I KNEW SUE BAHEN
Sue Bahen was employed by the Carpenter Center for fifteen years and survived her succession of three bosses to rise from secretary to General Manager in 1987. Under her direction the theatre made money for the first time since its opening. She also outlived all three bosses.
When Sue began work for Development Director Nina Abady in 1981, a two year renovation had just gotten underway which would transform the former Loew’s movie palace into the Virginia Center for the Performing Arts. Closely guiding Nina’s hand was Helmut Wakeham, Richmond Symphony prexy and Chief research scientist for Philip Morris, the Center’s primary donor. Sue acted as Nina’s executive secretary (Nina would not dial her own telephone), and Sue’s pet project was keeping track of the donor seat plaque inscriptions. Working with Sue was socialite Vaughan Scott who would become a close friend.
Six months or so before the May, 1983 grand opening, the Virginia Center acquired a General Manager in the person of Theodore “Ted” Stevens. It had been assumed that Nina Abady would stay on as Development Director, but the conflict of personality between the two was so great the Abady left the Center less than a month after it opened for business. Sue became Ted Stevens’ executive secretary.
Ted Stevens who had successfully operated the Atlanta Fox Theatre did not fare well in Richmond were patrons could easily motor to Washington to see stage plays of a higher caliber than he could present. After a series of financial losses, Stevens was replaced by Mike Crowley who was able to lose more money in two years than Stevens had in four, largely due to his production of “The Twelve Dreams of Christmas.” Sue became Crowley’s executive secretary.
By the time Mike Crowley was fired in December, 1987, and the Board named Sue General Manager, she had already acquired a number of additional responsibilities: she was in charge of concessions, program book, and group sales, not coincidentally the only three profit centers in that beleaguered house.
###
The success of Sue Bahen was attributable to a number of factors. Unlike the majority of arts executives, Sue was equipped with tangible skills: she could take shorthand, she was an accomplished touch typist, and she could operate a calculator at lightning speed. She was not afraid of physical work. She was possessed of a great laugh and smile and a limitless amount of Southern charm.
I had met Sue when General Manager Ted Stevens brought me in as his technical man shortly before the 1983 opening (I departed in 1989), and my first impression of her was formed when I requested a certain document having to do with the cloud machines.
“Oh, I keep that filed under ‘miscellaneous,’” she drawled and extracted the desired document instantly. The catch was that Sue filed EVERYTHING under “miscellaneous,” and woe to the fool who thought the chaos of Sue’s literal desktop represented in some fashion her mind. Sue was messy, like a fox.
Not only was Sue a great joy to work with, but more importantly she was great fun to party with after work. Sue, former box office treasurer Scott Nolley, and I spent numberless evenings at the little-used John Marshall Hotel bar, “Club Dead” as we called it, or after the Marketplace opened, at the Blue Point, but we were not unwilling to travel out of downtown.
Generally the talk was of some new and unprecedented disaster in theatre management (especially during the Mike Crowley era), and laughter was the rule. During one evening in the Fan, a cold, lonely and lost boa constrictor wrapped itself around the engine of the car Sue was driving, only to be discovered the next day and televised for all to see. The snake incident was perfect fodder for our next night’s dissection.
Sue and I both laughed big, and that paid off during Mickey Rooney’s poorly-attended week run in “A Funny Thing.” Rooney had previously alienated the majority of the town’s ticket-buyers when during “Sugar Babies,” he told the Mosque audiences (we presented shows there, as well) that “playing the South was like playing a graveyard.” His prophecy came true, so Sue and I sat close to the stage for “Forum,” giving out loud and constant laughter at each of the eight performances, in the hope that Mr. Rooney would not become further unhinged over his extremely noticeable lack of fans.
There was plenty of need for laughter at the Virginia cum Carpenter Center which until Sue’s term lurched from one financial crisis to another. For starters, the 1981 renovation ran two million dollars over budget and resulted in a theatre facility so physically impaired that we famously could not produce even the requisite rain for the production of “Singing in the Rain.”
Mike Crowley produced a Las Vegas-style Mortgage Burning ceremony, following a massive Board fundraiser to retire the debt, only then to lose $300,000 on his Christmas debacle, with most of the invoices unrecorded and hidden in various nooks and crannies of our posh Berry-Burke offices.
“The Twelve Dreams of Christmas” inspired local reviewers to headline “just plain bad” (Bob Merritt), “the perfect Christmas gift for your enemies” (WRFK), and “What the Dickens were they thinking of? (Roy Proctor).
Our multiple attraction gala opening which included the very disagreeable Leontyne Price was also to star Ethel Merman, but she suffered a stroke (which ended her career) and could not appear. If Merman had appeared, she would most likely have had her stroke in Richmond, because the misprinted tickets spelled her name “Ethyl” for the Corporation, not the star.
Sue Bahen had the capacity to charm the most recalcitrant “stars.” She cajoled Bobby Morse out of his post opening night depression by walking with him to purchase the morning newspaper, which contained an excellent review. An early riser, Sue had seen the review hours before, but to have handed Morse the review would have lacked the drama which Stars require.
