Doing the right thing isn’t easy. But it’s always the right thing to do. Right?
In a great American city, there were five nonprofit theater companies. The leaders of all the companies knew each other well, but didn’t always get along.
The oldest theater company, The Flagship, received the most annual funding, charged the most for tickets, had the largest staff, had been given a lease for its building by the city 60 years ago for which it has never had to pay for maintenance (only electricity and other utilities), and received millions of dollars in grants from the city’s wealthiest people, corporations, and foundations. Joe, the artistic director, garnered a $500,000 salary, as did Rose, the executive director. It also spent the most money on the latest theatrical gadgets, the best artists from London and New York, and continually upgrading its ticketing system. Even so, audiences dwindled to nearly nothing after the pandemic and non-emergency government funding dried up completely. The company was millions in debt.
The second company, Ephemeral Theaterworks, was quite poor. Academic in its style but disconnected from the community, the company was never healthy, at least financially. It followed the vision of Jack, its founding artistic director as it staged complex, highly artistic pieces that weren’t always very accessible to a mainstream audience. Some were modern, some were avant-garde, and some were Greek or Roman classics. Jack was quite knowledgeable about the history and backgrounds of theater from its earliest days. The only reason Ephemeral was still around was that it was willed a rundown theater building by an old, wealthy supporter whose play it once produced. It had no cash to speak of, but did own the asset of the building.
The third company, Coastal Repertory Theater, required far less funding. Its founder, Bobby, and Jack of Ephemeral were very close, both in age and in respect for each other (they had started at about the same time). Coastal Rep’s plays were genuinely fulfilling for everyone involved, they were fun to produce, and artists loved to work there. Audiences with an affinity for ensemble work dearly loved everyone involved. Coastal Rep owned its performance hall, but that hall had sapped its finances, as the company was also responsible for upkeep and maintenance. The company was dependent on one major benefactor, Ethel, who was totally devoted to it as long as it was run by the founder, an artist whose work she adored.
The fourth theater, the American Family Theater (AFT), was a purveyor of family-friendly musical productions that celebrated values espoused by such archetypal entertainment families like the Cleavers of Leave It To Beaver, the Andersons of Father Knows Best, and the Stones of The Donna Reed Show. Every production was filled with thin, blonde, blue-eyed ingenues; muscular, blond, blue-eyed juveniles, and every White person in town. They received funding from numerous sources, with 100% sold-out performances filled with older, traditional audiences that clung to the notion that this company could Make American Theater Great Again. While Eunice, the artistic and executive director, earned $500,000 per year, she paid everyone else as little as she possibly could, even though AFT had received millions in donations and had a cash reserve 25 times the budget size.
The fifth theater company, Youthworks, produced work for students under 14. While it rented a rehearsal studio from the American Family Theater at market price (no discount), there was no other relationship between the two companies. Youthworks took all of its productions to schools and community centers rather than making them come to a central hall. Written specifically for the people of the community, each play and musical not only entertained, but taught various lessons. The company went into the schools beforehand to talk about the issues involved with the plays and included guides and testing to make sure that the students did, in fact, gain the knowledge they were intended to learn. They followed up with each student several times, each time discovering what the group was able to do with that knowledge and find ways to improve the community. It received moderate support from a few savvy donors, but not much else, but its energy of thriving outpaced its fear of demise.
One day, Jack of Ephemeral Theaterworks died. In many discussions with the board, Jack had indicated, only verbally, that it would be his wish for any remaining funds from a bankruptcy be disbursed to Coastal Rep. However, this agreement was never codified or signed by any party. In fact, in the board meeting when the company chose to dissolve, there was disagreement who would receive funding after the sale of the building, which represented the whole of its assets.
The board being hopelessly and evenly split about how the assets from the building sale should be disbursed, the chair decided to meet in a public forum to take advice from the community.
The first to speak was the executive director of Youthworks, a woman named Jean:
“I honestly don’t know why we’re all here,” said Jean. “Jack was pretty adamant that any proceeds from bankruptcy go to Bobby’s company, Coastal Rep. That should be what happens, even if nothing was drawn up.”
“A verbal contract,” said Eunice, “isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.” She felt very smug about quoting somebody famous, although for the life of her she couldn’t remember who it was or even that it was an inaccurate quote. But smug she was because, well, smug she was.
“So what would you have us do?” asked the board chair of Ephemeral. “What is your suggestion?”
Before Jean could answer, Eunice dominated the conversation.
“Well,” Eunice said, “Joe at The Flagship and I talked about it and we decided that the equitable thing to do would be to split the proceeds into four parts and give 25% to each company.”
“Is that so, Joe?” asked the chair.
“Yeah, sure,” said Joe, casually annoyed by allowing himself to be brought into this by Eunice.
“So that’s what we should do,” said Eunice. “That would show equality.”
“Wait a minute,” said Jean. “Eunice, you knew that Jack wanted the proceeds to go to Coastal. We talked about it as few as six months ago.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Eunice. “Now is now and then was then.”
Bobby began to cry. All this was causing him psychic pain.
“Okay, we’ll take a vote,” said the board chair. “All in favor of splitting the proceeds 4 ways, say ‘aye.’”
Not knowing the difference between equity and equality, the board unanimously said “aye.” There were no “nays.”
“Approved,” said the board chair. “When the tallying is done, we’ll disburse the funds.”
The Flagship took the money and spent it on a new turntable for the stage, trashing their current turntable, which was less than a year old.
AFT took the money and Eunice got a raise.
Youthworks took their share and tried to give it to Bobby and Coastal Rep. But in the time it took for the board and its accountants to finish the closing process, Bobby had died of a broken heart.
However, before he died, Bobby listened to his late friend Jack. Under the advice of his own board, they put his wishes in writing, signed it, and notarized it, and placed it in the board minutes. They unanimously decided that should the same thing happen to Bobby as had happened to Jack, the company would close down operations and disburse all of the proceeds to Youthworks. So, when Bobby died, Coastal Rep ceased operations, sold all of its assets, including the building, and all of the proceeds went to Youthworks. The following epitaph appeared on his gravestone: “Doing the right thing is always the right thing to do.”
Eunice was livid.
“They should have done the same thing as we did with Jack!” she yelled to her lawyer. “Split it three ways. That’s what was supposed to happen.” She convinced Joe to contest the board’s decision in court.
She lost in court, of course. And she was ostracized from the theater community for being greedy and self-righteous. But she’s still in business at AFT, doing what she believes (and no one else) is God’s work, hiring non-union kids right out of college, paying them less than minimum wage, and, personally, making money hand over fist. She has two homes and a Lexus now.
The Flagship is still millions in debt; not much has changed over there.
Youthworks is thriving; Jean used the additional funds to expand their program with more actor/educators, spread it to more students in the close-in districts, provided a deeper dive into the meaning and lessons of the material, and achieved the best test scores, outcomes, and community progress in its history.
Two new theater companies sprung up in the years following the closing of Coastal Rep and Ephemeral. Neither has a theater building, but neither wants one, having seen what Youthworks has done in the community. The two companies are run by young, energetic professionals — much like Jack and Bobby when they started their companies — with a great deal of knowledge and a passion for community-based outcomes. Both have already teamed up with Youthworks on several projects, and there is every expectation that they will succeed beyond their wildest dreams.
The moral of this fable is for you to decipher for yourself. Feel free to tell your story in the comments, along with your thoughts about doing the right thing.
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