Posted May 4, 2026

Behind the Scenes – Alumnae Theatre

Molly, for readers who don’t know the Alumnae, can you give us a capsule history of the theatre?

The Alumnae Theatre was established in 1918 by a group of women from the University of Toronto (University College) who had enjoyed theatre as undergraduates and decided they would like to continue. The men were all still away at the war, so that first year they played all the roles themselves, but by the following year, they decided to invite gentlemen to come and assist — to play the men’s roles and build the sets and help with tech. Some of those women were still alive when I first became a member very many years ago, and they were formidable women, I can tell you! They were all very serious, and bluestockings, every one of them, really determined. The Alumnae is the oldest women-run theatre in North America. And it continues to be run by women.

I just finished writing a piece about the theatre for Clare Hopkinson for the Theatre Museum that focused on the Alumnae’s dedication to women writers, which has always been a focus for my work with the theatre. In the 1970s, I came across a work called La Nef des sorcières by a group of French-Canadian feminist writers, a series of monologues about life as a woman. I found this so intriguing that I managed to get a grant to have it translated, and it became Linda Gaborieau’s first translation for the theatre. I worked with her on this, and it was really an extraordinary experience. It was very well-received. From then on, I was totally hooked: all I wanted to do was to focus on women writers. And so in the 80s and 90s, I directed a number of Toronto premieres—I’m not sure whether they were all Canadian premieres but certainly they were all Toronto premieres—of international plays by women writers. Plays by Pam Gems and Timberlake Wertenbaker, and Carol Churchill’s Fen, which was a great highlight of my directing career. It culminated in the all-time hit at the Alumnae, Carol Shields’s Thirteen Hands. (It came right on the heels of her winning the Pulitzer Prize for The Stone Diaries.) We had sold-out houses for the entire run. I also directed a number of other premieres of works written by Alumnae members: a couple by Shirley Barrie, The Pear Is Ripe and I Am Marguerite, and GuineaPigging by Catherine Frid. At the same time, I was producing my own play, The Bush-Ladies, which also focused on women writers.

Tell us about The Bush-Ladies, Molly.

Well, what a ride that was! It started as a series of readings in1967. I had two small children at the time, and I didn’t have time to do a full rehearsal schedule, so I had been talking about doing readings. And one day the president of the Alumnae turned up at my doorstep and said, “Time to put your money where your mouth is, Molly.” We sat down and decided that, well, it had to be Canadian because it was Canada’s centennial. I had known about these women. (19^th-century Canadian women writers Susanna Moodie, Catharine Parr Traill, Anna Jameson, and Anne Langton.) I had never read any of their works, but I knew that Trent was naming their women’s residence after these ladies. So I thought I’d put something together with these women. I had a friend who was convalescing, and I gave her two of the books and I took the other two and I said, “Just mark anything that sounds terrific and I’ll do the same.” So that’s what I did. As I went through the books, I could hear these voices because they’re so strong. So we put together this evening, which was called This Beggarly Wooden Country, which is the way Susanna Moodie described Canada. It was very well-received, and then it was revived at the Alumnae in International Women’s Year. As I took the piece apart and reworked it, I decided that that really this had the makings of a play—but it had to get past the idea of readings with scripts, and it had to have a stronger narrative arc. Ultimately, I managed to put together the script that became The Bush-Ladies. As a result of the success of the Alumnae production of Thirteen Hands, Canadian Stage, which had originally done a workshop but then passed on it, decided to produce the Shields play. I managed to get myself appointed as assistant director, and so it was off to Ottawa with Marti Maradan, who was the director. In the course of our working together on that production, I mentioned the play I was working on. The next year, Marti became the artistic director at the National Arts Centre, and one night she called me up and asked me to send her the script. So I sent her what I had, and she called me a few weeks later and said, “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I got up and I read your play. I love it and I want to do it.” Suddenly it was not destined not only for the heritage houses and maybe some schools, but for a proper theatre venue. Then when we came back to Toronto, we did it at Tarragon and sold out every show. Then we went on tour and it toured for approximately five years. We ended the tour in Kingston, and we were all sitting around feeling very sad that it was finally over. And I said, “Well, the only place that we can go to now is back to Toronto.” You know, there were still people who would call me up and say, “I tried three times to get to see that show of yours, and I couldn’t get a ticket.” So anyway, we went back and worked at Artword Theatre. Again, we sold out everything. And then it was published by Scirocco Press. So here we are.

