An Afternoon In A Coffee House With Richard Pegg

When Richard Pegg designs a set, there are two things you already know about the production before it opens: It’s a production he cares about and is interested, and the set will be spectacular and appropriate no matter what the requirements.

Richard and Meg were married 15 years ago in Georgetown, CO. The accompanying photo shows them celebrating their 12th wedding anniversary in Georgetown.

There’s more to Richard besides being a genius with technical demands, lighting and set design. There’s a story behind the story.

Nestled in a couple of easy chairs in the Capuvino Coffee House on University Ave., I had the grand opportunity to hear it.

When Littleton’s Town Hall released an audition notice for 1776, he lost no time signing up, gleaning the honor to become the first.

No, he didn’t want a lead role. No, he didn’t want a role that would take him off stage.

He wanted a role giving him opportunity to be immersed into the entire production. New York’s Congressional representative, Lewis Morris would be ideal. Of the 24 Congressional characters struggling over the Declaration of Independence, Richard is the only real Englishman in the cast, although he officially became an American citizen in November 2005.

This production marks Richard’s 37th year of a cherished ambition: ironically, to be a part of 1776. Ironically because here he is English, and he fell in love with it when he saw it in London in 1970.

When Town Hall produced it in 1996, Richard and his wife, Meg, had just moved to Cape Cod.

When the Cape Cod theatre placed it on its schedule, the Pegg’s moved back to Denver.

37 years ago, March 1970 to be exact, Richard and his good friend, Dafydd went to London’s West End to see 1776. Two friends they had worked with at the Everyman Theatre in Cheltenham happened to be appearing in the show playing Edward Rutledge and Martha Jefferson respectively. The show knocked him out, and he wanted to know more. It knocked him out so hard he saved his schillings to see it twice more. 1776, not surprisingly, ended up with a relatively short run at the West End, without being produced many times since. Having a cast featuring 24 men and two women might have something to do with it it. Then again, having to do with the American Revolution might also have something to do with its lack of demand in England, but Richard fell in love with its innovative style and music.

The English school system found the American Revolution not exactly a top priority, spending very little time educating the students on the subject. After seeing 1776 the first time, Richard’s curiosity piqued. He wanted to know more, seeking further information from the County library, a relatively large library, but he discovered, only three books on the subject sat on the shelves. While in London he spent a day and a half in London’s British Museum absorbing as much as he could.

Having been born on the 4th of July, Richard remembered asking his mother why the United States celebrated with fireworks on July 4. She just told him they were celebrating his birthday. He was in high school before he understood what was behind the United States fascination with fireworks.

Theatre runs in his blood. His grandfather and grandmother traveled around the country as musical artists. His father was an accomplished and well-known community theatre actor.

After high school, at 16, Richard applied to several drama schools only to be rejected. A family friend, who happened to be a professional actor, suggested he look into apprenticeships with theatres. Lo and behold he found the Everyman Theatre in Cheltenham, his hometown, nine miles from where his family lived, taking applications for apprenticeships. The family friend wrote a letter of recommendation. Accepted as an apprentice, Richard made 20 schillings a week, the equivalent, at the time, to $1.25. At today’s rate of exchange, it would equal .75. The theatre provided several additional perks, and he was able to save enough money to buy a motor bike, which blows me away, not that Richard rode a motor bike, but that he could save enough money to buy one out of his earnings.

As an apprentice he worked two to three months in every department, learning everything, and learning it well.

Everyman Theatre wasn’t about to mess around. If someone made a mistake, they were fined, and the money taken out of paychecks.

At that time, only a couple of power tools were available. Sets were huge canvas pieces 6' by 16'. Every piece needed to be screwed together by a long screwdriver called a Yankee in England because an American company made it. He saved enough money to buy one of those too, and still has it in his toolbox. He learned fast. If a set piece fell over, he learned to let it fall without trying to stop it, which generally created a giant hole in the canvas. Richard went one week without pay because he thought he could catch a falling set piece, discovering the hard way there was valid truth to the rule.

Following his two-year apprenticeship, Richard worked several different theatre companies touring the U.K.

Regional theatres sprang up operated by local councils, not unlike the City of Denver running DCPA. It was a government job and rare that anyone got fired. The pay was good and the workweek only about 33 hours. Working as technical director for the Worthington Seaside Resort, Richard had three theatres to maintain. In 1989 Meg stage-managed a production called Its A Musical World for the Southern Music Productions on a run at The Pavillion Community theatre. They literally met backstage one night in the dark running into each other. Meg has since teased if she had met him in the light, they never would have gotten together. Immediately impressed, he realized Meg knew her job, knew what she was talking about, and knew what she was doing. He couldn’t say that for all of the stage managers.

When he first arrived in the United States, Richard’s psyche encountered shock waves. English theatres ran eight shows a week, with only Sunday off. Here many ran 3-4 nights, and no matter what the job, there was no such thing as a 33-hour work week.

It took him two years to realize Meg liked him. She worked for a travel agency across the street from Richard’s theatre, and even though she tried several means to get his attention. Richard took the attention all in stride until, as he phrased it, “the nickel dropped” in his head with a Sally Field’s moment of, “She likes me. She really likes me.”

Having gone to Arapahoe High School, Meg decided in 1991 Ð1992 it was time to go home. During the height of Margaret Thatcher’s conservatism period, she decided cities should be managing cities; not entertainment. Worthington sold their theatres to a private company having an entirely different idea as to how to run theatres.

When Meg planned to return home to the U.S., Richard decided to come with her. They spent two weeks in Denver. At the time her father lived in San Antonio, spending three months a year in the Denver area.

