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Jack Stehlin and Jeannine Wisnosky Stehlin’s New American Theatre
Making it Through a Pandemic
By Steven Leigh Morris
This article is the first in Stage Raw’s series on domestic partners who run Los Angeles-area theaters, on how they’re coping under a stay-at-home order, and what they envisage as a future, after the plague.
Left to right: Olivia Stehlin, Jeannine Wisnosky Stehlin, Jack Stehlin, Natalia Stehlin and Isabella Stehlin (Photo by Holly Gable)
“For me working with Jack and Jeannine is like working with artistic and spiritual godparents. There is this unconditional love for the artist, they suffer with you, they believe in you, and that truly makes you want to be better, to live up to their belief. Ultimately, they serve not only the theater, they know they are pursuing with you the bigger questions of who and why we are; what our ultimate purpose is as humans and connecting to the spiritual in quite literally everything. It’s a lovely experience that reminds you why you do the thing you do.”
—theater director John Farmanesh-Bocca
Like millions of individuals and families across the globe, Jack Stehlin and his wife, Jeannine Wisnosky Stehlin, respectively the artistic director and managing director of New American Theatre in Hollywood, are home a lot these days. They co-habitate with their three college/high school age daughters: Olivia, Natalia and Isabella, while their theater sits idle in compliance with state/city orders.
Jack and Jeannine sat down with Stage Raw at their Hollywood theater in late 2019, and then resumed the conversation last week on Zoom.
FROM THERE TO ETERNITY
An Al Hirschfeld cartoon in a 1984 Sunday edition of The NEW YORK TIMES. The youthful figure in the back is Jack Stehlin
“I show up at noon,” he explains, sitting on the stage of his own theater. He then turns his gaze to his wife . . . “and there’s the most beautiful woman. . . It took six to eight months before you would allow me to . . .”
Jeannine interjects before her husband can finish that sentence.
“We worked together platonically,” she explains.
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Jack Stehlin grew up in Allentown, Pennsylvania; his mother performed center ring in Ringling Brothers Circus with her siblings. They were called the juggling Colleanos. They appeared at Madison Square Garden and the Palace Theater, both in New York City, and in the 1950 Cotton Bowl in Dallas. The Colleanos performed on the Ed Sullivan, Sid Caesar and Sealtest Big Top childrens’ television shows during the 1950s. She retired to raise Jack and his younger brother and sister. Jack’s father was a minor-league baseball player who became a serviceman, and then went on to work in logistics for the U.S. Government in Washington, D.C.
After graduating from The Julliard School in 1982, Jack formed his own theater company. He envisioned his Circus Theatricals as a place for actors to create projects should they find themselves unemployed in New York for more than two weeks.
Explains Jack, reflecting back on New York and on Circus Theatricals’ debut 1983 production of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya, during an interview in late 2019 on the empty stage of their 45-seat theater, “Kevin Spacey and Tom Hewitt did Uncle Vanya, I played Astrov, Hewitt played, Vanya; Kevin played Serebryakov.”
From Circus Theatricals’ Uncle Vanya (1983) — photo courtesy Deloss Brown (delossbrown.com)
But some ten years later in 1995, Jack found himself in what he describes as a “hit New York production. . . and I didn’t even have the cab fare home. And I said, ‘That’s it.’”
He came to LA to do TV work when his friend Gary Blumsack no longer wanted to run the Hudson Theatre Guild on Santa Monica Boulevard.
“Gary said, ‘How’d you like to be artistic director of my theater company. Meet me tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to the producer who’s holding down the company,’” Jack explains.
“I show up at noon,” he explains, sitting on the stage of his own theater. He then turns his gaze to his wife . . . “and there’s the most beautiful woman. . . It took six to eight months before you would allow me to . . .”
Jeannine interjects before her husband can finish that sentence.
“We worked together platonically,” she explains. “I went to see [a play Jack was in] Habitation of Dragons at the Zephyr. And I thought, ‘Wow! It’s like watching a rock star.’ I met his parents, saw his mom whisper something in his ear, found out later it was, ‘Why aren’t you dating Jeannine?’
“Meanwhile, my mother would say, ‘I think you like him.’”
Jump forward almost 25 years, to the pandemic of 2020. By now Circus Theatricals – having presented plays all over the city and taken three productions to New York), has changed its name. After incorporating as a non-profit company in 2005, it is now called New American Theatre, and has rented a quasi-permanent space on Wilton Place in Hollywood. The couple has received the 2019 Stage Raw Theater Award for Career Achievement, their theater now has a slew of acclaimed productions in its resume, and its final production — before the city of Los Angeles shuttered all live performances in 2020 for reasons of public health – is, ironically, Uncle Vanya. That 2019 production is now nominated for best ensemble and best director (Jack Stehlin) by the Los Angeles Drama Critics’ Circle, for its 2020 awards, to be announced this month. (Jack chose not to act in this production.)
