Theater’s Hottest New Voices On Why The Great White Way Is Not the Holy Grail

An interview by Tarrell Alvin McCraney, Playwright to Playwright
Photographed by James Graham

“They were just warm and vulnerable and embraced this moment, in a way I’ve never seen it. It’s the talk back I loved the most. It felt like a really safe space where a lot of them, most of them young, talked about religion, race…”

Playwright Katori Hall is not speaking about her Broadway debut of the play “The Mountaintop” which opened last fall starring Samuel L Jackson as Dr Martin Luther King Jr. and co-starring Angela Basset as a sweet, sharp and fast-potty-mouthed maid in room 306, the Lorraine Hotel, on the eve of King’s assassination.

No, while we speak, nestled into an empty dressing room, the technical rehearsal for that production goes on like a jazz riff over the dressing room speakers.

Katori Hall is speaking, dreamily, of a reading of “The Mountaintop” that happened in Russia.

“Russian audiences are really reserved.’

Hall learned this from her trip there in 2004 when, as a first year actor in graduate school, she was required to learn Russian and work with the Moscow Art Theater School. The experience, Katori noted, was riddled with racial tensions spurred a month earlier by an ambush of a black student by ‘skinheads’ while police unwilling to help simply watched. That story, and the sighting of Swastikas painted outside her dormitory walls, shook Hall and she ‘vowed never to return.’ But return she did, and with a play fictionalizing a history of violence and race in America.

‘They were authentic to the moment and the truth of the moment. It allowed for an interesting conversation about leadership. Where it comes from? That’s the sort of talk back I want to have in America.”

Ms. Hall is getting her chance.

Her play “Mountaintop” did a 360-lap around the world, starting first as a reading/workshop at the Lark Development Play Development Center. The Lark also awarded Hall the PONY Award, which allowed her a year of free housing in a one bedroom, doorman’d apartment in the heart of the theater district in New York City.

From the Lark, the play moved to Theatre 503, a small theater in London that sat directly over a pub. Ms Hall was quoted as saying ‘Well, OK, all great theatre is done above a pub.’

From there, Mountaintop transferred to Trafalgar Studios on London’s West End starring David Harewood and Lorraine Burroughs, and won Ms. Hall the Oliver Award that year for best new play. She made history, becoming the first black woman to receive that award.

Then there were various readings of the play around the world, and finally the stop in Russia again thanks to the Lark Center.

“It was perfect; supposedly there are two actors of color being hired In Russia and they just happened to be perfect ages. In a weird way sometimes I say that was a perfect version. The guy (actor) was really short. And king was like 5’6 or something. It was kind of remarkable Even though they were using these Slavic syllables to put forth my lilting southern dialogue.”

Shortly after winning the Olivier, the play was signed for a Broadway run by producers Jean Domounain and Sonia Friedman.

And all of this took place before she turned 30.

“I’m 30, look 20, and act five,” she laughs

Don’t let her contagious guffaw and her trickster smile fool you.
Katori Hall is even-tempered and easy to get along with. Too, she’s beautiful. High cheekbones, a head full of curly locks that she tosses up and down at a whim. Her easy self-deprecation and light Memphis cadence could lead you to believe her a high-fiving happy-go-lucky. Instead, Ms Hall is a focused woman in the business of creating complex portraits of herself and the world around her.

“I want to be emerging always. I’m in a transitional period with my identity
I’m a young black woman but who is Katori Hall beyond that?”

Raised in Memphis Tennessee, Hall was the youngest of 4. She began working as an actor at a young age. She recounts having Dreams of New York and a life far away. So it should come as no surprise when asked what her favorite role would be she mentions Anton Chekov’s play ‘Three Sisters’, a classic drama about three siblings who long for a life that is quickly slipping away from them.

“I saw their experience in my family; related on a human level. We had an Olga and a Masha. I wanted to be one of three sisters in Chekov’s beautiful play.”

At Columbia, Ms. Hall thought she might have a chance to play Irina the youngest sister who dreams of a chance to move to Moscow. But she was met with a roadblock and didn’t get the part.

“I was killing Irina. I thought I was tearing that audition up. And I confronted the head of the department who was directing the play and she said she wanted all of the family to look alike. Oh I get it,” Katori said. “You don’t want three sistuhs.”

