Dear Professor Emeka,
As English Chair of Lake Ridge Academy I just wanted to tell you what an overwhelming experience Thursday's performance was for me and my students.
Unfortunately, I was away on Friday, so I have not yet been able to discuss the play in detail with my students. However, I will tell you the bus was abuzz with positive feedback and thoughtful discussion. One student begged we have an impromptu class when the bus rolled into our parking lot because he was bursting to talk about the performance. I will let you know more specifically about their enthusiastic feedback when I get to school, but today I would like to let you how your production affected me personally.
I have taught Death of a Salesman for nearly three decades now. It is by and far my favorite American play. I was "intrigued" by your concept of casting an African American family as the Lomans and thought it would be "interesting." I was not prepared, however, for the power and emotional impact your choices would add to this American classic.
After watching and reading the Salesman easily more than 100 times, Thursday I saw the play in an entirely new light. The stakes were so much higher for your Loman family. When Willy said, "Even your father was better than a carpenter," I was struck at the new meaning that rang in that line - how desperate Willy was to get away from any notion of working with their hands lest they be linked to the enslavement of his ancestors. The choice of costuming for Ben - donning more and more African dress as the play progressed - was brilliant and the symbolism clear and powerful. You added so much to the play without changing a line - well, except one.
That appropriate line change sent chills down my neck. I had read that Miller's original line for Willy was, ""They laugh at me Linda. They call me "shrimp." He changed it to "Walrus" for Lee J. Cobb, but when Dustin Hoffman took on the lead, they returned to the original script. Every time I watch a performance I listen for the line, and when Avery Brooks said, "They call me "Monkey" I audibly gasped. While the production made me realize how the stakes were higher for this family, it reminded how universal the stakes are for all of us.
It was when I was thinking about this universiality when I was hit with the most powerful moment of the play - a rather meta-fictional experience that came when I was staring at Biff and pondering his tragedy. Willy loved his son and wanted him to succeed, but without a role-model of his own Willy instilled his son with all the wrong values. "Filling him so much hot air," Biff was ruined as was Willy's desire to feel he had left something significant to the world. At that moment - at that very moment, Professor Emeka- a man sitting next to me punched my arm, leaned over next to me and said pointing to Biff, "See that man on the left," then puffing his chest, "That's. My. Son!"
The impact was overwhelming. You, the son who had legitimately instilled his father with pride, was sharing a body with the character who wouldn't "be bringing home any prizes."
When I went home that night I called my son, a Skidmore theater major living in New York. We talked for over an hour about the production, and yes, about my pride in him. Thursday was nothing short of remarkable, Professor Emeka. I can never thank you enough. Once I have discussed the play with my students I will be writing a letter to the Dean of your College. I hope you have a long tenure at Oberlin College, and I hope our school will have a long relationship with your theater productions in the future.
Sincerely,
Teresa Jenkins
English Chair, Lake Ridge Academy