Perspectives / Jon Jory As artistic director of Actors Theatre of Louisville from 1969 to 2000, Jon Jory founded the Humana Festival of New American Plays. The Humana Festival comes from a simple impulse really. We love writers, and new writing, and the roller coaster ride of the unknown, and being the first on our block, and – truth to tell – we don’t mind a little attention either. So that’s where it came from (which is no surprise to anybody), and the reason it lasted is that the theatre has always ridden in on the broad back of the American playwright and can’t do without the writer, and simple self-interest would dictate an ongoing interest (which is no surprise to anybody). The other reason it stayed was that the Humana Corporation and then The Humana Foundation simply stuck with it through thick, thin and average, which let it grow and develop and misstep and grab hold and move on, and finally simply become a fact and a friend. It is literally a miracle of corporate belief and loyalty. Now, naturally, we can thank a lot of wonderful writing for the stage, and a staff that endlessly puts its sophisticated shoulder to the wheel, and the American critical and professional guests who made the judgments and spread the word, but what else about this off-gated, mistake prone, stubborn survivor of a theatrical critter inclined it to make an indelible mark on the late twentieth-century American theatre (and beyond): 1. It has an amusement-park-ride nature, and nobody (and I mean no sane anybody) sees seven to ten plays in three days as a matter of simple, common sense. It’s a theatergoing Everest. 2. Groups of plays create a synergy that no single play can provide. This is the secret lure of the Shakespeare Festival, only here we aren’t marveling at the breadth of a single mind but unraveling and identifying the animating threads of our American culture. 3. It’s the perfect professional convention, low on speakers, high on entertainment, with a bar on the premises in an odd geographical cranny. 4. It offers the “Aha!” experience, which has gotten hard to come by in our lightning-quick media culture, and a delicious one-upmanship on those who didn’t make the trip. 5. It’s extremely comforting to see so many theatre people from around the world in one place at one time – sort of like a gathering of triceratops. People in our profession very seldom get to feel the reassuring buzz of strength in numbers. 6. Cheering. Most of us haven’t rooted for anything since middle school and have completely forgotten how good that feels. Plus, who could be jealous of playwrights, the poor sods. 7. Selling and buying. The urgency and competitive hubbub of the bazaar. Taking meetings. Feeling like a player. Hey, it’s an illusion in this business, where there’s seldom money at stake, but it still has the tacky glamour of the nickel slots. 8. Exclusivity. I’m here and you’re not. What’s not to like about that? Plus, so many have come for so long that it’s like the annual meeting at the Elks Club. 9. Weird place. A German critic wrote that my father came down the river on a raft and started the theatre. I mean, it’s exotic – “You went where to what??” 10. The pleasure of feeling amazed by good work. It’s like finding out at the wedding that your cousin-once-removed can really sing. Anything else? Well, maybe a few pieces in the jigsaw puzzle of the realpolitik: 1. The idea of the festival was for local rather than national or international reasons. Subscribers to Actors might not look forward to new plays, but they would reluctantly put up with one a season. If we grouped the plays, each subscriber would see only one, but we could produce two in rep (and then five, and then seven, and then, God help us, eleven). Thus, the idea of a new play festival was to camouflage just how interested we were in new plays. 2. It became almost immediately clear that we had unwittingly stumbled over an idea that had national resonance, which we could claim that we foresaw and become “visionaries,” which in our profession you can then put in your resumé ad infinitum. 3. We recognized very early on that the Humana Festival could only really serve the playwright if it was highly visible. This means getting the right people there to see it, and we have certainly, every year, put as much energy, thought and creativity into that as we have into the production of the plays themselves. P.T. Barnum would be proud. 4. Only masochists would enjoy taking the critical heat the festival takes year-in and year-out, while working themselves to death. Masochists, however, thrive on new play festivals. Hire talented masochists (but make sure they’re charming). 5. Treat playwrights well. They’re so amazed, given their previous experiences, that they will recommend you to their friends and write plays for you forever. Well, that just about lifts the lids on all the pots on the stove, but we should probably acknowledge that its greatest strength is its profoundly American nature, and American virtues. Stick-to-it-iveness, optimism, hard work, showmanship, forward-moving, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer, unabashed, cocky Americanus Theatricum. It’s so embarrassingly red, white, and blue, the damn thing is actually likable! So, here it comes, lumbering down the road – warts and all – kicking up dust, regular as clockwork. Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, for your delectation, the American mind got up as the Humana Festival of New American Plays! God bless it.