Burns Park Players Endure

Group of Neighborhood Thespians Marks 25 Years

Sometimes, a small act can lead to big things.

Take, for example, the talent show that Susan Schreiber - then the owner of the local children's clothing store Generations - organized in 1983 to raise money for Burns Park Elementary School. The event was such a hit that it inspired geriatrics physician Alan Dengiz to put a group of Burns Park students and parents on stage to perform a modest production of "Grease.''

How modest? According to articles found in The Ann Arbor News' archives, Dengiz begged people to take roles, played taped music for at least one number, and used a cardboard car that was built by second-graders.

Even so, a long-standing Ann Arbor institution - the Burns Park Players - had been born, and annual productions of classic musicals like "The Music Man,'' "Gypsy,'' "Guys and Dolls,'' "Li'l Abner,'' "South Pacific,'' "Annie Get Your Gun,'' "Little Shop of Horrors,'' "Hello Dolly,'' and others followed, starring adults and students who lived in the Burns Park school area.

Not that this evolution happened overnight. Susan Hurwitz, former BPP president and producer of this year's 25th anniversary show, "Disney's Beauty and the Beast,'' bears witness to a time when people were still drafted for roles rather than vying for them.

"My husband actually got involved before I did,'' said Hurwitz. "Alan Dengiz was recruiting people for 'Damn Yankees' at the ice cream social, and he saw my husband and said, 'Hey, how would you like to be the judge?'''

Hurwitz got involved with BPP in the late 1980s, after noticing that the group didn't even have a cashbox for ticket sales. She volunteered to help organize the company's operations, and Dengiz asked her to be a producer, despite the fact that she had no experience. She learned on the job while the company grew.

Indeed, BPP's shows were performed on the Burns Park Theatre stage until 1992; but as they became more popular with both audiences and performers, the company had to move to Tappan Middle School's 600-seat theater, where it still performs today.

"(BPP)'s certainly gotten bigger, and it's certainly gotten more ambitious,'' said Hurwitz. "Sometimes that's just a function of the passage of time. When we moved to Tappan, we had a bigger space than at Burns Park. And then we had a couple who moved here from the East Coast who both had their MFAs from Yale. ... So they raised the bar.''

Later, when a similarly accomplished director had to opt out for maternity leave in the late 1990s, BPP turned to the University of Michigan's musical theater program for help. This sparked a relationship between the two entities, and BPP has had U-M student directors (and sometimes choreographers and music directors) ever since.

"We still retain this atmosphere of having a good time,'' said Clinch Steward, who's performed with BPP for 15 years. "We're parents first, and we're professional people second, and we're actors third, fourth, fifth or sixth. But over the years, (BPP) has gotten more serious and more professional along the way, that's for sure.''

Along the way, the company expanded its fundraising beyond the scope of Burns Park and Tappan to include arts programs in all of the Ann Arbor Public Schools; and since its inception, the company has reportedly contributed more than $250,000.

A wonderful benefit, yes; but those involved with BPP productions often have more personal motives. Steward, for instance, joined the group shortly after moving to Ann Arbor. "The Burns Park Players ... became my entree into feeling at home in Ann Arbor,'' he said. "I knew people on our street, but even just after the first year, you meet a group of 40-50 adults, and you kind of live with them and humble yourself with them, and it really made me feel like part of the community.''

Something else that keeps Steward coming back, though, is the effect he sees BPP shows having on the kids involved. "At the end of the show, for the curtain call, they parade across the stage, and they have their chance to bow as a group,'' he said. "When everybody is clapping for them, they just think it's their moment in the world. And that alone, at least for me, makes it all worthwhile.''