Fueled by the Rockefeller grant, for the summer of 1967, it was decided to do staged readings of 17 new works, and to hire major designers to design and light the plays. We also invited critics from across the country to preside at the critiques after each reading. Due to the new funding, we entered the summer with enormous expectations, even though the logistics of presenting so many pieces in three weeks were daunting. It was an exciting challenge, and we had a sense that we were breaking new ground in the service of the playwright. There was also a growing national attention occasioned by a series of articles in THE NEW YORK TIMES.

After the conference, Broadway, off-Broadway, and Lincoln Center snatched up some of the plays, and the O’Neill Center was riding a wave of enthusiasm for new American works, most of which were iconoclastic, as they were set against the background of the United States’ growing involvement in Vietnam.

To our initial satisfaction, a headline in THE NEW YORK TIMES termed Waterford, Connecticut, “Tryout town, USA.” Unknown at the time, contained in this phrase was the concept that almost killed the program in its infancy.

The 1967 Conference seemed enormously successful with the exception of the after-reading on stage critiques. Though the audiences enjoyed them, the playwrights found them useless, and often hostile towards their vision and creativity. Though I felt firmly committed to having critics at the conference, it became obvious that other ways must be found to effect this. It became apparent that there was also a need to train critics to deal with an entirely new dramaturgy. Therefore, I approached the Ford Foundation to fund a Critics Institute for the 1968 season, and I received a grant to do so.

The acclaim for the 1967 conference sowed the seeds of chaos for the next summer. While it was found possible to have actors “off book” (approximating the playwrights’ words), 125 light cues, and elaborate sets all in three days, the loser was the playwright, and the text. They were virtually run over in a scrabble to get the work on its feet, and some playwrights began to “cheat” by working on their plays in New York before coming to Connecticut. All these elements began to breed a sense of competition among actors, playwrights, designers, and directors.

The “tryout town” headline had the effect of creating a circus, wherein each weekend limos would de bouche hoards of producers and scouts from as far as London’s West End, all seeking next season’s “hits.” The scenic grounds of the O’Neill became a meat market where, under its majestic elms and copper beech trees, the commercial theater vied for properties. What had begun as an attempt at building a temple of creativity had now allowed the money changers to enter.