Live in living color...

Now where was I before I was interrupted by that public service announcement for actors (Baby fineness is the way to kill)

Oh yeah...

I was living the dream: Auditioning, taking classes and voice lessons. I was also doing shows, and working on the opportunity to get my Equity card. My friend Louise, with whom I shared the bitter bench, was also trying to get her card. As was Arthur. We were all in the same boat but approaching it different ways.

I was sharing an apartment, or rather sleeping on a sofa bed in the living room of Sean’s apartment. Sean and I met during what was to be one of my last non-equity shows. Sean introduced me to several dance teachers and class. Louise was a dancer. I had met her while taking class with Sean and Noah, another friend. Since Louise and Sean were friends, she and I became friends. She was making ends meet by assisting a well-known choreographer.

I had done summer stock with Arthur. When it was over I need a place to crash until I found an apartment. He invited me to stay with him, which I did until he kicked me out the night before I was to move into my pied a tier. He was going through some family stuff and needed space (but that’s another story) Naturally, I forgave him and we moved on with our friendship. It was he who needed help now. He asked for my former temp agency information. He signed up and was working in offices while waiting for his big break.

I was waiting tables on a dinner cruiser that sailed around Manhattan.

Arthur’s break came first. He was hired to do a TYA (Theatre for Young Audiences) tour. The company always had several tours going on at once. Arthur was lucky enough to be cast in one of them. At the end of which he was given his Equity Card.

Then Louise got her card doing a dance show at a regional theatre for a Broadway director/choreographer.

I was contemplating auditioning for the TYA touring company, but had decided not to. I had heard horror stories about them and the conditions they worked under. Though Arthur had had a fine time on his. When I told him I wasn’t going, he told me that was a bad decision. If I wanted my card this was the easiest way to get it. The other way, besides being cast in a standard Equity show, was to work at Equity houses for a point per week. After 50 points, or 40 points and a test, one could join the union.

I considered it. Fifty weeks was almost an entire year. And theatres have to actively participate in the point program. I think they pay some sort of a fee. Most choose not to be a part of the program.

After weighing the options, I went to the audition. It was my first real audition as a singer. I had transitioned from a dancer to a dancer/singer and now to a singer. I was worried about being seen. There are tons of singers in NYC. It turned out fine though. Since the company was quite used to hiring non-equity people, as long as I was there early enough and signed up before they closed the list, I would definitely be seen.

The audition went off without a hitch. The call backs were great. In truth they wanted me so badly that they offered me my choice of shows. I was dumbfounded. Never in my whole career had that happened. And the fact that it happened while I was auditioning as a singer blew my mind.

Despite my misgivings about the company, I picked a show and I took the contract. When the tour finished I would have my card. I would finally be an Equity member. However finishing the tour proved to be a herculean feat in itself.

There were six of us stuffed in a van full of sets and costumes and our luggage. One was a drunk. One was a narcissist. One was a doormat. One was angry and aggressive, and one was a “pot stirrer”. You know the type, someone who looks for any little issue and then they push that issue into a full out nuclear war. And then there was me.

It was six months of hell. I thought about filing an official complaint with Equity. In the end I decided it was not worth the effort. I had endured and I got my card. I thought no one would believe the word of a newly minted member anyway.

So many people had warned me about getting my Equity card. They all said joining Equity was easy. That was just being cast in a show. It was being cast in the second show that would take a while.

In the general professional population, the circles of contracted actors is incredibly small. The people behind the tables like to reuse performers if they can. It’s like buying the same brand of laundry detergent. You know it does the job, so why try something else. New, untried, unproven faces tend not to get very far. I think this is because most new members only have the one professional (professional meaning Equity) show or theatre on their resume. Hence they are to some, unproven.

That wasn’t the case for me.

