“A little stage, a little shadow, and a whole lotta things goin’ on behind the curtain.”
Description - Exterior
Evan’s Community Playhouse sits quietly on a side street just off 51st, its limestone façade more dignified than the rest of the block. The marquee sign hasn’t changed font in twenty years: EVAN’S, spelled in sturdy red block letters, with a single star that flickers when it rains. A set of wide front steps leads to double oak doors with brass handles, always polished. The paint’s fresh, the roof’s solid, and the flowerbeds get watered even when the rest of the street’s dry. Everyone in Back of the Yards knows—it’s Bagels’ place.Description - Interior
Inside, the Playhouse is all velvet seats and scuffed floorboards, dim golden lights, and the faint scent of sawdust and cologne. The house seats maybe 200, with a modest stage framed by red curtains that haven’t faded. There’s a backstage lounge that doubles as a green room and, unofficially, a meeting room for quiet sit-downs. The acoustics are better than they have any right to be. Every season, there’s at least one musical or drama staged here—sometimes by the neighborhood kids, sometimes by Bagels’ hand-picked cast of misfits and professionals.History
Built in 1924 and almost condemned in the late ’40s, the Playhouse was saved by a quiet flood of funding routed through Joe “Bagels” Testa’s construction shell companies. He’s poured time, money, and pride into the place. Officially, it’s a community asset. Unofficially, it’s where Bagels gets to be something other than a mob boss—where he’s the stage manager, the benefactor, the king of lights and lines. Some of his crew hate it. Others are terrified by how much he cares.Owned By
Evan’s Community Foundation – a nonprofit managed by Bagels’ niece, fully funded by Outfit-backed donors.Run By
“Miss Dottie” Falcone, the artistic director. Former chorus girl, sharp as a nail file, keeps productions running on time and the books balanced for whoever’s watching.Employees
- Louis "Grips" Manzano – backstage hand and Bagels’ unofficial fixer. Works lights and rumors with equal care.
- “Sweets” Salazar – concessions manager, occasionally sells more than popcorn if you know what to ask.
- Lina K. – costume designer and quiet Veil-sensitive; swears some costumes come pre-haunted.
Regulars
- Bagels, always in the back row, mouthing along with the lines.
- Neighborhood kids cast in spring musicals and summer revues.
- Union leaders and precinct captains “invited” to special events.
- A pianist who doesn’t speak, but plays even when the bench is empty.
Notes
- Bagels holds private readings in the green room, often with just one other guest and a locked door.
- The props room has a locked trunk no one’s allowed to touch—it hums faintly some nights.
- Any show that flops here draws bad luck for the rest of the season—some call it a curse, others call it Bagels’ pride.
- The lights dim by themselves during monologues—especially the good ones.
- One missing actor was never found. The understudy refuses to talk about what they saw behind the curtain.
Comments