f i happens ever)’ summer. In laic
May. wcailit'i' balloons begin pirk-
J-. inn up a new energy source in the
soulhern Appalachians. Showing more
than 150.000 wails, ihc source is big —
larger i han most radio stations — and it
wasn't there a inonih earlier.
Before a novice can call national secu-
ritv. more experienced weathermen
explain. "Oh. that's 'Unto These Mills.'
the outdoor drama at Cherokee, North
Carolina."
The annual light mystery is just one of
many remarkable stories associated with
the nation's most viewed outdoor drama.
Covering tin- history of the Fasten! Band
ol the Cherokee Nation, including the
culture's legends, rituals and «lances, the
play has Ik'cii going strong for IS years.
The drama will soon entertain its
Г»
mil¬
lionth paving customer when it opens its
summer scasonjuue 12.
What occurs on stage at “Unto These
I blls’ is well-known: what happens back¬
stage is less known but equally interest-
ing.
"UntoThese I lills" is perfonned on the
same hillside theatre where it began, and
each year’s cast deals with the inherent
problems and blessings of being out-of-
c loots. Some are peiennial. some aren’t.
The stage is not a conventional one
but rather a 40 foot-by-160 foot sandy
area in the midst of a wooded landscape'.
Fach year, before the 130 cast mcml>crs
begin rehearsals, technicians sift the
existing sand ami add 15 tons of new
sand. Mother Nature has a way ol wash¬
ing away the prior season's stage and
leaving debris from winter storms.
Before dancers and actors take to the
stage, every grain of sand must be safe.
Once the drama opens, more sand is
required. Performers carry away a few
tons ol sand monthly on their feet, shoes
and clothing. Veteran cast members say
backstage of “Unto These Hills'* feels
and sounds more like the beach than the
mountains since “absolutely everything
has sand in it — floors, furniture, shoes,
hair, everything.”
The real, growing trees and bushes
that make the stage’s primary backdrop
hide more than 1.500 feet «>f electrical
Backstage at
/V
look blind tie scenes at the annual
outdoor drama in Cherokee makes for
some interesting tales retold.
By Nina L. Anderson
cable. Because «‘very inch of the lines is
carefully hidden amongst foliage and
along branches, tree trimming and land¬
scaping arc not just artfully done, but
done with an eye toward safety.
All the rocks that look so naturally
arranged aren't. Each was carefully
selected and “planted" to accommodate
a speech or a dance. All in all. the set and
stage look so natural that not only are
audiences fooled, so .tie native wildlife.
Hornets, bugs, snakes, squirrels, rab¬
bits and chipmunks regularly make
unscheduled appearances. Two years
ago. a copperhead slithered on stage
and showed no signs of moving. It
seemed to like the warm glow of the¬
atrical life. Eventually a stagehand
removed (lie snake, but not until the
scene was finished and every actor had
exited by any available means other than
the one guarded by the copperhead.
One season a flying squirrel estab-
lished residence in a tree on the set and
created a part for himself. “He’d come
gliding down every night at the same
time, dining the same S|X'cch." remem¬
bers actor Dave Tccney. After weeks of
nightly dive-bombings into his chest, the
hapless actor who was the squirrel’s tar¬
get began to expect the attacks. And. of
course, the poor fellow took more than
a little teasing about the theatrical opin¬
ions of the “regulars."
The drama docs not
’""ч
begin until «lusk, s
which in the sum-
- -* tner can be as laic as 8:30 p.m.
Rain is a constant concern because
only rain cancels a performance. A
rain-out c an mean a loss of as much as
$25.000 a night. The rumble of thunder
is not usually a pleasant sound for the
cast, but then occasionally the weather
adds unique touches.
Chad McAivcr. stage manager and
lighting director for “Unto These I fills”
for several seasons, says that Mother
Nature has sometimes provided her own
artistic touches.
“There have been times when «luting
a special scene — like the Tsali scene
(when Tsali surrenders himself for exe¬
cution by firing squad so some of the
Chcrokccs could remain in North Car¬
olina) — the wind will pick tip for no rea¬
son and blow through the theater,
rustling leaves and moving branches,"
Mc.Arver say-s.
And there was the time that im¬
mediately after President Andrew Jack¬
son's diainatic pronouncement that the
Cherokces would Ik- forcibly removed
from their land, thunder rolled on for
мине
time echoing ac toss the mountain
tops. Nice touch and an especially omi¬
nous sound effect for the beginning of
the infamous walk to Oklahoma, the
Trail of Tears, during which thousands
of Chcrokccs «lied.
That "Unto These Hills" manages a
summer season at all is a bit of an annu¬
al miracle. Auditions fof speaking an<!
dancing parts are held in the spiing at
several locations. When those selected
assemble in Cherokee during mid-May,
the group is far from homogeneous. The
cast can range in age from 3 to 90. both
The Slatr/Junc 1993
28