We laugh but the wound was serious. And met with complimentary pangs.

“I ended up taking this acting class (while at Columbia) and our assignment was to take your acting partner, my acting partner just happened to be another young black woman, and find roles for your type and we pulled down so many plays.”

Finding not much hope, Katori and classmate turned to timely yet repeatedly-used classics. Lorraine Hansberry’s “A Raisin in the sun”

“We can’t both play BENEATHA. And we too young to play MAMA.”

Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible”
“Should we split the role of TITUBA?”

“We were frustrated and went back to class and we were like, ‘Becky, Becky Do you have any suggestions?’ That woman stood there… ten seconds went by, 20 seconds went by, 40 seconds went by.

In that moment when I saw my teacher silent I realized…If I really want to see myself in all my beauty and complexity staring back at me I would have to do it myself.”

And do it she did. After graduating from Columbia Katori enrolled in the American Repertory Theatre Institute for Advanced Theatre Training at Harvard University, and from there the Juilliard School’s Lila Acheson Wallace playwriting program.

“Since I left school I’ve written about ten plays that are at various stages of the process. “


There is Hoodoo love, which was developed and premiered at the Cherry Lane Theater under the mentorship of Lynn Nottage, Pulitzer Prize winner for her play “Ruined.” Hoodoo Love is a blues-rich heartbreaking depiction of a young black woman, “Toulou,” in late depression era Memphis, Tennessee. Time out called the play ‘a major debut by a playwright with a spring in her step, as well as kick.’ Katori calls it a search for her song:

“I was writing about myself. I had moved to this city of dreams. Had my brush with romance.”

Like Toulou Hall wondered
“What do you make of negative energy how do you sublimate it?”

Hall called the experience writing Hoodoo
“Transformative: Okay I am a storyteller now.”

In early 2011 Katori was the recipient of the Susan Smith Blackburn Prize for her play “Hurt Village” a non-flinching look at life the Uptown projects in Memphis. Our guide through “Hurt Village” is COOKIE; a rapper in the making. 13-year-old COOKIE tries to navigate the changing landscape as a Hope Grant, designed to ‘transform’ pubic housing, threatens to relocate her, her mother CRANK and Great Grandmother BIG MAMA. This on the eve of a drawdown in American forces in Iraq, which, leads to the reappearance of COOKIE’S estranged soldier father BUGGY. “Hurt Village” is one of three plays by Hall that the Signature Theater in New York has guaranteed to produce as apart of her five-year residency.

Hall on “Hurt Village”
“It’s actually my favorite. Based on a real place. That movie ‘Blindside’ portrayed this community, made it seem as if every black man on the corner was the boogieman.
But there are complexities; there are stories there. I think the play is so layered and also fun. Its great hearing the ensemble come together to do it.”

Describing the growth and development of 13 year-old COOKIE in the world of the play, Hall smiles:

“Emotional growth could get stunted because you were forced to grow your own self up so fast.”

And then there’s “Pussy Valley”.

“Pussy Valley” is being birthed.” Katori says throwing her head back and laughs as thunder cracks over the speakers from the rehearsal stage downstairs. Katori hall is still a performer. She smiles as she begins to talk her newest play.

“I would go to those… you know in the subway what are they called you see ‘em… news stands and you see King magazine and the XXL and these Black and Latin women are just there basically naked and they have all these black bars over ‘em. But then right next to them in Elle are these white women, just as naked, but her beauty is something that is ultra feminine ideal, where as the black woman is just nasty so we have to cover her parts. What is that? Why is that? How can I articulate this difference while also being entertaining? Put them in a strip club and see what a black woman has to go through as she tries to express her sexuality. It’s like a cousin of “Hurt Village” peeling back sexuality as it pertains to the Black woman. It requires actors who can really pole dance.“

She smiles excitedly about this and looks really interested in the investigation. It seems that Katori Hall’s charge to add exciting and complex roles for black females in the American theater is a perfect fit; a job that she’s not only good at but fully enjoys. Her demeanor shifts when asked about finding actors for roles and the long struggle to cast “The Mountaintop” on Broadway.

“I’m just glad we got it cast and it’s going up. I ended up getting a lot of flack for casting these,” She uses air quotes, “stars in the show. Face book fights would break out about the casting. But I lucked out. They can do the part well and they have box office draw.”

