Now I know...

I went to a small private Catholic university. My class was the biggest the Theatre department had ever seen: 21 incoming freshmen. Most of us were musical theatre oriented so we were loud, outspoken and always singing and dancing. My roommate Giancarlo was the biggest offender (more on him another time).

Three freshmen were cast as leads in the fall musical. In addition to that my roommate and I were given the only two dance solos in the show. (I was a dancer then. Nore on that another time). The upper classmen were not happy. It was a breach of protocol not only to cast freshmen in shows but to give them leads. We didn’t know. We had just gotten there and the only thing we were guilty of was doing what we loved to do.

Over the years the Theatre department worked to keep our talent and performing skills growing. We had excellent advisers who made sure all of our classes were in line with each other. Any time we had a performance class that studied a particular theatrical time period for instance, our advisers had also put on our semester schedule the corresponding history class or the philosophy class or the religion class. Everything was connected…until senior year.
 
There we were, our fourth year. The class had dwindled down to 12 people. (Giancarlo, my roommate transferred junior year.) Senior year was traditionally the time to finish off all the requirements for graduating. We didn’t know that was how it was done, so me and my classmates had loaded our semesters throughout the preceding 3 years. Now here we were with no performance classes and a huge hole in our schedules. Again the department rose to the occasion and created a “Senior Performance Theory” class.

In this newly created class we did everything from monologues to scenes and songs, to scenes with songs, movement, you name it we did it. The impressive thing the Theatre department did was to bring back one of its very successful graduates, Declan, to conduct a mock audition class with feedback. Afterward he spoke about what life after graduation. One of the things that really stuck with me was the fact that he told us to have the wardrobe to back up your auditions (more on clothing another time). The only thing Senior Performance theory or any other class didn’t touch upon, was the “Business” end of show business. Declan never told us “how”. No one ever told us “how”. We all thought talent prevailed over everything. All we had to do was be there, be somewhere. We just didn’t know where.

The department’s reputation had grown. Students constantly transferred in from other schools. One such person was Bathsheba. She came from a huge New England university. I gravitated to her because she was from a world outside of our little community; some place that since birth, I had longed to be.

One day senior year Bathsheba asked me if I had applied to attend the N.E.T.C’s.

“What are the ‘Any Tea Seas’?”

She was shocked that I had never heard of the New England Theatre Conference, a huge gathering of theatre companies, theme parks, and cruise ships. In one fell swoop a person could audition for hundreds of places. But you had to apply, pay a fee and be accepted.

I don’t remember how many of my class actually applied, but I do remember that four of us including another transfer student Contadina (who has since been in several Broadway shows, even replacing an A-list Star) and I got accepted. We drove together across several states to get to the audition. We auditioned, did callbacks and then drove back to school.

Senior year finished and I graduated. Every year the theatre department did a pre-summer season show at a nearby Equity house. This year it was West Side Story. I played “Chino, the white faced boy” (more about that another time). Good-byes to my classmates came when West Side Story closed. Unfortunately I couldn't say good-bye to the "elephant in the room": What the hell do I do now?

I didn’t know. We never covered what came after school in any of our theatre classes. Trust me, I checked the syllabi. They most valuable thing they did teach us about theatre was to always keep learning.

Contadina left to do a show she booked from the “Any Tea Seas”. I received my call from that audition right before the 4^Th of July, while I was working in an opera as a “super” and waiting to hear if I was going to be hired as a ticket taker at a newly built water park.

One of the theatres that had called me back at the N.E.T.C’s had to change their season. They couldn’t get the rights to a show on their schedule. They needed me for this replacement show. They needed me to be there in two days. Of course I said yes.

The next day I got on the first of three buses to get to the theatre, the one that took me into New York City.

On the long bus ride I chatted with the guy sitting next to me. As we arrived in Manhattan he invited me to come to his place and freshen up before my other two bus rides. Being greener than Kermit the Frog I accepted the invitation. I was from a small town…I didn’t know any better.

 
Today, I know that man was an actor. Today I know he lived in Manhattan Plaza, an artist’s residence in midtown. Today I know he was truly my guardian angel. He sensed my naivete and kept me safe and out of harm’s way until the second bus left Port Authority.

At my first “away from home paying performance job” I earned a whopping $65 per week (more on that another time). But like the MasterCard commercial, the knowledge and friendships I got out of it were priceless. I met a plethora of other people who would join me on my journey of artistic and personal discovery. Some of them to this day remain my very best friends: people like Thurston, my twin joined at the brain who works non-stop, Helga who takes care of everyone’s needs, and my “Big Sister” Leslie, who took me under her wing and gave me answers to questions I didn’t even know I had.

After this gig, I moved to New York City. I had four fellow classmates living here, three suitcases, $200 and me. No job, no prospects, nothing. I just didn’t know.

So every January 15^Th I take stock of my life. I’ve always said that if on this date I ever have less than what I originally came to New York City with, it’s time to go home. Now I know that I am home. I know that even if I don’t have 3 suitcases full of designer clothes and $200, I still have me and several lifetimes’ worth of knowledge as a performer and friends that love me for who I am 

And the best part? Every day I learn more.

My anniversary present this year is to start a blog to share what I’ve learned and what I’ve found out about the “Business of show” to anyone who wants a little more information and a little amusement. It’s not from a “star’s” prospective, or even from the prospective of someone who’s been on Broadway…yet. It’s more valuable. It’s knowledge from an “everyman” actor who is in the trenches every day.

I've learned and now I know…don’t you want to too?