club culture

DramaTech has been around for over 60 years, and in that time we've developed a culture all our own.

The whole point of this page is that it represents what the club is, and as such this is a live page which anyone who happens to be at DramaTech can edit.

That being said, let's hope some people add some content about what they feel makes our culture in some way unique and interesting.

Getting Started

To get started at DramaTech is easy. Ring the doorbell. It is located just to the right of the door into DramaTech. If anyone is inside they will come and open the door. So if you're intrested or just curious come by DT and ring the doorbell. This and many other ways to get involved can also be found on the getting involved page.

Really, we're not kidding. Don't wait for an event. Don't wait for a reasonable hour of the day. There's a button outside the door, and its purpose is to be pushed.

Social Activity

DramaTech is a hub of social activities, thanks partially to its location in the center of campus. Every day, many club members spend their time between classes and during lunch in DramaTech's green room, which is in fact green. There is traditionally always a game of spades being played, but of late it is just as likely to be bridge. DramaTech has a few house rules to its spades games, which we'd be happy to show you. Come. Learn. Be one of us.

The Toaster

You may wonder about the toaster along with the theater and music symbols in our logo. The toaster is a symbol of club culture. Every mainstage show DramaTech puts on includes a toaster somehow, whether it's in a purse, carved into ancient Roman artwork, hanging decoratively from the ceiling, carried in a big pile of stuff, or just (when we're lazy) put under something. Look for it next time you come to a show.

Paper Plates

It sucks to be a stage manager. You work hard, and if anybody watching the show ever sees you, thinks about you, or is in any way made aware of your existance, you've already failed. You show up to most every rehearsal. You show up hours before every single performance. You're the last one to leave every night. You have to lug that stupid keyboard up and down the stairs. It sucks to be the stage manager.

In retaliation, the stage manager gives out "paper plates," which are awards made by drawing on paper plates with markers. This presentation is traditionally given at midnight following the final performance of a show. Every single stupid thing you saw someone do and carefully wrote down in your stage managing notebook can be brought up now. You know that jerk who thought that he could waltz in 10 minutes before the show started because he came in in the second act? Well, now's your chance to make sure everybody else knows about him, too.

There are a large number of traditional paper plates, which are usually given last.

Every few years an actor thinks he is clever and tries to give some sort of plate to the stage manager. Stage managers have responded to this in a large number of ways, but it is not considered inappropriate to kill the arrogant S.O.B. by stuffing an F.A. plate down his throat.

The Bricks

Every show DramaTech does is entitled to having a brick or two or three painted in the stairwell. Usually the poster designer also paints the brick, which is then signed by every cast and crew member. The improv troupe also gives itself a brick every year.

There is a concern that we will eventually run out of bricks, but there is also a concern that the sun will eventually go supernova and kill us all.

Doing whatever the Heck Dean Dull Wants

Let's say you're the house manager for a show. It's closing night, the house is full, and waiting in breathless anticipation to find out what happens. Outside, in the lobby, you've got a radio playing the Georgia vs. Georgia Tech game. There's a nice older gentleman who, though he has a ticket, is standing out in the lobby listening to the game. Pop quiz, hot shot. Do you politely ask him to go inside? Do you start the show without him? Do you kick him out?

No, you hold the show until Dean Dull decides to go back in. If DramaTech holds its doors for anybody, it holds its doors for Dean Dull. Heck, those doors have his name on them.

Artistic Director: Our Big Toe

Friday December 1, 2006, Greg Abbott, Artistic Director of DramaTech Theatre since 1984, died of a sudden heart attack. That evening, after midnight, the members of DramaTech began to spread the terrible news. Everyone just had to let everyone else know, no matter what time it was. That's how important Greg was.

Greg was not the heart of DramaTech. Greg was the brain of DramaTech. He was its big right toe. He kept us balanced and moving forward. He was a small man with small goals. He was not a towering giant commanding DramaTech. He just did the small things that helped all of us help ourselves. He was not the sage on the stage, but the guide on the side. He was also always there to help out with all of the little things at the last-minute cruch time that had to be done.

During Greg's tenure, DramaTech has become a stronger institution. We moved from the old church to the Center for the Arts Complex. The quality of the shows has improved; we now take ourselves seriously enough to have an awards banquet every year. Let's Try This! and VarietyTech were formed. These milestones did not happen because of bold leadership on Greg's part. They happened because the members of the theater made them happen. Greg just provided the right environment to let that happen. We moved forward, because he supported us. We did not stumble, because he balanced us. He was the last to let go of a step and the first to feel out the ground ahead. We may not have noticed him that much, as he let us take center stage. But, we miss him terribly now that he's gone. Our balance is off. We are all stumbling now. But we are a strong institution that will recover and keep going forward. Greg made sure of that with the small things he did, making sure that people had opportunities and could do their best.

The last show that Greg ever attended was a small improv show on Thursday November 30, following VarietyTech's performance. Greg's unmistakable laughter could be heard coming from the side of the risers. He didn't need to be there; he was just there to understand what Let's Try This! is doing and what support he could give us if necessary. He attended many a poorly attended performance of many varieties to show his support for the students' work.

Hopfully, others will take Greg's example of small acts to heart: Never be too proud to hang an extra curtain for someone else. It makes all the difference in the world.