And this one hits especially close to home for me. I grew up in Connecticut. I know the Thomaston Opera House. I know Landmark Community Theatre. In fact, got its start covering theatre in this very region. I’ve seen firsthand how much talent, heart, and pride exists in that building. Which makes this decision even harder to understand. This wasn’t some accidental oversight. It was a choice. A conscious one.
Michael Burr, chairman of the restoration committee, has publicly defended that choice. He’s said, “We were very sensitive to it when we first uncovered it. We did a lot of research and found there are buildings all over the country with swastikas.” He’s also claimed, “Where’s the outrage? We’re prepared. We did our homework. It wasn’t a decision that was made without consideration.” And perhaps most directly: “That’s what they gave us the grant money to do… Are you going to change everything? It’s an historic restoration.”
In other words: the symbols are back because they were always there. Because that’s what the money was for. Because other buildings have them, too.
But just because something is historical doesn’t mean it should be reintroduced without a conversation, especially not in a space designed to serve the public, and especially not when it involves one of the most painful symbols in modern history.
It’s also worth acknowledging the political landscape here. While Connecticut is widely seen as a blue state, this region—particularly Windham County—leans deeply conservative and strongly supported Donald Trump in his elections. I’m not saying that translates to support for hate symbols. But I am saying it makes me doubt that prioritizing the concerns of marginalized communities was high on the list when the ceiling plans were being finalized.
Supporters of the restoration argue that it offers a “teachable moment.” And in a perfect world, maybe that would be true. But context can’t always do the heavy lifting. A sign in the lobby doesn’t cancel out the impact of looking up and seeing swastikas above your head while attending a wedding, a concert, or a musical about Jewish persecution.
This doesn’t feel like education. It feels like erasure dressed up as preservation.
And here’s the worst part: it didn’t have to be this way. The restoration team had options. They made a choice, a very deliberate one. They chose historical accuracy over empathy. They chose symbolism over sensitivity. They chose to focus on the ceiling instead of the people who would be sitting and performing beneath it.
And now, the Thomaston Opera House, a place that should feel like a creative home, is making a lot of people feel uncomfortable, unwelcome, and unheard.
If your theatre project ends with canceled weddings, frustrated artists, and a divided community, it’s not a success. It’s a failure in priorities.
And if those swastikas remain uncovered, maybe it’s time for Landmark Community Theatre to make a choice of their own. Because performing Fiddler on the Roof, a show about the Jewish experience, about displacement and survival, under a ceiling lined with swastikas is not just tone-deaf. It’s unacceptable.
There are other theatres. There are other stages. CT is rich with them. There are places that do not proudly display one of history’s most hateful symbols in the name of authenticity.
