A Love Letter to Community Theatre Volunteers

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

There’s a moment, just before the lights go down, where everything feels like magic. The anticipation in the air, the hush over the crowd, the flicker of a spotlight—these things don’t just happen. They are built, piece by piece, by a small army of community theatre volunteers who give their time, talents, and entire hearts to make the show go on.

And too often, they don’t get the credit they deserve.

We praise the performers (rightfully), applaud the directors and choreographers (as we should), and marvel at the costumes and sets. But it’s the volunteers—those unsung heroes of regional and local stages—who are the true backbone of community theatre.

These are the people painting flats at midnight, sewing buttons onto jackets two hours before curtain, running to CVS for more bobby pins, or making another pot of coffee for a tired cast during tech week. They show up early and stay late, not for applause or accolades, but because they believe in what theatre can do for a community.

Volunteers are often the first to arrive and the last to leave. They’re the house managers folding programs, the ushers greeting you with a smile, the folks selling you snacks at intermission to help fund the next show. They’re the parents hanging lights because their kid got cast in the ensemble. They’re the retirees running box office spreadsheets like Broadway producers. They’re the high schoolers pulling cables backstage while learning the ropes—literally.

They work tirelessly behind the scenes, their efforts often invisible unless something goes wrong. And when everything runs smoothly, we sometimes forget just how many moving parts were guided, managed, and executed by people who aren’t on the payroll.

I’ve worked on many productions over the years—some polished, some chaotic, some deeply personal. And I can tell you this without hesitation: any success I’ve ever had in theatre has been thanks, in large part, to volunteers. To the friend who sat through hours of rehearsals just to hand out flyers. To the person who made sure we had clean restrooms and working microphones. To the one who stayed after the final show, sweeping confetti from the floor, long after the curtain call.

Community theatre volunteers are driven by love. Love for theatre, yes. But also love for the people it brings together. There’s a unique kind of joy in giving your time to something bigger than yourself. A joy in knowing you helped create a space where stories are told, laughter is shared, and sometimes, lives are changed.

And let’s not forget: these are not lesser artists. Just because they aren’t paid doesn’t mean they aren’t professionals in spirit. I’ve seen volunteers build sets more intricate than Broadway tours. I’ve watched wardrobe crews stitch miracles out of dollar store finds. I’ve heard musicians who could rival pit orchestras in major cities, all donating their time simply because they love the craft.

So today, let’s pause the standing ovation for just a moment—and turn around. Look at the person handing you your program, or dimming the house lights, or selling you a raffle ticket to raise funds for new lighting equipment. Say thank you. Mean it.

Because without them, there is no show.

To every community theatre volunteer reading this: you are not background. You are the story. You are the glue that holds the production together, the heartbeat of every play and musical. Your commitment, your kindness, your generosity—it matters. It uplifts. It transforms.

And from this grateful artist to you: I see you. I appreciate you. And I promise, your work will never go unnoticed in my heart.