You’ve got to wonder how much this woman will take.

It all started out very happily. When Kathleen Gaffney accepted the artistic director position at Studio Arena Theatre, the Niagara Falls native was told that she had the full support of the board of directors and that she could expect to be embraced by the community. She was assured that while the finances were a concern, the theater was not in a state of crisis. The board of directors liked her dynamic style, and they were eager to tap into that Kathleen Gaffney charisma. Her image was put forward as the new face of a revitalized Studio Arena Theatre. Working alongside managing director Ken Neufeld, she began to plan for the next chapter in the history of a venerable Buffalo institution.

That was in April 2006. Just seven months later, in November of that same year, the board fired Neufeld and Gaffney found herself foisted into the role of chief executive officer, charged to deal with a full-blown financial disaster. Two months later, the cuts began. After conferring with professional consultants, Gaffney laid off 14 employees in one swift gesture, and announced production cuts as well. She expressed regret but emphasized the necessity. It was painful to let valued employees go, she said, but the very survival of Studio Arena Theatre was at stake.

People found this difficult to believe.

Staff members who had lost their jobs found little comfort in the fact they were not let go for “cause.” They were bewildered, moreover, that Studio Arena could be in such serious trouble without their even knowing it. Why had there been no warning? Much of the distress has been directed at Gaffney personally, including widely circulated charges that characterize her as “a steam-rolling diva” and such, one misogynistic step shy of flat-out calling her a scheming bitch.

The fact is that Studio Arena Theatre has been traveling the road to perdition for a long time. It is notoriously difficult to wrestle concrete numbers from Studio Arena, but as best as I can determine, in recent years they have been dipping into their endowment to cover debts, meaning that an endowment that once topped $2 million has now dwindled down to $400,000, according to some sources, $200,000 of which is restricted. Most of this sum, $1.2 million, was taken before Gaffney ever stepped foot in the building and was used simply to cover end-of-year shortfalls. This “borrowing” served to create an illusion of financial stability. More money was taken from the endowment just recently, but unlike previous visits to the well, these funds are being used as a means to save the theater from immediate closure. On top of this, the theater has racked up about $675,000 in bank debt, the status of which is not clear; it is possible that some or all of this might be forgiven, but in a rumor-ridden atmosphere, it is impossible to report for sure where truth ends and wishful thinking begins. Similarly, there are those who seem to be in denial about whether or not the theater is obliged to return funds pilfered from its endowment. And on top of all that, the theater owes about $500,000 dollars to miscellaneous creditors.

If the theater goes under, Gaffney will long be associated with a debacle that was not of her making. There is an extended dramatis personae of blundering characters who played pivotal roles in this tawdry tale. They were generally well-meaning, but marked by the tragic flaws of ineptitude and hubris, are still to blame for the crisis that slowly evolved. These include former artistic director Gavin Cameron-Webb who, many feel, never had the talent for the job; former managing director Ken Neufeld who, it seems, lacked the flexibility or vision to devise a future managerial direction for the theater; and former managing directors Brian Wyatt and Raymond Bonnard, each of whom left under a cloud of scandal—a bumbling crew of regional theater hacks all. Add to the mix Terry Doran, former entertainment writer for the Buffalo News, a man whose knowledge of theater was limited, but who arguably exerted a major influence in sending Studio Arena Theatre in a suicidal direction, nonetheless.

Most important of all, however, is the board of directors who empowered this rag-tag ship of fools. This group deserves the greatest blame for squandering a once vital cultural asset with their arrogant bungling and inattentiveness to the mission of the institution. Without their inept and hopeless so-called “stewardship,” no Cameron-Webb, Neufeld, Wyatt, Bonnard or Doran could have had any deleterious effect at all. The board members have been the enablers in a saga of institutional abuse.

The board’s role

When we refer to “the board” at Studio Arena Theatre, we are talking about an elusive, ever-changing and frankly baffling entity. For the most part, these are well-intentioned citizen volunteers who are not especially knowledgeable of the theater, but are giddy to be on a board they perceive to be prestigious. What’s more, the group has changed radically since the whole ball of yarn began to unravel just a year ago. Board members have been leaping from the sinking ship with almost athletic agility.

At any given moment, it is difficult to assess the character of this mysterious group. Individual members have been as unhappy with the group’s poisonous ineffectiveness as anyone else. As a collective body, however, over the years the board developed a reputation for believing anything the managing director of the moment told them and for operating in secretive fashion. At times, a select group of insiders have functioned as an executive board while others on the roster just tagged along for the ride. The board has notoriously depended upon reviews and commentary in the Buffalo News for validation, and this has proven problematic, making the board slow or inappropriate in their responses to change.

