San Diego Union-Tribune (Sunday)
A look at workers behind the scenes in the San Diego arts community who are unemployed.
In the wings, in backstages, in sound booths and in dressing rooms are stage managers, sound designers, makeup artists, costumers and music arrangers. Since March, we have been telling the stories of actors and singers and artistic directors — people whose names often appear prominently in programs and get the lion’s share of the spotlight. The International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees estimates that as many as 95 percent of its members — about 135,000 people — have lost their jobs due to COVID-19. This Labor Day weekend, we focus on the people behind the scenes — people who quietly do their work, often in the shadows and in the dark. Here, in the light, are the stagehands, and these are their pandemic stories.
When the pandemic began in midmarch, Laura Zingle thought she’d better keep a running list of which jobs were still happening and which jobs were canceled. As a freelance stage manager for various arts organizations around town, she had enough jobs to keep her busy through the spring. ■ “I had all these things lined up,” recalled Zingle, a 39year-old mother of two who, for most of her adult working life, has been able to make a living through a patchwork of stagehand gigs. “I had a spreadsheet of all the jobs — the dates for them, the number of hours and the fee. It helps me keep track of things for 1099s and W-2s.”
In early spring, Zingle had a few dates scheduled with the La Jolla Music Society, followed by a short job with the San Diego Gay Men’s Chorus, which was putting on its annual spring concert, “Return to Broadway.” Then, she said, “I started to get email after email: ‘This one’s canceled. This one’s on hold.’ And I would just highlight things in red as they got canceled. I thought, ‘Oh, it’ll be like this for just a couple of weeks.’ But then I suddenly had a big chunk of the list highlighted in red.”
Soon, Zingle realized the world she knew — the arts world — was about to be turned upside down.
“I began to ask myself, ‘Just how long could this last?’ All of the organizations I relied on were suddenly shut down. I had a lot of questions: How long is this going to last? Are we even going to have jobs to go back to when this is over?”
Nearly four months later, in late July, Zingle wasn’t any closer to getting answers to any of her questions. And it was beginning to take its toll.
“I have a lot of emotions,” said Zingle, who lives in the College Area with her husband and two children, a 41⁄2-year-old son and 9-monthold daughter. “There’s the
despair of not being able to work, not seeing the people I work with and not being able to do what we love. It’s overwhelming. Many people and many organizations are struggling. I know many are trying to replace live performances with streaming, and they’re trying very hard. It just reminds me how much I miss it so much. It just makes me cry.”
Zingle’s husband is a nurse and manages a couple of departments at a local hospital. She knows “how incredibly lucky I am to have a spouse who has a job,” she said. The financial impact, Zingle said, “was less dramatic for me” because of that, but she did apply for and was approved for unemployment.
Since moving to San Diego from Philadelphia a decade ago, Zingle has made a living as a stage manager, working oneday stints to some as long as six months. She’s worked for arts organizations all over town, from La Jolla Playhouse and the Old Globe to San Diego Opera and Cygnet Theatre.
In her role as a stage manager, she does a little of everything, from working with the director and actors to helping map out detailed instructions during rehearsals.
“Basically, making sure everything runs smoothly. I started out performing as a kid. I was a dancer. Toward the end of high school, one of my teachers thought I might be a good stage manager. He kinda taught me the job. I continued stage managing and acting in college,” said Zingle, who received her Master of Fine Arts degree from the University of California San Diego.
These days, she misses all that and more. But all’s not lost. She’s enjoying spending time with her children and working on improving her skills. Doing all those things — non-theater-related things — helps her mentally.
“I try to find things to do outside of theater with my family,” Zingle said. “Initially, I was finding different ways to stay connected with the theater community — taking online classes and webinars. But I can only do so much of that. So I’ve been learning Spanish on Duolingo, trying to learn American Sign Language, finding new recipes, and cooking with my son — we make a lot of muffins!”
Speaking of her son, he was in pre-kindergarten when the pandemic hit, and “I briefly tried home learning by practicing writing and tracing and counting with him,” she said. “I was very aware that it was home schooling, but not even close to what it needed to be. That was tough. He didn’t like me trying to teach him.”
Things are slightly better now, she said. “We try to find something to do every day. We do things in the backyard. We take little walks. We read books. We did Broadway Babysitters storytime with some actors.”
All this, she admitted, to while away the time in anticipation of everything opening back up again. But every now and then, she falls back down emotionally.
“I miss the work and the people and the community,” she said. “I’m upset that it’s all gone. We’re not producing things that other people can enjoy. I miss calling shows. I miss being in the moment with the artists and the audience. I miss that incredible feeling of running a show and watching people enjoy it and watching everything come together every day.”
She longs for that one day — in the near future, she hopes — when she can do all of that again.
“I’m looking forward to the joy of being able to come together and create something and work on something together,” she said. “It’s really important for people to be in the same room together to create something, and there’s nothing that can replace that. The magic of everyone getting together for that first rehearsal or on opening night. I miss that, and I can’t wait to be a part of it again.”
“There’s the despair of not being able to work, not seeing the people I work with and not being able to do what we love. It’s overwhelming.”