By Thea Jarvis

Social consciousness-raising is coming of age in metro Atlanta. “People of the Brick,” a brief but powerful dramatic stopover in the dead-end world of the homeless, played at the Academy Theater last week, forging new bonds between live theater and the experience of the streets.

The drama was part of ART WORKS, a 10-day series of visual and performing arts events exploring homelessness and its causes that grew out of the Task Force for the Homeless and the Atlanta Community Food Bank.

The play, directed by actor Kenny Leon and playwright Barbara Lebow, was developed by and with four homeless people who made their dramatic debut on the Academy mainstage. What the quartet lacked in professional style and presence was made up for by their sincerity and the knowledge they had unwillingly gleaned from life on the street. A palpable sense of realism pervaded the theater as the actors effectively illuminated the crisis that is homelessness.

From the outset, “People of the Brick” was not an average night at the theater. Audience participation and response was pivotal. Taking a page from the hard-edged world of the homeless, the Academy required patrons to show identification before taking their seats in the “shelter” the theater had become. Without a valid driver’s license, credit card or proof of permanent residency, entrants were hassled and harangued. One young woman only made it through the door, she claimed, because one of the directors “vouched” for her. Seating, too, mirrored the raggedy world of the homeless; men on one side of the theater, women on the other. Although an irate patron left when told he could not sit with his spouse, most were willing to accept the fact that they were to be an integral part of the drama.

The plaintive strains of Michael Keck’s music and the haunting lyrics of cast member Robert Reitz opened the body of the play and clarified its message: “You say they must be losers, drunks, outcasts, sick. They’re really just like you, only people of the brick.”

The homeless in Atlanta – or New York, Chicago, Miami or L.A. – aren’t very different from the well-dressed, full-stomached folks who pass them daily on the street. They are homeless because illness or unemployment, personal tragedy or a series of bad breaks happened their way.

Atlanta native Rayanna Childers, 65, who plays everyone from a bag lady to a hospital attendant in the drama, has been a victim of mental illness since the age of 27. During one severe bout, she lost job, home, car and clothing and found herself sharing space on the street with other unfortunates. Her three months as one of the “people of the brick” left their mark. Her illness is now under control, she has a good job and stable home, yet during rehearsals recurring flashbacks of her life on the street caused her to twice withdraw from the enterprise. Encouragement from Ms. Lebow and Leon brought her back to share her story with others.

Young James Wilson, a transplanted New Yorker who came to Atlanta looking for something better, and Dexter Cox, from Memphis, Tenn., had been on the street until they volunteered for the play during one lunch hour at St. Luke’s soup kitchen. They are young and hopeful about their future, yet intensely serious about the tragedy of homelessness they depict in “People of the Brick.”

Robert Reitz, the play’s lyricist, was born in Atlanta but traveled extensively as the child of an Army sergeant. He returned to his home town only to end up as one of the 7,000 homeless on Atlanta’s streets. The play, according to Reitz, “brought me out of my shell.”

“People of the Brick” weaves a patchwork tale of homelessness that touches on most of the indignities suffered by those on the street: violence, theft, hunger, fear of dying alone and unknown, lack of sleep, of clothing, of intimacy. It highlights the frustration of waiting for a job in the labor pools, the ritual of selling plasma for economic survival, the questionable justice of being tried for urinating in a public park.

“Everything you have heard, either (the actors) have experienced it or someone they know has,” Barbara Lebow commented during a dialogue session at the end of the evening.

At one point in the play, a homeless man has literally drunk himself to death and lies on a pavement in full view of passersby. He is, nevertheless, unnoticed by an airy woman feeding the birds, a star-crossed couple discussing their luncheon plans, and an intellectual deep in his books. It is the old story of the good Samaritan retold by the voice in the street. When the man’s body is finally spied by two comrades, they are unmoved by the tragedy and call the hospital because there seems nothing else to do. A cold-hearted nurse appears and directs the removal of the corpse while pocketing the dead man’s watch.

Throughout this interlude, a sense of indifference to the plight of the homeless becomes uncomfortably apparent. It is, perhaps, the greatest crime committed against those who court survival on the streets: seeing them, not as persons, but as annoying distractions to an otherwise neat and orderly existence. We look around them, over them, through them, but are afraid to meet their eyes because we might see ourselves mirrored there.

Some members of the Academy audience took their fear by the hand and walked with it.

“I’ve decided I’m not going to do nothing anymore,” one member of the audience responded at the play’s conclusion.

Others, moved by the strength and vision of the work, by the sheer truth of it, have begun to request repeat performances. Although the play officially ran for four days at the Academy, schools and community groups are eyeing on-site productions. Georgia Public Television, which had documented development of “People of the Brick” from its beginnings through its final stages, will air a special “behind the scenes” look at the play in late January or early February.

Information on further productions of “People of the Brick” is available through the Academy Theater, 873-2518.

(Thea Jarvis is a freelance writer who contributes regularly to the Georgia Bulletin.)