Remembering Rosemary

This month’s Lake E-ffect included a tribute to theatre Professor Emerita Rosemary Nesbitt, who passed away Aug. 2.

The full remarks from three of our sources — actor, director and syndicated humor columnist Tim Mollen ’91, actor Carl Whidden ’75 and current theatre department Chair Mark Cole ’73 — are included below.

Do you have favorite memories of Rosemary? Please share them in the comments section.

Oswego Professor Emerita Rosemary Nesbitt

Tim Mollen:

Like most freshmen in the theatre department at Oswego, I was a little intimidated by Mrs. Nesbitt. She ran her classes and rehearsals with great intellect, fierce conviction, and absolutely zero tolerance for nonsense.

As my undergraduate career progressed, she became a committed and supportive mentor. In all of her students, she instilled the work ethic and habits of a theatre professional. For me, personally, she built confidence in my skills, particularly as a comedic actor and as a director. She also sparked my ongoing love of Shakespeare in performance.

In fact, I missed her funeral and memorial because I was playing Falstaff in a production of “The Merry Wives of Windsor.” I’m sure that Rosemary understands.

That’s the name she insisted her former students call her. I never quite got used to it, because of the great respect I had for her. But the name of a spice was appropriate for such a dynamic and vibrant personality.

Carl Whidden:

Rosemary S. Nesbitt was my teacher from 1972 to 1975 and a lifelong friend. She had a tremendous impact on my professional and personal development. Rosemary Nesbitt was one of the most intelligent, well-read, well-rounded, most encouraging and experienced teachers from whom a student could hope to learn. She was awarded the distinguished teaching award in the mid-1970s.

Mrs. Nesbitt was a scholar, author, an extraordinary actress with keen theatrical instincts, and a historian. Mrs. Nesbitt introduced her students to world drama and always encouraged students to work on classic plays, particularly Greek and Shakespeare; to read the classics, poetry and prose; and always encouraged her students to expand their appreciation for world literature.

Mrs. Nesbitt knew how to get the best out of you and always took a positive approach toward your development as a theatre artist. Rosemary evaluated your work with care and encouragement clearly pointing out where improvement could be made without crushing the budding talent that was present. She was also a great storyteller. This is important to note as much in world drama depends upon an actor’s ability to tell a story well.

Rosemary S. Nesbitt was the finest storyteller I have ever heard. Mrs. Nesbitt gave powerful solo performances of women in world drama and directed children’s theatre, college students in Shakespeare, as well as classic mysteries and comedies. She was a true theatre artist and loved being part of the theatre.

I loved being a student at Oswego. Every day was an adventure. It was an exciting place to learn and test what you learned in class in student lab theatres and on the Waterman stage. When I graduated I left feeling that I was part of the theatrical community and that I had a responsibility to represent myself and Oswego well, to do my best work and improve and learn from each experience. I remember one day I asked Mrs. Nesbitt what the theatre meant to her. She didn’t miss a beat. She said, “The theatre to me is place of beauty, artistry, and truth.”

And so it is.

Mark Cole:

On the first day of “Oral Interpretation of Literature” class with Mrs. Nesbitt — I was a freshman — the class asked Mrs. Nesbitt what textbook we’d be using. A logical question. She replied: “There isn’t one because I haven’t written it yet.”

A surprising answer that made us all sit up and take note. And with the security of a textbook taken away, we hung on every word of instruction, commentary and example that Mrs. Nesbitt gave.

She excelled at this type of class: inspiring students, bringing together her keen sense of history, her expansive knowledge of literature  and her ability to teach by example. She opened up the world of great works of literature for her students.

When I learned that she had died, I was visiting the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Ontario Canada. A place she visited many times.  That night I was scheduled to see Macbeth, one of her favorite Shakespeare plays. I thought experiencing that particular play and thinking about her was eerily appropriate.

In the early ’70s, she performed an acting recital titled “Women, Wenches and Witches.” It was a thrilling master class in acting for all of us in the audience, and of course vastly entertaining as she moved from speeches from “Medea” to Mrs. Malaprop from “The Rivals.” [She told] stories about the great screen sirens of the 1930s and ’40s and [gave] a harrowing portrayal of Martha from “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.”

One of the highlights of the recital was her riveting performance as Lady Macbeth in the letter scene and the sleepwalking scene. In the 1980s, she revived the recital for a conference on campus one summer and I helped backstage with sound effects and her quick change. As an example of her command of an audience I’ll share this: for the last scene in the recital, she was to come on and do the witch from “The Wizard of Oz,” but she had to exit to make a quick change. Before she exited, she said to the audience, now I require absolute silence while I go off stage and prepare for the next scene – it took about a minute – so she came off stage – and I started pulling the bobby pins out of her hair — for the witch she always let her hair down — and I just dropped each bobby pin.

The audience didn’t move a muscle — after all, Rosemary had given them instructions — then she went on and did the final monologue. Then of course, thunderous applause. A few weeks later, we watched the video tape of the show and came to the pause when she went off for the change – you couldn’t even hear the audience breathe – it was so quiet – an audience of over 400 people.

Then we heard this odd clicking sound. Rosemary said, “What’s that sound?”

It was the sound of the pins falling on the floor.

Many of us remember and love her as a storyteller: the stories of Oswego’s past and of course the ghost stories. Her work in adapting numerous classic stories to the stage was a major part of her career at the theatre department.

Her scripts for “Miracle on 34^th Street,” “A Christmas Carol,” “Pinocchio” and “Cinderella” — and her own “The Great Rope” — are just a few examples of her work.

Never one to do things half way, Rosemary’s children’s shows often featured upwards of 40 children as well as college students in the casts.  She also directed contemporary and classic plays such as “Deathtrap,” “Romeo and Juliet” and “The Taming of the Shrew.” Rosemary’s love of the Victorian Era and its celebrations of Christmas — led her to perform with her family, for several years — a December show of poems, songs and stories, in Waterman Theatre titled “Take Joy.” The title was taken from a letter by a Franciscan Friar, named Giovanni, [who was] a Renaissance pioneer, accomplished in many areas of learning. In his reassuring Christmas Eve letter to a friend, he wrote:

“I am your friend and my love for you goes deep. There is nothing I can give you, which you have not got. But there is much, very much, that while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future, which is not hidden in this present little instance. Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. Take joy.”

The joy of literature, learning, the life of the mind and teaching were always in Rosemary’s reach and she instilled that joy in her students.

I mentioned Rosemary’s love of Shakespeare’s plays. And as a valediction here are some lines from Cymbeline. Two brothers recite this prayer at the grave of another character:

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee
Nor no witchcraft charm thee
Ghost unlaid forbear thee
Nothing ill come near thee
Quiet consummation have
And renowned be thy grave