Asked her why she thinks so many facebookers were offended
She shrugs. Purses her lips. Then in a knowing sigh answers, “Scarcity of roles. There are not a lot of roles. And performers think that Broadway is the Holy Grail, as if they aren’t anyone unless they perform on the Great White Way, and that’s unfortunate, I don’t think that’s true. I think some of the best theater is going on regionally, the best theater is happing off Broadway. I think People need to stop being myopic and stop feeling as though this defines success. It’s a part of it, these lights…”

If you watch her close you can see by her evenness and calm that Katori Hall is already thinking, planning, maybe penning her next plays, films, songs. She currently has three plays running: “Hurt Village” at the Signature Theater, “WHADDABLOODCLOT!!!” Which opened at the Williamstown Theater Festival, and “Children of Killers” about the Rwandan genocide, which opened Friday at the Castillo Theater on West 42nd Street in New York City. ‘She’s on to the next,’ as they say. But that doesn’t stop Samuel L and Angela Bassett from filling the dressing room with shouts of this marvelous playwright’s words. Over the din I ask.

What about your family? How do they feel about the work?

‘My mother has a response to this play (Mountaintop). She feels I got the story in an emotional way. I’m curious to see what they think of “Hurt Village”, though. I’m speaking for them and I’m interested in knowing if what I am saying is what they want an audience that don’t look like them to hear.

Angela Bassett’s lines beam through speakers: ‘Fuck the White man fuck ‘em… Oh I’m sorry Preacher King.’

Katori Hall smiles.


Written on October 9th, 2012 , Media, Uncategorized

Katori Hall To Give Keynote Address At 2012 Fall Forum

by Dafina McMillan

in Fall Forum

Post image for Katori Hall To Give Keynote Address At 2012 Fall Forum

We are thrilled to announce that the keynote speaker for the 2012 TCG Fall Forum on Governance: Leading the Charge will be Katori Hall! Not only an award-winning playwright of plays like The Mountaintop and Hurt Village, Hall is also a noted journalist, publishing articles in The New York Times, The Boston Globe, Newsweek and more. As one of our theatre movement’s most electric new voices, she is the perfect person to kick-off the Forum and help us lead the charge.

Register by Friday, September 28th to receive the Early Bird Discount — and join this intimate gathering of theatre trustees, senior staff and dynamic speakers in New York.  Over three days, we will explore the “charge” of diversity – the magnetic, electric current that occurs when we bring people of differing perspectives and experiences into a room together.  How can we harness that energy to power our artistry, our organizations and our communities?  Space is very limited, so register now. There are also a limited number of scholarships available to help staff from TCG Member Theatres attend, by waiving the registration fee.  Scholarship applications are due by Friday, September 21st.

This year’s Fall Forum will provide working models to tackle questions like:

• How can we ensure more diversity in positions of leadership at our theatres?
• How do we ensure our boards represent a diversity of thought and perspective?
• How can we make diverse audiences an integral part of our communities?
• How do we welcome artists of all backgrounds to the table?

Above all, you’ll be able to identify what diversity means to you and your theatre.  Every community has its own unique challenges and opportunities, and there is no one-size-fits-all solution.  Embracing diversity and becoming truly inclusive takes intentionality.  And it begins with theatre leaders adapting these values to meet their local circumstances and make them truly their own.

Diversity has been a long-standing core value for TCG and a priority focus of our new strategic plan. Coming out of robust and meaningful conversations at the 2012 National Conference in Boston, we hope to continue the momentum and empower attendees with the models and tools needed to lead the charge.  So please join us in New York City this November!

Written on October 9th, 2012 , Events, Uncategorized

The Ascent of Katori Hall

The Mountaintop scribe pulls no punches–and neither do her characters

By Alexis Soloski

The playwright Katori Hall has a voice like a luxury brand of caramel, sweet and rich and not a little salty. It has more than a dash of her Memphis upbringing—a high tone and a plush timbre with a tendency to lengthen short vowels into lush, long ones. The word “friend” becomes “freend,” pen becomes “peen.” During her MFA training in acting at the American Repertory Theater/Moscow Art Theater Institute for Advanced Theater Training in Massachusetts, some instructors tried to neutralize her accent. Hall resisted.