On the day M-G-M heartthrob Van Johnson arrived to star in Crowley’s Christmas disaster, he spied Sue in the Marshall lobby and loudly declaimed, “And you MUST be Mrs. Mike Crowley!” Sue made it clear that she was NOT without ever losing poise.
The morning after the show opened, star Johnson visited the Box office where he spied a lady buying tickets for his show. Sue overheard him say, “Madam, you have my regrets.”
When the Board established a woman’s guild, it was Sue who came up with the idea of screening “Gone with the Wind” for the film’s 50th and the theatre’s 60th birthdays in 1989. She also conceived the attached Mint Julep party in the marketplace and personally concocted the julep mix which she transported in her little red wagon. The gala was that rarity, a financial and artistic triumph.
###
On the one hand, Sue served stars, patrons and colleagues alike as mother-confessor, hand-holder, and friend. In my case, Sue went so far as to save my life by administering the Heimlich maneuver when I turned blue and became (momentarily) speechless during a breakfast at the Third Street Diner.
Her range of friends and acquaintances was so wide and varied that she was able to locate a house dentist named “Dr. Puller” and an OB/GYN named “Dr. Fingerhole.” The most important person in Sue’s office was the cat.
On the other hand, Sue did not suffer fools gladly. One could be banished to Sue’s terrible deep freeze at the blink of an eye, but only for good reason. If Sue had a rare bad day, she went shopping for cosmetics at Caswell-Massey or the CVS.
She could smell a phony a block away, and unlike the majority of her arts peers, she was Bon Air not West End. She never understood why intelligent business leaders could make such poor decisions once they were put on the Board for a non-profit. “They must check their brains at the door,” was all she could figure. Sue was no stranger to politics, having worked in the State House. The straddling for power among these males (and females) she called not the pecking order, but “the pecker order.”
She fancied herself a passenger on a ship of fools. Her fancy became reality when in 1994 the Carpenter Board engaged a consultant whose report stated in part, [the theatre] “needs a charismatic full time staff leader.” Perhaps consultants are immune to actual charm, or maybe they were confounded that alone among Richmond arts non-profits, Sue’s shop was making a profit.
She wrote me, “All this time I thought I had charisma! But my hair looks great--.”
###
After Sue left the Carpenter, she “retired” to work group sales for the local Broadway show presenter until she was well past seventy years old. She then happily retired to spend time with her enormous family and to turn her attention to writing her memoir, “From Fags to Bitches.”
The latter project I am sorry to say never came to fruition.
-- (c) Bob Foreman 2013
LOVETHATBOB13@GMAIL.COM
When Sue began work for Development Director Nina Abady in 1981, a two year renovation had just gotten underway which would transform the former Loew’s movie palace into the Virginia Center for the Performing Arts. Closely guiding Nina’s hand was Helmut Wakeham, Richmond Symphony prexy and Chief research scientist for Philip Morris, the Center’s primary donor. Sue acted as Nina’s executive secretary (Nina would not dial her own telephone), and Sue’s pet project was keeping track of the donor seat plaque inscriptions. Working with Sue was socialite Vaughan Scott who would become a close friend.
Six months or so before the May, 1983 grand opening, the Virginia Center acquired a General Manager in the person of Theodore “Ted” Stevens. It had been assumed that Nina Abady would stay on as Development Director, but the conflict of personality between the two was so great the Abady left the Center less than a month after it opened for business. Sue became Ted Stevens’ executive secretary.
Ted Stevens who had successfully operated the Atlanta Fox Theatre did not fare well in Richmond were patrons could easily motor to Washington to see stage plays of a higher caliber than he could present. After a series of financial losses, Stevens was replaced by Mike Crowley who was able to lose more money in two years than Stevens had in four, largely due to his production of “The Twelve Dreams of Christmas.” Sue became Crowley’s executive secretary.
By the time Mike Crowley was fired in December, 1987, and the Board named Sue General Manager, she had already acquired a number of additional responsibilities: she was in charge of concessions, program book, and group sales, not coincidentally the only three profit centers in that beleaguered house.
###
The success of Sue Bahen was attributable to a number of factors. Unlike the majority of arts executives, Sue was equipped with tangible skills: she could take shorthand, she was an accomplished touch typist, and she could operate a calculator at lightning speed. She was not afraid of physical work. She was possessed of a great laugh and smile and a limitless amount of Southern charm.
I had met Sue when General Manager Ted Stevens brought me in as his technical man shortly before the 1983 opening (I departed in 1989), and my first impression of her was formed when I requested a certain document having to do with the cloud machines.
“Oh, I keep that filed under ‘miscellaneous,’” she drawled and extracted the desired document instantly. The catch was that Sue filed EVERYTHING under “miscellaneous,” and woe to the fool who thought the chaos of Sue’s literal desktop represented in some fashion her mind. Sue was messy, like a fox.
