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Pitching on the Royal Mile

After a full house? Or not an empty one? Got the gall to pitch on the Royal Mile? Let Lieutenant-Commander US Naval Reserve Tyrus Lemerande, ex-virgin Phyllis Foundis, and a life-sized vibrator show you how...

Tyrus Lemerande - Henry V & the Royal Mile
Phyllis Foundis - The Virgin Club & the Royal Mile


TYRUS & AMY LEMERANDE - HENRY V

Despite being newcomers to the Fringe we managed to survive amongst the vast sea of performers who descend upon Edinburgh during the festival. We almost broke even, but for the Fringe even is quite an achievement.

Let me give you an idea of what the Fringe is like: There are thousands of productions going on at any one time. Performers can come up for a couple days, or do what we did and perform for the full 24-day run (including previews). So on any given day, a visitor to the Fringe has the daunting challenge of finding something that is worth seeing.

Thomas McAleer, the owner of the Cowgate Central Theatre where we performed, told us that the average attendance for a performance at the Fringe was 4.2 people. Luckily we blew that average out of the water. We brought in 501 people during the run of our show.

This worked out an average of 20+ people per show, which in a venue that holds 40 was fantastic. We didn’t have 20 people at every show, but we only slipped into single digits twice, and we sold out seven times, including our final performance.

Having a decent-sized audience helped immensely with word-of-mouth advertising. We did talk-backs after all of our performances. Q&A sessions gave the audience an opportunity to delve into any topic that struck their fancy - we had all kinds of questions. Another piece of good fortune that helped us was getting a four-star review from The Scotsman.

Getting The Scotsman to review your show is a coup in itself, but to have them write such a coherent, in-depth, and positive review was marvellous. It gave us degree of credibility that we didn’t have before, and because there are so many shows to choose from, a good review can give people a reason to see yours.

To publicize our show Amy (my partner in Knighthorse Theatre Company and wife) and I spent 5 hours every day passing out flyers on the Royal Mile. We did it with such regularity and enthusiasm that we became somewhat of an institution.

I arrived in Edinburgh on 1 August 04, a week before Amy, who remained in the States to attend the wedding of a friend on 8 August. The Fringe did not officially kick off until 8 August, but there was media day on the 5th and previews on the 7th.

So I was alone in Scotland on a very limited budget, trying to come up with a plan to get butts on seats. To advertise the production we ordered 10,000 flyers, designed by yours truly and printed by a company in Edinburgh.

I spent the first few days walking the streets of Edinburgh, posting flyers on windows and leaving stacks in restaurants and internet cafes. The life of a flyer is fleeting; they get taken down, covered up and lost in the hundreds competing for the same audience.

I saw it every day – one group would post a flyer and not five minutes later another group would post their flyer/poster right on top of it. I could not bring myself to obscure another group’s artwork, knowing how much work went into making ours, so I needed another way.

I decided to seek out a spot on the Royal Mile, the street with the maximum amount of pedestrian traffic. The Fringe Office is located there, as is the Fringe Box Office, so it’s where people go to find out what’s on.

Now, having walked the streets of New York City, I know how it feels to have flyers shoved in my face, and I couldn’t bring myself to do this either. So I devised an alternative. I put on my costume, stood outside the Fringe office, and began reciting lines from Henry V.

The result was extraordinary. People stopped to listen, and took a flyer. It was amazing. I just held them out and people actually walked out of their way to get them. I was like a free Shakespearean jukebox. People would ask to hear ‘O for a muse of fire…,’ ‘Once more into the breach…’ or the Crispin’s Day speech. And I would oblige, giving them a taste of mettle.

The next day I strapped my sword to my hip, found a small bollard in the middle of the Mile and stood on top of it reciting Shakespeare from 11 am to 4 pm. I managed to pass out 300 flyers. Because standing on a pillar can distance you from the crowd, it worked much better when Amy arrived. I would draw the attention and she would give a flyer to anyone who seemed the least bit interested.

It was a highly effective system and Amy and I made a great team (which is the reason we got married.) All of our days were spent this way. And all were much the same, made special and unique by the people we would meet on the street and in the Cowgate bar after the show.