“There are certain sounds I can’t let go of,” she says, settled on a bench in the sunny atrium of the Williamstown Theatre Festival, her masses of hair swirled into locks and looped beneath a bright orange head wrap. She describes her particular vocal inflections as her past, her heritage. “I have to carry that with me.”

Hall’s concern with preserving her own voice stands in contrast to the linguistic opulence and variety of her work, scripts swollen with songs, rhymes, taunts and prayers—from The Mountaintop, which made its American debut on Broadway in the fall of 2011, to Hurt Village, which played at the Signature Theatre Company in New York the following winter, to WHADDABLOODCLOT!!!, which premiered at Williamstown in August.

WHADDABLOODCLOT!!! centers on Eden Higginbotham, a Chanel-clad vixen who wakes from an ischemic stroke to find that her crisp, Ivy League inflections have been replaced by a thick Jamaican drawl, occasioning much confusion among all who see and hear her. Not only does Hall’s script switch between snappish Central Park tones and languid island patois, but she also writes for characters who speak in accents ranging from the relatively conventional (Spanglish, Southern U.S., Long Islandese) to the rather more particular and exotic (Senegalese, British/Hungarian, Czech/Australian/Russian). Even the brief Williamstown run required the services of two separate dialect coaches.

Though now 31 and a resident of polyglot upper Manhattan, Hall grew up without much exposure to such unusual intonations—or to much in the way of drama. The first play she ever saw, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, which she attended on an elementary school field trip, “just made like a huge, huge, huge impression on me,” she recalls. But Memphis “wasn’t a huge theatre town,” and her schools lacked drama programs. Her sole role before college: Henny Penny in a kindergarten production of Chicken Little. “I forgot my line,” she remembers.

For theatricality, then, she looked first to athletics. “To me, sports are a kind of theatre,” Hall allows. “You don’t know what’s going to happen in the end, and that’s what the best plays are.” She credits the fight and drive of many of her characters to watching sports with her family. And on Sundays, she would attend church, listening to biblical stories enacted by her pastor, watching praise-dance troupes. That, she says, felt like theatre, too.

At Columbia University, which she attended on a full scholarship, Hall majored in African-American studies with a concentration in creative writing. There she began to see more plays and to read them, too. “Growing up in Memphis, I didn’t know who the hell Strindberg was,” Hall says. It was after she read Strindberg, and then, later on, the work of playwrights such as Suzan-Lori Parks and Lynn Nottage, that she began to recognize herself and her own experience in dramatic characters.

As a Columbia junior, Hall took an acting class that steered her away from journalism, a career she’d long aimed for, and toward playwriting. In a course on naturalistic acting, the instructor broke the students into pairs and told them to go to the library and find a two-person scene appropriate to their physical type. Hall and her scene partner, another African-American woman, headed to the library.

“We sat there for hours pulling out all these damn plays,” said Hall. A Raisin in the Sun wouldn’t do, as neither woman considered herself the right age to play Mama. The Crucible wouldn’t work, as they couldn’t both do Tituba. Dispirited, they returned to the classroom and asked their teacher—who couldn’t think of a suitable scene, either. In that moment, said Hall, she decided that if such plays didn’t exist, she would “have to write them.”

Actually, Hall had already begun her first play, a tragic, magic-inflected romance called Hoodoo Love, set in Memphis during the Depression. But writing took something of a sideline while she completed a master’s degree in acting at the ART Institute, for which she auditioned with speeches drawn from As You Like It and The Piano Lesson. She studied both at Harvard University’s Cambridge, Mass., campus and in Moscow, where her hair rendered her a novelty and where she would sometimes amuse herself by telling inquisitive Russians that she was Whoopi Goldberg’s daughter.

While as an undergrad she had been relegated to mostly secondary roles—she still bristles at having been passed over for Irina in Three Sisters—at ART she did play Irina (albeit in a scene-study class) and many other roles, some black, some white. In addition to Chekhov scripts, she acted in Ernest Hemingway adaptations, Bertolt Brecht cabarets, Christopher Durang comedies, and even learned a Czech accent for a production of Tony Kushner’s A Bright Room Called Day. (Her dialect class never seemed to cover “black” accents, she remembers.)