If you remember, I had worked at an Equity theatre. I had done several shows, both musicals and operas, at an Equity house back home, while I was still in university. And while I wasn’t cast in the Equity portion of their seasons, the Theatre didn’t differentiate between the pre-season non-equity shows and the season’s equity shows, save for payment to the actors and ticket pricing. So getting my next Equity gig wasn’t as difficult as they all said it would be.

About four months after finishing the tour I saw an audition posted. It was for a show at a regional theatre quite near NYC. The show was to be the first production after the Broadway run. Most importantly there was a part in it for me. And before you ask, no I did not audition for the Broadway production, even after I was told I looked like the lead. Insecurities won that battle. But I was determined not to let them win again.

I got up early in the morning. I stood in line outside to get an appointment. I got an appointment. Then went home and prepared for the audition. I had the perfect song, the perfect headshot and the perfect outfit. I was ready.

I arrived ten minutes before my appointment time. Walked into the audition room. Sang my little song and walked right back out. Nothing. No interest what so ever.

My bestie, Thurston was also Equity, went to the call. At the time we were the same type, although different versions of that type. He went in. They loved him. I think he sang a couple songs. He got called back to read a couple times. We just knew he had the part.

A few weeks later, another audition notice was posted for the same theatre and the same show for that same role that both me and my bestie went in for. He was devastated. That’s how he found out he wasn’t cast. I knew before the notice that I wasn’t being considered for the role, so it didn’t affect me at all. In fact, I decided to go back and audition again. Same song. Same outfit. Same me.

I booked it. And not only did I book it, I got a good review from the New York Times. My second Equity show paid a nice weekly salary, gave me enough weeks for insurance and planted me firmly in the pension plan. And a New York Times Review!

Meanwhile, Noah, Thurston’s boyfriend at the time, wasn’t Equity. He was struggling with the city and auditions and the whole lot of it. I think there was something nagging at him. His boyfriend had his Equity card and had been on Broadway. He had not.

Noah took, what was at the time, a new route to getting his card. He had auditioned for and got cast at one of Disney’s theme parks. So he and Thurston packed up and moved down to Florida.

After my second Equity gig, I continued to work. I did On a Clear Day..., My One and Only (for the second time), a review show in Brooklyn, Miss Saigon, Joseph... (for the fourth time), Oklahoma, West Side Story, The King and I, My One and Only (again), Anything Goes and a host of other shows both new and old, large and small.

Louise decided Broadway was where she belonged. After her first Equity gig, she only auditioned for high profile things. Not only that, the projects had to take place in the city. She was a full on Dance teacher now, with classes at one of the most prestigious studios in New York City. She couldn’t go out to the regions and leave her students. This was her survival job.

Arthur high-tailed it to Germany to star in a show there. He also worked in the UK, under their Equity and then did two or three gigs back in the states.

After coming back from a long gig, I decided to set down some roots in NYC. My friend Helga and I had been sharing space in Sean’s apartment. We decided to find our own place. So we moved out of the living room in midtown Manhattan and into a three bedroom apartment in Queens.

Helga worked as a supervisor at a concessions stand. She was staunchly non-equity. It worked for her, meaning she worked all the time. She would go out on this tour and that tour. Then she would work at this theatre in New Jersey or Vermont or where ever. It was what she did. She was happy where she was. And now she and I had a comfortable home base to work out of.

I thought this was the life. I had finally paid off my student loans. I had my own proper bedroom with windows and a door. I had a great roommate, who mostly shared my tastes in decorating and living habits. I had my Equity card. I was set. Time to dig in and make a name for myself.

I knew continuing with classes and lessons was the way to go. It’s the quickest way to be in the thick of things. It’s also the only way to be ready to be hired. Naturally this takes time, so I tried to work as little as possible. But now I had financial responsibilities and they were starting to pile up.

Noah and his now husband Thurston are still in Florida. Noah is still working at Disney under an Equity contract. They have a house with a yard, two cars a pool and a vibrant social life. Thurston travels around Florida doing shows at small theatres after being on Broadway a couple times and doing tons of first national tours. They got stability. And insurance, and Equity jobs. They live and work as medium sized fish in a medium sized market.

