John Olive’s “The Voice of the Prairie,” the Lycoming College theater department’s second play of the spring semester, is a tale of intersecting lives that encompass David “Davey” Quinn’s adolescence and adulthood.Time jumps back and forth through nearly 30 years through Quinn’s life, which, naturally, is a long enough time to encounter some interesting characters.
Confusing? It could be, especially given that the myriad characters are personified by just four actors, juniors Tom Robinson, Jesse Shade and Joshua Troxler and sophomore Molly Collier. However, their superb transitioning between characters never leaves you wondering who is who. It’s just as well, as the more engrossing stories are watching Quinn grow into an adult, coaxed by stories of his youth and how a small-time radio entrepreneur coaxed audiences into accepting the radio as prime entertainment.
“Prairie” begins in 1895 with young Quinn (Troxler) as he travels to various saloons across the nation with his grandfather, who shares boisterous stories of the heartland.
Flash forward to 1923. Quinn (Robinson) has grown up and now works as a farmhand. While visiting a radio station one day, Quinn encounters radio entrepreneur Leon Schwab (Troxler), who is looking for a more dynamic form of radio entertainment than simply playing music.
He invites Quinn to sit down and speak to the audience. Quinn is unsure at first, not knowing what to say or how to approach unseen listeners. However, he begins to tell stories of his youth when he was left on his own after his grandfather’s death and traveled the country on his own as a hobo and most notably, when he met Frankie (Collier), a blind girl who wanted to escape her abusive father.
Quinn’s “Davey and Frankie” stories, easily likeable because they are of two young people who have the world on their shoulders as a burden to overcome tough obstacles and at their fingertips to explore without constraint, win the hearts of listeners and he is invited back by Schwab for frequent installments.
It becomes a difficult request for Quinn to accept, because he and Frankie were separated after stealing a watermelon and they hadn’t seen each other in the 30 years that passed. However, he does acquiesce, because radio is beginning to boom, and it’s a good way to make money.
The ways in which the flashbacks (and flash-forwards) are presented are one of the production’s most interesting facets in that they follow radio style. Three of the actors step forward and recite various lines from the upcoming scene (and sometimes they are the most sensational, such as Schwab referring to President Hoover as a Bolshevik), as a sort of advertisement to “stay tuned” to what is about to come.
When Quinn steps up to the microphone, he is alone in a room with the instrument, yet his memories are vivid as he streams his stories across the airwaves. Listeners at home may gather around their radio, but their imaginations run wild as they visualize what Quinn is telling them. Both of these scenarios reflect the dichotomy of a calm, intimate setting with chaotic scene depictions. The duality of these feelings were well represented through the set and lighting design.
The late-1800s portrayals of Davey and Frankie traversing the country have the space of the entire stage, in contrast to the “present” (1923) scenes which are only confined to one room. Here we can imagine that they are in a place surrounded by fields, cliffs and train tracks. A wall of wooden slats represents the barn where Davey first encounters Frankie. Mild strobe lights signal a moving train that Davey and Frankie jump on and off.
No, grassy fields, cliffs and train tracks were not actually built by anyone on the scenery staff; the actors portraying young Davey and Frankie simply jump around onstage, but physical elements are not needed in this manifestation of someone’s memory. The lighting and scenery are not overly complex, but are on-point with the homespun atmosphere that the play has created.
Because four actors portrayed multiple characters, use of imagination is required here as well, as characters were both young and old grow younger or older in the middle of a scene. While some transitions between times or characters would take place as the theater lights are completely lowered; at other times, an adult character may shed some of their more “mature” clothing and step right into their “teenage garb,” whether a vest or a floral skirt (as the adult Frankie did for one of her reminiscences).
While all of the actors transitioned seamlessly between characters, perhaps the most impressive was Troxler, who was responsible for young, naïve Davey, business-minded and slightly hucksterish Schwab, and the desperately clingy asthmatic fiancé of the adult Frankie, James. Physically, Troxler may have only had to change a vest or a hat to represent the characters, but he adopted three of the play’s most distinct personalities without falter.
As referenced above, Frankie does return as an adult after Schwab managed to track her down. The reunion with Quinn is painful for both of them; they have both not stopped thinking about each other (even though Frankie had become engaged), but they are also angry that they were separated. Yet, they manage to forgive each other and try once again to rekindle their old adventurous spirit (they get caught trying to steal chickens from the mayor’s porch).
I received the plot point of Frankie’s return with a bit of conflict. Sentimentally, I wanted the two back together because they were so close as teenagers. From a ratings perspective, listeners wanted the two together as well. Because Quinn’s stories had grown so much in popularity, when Frankie came to town, everyone could identify her as being “Frankie the Blind Girl,” and it was almost inevitable that the two would once again cross paths.
On the other hand, Frankie’s presence as an adult almost ruins the air of mystery that Quinn’s stories had. Even Quinn himself had begun to have doubts as to whether their teenage saga had indeed been real. Frankie had been so fond of telling him “when we’re together, we’re invisible,” and having them together only as teenagers seemed to make memories all the more important.
Alas, Frankie does seem to be the connection between the two poles in the “radio biz” that Schwab and Quinn had represented. While Schwab and his entrepreneur ilk are more than willing to sell falsehoods (through fake medical remedies or fabricating an advice show from “Miss Emily”) to make a buck and keep people entertained, Quinn showed that some entertainers do come from a real place, making what they do all the more meaningful to their audiences.
“Prairie” was directed by Gretchen Lynne Wingerter.








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