Don Harvey in Uncle Vanya (2019) Photo by Jeannine Wisnosky Stehlin
Robert Cicchini and Vanessa Waters in A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM (2013) Photo by Jeannine Wisnosky Stehlin
Alfred Molina (left) and Jack Stehlin (right) in RICHARD III (2002)
An Odyssey Theatre and Circus Theatricals co-production. Photo by Kitty Rose
Jeannine poses in front of the theater, circa 1999. Poster lower left is for Shem Bitterman’s THE JOB, one of three plays the company took to New York
Jack and Jeannine recently shuttled their oldest daughter, Olivia, home from U.C. Santa Cruz, while Natalia and Isabella were already living at home, being a high school senior and sophomore, respectively.
None of their daughters is interested in acting. “I didn’t dissuade them either,” Jack explains, “but they have no interest in the arts. I mean, they’re creative. I still haven’t lost the possibility that doing this all my life will have meant something.”
“They understand that art is a part of their lives,” explains Jeannine.
Jack ponders for a moment. “We must have done something to dissuade them.”
Adds Jeannine: “They’re really good at giving notes.”
Says Jack, “Yes, they’ve sat at our dinner table our whole lives, the way we speak about things, how we do a play, they must have glommed on to something because their notes are amazing.”
LIFE IN A PANDEMIC
“Maybe we should spend a little more time on things that matter rather than trying to be distracted all the time. Maybe we need to be humbled into more of a workmanlike attitude, rather than figuring out the magic thing [leading to a career success] that nobody else could figure out, all that nonsense. . .” — Jack Stehlin
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So how are they all doing in the weeks of the pandemic, largely confined at home?
In late 2019, before the word Covid-19 was in our vocabulary, we were at their theater when I asked if there were tensions working together as a married couple.
Jeannine explained how their training is so different, with Jack having studied at Julliard, while Jeannine took improv classes at Second City in Chicago. “I did a more hodge-podgy training, he did the formal training. But then I went to business school and worked in an ad agency and an engineering firm. I think our two sides really match, we fill in the gaps for each other.”
Jeannine mainly handles the company’s business side, while Jack focuses on its artistic vision.
Jack remarked at how hard Jeannine works just to keep the company afloat.
But tensions?
“You mean, like, do we want to throw each other out the window? Jeannine asked. “Yes. But it’s never real. In the scenario in which we’re fighting, we might lose our minds. But we never risked our marriage over it. In our 24 years, we’ve had great success while always wondering, oh my God, how are we going to keep the theater alive?”
Last week, in the middle of the pandemic, we all spoke via Zoom. Jeannine noted the oddity of everything suddenly grinding to a halt.
“We were so, so tired, and then everything stops. For me that’s been the hard part.”
And what’s happening with their theater?
Says Jack, “Of course we pay rent. . . with the idea that really everything we do has been completely shut down. What are we going to have to do to hold our space in a physical reality? A black hole reality? Something is going to happen, but we don’t know what – the theater has stopped. We’ll fight for it.”
Which begs the question, how? Where are the resources?
“Jack is an heiress,” Jeannine quips, before offering a more serious reply: “We’ve been keeping the theater alive through generous grants from local government, individual donors, ticket sales, acting studios, rentals to other companies and the Hollywood Fringe Festival participants, and benefits and fund-raisers. Of course, we have zero ticket sales, acting classes and rentals at the moment, as everything has come to a halt due to the virus and the lockdown.”
Explains Jack, “We worked hard, I’m pretty Spartan. We haven’t wasted our money.
“I don’t mean to be indelicate,” I explain, “but where is the money coming from? To pay rent on a theater that’s been stalled?”
Jack replies, “I’d be less than honest if I didn’t say I was concerned. It hasn’t been this tough often. After 9/11 we lost the theater for at least a year. The economic impact. The hit in our gut. But we have to find our inspiration from whatever happens, so I’m energized to do the work, inspiration and gumption after such a beating. In our theater community, we’ve taken a lot of beatings.”
Adds Jeannine, “What’s different for me – not having my number 1 passion: supporting artists, and productions, and supporting people whose heart is in their art.”
How are they keeping their actors invested during the pandemic? Skylight Theatre Company, for example, is doing play readings over Zoom. More and more companies are starting to share their work digitally.
