The Bard's King Fred

Fred Adams has been described as a modern Don Quixote by those who know him, and that seems a fair description for the man who, against all odds, faced with cynicism and even laughter, brought the world-renowned Utah Shakespearean Festival to Cedar City, of all places.

Adams' quest really began when he was a young man staring up awestruck at the Northern Lights while standing in the woods of Finland, and he has spent a lifetime trying to get others "to look up, to see something beautiful, to be lifted up."

Adams really talks like that at times, as if he's on stage, and he practices what he preaches. A recent visit to the new Salt Lake City library left him almost breathless, gushing about its architecture.

Adams, 74, is an old man with white hair, but he is still dreaming impossible dreams. This time he is attempting to build a world-class Shakespeare center in Cedar City. In Adams' mind, the center would become a destination point for theater lovers from around the world, with three theaters, costume and scenery shops, high-end condos, restaurants, gift shops, bookstores and art galleries. And all it will cost is between $50 million and $60 million.

He has collected about $6 million so far, but Adams dismisses any suggestion that he faces a daunting task. He's already received a commitment of $22 million from developers, he notes, so he needs to come up with "only" another $22 million or so.

"There will be nothing like it in the world," he says. "I've traveled all over the world, and I've seen where art projects have worked and failed. They work when you think outside the box."

Adams has never been in the box. He grew up on Shakespeare in backwater towns in Idaho and Utah, took a dancing job on Broadway while waiting to become a director, and somehow wound up back where he started from. He started the Utah Shakespearean Festival with $1,000 and an audience of 3,276 that first season in 1961; today it operates on a budget of $5.5 million and draws an audience of 155,000.

"I often liken him to Don Quixote," says R. Scott Phillips, Adams' right-hand man. "He's always chasing windmills. Nothing is too big or too grand for him. He wants things to be more beautiful in the world. We see that windmill, so we follow him into the fray."

This is how big Adams thinks: While everyone else was wondering if the festival would survive the early years, he was sketching plans for his $60 million Shakespearean Center from the very beginning, four decades ago.

People ask, "Are you surprised at the growth (of the festival)?" says Adams. "How on earth would I be surprised? It was what we intended. There are no surprises."