Greetings, fellow nonprofiteers. I hope this blog finds you well, that you have been vaccinated, and that you are finding a new work/life balance that is more in balance as a result of what you learned about work habits during months and months of lockdown.
I ended my most recent blog with a reference to a former colleague, Bill Durkin. I quoted him as saying that as a good leader you must have confidence that other people will say and choose the right things even if you are not in the room. That was something I learned from him.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about things that I have learned from other people and what those people have meant to me on this journey I have taken through life. I think a really interesting approach to an autobiography might be to tell the stories of people who have impacted you, and what you have learned from them, rather than telling about what you have done and the impact you have had.
One such person in my life was Lanford Wilson, the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright of Talley’s Folly, Hot l Baltimore, Balm in Gilead, and many more. He was a co-founder, company member, and generally known as the patron saint of the theatre company where I was working, Circle Rep in New York City.
As Literary Intern and later as Literary Manager, I was part of a team that worked with emerging and established writers. We had 12 or so established writers in the “Company,” and 15 or so emerging writers in a Lab. That remains one of my favorite jobs ever because we did so much work with those writers.
We held 40 unrehearsed readings every year on Fridays with actors like William Hurt and Jeff Daniels, and Deb Mooney, and Helen Stenborg. We held 10 rehearsed readings and 4 staged workshops every year. Every month the playwrights in the Lab would get together on a Monday evening, sit around a rehearsal room, and read their new work to each other to get some feedback. It was awesome.
Then, even better, we would take those Lab writers away from the city twice a year. Once to the Dorset Theatre Festival facility in Dorset, VT, and once to Sag Harbor, way out on the end of Long Island. These were long weekends of nothing but good food that we each cooked, camaraderie, and reading each other’s work.
Lanford, despite being a prize winning Broadway playwright, and despite being the patron saint of the theatre company, was at every single reading, staged reading, workshop, and hosted the event at Sag Harbor each year. He was an incredibly gracious host, opening his home to several people to stay during the long weekend, and serving as the kitchen and dining area for every meal. He was funny, loving, and completely delightful as a human being – he made you feel like he was truly glad you were there, sharing his home for a few days.
What I truly appreciated about Lanford, other than his talent, is that every time a writer’s work was read or staged, even during those Lab weekends, he would make a comment. He would speak from his experience as a writer over the previous 15 to 20 years. But he would always say at least one positive thing. This character really came to life, or that scene was wonderfully constructed, or there was a delightful lightness of tone to the scene. Then he would suggest what he thought the writer might want to think about – not what she should do to rewrite it, but ideas to consider or alternative approaches to take.
About leadership several things to learn here, there are (as Yoda would say it):
When giving feedback, it is not about you. Lanford never inserted himself into the comments. He always focused what he was saying on the person who had opened their heart and shared their writing, which is a scary thing to do. Using humility and candor, he spoke to the writer peer to peer, never lecturing but always sharing. We can think about this lesson when giving feedback to an employee or when talking with a client – treat them as human beings and with respect.
Know what they want from you. Lanford knew that people looked up to him and admired him. He also knew that because of that he had a responsibility to share what he had learned along the way. He was a role model for the younger, inexperienced writers, and they wanted to hear from him more than any of the others in the room. He took that responsibility seriously and that’s why he was always there and why he always commented. The lesson for me, here is that sometimes we have to understand what others are looking for in us and that we should respond to that, sometimes live up to it.
Give and you shall receive. Lanford was an outgoing man who enjoyed the company of other people. Generally, he had a smile on his face. Opening his doors to this horde of young writers once a year, hosting them for a long weekend, letting us use (and abuse) his high-end kitchen, and even allowing a few people to stay at his home was a very generous thing. In return he received even more respect from this group of talented people than he had as a Pulitzer Prize winner. I learned that openness of heart and generosity go a long way to having others be willing to listen and even follow.
Lanford was by no means a perfect person, let’s be honest about that, and sometimes he wrote pretty mediocre plays. But I truly appreciate that I had the opportunity to get to know him. As a writer he was a craftsman, but I was most impressed by his approach to his role at Circle Rep and his willingness to accept and live up to what our group of developing writers needed.
That is a great lesson for any leader to learn.
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