In late 2019, Jeannine explained how, in maintaining the company’s business office, “I’m able to be a little more removed from the . . . when you are directing a show, you are a very empathetic person (I am too) but I’m able to be more emotionally removed, though sometimes I stay up all night working on the next marketing or PR idea for the theater.”
Replied Jack, “I take it personally. When I took over the company, I went to the first meeting, I wanted to figure out what was going on – there were 25 people who were hurting and longing for something they do to be really good. I said, okay, that’s it, we’ll start an acting studio. We made a place for them to come together in a kind of sanctification for why they’re here, what they want, and why it matters.”
Twenty-five years later, in a land of barren streets and shuttered businesses, Jack and Jeannine use Zoom to continue this sanctification.
Explains Jeannine, “We meet every Saturday morning to do studio, Jack does studio, we started that backup, we talk philosophy of art, one actor did a beautiful Shakespeare monologue, we read some one-acts. . .and although Zoom can never take the place of actors working together in person, we’re able to do some really fine acting work, directed and led by Jack.”
Adds Jack, “One of the big challenges is coming to an understanding of what’s possible through this machine [the Zoom app]– how to use the computer, and reach as deeply in as we can without the live presence of acting work. What can we do with that challenge? That’s going to be interesting. The other day, I had this textual experience, with the writing, that prevailed through all the buzz of the computer and so on. On the writing, you’re concentrating more on that – that may not be bad for theater artists. You’re really coming down to what are you saying that’s going to be interesting.”
“Regarding the other theater leaders,” says Jeannine, “we’ve been getting together on Zoom on Tuesdays, like in the 99-seat times [when Actors Equity Association, the national stage-actors-managers union, bore down on producers of small theaters in Los Angeles, and their fiscal arrangements with union actors], we’re talking again.”
“Approximately 30 people,” Jack interjects.
“We’ve been exchanging news regarding what financial help might be offered us,” Jeannine continues. “How to talk about rent with landlords. How to support theater artists individually. How to appeal to our elected officials. Given how artists are part of the creative economy. We branched off into working groups. We’ve had two meetings so far. Every Tuesday at 10 am.”
Neither Jack nor Jeannine backs away from the emotional and physical pummeling that members of their company are taking at the hands of the pandemic.
Jeannine explains that three of their actors are sick and haven’t been tested. “One, his whole family has got it. One mid-20s female and two guys in their 40s-50s. Their children were sick first. . . Everyone we know is not working. Some are waiters. It hits various people in different ways. Nobody’s doing well.”
“People are feeling like I’m feeling,” says Jack. “I’m not stunned, I have time to think, receive, feel. But I’m still reeling from getting whacked. It’s hard to find your footing. How do you find your footing to take the next step forward? But on the other hand, it’s rare that I have a conversation that gets into something, that doesn’t come out a little on the positive side, a lot to learn, a lot to be grateful for? In the last day or two I think I got a little more of a grip.”
Says Jeannine, “One thing we did notice is that people are still reaching into art, beyond the nuts and bolts of art. Back to what makes us a creative community of art makers.”
“I think for story tellers in general, perhaps there’s something of an appropriate humbling going on,” adds Jack. “Maybe we should spend a little more time on things that matter rather than trying to be distracted all the time. Maybe we need to be humbled into more of a workmanlike attitude, rather than figuring out the magic thing [leading to a career success] that nobody else could figure out, all that nonsense. The culture needs to get back to being workers, humbled by reality. And I don’t mean that politically.”
But philosophy aside, how else do they pass the time, since the entire theater community finds itself caught in a particularly gruesome production of Waiting for Godot?
“I’m a bit of a techie,” says Jeannine. “My thing is setting up a new, better Internet at home, so I can continue to work, and our daughters can simultaneously distance learn without interrupting, because they’ll all be back in school, albeit online only.”
“She has her business savvy,” Jack adds, “But I gotta tell you, I am a superb janitor. Not good. Superb. I’ve been cleaning out the garage. That’s what I’ve been doing. I learned from my grandfather, who was chief boatswain’s mate in the [U.S.] Navy. That’s the rank like sergeant major, the top of the enlisted men. He was a doughboy in WWI, and in the Navy in WWII when he was in his 50s. He taught us how to paint, and how to sweep. And that is helping us a lot. He taught us all how to fistfight!”
“That’s especially helpful when you’re quarantined,” adds Jeannine drolly.
