In the summer of 1904 Beatrice conceived the idea of building a theatre on the Hayward estate in Wayland for the amusement of herself and her theatrical friends. She made a model of a theatre and Mr. Everett Small and Mr. James Linnehan built it along with Beatrice. At first there was no lobby or back part, but these were added a year later, thus placing the front door, the box office and the lobby at the rear of the auditorium. Beatrice named the theatre after Rosina Vokes, a great English comedienne whom she very much admired. She wanted a real theatre and that is what she built - real balcony, real boxes, real stage with dressing rooms, red plush rails (stuffed with excelsior from the wedding presents of Marian Bennett Robbins, a neighbor). The balusters on the balcony were constructed from tracings she made from some wallpapers in her house (probably the famous scenic French wallpaper depicting the Lady of the Lake. And, of course, there were the gold framed mirrors with their gilded bow knots, which Beatrice made of putty and then gilded. Mr. Meade of Weston, architect for the Wayland library, gave the shield with the festoons for the proscenium, and the frame of the arch was made of valances from an old Salem mansion, brought to Wayland in 1875 and presented to Beatrice by Mrs. James Coolidge when the theatre was built. Mr. Gannon, who painted at the Boston Theatre, and, according to Beatrice, mixed his paints in chamber pots, painted the curtain; and Beatrice painted the "tormentor." The little gilded lion seated so regally on the shelf at the foot of the stairs to the balcony was picked up by Beatrice in an old shop in London. Among her many friends who have visited the theatre were Katharine Cornell, Ellen Terry, Lotte Crabtree, George Arliss, Nora Bayes, Ethel Barrymore, John Drew, William Archer and Gelett Burgess, some of whom (as well as others) inscribed their signatures on the inside of the box office door.
Opening night took place on September 23, 1904, with the production of a minstrel show and vaudeville. Gelett Burgess was in the box office. There was a doorman to take tickets and the ushers were young boys who wore white trousers with red stripes at the sides and red epaulets on their coats. Every year for fourteen or fifteen years one play was given in the theatre by the local talent. Sometimes there was a small orchestra under the direction of Mr. Bennett. Dances and parties were also held there.
This was the Vokes Theatre in June of 1937 when a small group, organized as the Vokes Players, received the gracious and delighted permission of Beatrice Herford to use her precious theatre. It was a courageous group, for the little theatre was by then in sad disrepair. The seating capacity at the time was about 90, backstage space was nil, and the two dressing rooms, one for men and one for women, were just about the size of telephone booths. To go from one side of the stage to the other during a performance one had to run around outside the building, and often did. At the sides there was just room for one person to stand off-stage and operate the curtain and lights which, by the way, were antiquated and defective. If the cast was large or props numerous, it was necessary to accommodate them in a tent pitched near the rear door or in a car trunk backed up to that entrance. But enthusiasm was high, and when the first production went off so well a second one was put on in September of that year. As there was no heat of any kind in the theatre, activities then had to be suspended until spring.
In that era there were other obstacles to surmount, but one that caused much consternation in the second season was an inspector from the State Department of Public Safety whose attention was caught by a poster placed in the Wayland post office by the very efficient publicity committee. The inspector had never before heard of a theatre in Wayland. He inquired where it was and dutifully made his inspection. As a result (about one week before the play was to be performed) he forbade the performance without an asbestos curtain, another exit from the auditorium, an outside stairway from the balcony and several other impossible things. He finally relented when a few of his minor suggestions were carried out and promises were made to get the other work done promptly thereafter. It was then that it was realized that substantial funds would have to be raised to improve the theatre if Vokes was to continue using it.
In 1939, as a way of earning additional money, Uncle Tom's Cabin was presented in the Town Hall, which would seat a much larger audience than the theatre. Leaving the theatre for this production was entirely mercenary and for the eventual benefit of the theatre building fund. Those who remember the old Town Hall appreciated the challenges this production faced. However, with the money earned, the first heat was installed -- two oil burners, one near the side door in the auditorium and one backstage, ugly, smelly and inadequate, but at least there was some heat.
Ever so gradually over the next five years the bank account began to grow and with it dreams of grandeur in the future. And then the war struck -- World War II -- and productions were suspended for lack of manpower, gasoline and time. The Vokes organization was kept alive, however, when many older and stronger groups withered and died. Monthly supper meetings were held in the Cestry of the First Parish, when husbands came out from Boston on the six o'clock train and wives combined their trips to the station with preparing supper at the Church. And all the time there were the dreams of adequate heat and more room in the theatre.
The war's end saw re-awakened interest in the little theatre and a swelling of the membership to include many new and talented young people able to contribute a diversity of skills necessary to successful theatrical productions. In March of 1946, Vokes again filled the Town Hall to capacity with their production of ;Night of January 16th, a profitable evening for the building fund not only from the sale of tickets but from the first and only sale of advertising space in the program. Also in 1946 a very wonderful thing happened to Vokes Players, Beatrice presented the theatre property to the organization. A year later Vokes was incorporated in order to take title. At once repairs and alterations were started. The old front door was moved from the back to the side toward the street, the lobby was installed on the side at the front door. This increased the seating capacity to about 125. The right side of the stage was built out toward the street and two dressing rooms were constructed there. And most miraculous, a gas heating system was put in. Not there was adequate room, luscious heat; but the Players were broke and still without running water, telephone and storage space.
Time went on with many wonderful things happening - the Vokes Children's plays, the fabulous melodrama, Only an Orphan Girl, the first production to run for two weekends. The need for more room was felt, and above all, plumbing. Again Vokes Players started the struggle for enough money for the needed expansion. Finally, in 1952, the enlargement of the building was begun by attaching a large addition for working space in the back of the stage. The first new dressing rooms which had seemed so adequate were torn down and two larger ones put at the back of the new part. The electricians now had elbow room, as well as a new switchboard (salvaged from the Sears estate in Weston when it was wrecked). There was a cellar under the new part, but still no bathroom, no running water.
In the summer of 1952 Vokes members were saddened by the death of Beatrice Herford Hayward, and at a special ceremony a portrait photograph of her was hung in the box which had always been reserved for her use during her lifetime and which she occupied on opening nights whenever it was possible for her to be there. This was to be a permanent memorial and an expression of affection and deep appreciation. The following year her box was roped off and unoccupied on opening nights.