Why do you think the Alumnae is an important part of the Toronto theatre landscape?

Once upon a time, it was very important because it was the only theatre that was doing revivals of classic drama other than Shakespeare. Stratford wasn’t doing it, but we did restoration comedy. We did Ben Jonson; we did all kinds of stuff like that. We did original Canadian plays; James Rainey’s first play, The Killdeer, was premiered at Alumnae. And we were doing all these avant-garde pieces from Europe, the most famous of which was Waiting for Godot. We did the Canadian premiere of that at the Alumnae’s tiny little Coach House Theatre, which we established in about 1956 because we had wanted to give members of the Alumnae a chance to direct. We had this little coach house, which is we where we built sets. We had won the Dominion Drama Festival the year before and we had $1,000 prize money, so we took $500 of it and converted one of the rooms of this little coach house into a tiny little theatre that sat 35 people. It had a stage that was seven feet by fourteen feet. The crossover was out the back door, around the building, through the room where we stored the flats, and back in again. And that’s where the, the first Canadian production of Godot was. We had people lined up around the block. We had no idea there was an audience for this strange play. We just wanted to see if it worked.

We were in that space for two years, and then the fire marshal decided that we were disobeying some regulations, and so we had to move. We moved to a space upstairs from a garage on Bedford Road, and that was the second Coach House.

We did about six or eight shows a year; we were so busy and there was so much to explore. We had to leave Bedford Road after only two years because the landlord decided he wanted to have the premises for some other more legitimate renter, I guess! But one of our members was married to an accountant and he said, you know, “You’ve got a following in Toronto. You could raise money and buy a place so that you wouldn’t have to go through all this every time.” So anyway, we started fundraising and eventually we found this wonderful old synagogue on Huron Street. We were there for eight years. We did Duchess of Malfi and all kinds of very good stuff. And that’s where we started the reading series that I talked about for This Beggarly Wooden Country. And all the time we were expanding the role of women directors and writers.

You asked me what’s the importance of the Alumnae? Well, it became more difficult as time went on to find a real role for the Alumnae because of the emergence of professional theatres, which we’re all very happy to have, but they took some of the programming. That’s when we really began to concentrate on women writers. We established the Fireworks Festival at Alumnae, which showcases women writers; it started with a play of Shirley Barrie’s called Measure of the World. And we have done twenty-two new plays by women writers since then, some of which have gone on to other productions. So that’s my legacy.

But to get back to your question, one of the reasons that the Alumnae still exists is that it is—as it always has been—a bridge between the amateur theatre or the community theatre, and the professional theatre. Many, many young artists have come fresh out of theatre school to play at Alumnae and then they’ve gone on to renown. And some actors who’ve given up the profession come back because they still like to perform, and the plays are still ambitious.

I have to say the quality is always professional.

We certainly hope that that is the case. This year has been, I think, outstanding in terms of the level of performance, directing, and design. And now we’re in our big Firehall Theatre. It’s a big burden, financially. It was maybe a bit more ambitious than we should have undertaken.

Molly, just before we wind up, I want to ask you to tell us about one of your favourite Alumnae productions. An unfair question, I know!

Well, one of the things I’m very proud of is my final farewell performance at Alumnae, which was as Hecuba in The Trojan Women, the Gwendolyn MacEwen adaptation. I had to be persuaded to do it because I thought I was, you know, “past it,” but I gave in finally, and it was a remarkable production. Wonderfully directed by Alexandra Seay; she had a beautiful visual vision for this piece. I’m very happy to have had that final opportunity.

And you couldn’t be persuaded to go back?

Only I think for a little, a little tiny vignette, you know? So that I could remember all the lines.