FROM THERE TO ETERNITY, PART 2
Jeannine Wisnosky, circa 1995
Jeannine Wisnosky lived in Pittsburg until she was 5. She is the eldest daughter of an electrical engineer who landed a position in West Germany, where Jeannine attended kindergarten. The Wisnosky family then moved to Dayton, Ohio when Jeannine’s father got a job at Wright Patterson Air Force Base in the Materiels Lab. As it turns out, both Jack’s father and Jeannine’s father were both working in Washington D.C. during the 9/11 attacks, though neither was near the Pentagon at the time.
Jeannine’s mother was a school district head librarian, who then became an extremely successful real estate broker-owner. She’s currently the Honorary Slovak Consulate for the State of Illinois. Jeannine’s two younger sisters are both attorneys.
And though Jeanine, like Jack, had a bug for acting (taking improv classes at Second City in Chicago), unlike Jack, she had a predisposition towards business that could keep a theater functioning. She received her bachelor of science degree in advertising from the University of Illinois, and an MBA from Illinois Tech.
She did land a role in a movie, which was cast and shot in Chicago. She came to LA for its premiere, and decided she wanted to continue acting. Her agent said in order to do so, she would need to move to LA, which she did in 1992.
Three years later, after that life-changing meeting with Jack at the Hudson Theatre Guild, “We worked together for six months,” Jeannine continues. “One night we were having pasta on a restaurant on Melrose, we were going over the budget for whatever play we were doing, and were talking about the budget, and he looks at me and says ‘I’m in love with you.’ And I said, ‘Oh my God, I think I’m in love with you too.’ We’d never had a kiss, barely touched,” she says before glancing at Jack – “Except for that breathing lesson you tried to give me.”
Jack smiles.
“He said, ‘I have to make a phone call.’ He got up, went to a phone booth, called his girlfriend and broke up with her.”
“I was really fierce about cleaning up my relationships,” Jack explains. “All betrayals leave an open wound, there’s no way around it, you can’t talk yourself around it. After doing so much of it in my less important relationships, I’ve never been distracted from my marriage for one moment.”
“So he invited me to his apartment,” Jeannine continues. “I’ve always been a shallow breather. I went there to get a breathing lesson. And I actually got a breathing lesson via the Alexander Technique.”
They dated for another six months.
“We were doing our first Misanthrope, Jeannine recalls. We were dating at the time. The [actress playing] Elmire had to drop out for whatever reason. I said I wanted to play it, and he made me audition.
Jack chimes in: ‘Oh, you were mad about that, huh?”
“It was him and [actor] Bob Cicchini,” Jeannine continues. “I practiced and practiced. I did my audition in front of two of them staring at me, then I had to leave the room while they discussed me. They came out to get me in the hallway and said, congratulations you got the role.”
In 1996, Jack landed a role in Timon of Athens directed by Brian Kulick at the New York Public Theater.
“We went back to New York in the summer of ‘96, Jeannine recalls. “He proposed in New York. [They were married in the summer of 1997] . . . Then we got back here and we got back to work and [until the pandemic], we hardly ever stopped. I would take a couple of weeks off to give birth.
DUO DYNAMICS
Jack and Jeannine in THE MISANTHROPE at Circus Theatricals
“There are times I’ve been so bad, so low, if I’d been alone, it would have stopped. Jeannine wouldn’t let me stop.”
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“How do we stay together?” Jack muses. “How do these couples . . . longevity? When it gets so bad, the other person is not as bad off as you, and they can hold the fort while you can’t.“The worst things are when either one of us are hurting individually. The most powerful enemy is that kind of artistic hurt. When we were at the most difficult times is when one of was hurting in that way. The financial stress has been tough at times, really tough, and we’re sharing the hurt of that moment but we’re not pitted against each other. Sometimes she’ll say, ‘I don’t think that’s the right part for you . . .and I say why? Why can’t I do everything?’”
“Could either of you have done this solo?” I ask.
Jack replies, “There are times I’ve been so bad, so low, if I’d been alone, it would have stopped. Jeannine wouldn’t let me stop. I don’t think there have been that many times . . . Though many times she’s been dissatisfied with the status quo of what we’ve done, but I’ve never wanted to quit in front of her, like I’m done, I can’t take this anymore, the old self-pitying thing. I’d be too ashamed knowing Jeannine has more grit than me.
Jack ruminates on what Jeannine has called the company’s history of success, and what that actually means.
“Success?” He ponders. “We have never had financial success. But we’ve never had times where we were ashamed of what we did.”
“I’d like to add that we both feel extremely proud and blessed to have been producing theatre in Los Angeles for 25 years,” says Jeannine. “We’ve had the tremendous fortune to have worked with countless theatre artists who shared their art on and off stage. To me, that is the very definition of success.”
Like almost everyone else, in order to continue, they’re just waiting for the air to clear.
