.

Another departure

In this tough season, Tennessee Repertory Theatre has undergone enormous upheaval. Executive director Brian Laczko split town last summer; Don Jones’ position of associate artistic director was eliminated (though it has since been reinstated, with Todd Olson now filling the slot); founder/artistic director Mac Pirkle resigned as of the end of March; and now general manager Jennifer Orth has been let go.

Orth is very circumspect about the news. “I wish them all the best,” she says. “I’ve put my heart and soul into this place for 14 years. Our purpose from the beginning was to create an institution that would survive all of us, and I hope it will do that.”

To those who’ve followed The Rep’s travails over the years, the decision to restructure Orth out of the organization is perhaps the most startling of all. She first joined the company in 1985 and has been credited with stanching the flow in an often leaky dike. She knew every actor in every performance. Every contract. Every costume. Every designer. Every technician working on every set. She kept tabs on every paper clip and every paper that had to be clipped.

“Jennifer provided the glue in a relatively thankless position,” says former artistic director Pirkle. “If an actor had his plumbing go bad or found a roach under his bed at 1 in the morning, then she was the one who got called. And she took care of it. But more than that, she was the architect for all the production budgets. The organization could not have survived without her.”

Current artistic director David Grapes adds, “She’s been a tremendous asset to me during the transition time.” He explains that prior to his arrival in Nashville, the executive board was moving to replace the general manager position with a lower-level production coordinator.

Typically, when not-for-profit executive boards start making hiring and firing decisions, staff members start running for the exits. On the other hand, The Rep is likely to be shouldering a record-breaking deficit at the end of this season, and the board might have felt pressure to become inordinately hands-on.

“It was time for me to go,” Orth reasons. “It was too difficult for me to make a decision to leave when Mac was here. But in the past 18 months, the players have changed. In some respects [being let go] is the kind of kick in the pants I needed. I wouldn’t trade the last 14 years for anything. It was worth every minute, but now it’s time to move on.

“Making this place succeed is hard. It takes a lot out of you to push that boulder up the hill every day. And it’s time to let that rock roll on down the hill and have somebody else start pushing it for a while. I imagine I’ll be incredibly grateful a year from now when I land someplace where I’ll be happier.”

Although Orth doesn’t have any specific plans lined up, she says she has “several exciting irons in the fire.” Grapes, meanwhile, had better start buffing up. He’s just inherited one hell of a boulder.

“Making this place succeed is hard. It takes a lot out of you to push that boulder up the hill every day. And it’s time to let that rock roll on down the hill and have somebody else start pushing it for a while. I imagine I’ll be incredibly grateful a year from now when I land someplace where I’ll be happier.”

Although Orth doesn’t have any specific plans lined up, she says she has “several exciting irons in the fire.” Grapes, meanwhile, had better start buffing up. He’s just inherited one hell of a boulder.