Not only was Sue a great joy to work with, but more importantly she was great fun to party with after work. Sue, former box office treasurer Scott Nolley, and I spent numberless evenings at the little-used John Marshall Hotel bar, “Club Dead” as we called it, or after the Marketplace opened, at the Blue Point, but we were not unwilling to travel out of downtown.
Generally the talk was of some new and unprecedented disaster in theatre management (especially during the Mike Crowley era), and laughter was the rule. During one evening in the Fan, a cold, lonely and lost boa constrictor wrapped itself around the engine of the car Sue was driving, only to be discovered the next day and televised for all to see. The snake incident was perfect fodder for our next night’s dissection.
Sue and I both laughed big, and that paid off during Mickey Rooney’s poorly-attended week run in “A Funny Thing.” Rooney had previously alienated the majority of the town’s ticket-buyers when during “Sugar Babies,” he told the Mosque audiences (we presented shows there, as well) that “playing the South was like playing a graveyard.” His prophecy came true, so Sue and I sat close to the stage for “Forum,” giving out loud and constant laughter at each of the eight performances, in the hope that Mr. Rooney would not become further unhinged over his extremely noticeable lack of fans.
There was plenty of need for laughter at the Virginia cum Carpenter Center which until Sue’s term lurched from one financial crisis to another. For starters, the 1981 renovation ran two million dollars over budget and resulted in a theatre facility so physically impaired that we famously could not produce even the requisite rain for the production of “Singing in the Rain.”
Mike Crowley produced a Las Vegas-style Mortgage Burning ceremony, following a massive Board fundraiser to retire the debt, only then to lose $300,000 on his Christmas debacle, with most of the invoices unrecorded and hidden in various nooks and crannies of our posh Berry-Burke offices.
“The Twelve Dreams of Christmas” inspired local reviewers to headline “just plain bad” (Bob Merritt), “the perfect Christmas gift for your enemies” (WRFK), and “What the Dickens were they thinking of? (Roy Proctor).
Our multiple attraction gala opening which included the very disagreeable Leontyne Price was also to star Ethel Merman, but she suffered a stroke (which ended her career) and could not appear. If Merman had appeared, she would most likely have had her stroke in Richmond, because the misprinted tickets spelled her name “Ethyl” for the Corporation, not the star.
Sue Bahen had the capacity to charm the most recalcitrant “stars.” She cajoled Bobby Morse out of his post opening night depression by walking with him to purchase the morning newspaper, which contained an excellent review. An early riser, Sue had seen the review hours before, but to have handed Morse the review would have lacked the drama which Stars require.
On the day M-G-M heartthrob Van Johnson arrived to star in Crowley’s Christmas disaster, he spied Sue in the Marshall lobby and loudly declaimed, “And you MUST be Mrs. Mike Crowley!” Sue made it clear that she was NOT without ever losing poise.
The morning after the show opened, star Johnson visited the Box office where he spied a lady buying tickets for his show. Sue overheard him say, “Madam, you have my regrets.”
When the Board established a woman’s guild, it was Sue who came up with the idea of screening “Gone with the Wind” for the film’s 50th and the theatre’s 60th birthdays in 1989. She also conceived the attached Mint Julep party in the marketplace and personally concocted the julep mix which she transported in her little red wagon. The gala was that rarity, a financial and artistic triumph.
###
On the one hand, Sue served stars, patrons and colleagues alike as mother-confessor, hand-holder, and friend. In my case, Sue went so far as to save my life by administering the Heimlich maneuver when I turned blue and became (momentarily) speechless during a breakfast at the Third Street Diner.
Her range of friends and acquaintances was so wide and varied that she was able to locate a house dentist named “Dr. Puller” and an OB/GYN named “Dr. Fingerhole.” The most important person in Sue’s office was the cat.
On the other hand, Sue did not suffer fools gladly. One could be banished to Sue’s terrible deep freeze at the blink of an eye, but only for good reason. If Sue had a rare bad day, she went shopping for cosmetics at Caswell-Massey or the CVS.
She could smell a phony a block away, and unlike the majority of her arts peers, she was Bon Air not West End. She never understood why intelligent business leaders could make such poor decisions once they were put on the Board for a non-profit. “They must check their brains at the door,” was all she could figure. Sue was no stranger to politics, having worked in the State House. The straddling for power among these males (and females) she called not the pecking order, but “the pecker order.”
She fancied herself a passenger on a ship of fools. Her fancy became reality when in 1994 the Carpenter Board engaged a consultant whose report stated in part, [the theatre] “needs a charismatic full time staff leader.” Perhaps consultants are immune to actual charm, or maybe they were confounded that alone among Richmond arts non-profits, Sue’s shop was making a profit.
She wrote me, “All this time I thought I had charisma! But my hair looks great--.”
###
After Sue left the Carpenter, she “retired” to work group sales for the local Broadway show presenter until she was well past seventy years old. She then happily retired to spend time with her enormous family and to turn her attention to writing her memoir, “From Fags to Bitches.”
The latter project I am sorry to say never came to fruition.
-- (c) Bob Foreman 2013
LOVETHATBOB13@GMAIL.COM
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