Louise never made it to Broadway. In fact she’s only done a handful of shows after her initial Equity contract. She’s now a director and choreographer here in the city. She’s working on a new show with a star name that might just get produced on the Great White Way. So maybe some part of her will make it there after all.

Arthur knows what his type is. He keeps tabs on all the actors who are that type and what they’re doing. Since it’s a very specific type, those actors tend not be bounce around from show to show, but rather stay put for the length of a contract, be it Broadway or otherwise. I hear Arthur’s teaching voice now and just finished performing in a show. I wouldn’t know for sure though. After more incidents between the two of us, I decide to no longer associate with him. I’m sure he’s doing well though.

Helga got her secret wish. After yet another tour, she went home to visit her parents and met a man. She left our three bedroom bliss and got married. She still performs. She does those hospital patient things. She also sings with her band, which is becoming quite popular. She has a house, a husband and a small career. She’s still non-equity and she’s happy.

After being too afraid to go to a callback for a new (and later hit) Broadway show, I was now auditioning for Broadway. I had even been put on the waiting list for a show, but the show closed before I was used. The closer I came to Broadway, the further away the contract seemed to be. Somewhere in there I noticed the higher I climbed the professional ladder, the longer it took to book another show.

There were other things I noticed as well.

The salaries for Equity had little change. In fact special contracts and tiers were made to accommodate producers and to provide more work for Equity members. That’s great. But that work is paid at a lower wage.

Amir got his Equity card, got his Broadway credit and got out. The Business of show wasn’t lucrative enough or fulfilling enough for his tastes. He now lives in a refurbished farmhouse in Vermont. I believe he works for an insurance company.

The amount of points needed to join the union was lowered from fifty to twenty five. A slew of actors with 25 weeks of EMC (Equity Membership Candidate) work or more, officially joined the ranks of Equity. This flooded the union with much need funds to pay for new representatives in the regions and new programs. Most of which the common union members know very little about.

Manuel never had an interest in joining the union. Years before I knew him he was working constantly. And now years later he still is. He teaches, choreographs and occasionally performs. He’s never had a survival job. Ever. He’s always been able to live quite comfortably on what he makes from his non-Equity work. He and his husband just bought a house in Palm Springs.

New audition sign up procedures were put in place. No longer did one have to wake up at the crack of dawn and stand outside for hours in all kinds of weather to get an audition time. Now an actor just needs a fast internet connection and a prayer to get an audition slot. Or if that doesn’t work, one can wake up at the crack of dawn and stand outside in all kinds of weather to get one of the times set aside...Progress?

To qualify for the union pension, an actor has to be “vested”. I’m not quite sure what that means or how one goes about doing it. But you have to be in order to receive money when you reach retirement. I’m vested with the union. Although with finances being the way they are, I doubt I’ll ever be able to fully retire.

Once an actor is Equity, he or she can join the Actors Federal Credit Union. This is a banking system exclusively for theatrical professionals. They offer all the amenities of a regular bank, but the money in the bank works for the union members. There is even a credit card, which I have and need to pay off. So, while I wait and audition for my next performing gig, I need to have a day job.

Working as a waiter on the dinner cruiser was no longer an option. I wasn’t aware of it at the time but I was mildly allergic to the air conditioning system. I only found out once I had left for a long period of time. I gained three high notes to my register just by not working there. I was a singer now. I could not afford the effects of working that job. I abhor working in corporate offices so that is a last resort kind of thing. So I turned to working as a cater waiter. Good money, easy job and no pandering for tips. I have the ability to make my own schedule. That means I could work and still go to auditions and classes and lessons.

Pedro’s a really great dancer. He’s danced on Broadway several times. He’s even partnered Chita Rivera. He’s given up on the business though. He’s one of those people who went to school for medicine or law or something, got a degree and then decided he wanted to perform. He’s back to doing work made possible by his higher education degree.