Under this leadership, Studio Arena has been disconnected and even hostile to the burgeoning theater community that surrounds them. After founding artistic director Neal Du Brock’s chaotic fiscal management resulted in his dismissal from Studio Arena Theatre in 1980, the cadre of local actors who had worked there regularly found that they were persona non grata. They went elsewhere.

This event, coupled with the cheap rents available in an economically depressed city, an expanding dinner theater phenomenon and abundant colleges and universities turning out theater majors by the score, resulted in the Buffalo theater boom which continues to this day. The dilettante board members and oblivious out-of-towners running Studio Arena Theatre, smug in the perceived superiority of their Equity status, had no clue about what was happening.

A consequence of this was the defection of many serious theatergoers to any of a number of alternative venues. Simultaneously, the nation saw the revival of touring productions in much altered form. In the age of the corporate musical—signified by the arrival of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats, and culminating in the Disney takeover of Times Square—touring shows could now play in the surviving movie palaces that dot America, entertaining 3,000 people a night and grossing a million dollars in a single week. Here in Buffalo, Shea’s Buffalo Theatre, once slated for demolition, returned as a major touring house.

Rather than retool for the changing landscape, Studio Arena endeavored to be contenders in a game they could never hope to win. Reasoning that the only response to new demographics and economics was to sell more tickets, they began to dumb down the product in an effort to be more commercial. A regional theater cannot compete with a Broadway musical tour for commercial appeal.

Studio Arena has maintained a large subscription base, but the whole philosophy on which this was accomplished is dubious. An audience built on such diversions as Greater Tuna, Sheer Madness and a litany of utterly forgettable murder mysteries is not really interested in theater at all.

While blasting Gaffney in a recent letter to the Buffalo News, a current Studio Arena subscriber set the bar for theatrical excellence at an embarrassingly low standard, asking only for shows that would keep her husband from becoming “comatose.” Without questioning the source of her husband’s somnambulism during the evenings they spend together, the writer went on to yearn for the lavish scenery of the Gavin Cameron-Webb years.

Those beautiful sets

Indeed, lavish scenery was a major point of pride to the former artistic director, whose productions always looked swell in still photography. These sets were often inappropriate to the plays they gilded, however, and were cripplingly expensive to construct and to dismantle. I recall, in particular, a lame production of The Drawer Boy, a slight and intimate play directed by the artistic director’s wife, with a set featuring a brilliant night sky of mechanized constellations that came to life with all the vivid grandeur of a Disneyland ride in the final moments of the evening.

On numerous other occasions, I recall arriving at Studio Arena and waiting for the first patron to coo, “Great set!” before the play had even begun. While it is possible to assess attractive interior decoration without living in a house, it is not possible to assess a “great set” until the play has been performed on it. Remarkable stagecraft, effectively employed, can enhance a stage production, and Studio Arena has a famously talented staff. But stagecraft it is not the essence of the art; it exists in service to the art. Great writing and great acting are the essence of the art. There are, however, many in the Studio Arena audience (and on its staff and on the board) who equate visually arresting stagecraft with theatrical excellence. Such audiences would be just as happy gazing at the old AM&A’s Christmas windows—a pleasurable experience in its own right, but not great theater. This is another legacy of the Cameron-Webb years.

For one brief moment, Cameron-Webb instituted the well-intentioned but ill-conceived Studio Too series, whereby great contemporary works, including Pulitzer Prize winning plays like Paula Vogel’s How I Learned to Drive and Tony Kushner’s Angels in America, or challenging works like David Hare’s Skylight, were produced but relegated to a second stage across the street at the Pfeifer Theatre. The Studio Arena audience, cultivated on years of lightweight fare, was notably disinterested in the most powerful plays of the contemporary theater. Without any fanfare at all, Studio Too disappeared. It was not even missed.

“Putting butts in seats” is not an appropriate mission for a regional theater. The stated mission of Studio Arena Theatre is to celebrate “the common bonds and shared experience uniting us through the creation and appreciation of professional theatre of the highest quality.” They’ve been missing the mark on that score for quite a while. Their marketing hype contends that “Fantastic plays, talented actors and phenomenal audiences have made Studio Arena Buffalo’s nationally recognized producing theatre. With uncompromising artistry, Studio Arena sets the standard for quality live performance in Western New York. Throughout its 42-year history, it has enjoyed a nationwide reputation for innovation and excellence while creating a diverse variety of comedies, dramas, musicals and new works.”

