Theatre Design & Technology - Fall 1975 - 12

lighting, while he, himself, is everywhere, attending to
those refinements which "make" a set. A stage hand
remarks Iater that he never crosses the stage without a last
touch-up of this flower arrangement or that drape. Yet,
for five minutes, none of this seems to exist, and he
attends to greeting this friend, one of a long parade of
students not in his program, but simply in his course for
one year. We catch up on intervening months, mutual
friends, the state of the theatre and the prognosis for the
present production.

"Yes, next year for sure. Will you be able to have lunch
with us?"

It was ever thus - always the gentleman, but never
stuffy; always the friend and teacher, but never condescending. Busy, but never harried. I recall flashes of those
days when, as one of his two office mates at Yale, we
would wait for his arrival on Thursday. At the last
possible moment, the door in the lobby would burst open;
and with purposeful tread, Donald would quickly climb
the stairs and then would stride into the room, a dynamic
and magnetic presence. The coat (if it was even on) would
come off quickly; whatever he might be carrying would
land on the desk; he would turn, after a hearty greeting,
and go to the class room to start. Not a wasted move; not
one minute used except to the benefit of his students. It
was exciting just to be there when he arrived.

A EULOGY - At the Memorial Service
for the late Frank Carrington

But time is passing, and there are rehearsal calls to clear
for, and so he leaves me to my wanderings and goes back
on stage. A hand on the glasses and bottles on the side
board, a touch to a chair - the off stage leg just a bit
upstage - and then off to seek the carpenter. "Still going
strong," I think, "Indeed it's wonderful."
Many months later, a hot day in the Spring, and I am
waiting at the top of the ramp in the New Haven railroad
station for Donald, who is coming to speak with our
students about Simonson and Bel Geddes. There is no
mistaking the commanding figure down in the tunnel,
moving quickly ahead of most of his fellow passengers.
Soon we are in the car, his slides resting between us,
driving toward Yale, while he asks about the school, the
students and the program. His interest in the School of
Drama, whose stage design program he founded, has never
faded; I think it will ever be part of him and he part of it.
In the crowded and stuffy room he speaks about the
giants of the past years, and I am suddenly aware of thE
lineage, from the turn-of-the-century radicalism of Craig,
through Jones and Oenslager to a large school of designers
active at the top of the American stage and television
industry. Preserved, understood and given nurture largely
through the energies of this one vital and brilliant person,
the history of stage design has become a powerful tool
with which to shape the continuing art. Radicalism is in
the air during this spring, but I am aware only of this
radical, one of a group who made the art what it is now.
Some years pass; we meet often. Now I am standing at
the lighting desk in the semi-dark theatre with my headset
on, waiting to start a technical rehearsal. Donald has been
over in the classroom speaking to the students, but I have
not seen him because of an unusual schedule. Suddenly,
he is there in the row behind me; and we greet each other,
while the crew flies in pieces of scenery so he can see
them. We are proud of this set and are anxious to show
him that his taste and discipline are alive and at work
here.
"I missed you this morning, Bill."
"My loss, to be sure," I reply. "We're a little late on
this one. I'll have to wait until next year."

"I'm afraid not; we're going to start soon. That will
have to wait, too."
We part for the last time.
William Warfel,
Yale School of Drama

July 11, 1975
The Papermill Playhouse, Millburn, New Jersey
As delivered by Bernard A. Grossman,
General Counsel to USITT
We, the Iiving, have gathered here today to record the
sad fact of the passing of Frank Carrington, and to give
expression to what made him beloved to us.
I do not say that this is the close of our short time with
him. What has been is not lost: it lives on.
Even as I speak, I see before me, through my mind's
eye, our kindly, dignified and scholarly, our friendly
Frank Carrington. I see the paper mill he began with, and
built into THE Papermill Playhouse: a place for the
performing arts of such value and reknown that the State
of New Jersey, by its Governor Cahill, established and
proclaimed it to be The State Theatre of New Jersey.
I see the parade of talent that appeared before us on its
boards for four decades, in dramatic literature, music and
dance that will live on.
We grieve today, for we know only today; perhaps he
now smiles happily, for his eyes now know the tomorrow
we haven't seen yet. Tomorrow. How often we have said
it - with awe, and wonder. Tomorrow!
Frank Carrington would have wanted no eulogy - but
we do well to give it. Well might we apply to him the
riddle of destiny: who, among us, can as yet be certain in
what careers his short visit here was or will become a
turning point for some, and for whom: an encouragement,
and a direction.
Frank Carrington didn't face obstacles and merely
surmount them - he didn't stand up to the downs of life,
and merely lift them to success - just because life is a
game. He was a builder; he didn't go through life tearing it
down. He lived so that his life should be respected. He
lived so that his life would not be forgotten. By making
evident what one could accomplish, he illustrated how
rich in promise we all are.
He believed reverently in the equality of all; and he
gave courage, not despair.
Large was our friend's bounty; and earnest, and rich
was his character; and strong was his spirit. He was in a
most difficult, a most heart-breaking field of endeavor.
The ranks of it have always been filled with the wounded,
and with those maimed by it.
He has left to them, and to us, the memory of himself.
We are the heirs of his virtues, and those who have been
with him in this chosen field are charged with the
maintenance and the spreading of that spirit. It has been
turned over to us to be enjoyed in memory, and to be
passed on with pride and reverence.
Continued on page 41

USITT

THEATRE DESIGN AND TECHNOLOGY

FALL,1975

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