'The little theater that could': Downtown's Redhouse moves forward despite financial setbacks

By: Chase W. Wright

Posted: 5/8/08

The red, brick building stands at the corner of a bustling intersection on the edge of Armory Square. Once known as the Hotel Victor, it was a nightly home for prostitutes and their suitors. For a time, it sat crumbling at its foundation like so many surrounding buildings. While some call it a degrading piece of history, Laura Austin calls it home.

And she's not the only one. In 2002, Austin and a group of local artists began a campaign to turn the former brothel into a house for the arts. After two years and $1.4 million in renovations, the Redhouse opened its doors to the public.

The intimate space is far from conventional. Eighty-nine velvet red seats are separated into four rows and stand just 10 feet away from the stage. Patrons say witnessing a performance is like watching live TV.

"Our space defines everything we do," Austin said. "We tend to do smaller pieces, pieces that lend themselves to really tight focus and examination."

In addition to contemporary theater and cinema, Redhouse also offers performances from musicians both locally and internationally known. One of Redhouse's many stairwells holds a wall covered by the signatures of these musicians, along with sentimental pieces they've left behind.

There's also an interactive aspect to Redhouse. Guests can sign up for a number of artistic classes with trained professionals, toast champagne with the regulars in the art gallery overlooking the stage or settle at the bar for a glass of Merlot.

Redhouse offers a diverse mix of activities for any patron of the arts, but it hasn't always been easy to find funding. Redhouse has seen three administrations come and go, staff members laid off, a two-thirds budget cut and a name change that omitted the "the" before Redhouse. The administration is still having trouble getting the new name to stick.

Thomas Tarbox has been production manager for "the little theater that could" since 2004. He has yet to see it turn a profit.

"We're always in the red," he said earnestly.

Redhouse's tight budget has turned Tarbox into a packrat, collecting miscellaneous objects that may or may not be useable from local shops and thrift stores.

The basement of Redhouse, no more than six feet high, is littered with makeshift props created from salvaged wood and a table saw that seems oddly out of place. Old, leaky paint cans donated by Purcell's Paint and Wallpaper Co. are stacked together in a corner.

"We're pretty good at begging, borrowing and stealing things people are no longer using," Tarbox said. "Theater people are able to make things look pretty grandiose when the budget may be only $100."

Tarbox recalled the time he found an old, moldy sofa at an underground market, which he bought for about $2. With a little cleaning, some new fabric and a few hours of his time, Tarbox turned the sofa into a prop for one of Redhouse's many performances. The old sofa is one of Tarbox's proudest finds.

It certainly takes more than donations from a wealthy board of trustees to keep a local, nonprofit theater sustainable.

"Time is really the only cost most small theaters have," Tarbox says.

Now in its fourth administration, Redhouse has found creative ways to market itself and sell tickets to shows. Word-of-mouth is spreading. The four colorful chalkboards that list the theater's upcoming events invite outsider's intrigue, as do the two mannequins posing atop the roof of the three-story art house.

Just don't come in when the red light outside the building is on. That's Redhouse's signal for when artists are at work.

cwwright@syr.edu