Simply stated, that’s a lie.

Studio Arena Theatre has barely any national profile at all. They’ve cultivated an audience that values plays that keep them awake with sets they’d like to live in. They have shied away from “great plays” or theatrical “innovation” in favor of plays that simply do not offend.

The Du Brock years

Regional theaters were originally created to protect artistic standards from financial pressures. The whole not-for-profit movement was a response to the increasingly commercial product that was touring “on the road” to places like Buffalo’s Erlanger Theatre, back in the 1940s and 1950s. The idea was that a resident not-for-profit theater with a subscription audience base, coupled with municipal subsidy and private support, could aspire to the highest artistic standards, relatively free from box office worries. Planning for such institutions was not guided by the constant search for the next popular hit. Rather, the theater could aspire to present a mix of classics and important new work, while showcasing the best talent available in the American theater.

For a while, this model worked. Consider Studio Arena’s 1968-1969 season, which followed a year in which the theater debuted Edward Albee’s Box Mao Box—his first play after his landmark work, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Drama critics from all over the world had descended upon Buffalo’s Studio Arena Theatre for the event. With that success under his belt, Neal Du Brock took a gamble on an entire season exploring Theater of the Absurd, which was very hot at the time. He began with a pre-season playwrights’ repertory, and then opened with Albee’s The Death of Bessie Smith, followed by Albee’s The American Dream, as well as his plays Box and Quotations from Chairman Mao-Tse-Tung. Then he turned to Samuel Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape, returned to Albee for The Zoo Story and finished with Beckett’s Happy Days.

That was not a commercial season.

It is notable that the board at the time trusted Du Brock to try such a deranged but astounding season. The lineup confirmed Studio Arena’s status as a major theater and forged a bond, now entirely gone, between Studio Arena Theatre and playwright Edward Albee. Du Brock also established relationships with the great director Jose Quintero, the definitive interpreter of Eugene O’Neill; with the “abominable showman” of Broadway, David Merrick, producer of numerous important and diverse Broadway productions, including Hello Dolly, Look Back in Anger, Marat Sade and 42nd Street; as well as with actors like Tammy Grimes, Betsey Palmer and Kim Hunter. By contrast, Cameron-Webb employed lackluster schoolmates from Ohio and his wife.

The late Blossom Cohan, legendary Studio Arena publicist and historian, always marveled at Du Brock’s capacity to bring an air of excitement to everything that happened at Studio Arena Theatre. He loved bold and unexpected gestures. He flinched neither from the difficult nor from the lowbrow. Early in his tenure he outraged the New York State Council on the Arts, which threatened to cut his funding when he announced the popular musical, Irma La Douce—decidedly not an appropriate offering for a subsidized regional theater in those days. Du Brock told them to go to hell, produced the show, kept his funding and continued on this way. He loved to do things like combine Ntozake Shange’s For Colored Girls who have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow is Enuf with his own original (and reportedly ghastly) Countess Dracula in a single season.

After his Absurdist season, Du Brock immediately shook things up with an eclectic season, opening with a brash lowbrow musical, You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown, before blazing a bold trail through a variety of controversial new plays, crowd-pleasers and classics: James Goldman’s The Lion in Winter; Noël Coward’s Blithe Spirit; Frank Marcus’ controversial The Killing of Sister George; Harold Pinter’s The Homecoming; Neil Simon’s The Star-Spangled Girl; Moliere’s The School for Wives; the Maxwell Anderson / Kurt Weill musical Lost in the Stars; and finishing out with a return engagement of You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown. He established a national reputation and a wildly devoted audience for Studio Arena.

Eventually, however, the golden goose of government subsidy stopped laying.

With the halcyon days of the National Endowment for the Arts and the Rockefeller years of cultural enrichment over, high maintenance facilities became white elephants. The situation was exacerbated in cities like Buffalo, where population was declining. In the case of Studio Arena, Du Brock had been the prince of Buffalo theater, unaccustomed to yielding to others. A mad entrepreneur, alcoholic and reckless in his personal and professional life, he would delay paying for the equipment he had, in favor of procuring the opportunities that lay ahead. He felt it was vitally important to keep Studio Arena connected to the New York theater scene, and when in New York, he felt it was important to travel in style. Legend has it that when in Manhattan, Du Brock ate every meal at Sardi’s. When money got tight, the board, reasoning that the man’s personal demons made it impossible to rein him in, canned Du Brock and set out to hire an artistic director they could control.