When Richard left England, he decided to retire from the theatre. Their dream became to open a tearoom, planning to call it The Great British Emporium. Officially moving to Denver in the summer of 1992, they investigated the tearoom dream, discovering strict regulations. Aspen had more liberal codes, which seemed a good possibility. The ski season could provide good business, but it was the rest of the year that blew red flags warnings suggesting maybe Aspen wasn’t such a good idea after all.

One day Richard happened to see an ad for the South Suburban Community theatre at the Annex. He stopped to talk to someone in the box office who happened to be the producer for their next play, which just happened to be the English play, White Sheep of the Family. Richard was asked to read for a role and to coach the English accents. A subsequent phone call asked him to take a leading role. This from someone who had “retired from the theatre.” Between September of 1992 and March of 1996, this so-called retired theatre person worked on 56 shows.

The wanting an English teahouse continued to gnaw away. In 1996, just before auditions for Town Hall’s 1776, they took a two-week vacation to Cape Cod. A glorious Bed and Breakfast caught their eye, and they stopped to chat with the owners, who were getting tired of the daily grind. They offered Richard and Meg the opportunity to manage their Bed and Breakfast. Perfect, it would give them a chance to learn the in’s and out’s of all that was involved. Richard lasted one season. Meg dug in her heels lasting two. Constant knocks on the door during early morning hours by guests wanting ice or some other amenities began to chew away at Richard’s nerves. It didn’t matter that when they registered they were given specific instructions where to find whatever it was they needed all on their own. Guests who considered they were in a 5-star hotel preferred being waited on.

When theatre runs through the blood, it doesn’t necessarily pay attention to the retirement announcements whose blood it runs through. One day, Richard spotted the Academy Playhouse. On a whim, he stopped to see if they had brochures he could put in the B and B. Meg stayed in the car with the motor running. No one seemed to be around and Richard hollered “Hello.” From somewhere up in the rafters came a voice “I’m up here.” Richard asked about brochures. They weren’t yet available, he was told. On another whim, Richard asked if they needed any help in the tech area. He thought it would be fun as a part-time summer job. Questions were asked. “Do you have a resume?” the man from the rafters who just happened to be the scenic director, asked. No, said Richard, but he could supply references. The next thing he knew the Academy Playhouse offered him the job as Technical Director since the previous director had just been offered a job with Disney.

In the process, Richard was invited to go into Boston to see a production of My Fair Lady. Playing Henry Higgins just happened to be Davydd, his long time theatre friend from England’s Everyman Theatre Company, and who actually lived only a few miles away. Together, they worked toward convincing the Academy Playhouse to produce the beloved 1776 musical, and were indeed promised it would be included in the 2000/2001season.

Taking stock, once more, of where they were, Richard and Meg realized 85-90 percent of their Christmas cards were being sent to Denver and England. Only five percent sent to Cape Cod. Cape Cod held onto a long time tradition. If you were born there, you belonged. If not, you were considered “washed ashore” or not belonging. Adding to the pull was a great friend and one of Denver’s top premier actors, Deborah Persoff, who frequently called saying “when are you coming to see me?”

Things began to add up in their heads, and they moved back to Denver in 2000, once again missing out in a production of 1776.

When Broadways 1776 revival opened, he and Meg wasted no time getting reservations. Meg found herself occupied, having to elbow Richard several times for singing the songs along with the cast.

Upon the Denver return, Richard discovered South Suburban really didn’t want to be in the theatre business. That was OK, Richard said let me do it, and the Everyman Theatre was born. However, during the 2002 and 2003 season South Suburban decided they were recreationally oriented, and didn’t even want to supply space for a theatre. Everyman became a gypsy, operating freelance.

Everyman has not disappeared off the face of the theatre world; it only sleeps with its last production at Miner’s Alley with the critically acclaimed Amy’s View, which Richard directed. His theatrical mind is at work and he has plans for a hilarious one woman show called My Brilliant Divorce and is waiting for the rights to produce it. A one-woman show playing 37 different roles? Does he have someone in mind? Oh, yes, he does, and it’s a promise right here and now when he does get the rights, it will be well worth the wait, considering whom he has in mind.

Richard’s stepson, Simon Pegg stars in the film Hot Fuzz that just opened this week, and is currently in the U.S. promoting the film. Daughter Kate lives in London as a computer whiz working for Timberland Clothing Company predicting sporting clothes fashion for the coming season.

To say the least, he’s thrilled to be performing in Town Hall’s 1776, and even shaved his mustache for the role for the first time in 35 years. He’s thrilled over the commitment of all of the actors who all have done extensive research on their characters, finding out what happened to each of them. Some went on to become wealthy; others became impoverished because of giving their money to the revolution and the Declaration. The actors’ commitment marks this production with a brilliant life of its own. (See revue)

The production, aside from the fact it is absolutely stunning, holds great significance for Richard. He’s waited 37 long years to be a part of it, and it’s been 12 years since he has appeared on stage. His last production was with Country Dinner Playhouse’s production of Seven Brides For Seven Brothers.

1776 represents a final celebration of his becoming an American Citizen: a Britain so wanting to be a part of a musical celebrating the beginning of this country, a Britain who retired from the theatre when he left England, a Britain who has become legendary in his own time with his incredible eye toward set designing and directing. The theatre muse isn’t about to let him out of his grasp. We actually have Meg to thank for his adding so much to our theatre community. If she hadn’t wanted to come home, if the “nickel hadn’t dropped in his head” realizing “she liked him,” our theatre community would be slightly poorer for lack of his brilliant love for the theatre, an eye for detail, and a creative mind capable of transforming bare stages into spectacular works of art.