Hall booked some work after graduation, appearing in a couple of Law and Order episodes, but not enough to avoid a day job. Had she won roles more consistently, Hall says, she still would have continued to write, but she might not have applied to the prestigious playwriting program at the Juilliard School, which accepted her on the strength of Hoodoo Love (which would go on to have its New York premiere in 2007 at the Cherry Lane Theatre, and which is currently running in Chicago in a production by the Collective Theatre Company). Durang, who runs the Juilliard program with Marsha Norman, recalled her in an e-mail as “charming and extremely beautiful.” What surprised him, he wrote, was the variety of her subjects and “and how seemingly effortless her writing was in almost everything she took on.”

At Juilliard, Hall wrote Saturday Night/Sunday Morning, a comic drama with a Cyrano de Bergerac strain and a mostly female cast set in a Memphis beauty shop at the end of World War II. She also crafted Hurt Village, set in a nearby housing project some 60 years later. And it was there she began to work on a play she had long contemplated, The Mountaintop, a two-character piece featuring Martin Luther King Jr. and a young hotel maid, set in Memphis’s Lorraine Motel on the evening before King’s assassination.


Hall’s mother, Carrie Mae Golden, had wanted to go and hear King deliver what would be his final speech, the one in which he proclaimed, “I’ve been to the mountaintop.” But Golden’s mother, citing bomb threats, withheld permission. Golden, said Hall, “thought about running down the street or going out the window or whatever, but she decided to stay at home,” a choice which remains the greatest regret of her life.

Golden often told that story to her daughter, which, said Hall, “planted a seed in me so deep that when I got the skill and the desire and passion to write the story, I took it on.” In the play, Carrie Mae Golden transforms into the motel maid Camae, who brings coffee to King and helps him pass his last night on earth. In fiction, then, if not in life, Hall salves her mother’s regret, granting a private audience and an uninterrupted hour with the man Carrie Mae had longed to see.

Just after finishing the two-year Juilliard program, Hall received word that Theatre503, an intimate space above a pub on London’s Battersea Park Road, wanted to produce The Mountaintop. That acclaimed production transferred to a West End theatre and in 2010 it won the Olivier award (England’s version of the Tony) for best new play, beating out Jez Butterworth’s much-lauded Jerusalem and surprising nearly everyone—with the possible exception of Hall, who hadn’t even attended the West End opening night, preferring to stay in Africa with the man who would shortly become her husband, where she was researching a new play.

Hall said she doesn’t place much emphasis on awards. “The Olivier, it was like okay, cool,” she shrugs. “But it doesn’t impress me. What impresses me is if I have a diverse audience; what impresses me is if I get to say exactly what I want to say in exactly the way I want to say it; that’s what impresses me.” She does concede that she appreciates the greater opportunities that awards might provide.

Candidly ambitious, Hall speaks often about her “über-goal,” establishing a sizeable body of produced work. When she receives word that a theatre wants to mount a play, her reaction, she notes, is often not one of pleasure and delight, but of cool-headed appraisal: “Okay, you want to do this play, but I wrote 10. Who’s gonna do those?”

Even on the first night of WHADDABLOODCLOT!!! at Williamstown, she had a conversation with a festival worker with whether or not she could stuff the programs with postcards for an upcoming show—a production of Children of Killers, a youth drama focusing on the aftermath of the Rwandan genocide, originally written for London’s National Theatre. That show opened at Manhattan’s Castillo Theatre in September and runs through Oct. 28.

Even if Hall disclaims awards and West End transfers, it was likely the Olivier imprimatur that interested Broadway producers in The Mountaintop, which opened in October 2011 at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre, starring Samuel L. Jackson as King and Angela Bassett as Camae. Atypically, that Broadway season also featured two other works by African-American women, Lydia Diamond’s Stick Fly and Suzan-Lori Parks’s new book for Porgy and Bess. Some media outlets reported this as a trend, but Hall remained skeptical. “I was always like ‘Careful, careful, careful—what will the next season be?’” she says. And indeed, the 2012–13 Broadway season promises no such trend.

On Broadway, The Mountaintop recouped its investment and delighted many in the audience, who sometimes talked back to the actors, engaging verbally with the play, a response that Hall praises as “explosive” and “visceral.” This season, it will play in at least a dozen regional theatres across the U.S. It has been licensed for Barbados and Australia, as well.