And onward toward mediocrity

And so began a perfect storm of bad decision-making. Du Brock was succeeded by David Frank, who was followed by Gavin Cameron-Webb.

This is the history into which Kathleen Gaffney stepped in April of 2006.

For her part, the prospect of returning to her home region and to the theater that had inspired her artistic career was thrilling for Gaffney. Her four brothers still live in this community. Moreover, she recalled the 1968 Studio Arena Theatre production of The Lion in Winter starring the late Carolyn Coates as a life-altering experience. The Studio Arena Theatre she knew was Du Brock’s Studio Arena. After graduating from Buffalo State College, she had gone on to a successful career, first as an actress and then as the founder and artistic director of Artsgenesis, a New York City based organization that promoted educational arts programs for children. She was part of the Affiliate Artist Group for nine years, a select group of artists who were placed all over the country—actor Stephen McKinley Henderson, and dancers Elizabeth Streb and Bill T. Jones among them. She has been successful at everything she has done, including fight her daughter’s cancer and diagnosis of autism, which had been the inspiration for Artsgenesis.

At the urging of her college friend, television writer-producer Tom Fontana, Gaffney applied for the position at Studio Arena Theatre. The job represented an opportunity for her, but also a sacrifice. She gave up Artsgenesis, as well as her Manhattan office. She sold her house and moved her family to Buffalo. This meant displacing her other daughter, still a teenager, during her high school years.

Still, Gaffney felt optimistic and convinced that the potential rewards were greater than the sacrifices.

“I came here because I want to create a legacy,” said Gaffney, during a recent conversation at Papa Jakes on Elmwood Avenue. “And,” she stresses, “the board wants me to do that as well.”

How to characterize the board that must shepherd Studio Arena through this crisis, and that wants Gaffney “to create a legacy,” is difficult to determine. The remaining board members certainly deserve credit for perseverance, and one hopes that they will succeed where their predecessors have failed. At this point, the exact nature of the Gaffney legacy is very much up in the air as well, but not to the woman herself.

“I want my legacy to be the return of Studio Arena Theatre to its former glory, and I see education as a part of that legacy,” said Gaffney. “Studio Arena started as a school. It is the oldest theater school connected to a regional theater in the country. I envision, for example, growing our existing relationship with Buffalo State, which, as you know, is my alma mater. I would like to see an MFA program in acting with the college and eventually, if a mutually beneficial plan could be worked out, some merging of staff and operations. I think this would enrich both institutions. An MFA at Buffalo State could follow the model of the Affiliate Artists program, using actors as agents of positive change, and giving the college a unique place in the educational market.”

Indeed, Studio Theatre did start as a school back in the 1920s, and Jane Keeler, who co-founded the theater with Lars Potter, was on the faculty of Buffalo State. Alumni of Studio Theatre School include Nancy Marchand, Michael Bennett and Amanda Blake.

There have been rumors that Gaffney is being courted for another artistic directorship in a warmer climate.

“Yes,” confirms Gaffney. “I was a finalist at another theater and I did speak with them. But I withdrew my name. This is where I need to be. I want to put Studio Arena Theatre back on its feet. This is a mission with me.”

In part, Gaffney admits that her life-long connection to Western New York and to Studio Arena Theatre strengthens her resolve. “I feel that we owe the community in every sense.”

What of rumors that members of the artistic team for Batboy: the Musical have not been paid and contracts have not been signed for The Vertical Hour?

“That is part of what I am talking about,” said Gaffney. “Every day we get calls from creditors. We cannot sign contracts for The Vertical Hour because our agreement with Actors Equity requires us to put money in escrow for actors’ salaries. While those funds are encumbered for Indian Blood, they are not available for the next show, and so forth. But that money is in place; as each show closes, we can roll the money over to the next. That is also why an actor will get paid but directors, choreographers or music directors wait. I don’t like that this is happening, but I can tell you that we will catch up with all of our debts. The Vertical Hour is happening, and David Lamb [artistic director of the Kavinoky Theatre] will play the central role—in fact he is perfect for it. David has just exactly the right mix of English rascal, intellectual contrariness and sex appeal. This is an important play by an important playwright. In many ways, it was underappreciated on Broadway, and we are well-positioned to offer our audience a superior production.”

What of rumors that tensions have begun between Gaffney and her board, as she is being pressured to introduce more “Shea’s Buffalo” type-programming?

