Just when things were really kicking into gear, West T. Hill finds out that he has a disabilitating disease of the bones. For the next several years, with Dorothy Belle by his side, he continues to direct our plays with diligence. There were times his pain was so bad sitting in his wheelchair, he would ask one of the fellas to lift him out and simply put him on the floor. From the floor he would continue to direct, never missing a beat in guiding his actors.
It was hard for those of us who held them dear to see them both suffer so. Dorothy Belle suffered along with her beloved and we all went along for the ride.
The theatre flourished and grew.
Plans were made to buy our own building.
At some point, Dorothy Belle couldn't manage anymore and we saw less and less of West. He took several of us under his wing and passed on his directing acumen. I was one of those lucky ones.
Before we knew it he was gone. Dorothy Belle picked herself up and continued on with the theatre. She did EVERYTHING but direct.
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