Yet American critics didn’t warm to the play as the English ones had, and it received no Tony nominations. Hall attributes this difference to U.S. attitudes toward King. Americans, she believes, prefer to see King as a saint rather than a man. Her play desires the opposite, as when Camae scents King’s shoes and crows, “Dr. Kang got stanky feet. Oooo! And you got holes in your socks, too?” Besides, says Hall, displaying some of the outspokenness she often reveals in interviews and in her lively Twitter feed, “I think critics tend to be dismissive toward young women writers anyway.”

Certainly, they didn’t react any more kindly to her next play, Hurt Village, which launched her tenure as one of Signature Theatre’s “Residency Five” playwrights, a five-year program that commissions and produces three plays per writer. James Houghton, the artistic director of the Signature, who had seen a workshop of Hurt Village during Hall’s time at Juilliard, calls Hall “fierce” and “fearless” and the play “an incredibly powerful piece of writing.” Set in a derelict housing project slated for demolition, it centers on Cookie, a mouthy, precocious 13-year-old, and the drug-doers, drug dealers and hard-scrabblers who surround her. “Folks round here so po’ we can’t even afford the r at the end,” Cookie tells us.

Only a few critics applauded the production, and several wrote reviews revealing a refusal to engage with the play and its characters. In some ways, Hall seems resigned to such analyses. “I can’t make them learn about being poor and black in Memphis, Tennessee,” she says, even as the play attempts to do just that. But then she adds, rather more darkly, “I must say, those critics do not want to be in a bar with me.”


Perhaps the quality that most distinguishes Hall’s writing—and which may alienate some viewers—is her refusal to write immediately likable characters. With the exception of sweet Camae, her figures are often spiky, appetitive, venial, uninterested in courting audience applause. Their obvious humanity demands empathy, but they certainly go out of their way to discourage it. “I feel like most people in the world aren’t easy to like,” Hall explains. “I’m really just interested in how dark I can go and still be entertaining.”

Similarly, Hall doesn’t pull any punches linguistically. She dots her conversation with various more-or-less unprintable terms and lards her scripts with far more. One scene of WHADDABLOODCLOT!!! focuses on Jamaican profanities, another debates the propriety of various racial slurs. Some audience members have objected to this vocabulary, but Hall defends her word choice. “I understand the power of language,” but as a writer, she says she needs access to the widest variety of expressions. So far no theatres have asked to moderate her scripts.

Just as Hall resists refining her language or writing straightforwardly sympathetic characters, she doesn’t seem particularly interested in being liked personally. She has acquired a reputation for forthrightness that can border on abrasiveness. Houghton, a great admirer, called her “very direct and very opinionated and very sharp and smart.” Hall admitted that while some may think her difficult, “for me it’s more about being adamant about my vision and having some kind of integrity.”

This bluntness occasionally comes through even in the course of a friendly conversation. When asked if her glut of Memphis plays—she has ones set in the 1930s, 1940s, 1960s and the 2000s—suggest a century-long project akin to August Wilson’s, she bristles visibly. “He’s August Wilson, I’m Katori Hall,” she declares. “I’m definitely not trying to do an August Wilson.” But she does acknowledge Beale Street as “the place that shaped me. Even walking around Williamstown, I’m as Memphis as can be. It’s a way to be at home.”

Hall doesn’t plan a return home anytime soon, at least not theatrically. She is at work on two Rwandan plays, one about three visionaries sanctioned by the Catholic Church and another set in 2014 on the anniversary of the genocide. She is also preparing a play about exotic dancers in Mississippi, entitled Pussy Valley, which may debut at the Signature, though she said she has some concerns about finding actresses sufficiently skilled in pole dancing. As if that weren’t busy-making enough, she also entertains herself with event planning, floral design, guitar playing and cooking, which has inspired her forthcoming blog “Katori’s Kitchen.”

Her creative process, she said, “is pretty joyful. I’m constantly inundated, I’m very sensitive, so I’m constantly looking for stories, feeling stories in my body.” As disparate as the voices she writes are—the rich ones, the poor ones, the black ones, the white ones, the violent ones, the victimized ones—she feels that they all connect to her own ways of moving in and through and with and against the world. In playwriting, says Hall, “I want to go to extremes because I feel like I’ve lived my life in extremes. Our work is us.” 


Alexis Soloski is a critic and arts journalist based in New York City.

Written on October 9th, 2012 , Media, Uncategorized
Katori Hall on Twitter