“At the moment, in the face of a financial crisis, the bankers on our board have sprung to action, and they, understandably, do have a certain set of priorities. I am grateful for the confidence and support of our volunteer board. This tension between artistic priorities and financial priorities will always exist in the theater and it is appropriate. I am mindful of both the financial bottom line and the artistic bottom line. I am not uncomfortable with striking that balance, because a theater that can’t be both artistically and financially responsible can’t exist. You have to have both, not just financial stability; you’ve got to have artistic stability.

“For that reason, I do not think of diluting the programming when I think about striking a balance. For example, rather than looking for plays that fall below a certain standard of quality for their broad appeal, I think we need to be a LORT D, at least for a while, and if it works well for us, for longer.”

LORT, or the League of Resident Theaters, designates a theater as an A, B, C or D based on its seating capacity. The league negotiates contracts for member theaters collectively. A LORT A theater must pay higher salaries than a LORT B, and so forth. For years, Studio Arena Theatre has been a LORT B theater, but their actual attendance has reportedly been smaller than that. In a dicey and controversial union negotiation earlier this year, Studio Arena arranged to produce Batboy: the Musical and To Kill a Mockingbird under the LORT D contract.

What the future holds

“All that moving from a LORT B to a LORT D designation means is that we recognize that we need a financial model that acknowledges a smaller audience,” says Gaffney. “That makes us less vulnerable financially. As a LORT D, we can get more advantageous contracts. Of course, if wanted to attract a star, we would be free to pay more—if we could afford to. The designation does not indicate lower quality—on the contrary, as a LORT D, we are in a better position to ensure higher quality, because we can direct our money more efficiently and we can think less in terms of ‘Will such-and-such attract a LORT B size audience?’ In addition, and I know this might sound contradictory, it has been said for years that our prices are too high. Our prices discourage some people from coming to our theater, but while we are in debt, we are reluctant to lower prices. It’s a double-bind. We will be looking at that.”

Given the current financial situation, how far into the future can Gaffney reasonably plan? Her two-year contract expires in April.

“We are beginning to plan the 2008-2009 season, and I certainly plan to be here for it,” insists Gaffney with a laugh. “In fact, I’m very excited about it. The finances will just be a reality we have to contend with for a while, but we will forge ahead with careful planning, reorganization as necessary, collaboration as it is beneficial. I look at the Buffalo Philharmonic and what Joann Falletta has been able to do and the standards by which her performance is measured. She offers diverse programming. She has recorded with the orchestra. They do pops concerts and youth concerts. They have advanced their reputation with the guitar program. They maintain education programs. But the core mission of the orchestra remains classical music. They have strong corporate and foundation support, and Joann Falletta is not judged exclusively or even primarily by how many people attend any one concert. Don’t forget, it was not that long ago that the BPO was in a state of crisis and there was talk of closing it down. We need to rebuild our community’s confidence in Studio Arena Theatre too.”

What kind of programming does Gaffney envision for the 2008-2009 season?

“Well, I have certainly looking at current and recent plays on the New York Stage, Pulitzer Prize winners and so forth,” said Gaffney. “I’m also looking at a three-person version of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment that Tom [Fontana] passed on to me; it is really riveting and captures all the drama and psychological complexity of the novel. That is truly one of the great stories.

“For Christmas? Please don’t think I’m selling out if I tell you I’d really like to offer It’s a Wonderful Life. It is an American classic and would be a wonderful family-oriented show for holiday time. That’s a very strong possibility at this point. And—now don’t think I’m crazy—it has been too long since Studio Arena Theatre presented anything by Shakespeare. [In fact, the last time was Twelfth Night, presented by David Frank in the 1987-1988 season]. Everybody says Shakespeare requires too many people, but there is a world of courtiers, guards and ladies-in-waiting on the Buffalo State College campus. Our crew of students worked out brilliantly for The Fourth Wise Man; they were terrific and that show was very popular.”

Will Gaffney consider acting on the Studio Arena Stage herself?

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says with notable reluctance. “Many people have urged me to consider Sister Aloysius in Doubt, the Cherry Jones role, and it is such a wonderful and tempting part. But there is just so much going on at the theater right now. And I often think about playing Eleanor of Aquitaine again, in The Lion in Winter, especially now that I am the right age for it. But I understand that it has been done locally, and very well, not so long ago. I can’t really think about acting right now.”

Given her Joan of Arc stance concerning Studio Arena, how does Gaffney respond to those who would blame her for its current situation?

“People can say what they want about me personally,” says Gaffney. “They don’t know me. They haven’t seen what I can do. All I care about, and all I can say is that I am not letting this theater go down.”