Pat and I did a "Little Theatre" production of Ionesco's "The Chairs," my first exposure to theatre of the absurd. I went on to study this in college, but back in high school it was precocious Pat Hildabrand who was already exploring the genre. She called our rehearsals in her basement on Saturday mornings. She was quiet, intense, and fascinating to me in high school. I'm sorry I didn't get to know her better.
Pat, Alice Rosengard and I did an "alternative" excerpt from A Taste of Honey , with Alice directing, Pat in the lead, and me playing Pat's mother (wearing, as I recall, a rather moth-eaten wolf pelt as a fur stoll.) Pat was always in the avant garde, urging us to volunteer at Hull House Theatre and discovering the latest plays. She introduced me to Edward Gorey, for whose work I still have huge affection. She was deeply perceptive, tremendously funny and really smart - one of those people who dances to a music all her own, and inspires you to see things differently.
Joanne, you must have been reading my mind, because I was just getting ready to post memories of Pat.I had completely forgotten "A Taste of Honey"! But I do recall the three of us doing a scene from "The Madwoman of Chaillot." And an adaptation of "Washington Square."
Pat suggested we take an acting workshop for teens offered by Ted Liss, a Chicago-area teacher who, I learned many years later, waa legendary. We did, and it was a great experience (he assigned me Lady Macbeth, and Pat was a transcendent Viola in "Twelfth Night").As Joanne wrote, Pat always seemed to know where the artistic movers were, although I was too naive to know how to take advantage of some of those opportunities. She was a serious person with a powerful intellect. Malcolm Mosing used to call her "Little Bit."
After high school; we corresponded frequently and voluminously. Eerily, when I was most in need of emotional support, a letter from Pat would arrive--usually sprinkled with poems by Yeats and Cavafy.
We lost touch after college, but when I moved to New York I looked her up. She was working as a guide at the Merchant House, an historic building that had been turned into a museum. We got together a few times to go to the theatre.
After the Merchant House eliminated her position,she had a hard time finding work. We spoke some time after I had met the man who was to become my husband, and my life had become hectic. She told me she'd had a stroke and that she was trying to train herself to write again. I kept meaning to get in touch with her to find out how she was doing. Not long after that I read in the alumni newsletter that she had died.
Apart from being brilliant, she was very beautiful: i always thought she looked just like Lillian Gish, the great actress of the silent film era.
Alice, how great to hear from you! And how could I ever forget the "Madwoman"? Pat was indeed beautiful, and she had so many wonderful ideas. I am sorry that I lost touch with her mid-way through university - the way of the world, I guess. She was a genius, and totally unique.
Marjorie Leopold
Pat and I did a "Little Theatre" production of Ionesco's "The Chairs," my first exposure to theatre of the absurd. I went on to study this in college, but back in high school it was precocious Pat Hildabrand who was already exploring the genre. She called our rehearsals in her basement on Saturday mornings. She was quiet, intense, and fascinating to me in high school. I'm sorry I didn't get to know her better.
Joanne Harack
Pat, Alice Rosengard and I did an "alternative" excerpt from A Taste of Honey , with Alice directing, Pat in the lead, and me playing Pat's mother (wearing, as I recall, a rather moth-eaten wolf pelt as a fur stoll.) Pat was always in the avant garde, urging us to volunteer at Hull House Theatre and discovering the latest plays. She introduced me to Edward Gorey, for whose work I still have huge affection. She was deeply perceptive, tremendously funny and really smart - one of those people who dances to a music all her own, and inspires you to see things differently.
Alice Rosengard
Joanne, you must have been reading my mind, because I was just getting ready to post memories of Pat.I had completely forgotten "A Taste of Honey"! But I do recall the three of us doing a scene from "The Madwoman of Chaillot." And an adaptation of "Washington Square."
Pat suggested we take an acting workshop for teens offered by Ted Liss, a Chicago-area teacher who, I learned many years later, waa legendary. We did, and it was a great experience (he assigned me Lady Macbeth, and Pat was a transcendent Viola in "Twelfth Night").As Joanne wrote, Pat always seemed to know where the artistic movers were, although I was too naive to know how to take advantage of some of those opportunities. She was a serious person with a powerful intellect. Malcolm Mosing used to call her "Little Bit."
After high school; we corresponded frequently and voluminously. Eerily, when I was most in need of emotional support, a letter from Pat would arrive--usually sprinkled with poems by Yeats and Cavafy.
We lost touch after college, but when I moved to New York I looked her up. She was working as a guide at the Merchant House, an historic building that had been turned into a museum. We got together a few times to go to the theatre.
After the Merchant House eliminated her position,she had a hard time finding work. We spoke some time after I had met the man who was to become my husband, and my life had become hectic. She told me she'd had a stroke and that she was trying to train herself to write again. I kept meaning to get in touch with her to find out how she was doing. Not long after that I read in the alumni newsletter that she had died.
Apart from being brilliant, she was very beautiful: i always thought she looked just like Lillian Gish, the great actress of the silent film era.
Joanne Harack
Alice, how great to hear from you! And how could I ever forget the "Madwoman"? Pat was indeed beautiful, and she had so many wonderful ideas. I am sorry that I lost touch with her mid-way through university - the way of the world, I guess. She was a genius, and totally unique.