Once upon a time there was a difference between union and non-union performers. The difference was never in talent or drive or any of the fundamental things that make a performer a performer. It was in what the union provided performers that we could not get elsewhere, like health insurance.

Now the government has made it possible for an individual to purchase health insurance. There is no longer a need to work a steady day job to get coverage. So even if an actor isn’t blessed with working 24 weeks on stage, or having insurance through a day job, he or she can still be insured.

The salaries for non-union work have generally increased. That’s not to say they are on par with production contracts, but non-union tours can pay as well as if not better than most SETA (Small Engagement Touring Agreement) contacts. Some non-union work even gives you a W-2, which could allow claiming of unemployment insurance.

There are now ways to plan for retirement as a non-equity performer as well. You can open IRAs, and online trading. There are a number of things that have the potential to generate funds for the golden years. But let’s be honest, even the best pension plans can go bust if the markets turn sour. We’ve seen it happen, as recently as ten years ago.

What Equity does give an actor is collective bargaining. That means there are people in place who, in theory, are looking out for an actor’s best interests. They set minimum wage amounts for actors. They set audition and working conditions for actors. They provide arbitration for grievances within the performing community and sometime outside the community depending on the programs available through the Actors Fund. Equity lobbies for more union jobs and boycotts places that break union rules and contracts. In short, Actors Equity is a security system put in place to protect actors from unscrupulous producers and illicit situations.

That being said, it’s quite rare to hear of a non-equity company, or theatre or tour that violates basic working conditions and human rights. Actors are not afraid to speak up. It may be on the down low, but you will hear when something or someone is more trouble than they’re worth. And if there is a company/theatre/tour you as a performer aren’t familiar with, it’s your job to investigate them BEFORE you sign the contract.

And always get a written contract.

Fast forward a few (ahem) years later and I’m still catering. I’m not taking dance classes very often. Most of the great teachers have moved on, one way or another. Not really taking voice lessons either. I’ve not found someone who can teach me what I need to learn, while honoring my type and my talent, who is affordable.

I still frequent auditions. Although where Helga and I once did seven non-equity auditions together in one day, I’m lucky to have one audition a week. Mostly because I’m selective of what I want to do. It’s also a tough online battle to actually sign up. It’s our “Hunger Games”. And I’ve aged into another category. Now I’m up against Tony winners and Broadway names for projects.

Everyone wants to work. Everyone wants to do good work and be paid their worth for that work. Actors Equity helps do that though the system they have set in place. Going Equity is the answer for a lot of the people, a lot of the time. But it does not work for everyone. A performer can have a solid, lucrative and long career without ever becoming Equity.

Broadway is the only true reason to get your equity card. You can’t work there without one. But are you ready for Broadway? I wasn’t. But now I am.

So I’m a union actor. I am staunchly pro-union. That works for me. For now. But I advocate not joining the union until an actor has significant credits on their resume. Delay getting your card until you’ve done all you can do in the non-Equity world. For some that means never taking the card. That’s especially true for older actors and actors that fall into marginalized categories. There is more work for them (us) outside of the union than there is inside, especially in the upper echelons of the performing world.

In the end, it’s each individual’s decision to go “pro” or not. There are no right answers. No wrong answers either. Just informed choices. The key word being “informed”.  

Find out what your type is, like Arthur did, and see where and how much those people are working. Then decide.

Realize what it is you really want, like Helga and go for that.

Know what your true passion is, like Pedro and do that sooner rather than later.

You’ll be happier, like Amir, once you stop chasing the thing you thought you wanted but couldn’t really care less about.

Or you can flourish without an Equity card like Manuel.

I’ve not gone into detail about all the wildly successful and well-known people I’ve worked with, like Chandra Wilson. We know their stories. We see them played out in front of us. We go to seminars and lectures and classes taught by them and dream about it being us. We secretly think that if we go to the same school, and play the same roles and do the same things they did, it will happen to us. We will become the next Norm Lewis or Gina Torres or Emily Skinner.