Each day we would get up at 10 am to iron Henry’s uniform, then walk to the Royal Mile and declaim for 5 hours. Once our review in The Scotsman was published, Amy also spent a portion of each day making copies, and stapling the review to the back of our flyer.

At 4 pm we went to the Cowgate pub to set up and do the show (which lasted about an hour and 15 minutes) and afterwards mingled with people in the bar downstairs for up to an hour. Finally we would go home, change, grab a bite to eat, and have a relaxing walk in the moonlight.

All this flyering made for long days, but as an actor and a promoter, I would much rather perform before a decent-sized audience, than risk the average 4.2, or worse. The nights were filled with electricity from the day’s performance and the artistic atmosphere of the festival.

Most companies take a day off - a good idea no doubt - but as this was our first time, we didn’t know any better. Also, we were lucky enough to find our particular niche on the Mile, and wanted to exploit it to the fullest. By the end of the month everyone knew us and our narrative- ‘A four star, phenomenal, one man adaptation of Shakespeare’s King Henry V. One actor, alone on a bare sage, recreates the glory of Agincourt using only Shakespeare’s words and your imagination’- they would quote it to us as they walked by.

In addition to our review in The Scotsman, we were written up in The Guardian under the head line ‘Here Comes The U.S. Navy’ (a reference my military background.) We also received a write-up in the Financial Times, due to our presence on the Mile. The article was about the lengths that performers would go to find and entice an audience.

Our trip to Edinburgh was an unqualified success because we had a fantastic time and had the opportunity to perform our inaugural show for receptive and appreciative crowds. We met some amazing people and made great contacts from all over the world. We are now organizing a tour in the UK based on contacts we made while performing at the Fringe.

END

(c) Tyrus Lemerande 2004-5 - Knighthorse Theatre Company

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PHYLLIS FOUNDIS AND KYM BORRETT - THE VIRGIN CLUB

Six weeks before we got on a plane bound for Edinburgh, my husband Kym volunteered to dress up as the world’s largest hot pink vibrator.

In lieu of a big advertising budget, our vibrator would give our show, The Virgin Club, a unique stand-out factor at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.

We grew so close to the biggest member of the Virgin Club, we gave him a name - Weapon of Mass Debating (or WMD for short).

Unfortunately, when we took to the streets of Edinburgh one Sunday in 2004, the Fringe Office wasn’t amused. Within seconds of our arrival on the Royal Mile (a cordoned-off street with stages, street-performers and people handing out flyers), WMD and I were swooped-on by a Fringe Steward. We were moved behind a barrier, and that’s where we stayed. I could wander up and down the Royal Mile with fliers without a problem, but Kym couldn’t. A phallus was a no-no but a Phyllis was fine.

Banned or not, It wasn’t long before WMD was the hottest draw-card on the Royal Mile. Everyone loved him. Tourists and locals with cameras worked overtime. Kym quickly developed his sales patter:

‘Hello! I’m your friendly phallic. But there’s more to me than meets the eye.’

And I developed mine:

‘He can only wear the costume in short, quick, bursts.’

It was not long before the press came calling. A journalist from The Scotsman named Roger was writing an article about the ‘zany costumes’ worn on the Royal Mile. WMD was responsible for a lot of the press we got. We got a mention in The Independent’s diary, an article in The Scotsman - and even a full-page piece in the Financial Times.

When you’re performing at the Fringe, you quickly learn that publicity doesn’t necessarily bring fame, and fortune - but it can bring a day off from flyering. A great review or article means you can put your flyers away for the day, because people will come anyway.

The whole town was obsessed with reviews. Everyday the Pleasance Press Office was flooded with dozens of acts checking their reviews. It became a race for the stars - two stars, three stars, four stars, five. Performers were heard saying:

‘We got three stars, but it reads like a four-star you know?’

The Virgin Club was reviewed a few times – even by the almighty Scotsman (though we never got published). And although the show wasn’t praised as the most unique, engaging, delightfully entertaining thing at the Fringe, apparently I have a smile that could stop shipwrecks.

At the end of every Royal Mile shift, WMD and I would head to the Pleasance Courtyard. It’s where the movers and shakers of the industry (and the punters too) guzzled spirits and wine. As I schmoozed and handed out fliers, Kym would up his sales pitch - ‘I’m not in the show – not enough head room.’

When Fringe Sunday arrived we knew it was another ‘family event’, but WMD wanted to be involved. The event was held at the Meadows: miles of parkland filled with smiling people, children, performers, balloons - and Fringe Stewards. We attempted to stand our ground, but soon realized it was hopeless. WMD was not considered family friendly.

However pedestrians loved him. In spite of being banned from the Cavalcade, the Royal Mile, and the Meadows on Fringe Sunday, WMD continued to raise a smile on even the cloudiest Edinburgh day. He’s posed for holiday snaps with American students, a long-kilted red-bearded Scot, staff from a Family Planning Clinic and a bride and groom.

One particularly excited man ran up to us after snapping a shot on his mobile to say WMD’s image was on its way to Russia. Young Japanese men in particular absolutely adored WMD. We learned that in Japan, festivals are held to celebrate the phallus and men touch the costumes to increase their fertility.

We chased big name sponsors for The Virgin Club, and got the best sponsor imaginable - Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium: the amazing central-London shop bursting with toys for the girl who loves to play. Every night, halfway through my show, I gave away one lipstick vibrator, and another particularly well-endowed labour-saving device.

Lippy Chicks also made up The Virgin Club promotion arsenal at the Fringe - 6,000 sour-cherry chews. We had 10,000 fliers to shift – so we needed all the sweet bribery possible. Not surprisingly, Lippy Chicks stapled to fliers went down a treat. And yet, you still got those jaded Fringe-goers who’d study the flier in my hand for a good two minutes before committing to a free sweet.

Thousands go to the Edinburgh Fringe each year with stars in their eyes, hoping they’ll be discovered. Well, not for us the bright lights of Broadway, the West End or Hollywood. Our little show attracted not one, but 6 producers/promoters from the Netherlands. With names like Mons de Goede and Wim Dekker, who needs Harvey Weinstein?

I performed 24 shows in Edinburgh, and each audience was different. Some performances, the smiles were wide but the laughs small. Others, I couldn’t shut people up.

There were days I couldn’t give away tickets to my show, and times we ran out of seats. But my audiences never bored me. There was always something weird, hilarious or fantastic about them.

There was one fabulous woman who, after the show, pulled down her jeans to show me a large, spectacular tattoo. It was of a flaming, multi-coloured uterus complete with actual-size fallopian tubes.

The best thing about being involved in the Fringe was the people we met. The great and the good, the famous and the deluded - I love them all.

Here’s a few of the starry-types we encountered. Demitri Martin, winner of the 2003 Perrier Award - the top Fringe Award that promises a lot more than a year’s supply of fizzy water. Jonathan Dutton - Tad in Neighbors. He’s small and cute, with a legion of girly fans who queued to see his high-brow, sexually-charged play - only to walk out with puzzled faces. Scott Capurro - a very charismatic, very outspoken, very gay and very funny stand-up. He doesn’t care he won the Perrier:

‘No one knows what the fuck it is in the States. I was in a restaurant with the award on the table and the waitress said, “That’s nice, did you make it?”’

As the Fringe drew to a close, the Fringe Stewards started to loosen up. WMD and I were on the Royal Mile minding our own business, when we noticed one of the female Stewards teasing a fellow Steward who was wearing a kilt.

‘I bet you have underwear on under that skirt.’

‘It’s a kilt and I’ve told you before, no underwear.’

And with that, up came his kilt and out came his....

I seized the moment for some sweet poetic justice.

‘Hey Fringe Steward. Get that penis off the Royal Mile.’

END

(c) Phyllis Foundis 2004-5 - The Virgin Club

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Editing & Copyright Note The articles by Tyrus Lemerande and Phyllis Foundis are both edited from their individual originals - with their consent and our appreciation. Ty and Phyllis retain copyright of their individual originals and these edited versions 2004-5. Fringe Report sub-editor for both articles - Sarah Shavel 2005.

Fringe Report (c) Fringe Report 2002-2008