The truth is, there is no one definitive career path to fame and stardom or even booking a performing gig.  As an actor, you have to make your own choices. And one of biggest choices includes whether to join Actors Equity or not.

And if the first choice doesn’t get you what you want or where you want to go, choose again. It’s not a big deal, because...

“...Life ain’t lived in black and white.”

Baby, fineness is the way to kill...

We interrupt the 3^rd installment of “Equity life versus Non-Equity life” to bring you the following public service announcement:

Summer is over.

Stock seasons have finished. Internships have finished. The time to lie on the beach has finished. Now it's time to get back to work. Since school is starting, auditions are starting, and the hectic pace of life is essentially re-starting (not to mention the fact that we’ve interrupted the conclusion of a multi-part blog) I’ll keep this succinct.

During the hazy, hot and humid days of the season, we, as actors, can get complacent, lazy and or develop bad habits. It’s time to get back to the basics of being a professional actor.

Be early

It doesn’t matter if it’s for a class, an audition or a rehearsal. Arrive early. Give yourself enough time to prepare for the task at hand (change clothes, warm up, study music, etc.). Then, on top of that, give yourself five minutes to sit and do nothing, to just get your head in the game.

Be dressed appropriately

If you’re auditioning you should look your best. Clean and put together. Period.

Dancing needs dance clothes, which includes proper undergarments (sports bra, dance belt, etc.) and the appropriate shoes.

Dressing for rehearsal not only includes clothing and shoes that allows you freedom of movement, but sometimes clothing and shoes that restrict your movement. It depends on the actual piece being rehearsed. If it’s a piece that requires special garments, such as cowboy boots, corsets, hats, long and or tight skirts, or heels for example, you should try to approximate those things as soon as possible in rehearsal. It’ll make the transition to the actual costume smoother and your life easier. And more importantly, it informs the physicality of the character being portrayed.

Be prepared

In addition to the proper clothing, bring the proper equipment with you. That includes a pencil and an eraser, water, a recording device, scripts/librettos/sheet music, headshots, resumes.

Being prepared also means knowing your material prior to arrival. Make sure you’ve read the play/musical prior to starting rehearsals. In the ideal world, you should read it prior to actually auditioning for it.

This next thing should go without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway...if you’re doing a reading of any type, be it public, private, paid or free, read the script BEFORE you get in front of anyone, even the other actors. You'e not fooling anyone. We can all immediately tell the moment mouths are opened who has read the script and who hasn’t.

Review your blocking, especially the exits and entrances. There’s always a chance a costume change may have to happen in the wings.

Go over all the choreography prior to your next call. Chances are there will be limited time for review during the actual rehearsal.

Make sure you are memorized on the date announced for the piece to be memorized.

Be civil

It doesn’t matter what kind of mood you’re in, who you like or dislike, or how your day is going. Be polite to everyone. Say hello. Say good bye. Thank people for their contribution, even if you feel it was subpar. “Please” and “thank you”, and eye contact go a long, long way in helping your career.

Be aware of your limitations

Be honest, not only to yourself but to the people behind the table, about what you can and cannot do. If you can sing a high D sharp great, let them know. But if you can only warm up to a high D sharp and aren’t able to perform it 8 times a week, also let them know. It doesn’t make you less of a performer to reveal your limitations. And yes, you may lose a job or two because of it. But it’s better to lose a job or two now than to do damage to your instrument doing something it wasn’t built to do. That could lead to the loss of the ability to perform all together.

Be well

You need to take care of yourself. This means different things to different people. It also means doing different things for different people. Some common ways to take care of yourself are:

Drink water

Eat healthy

Get a proper amount of sleep

Exercise

Warm up and cool down

Get a hobby outside of performing

Learn a new skill or language

Meditate

Visit parks and nature

Dress for the weather outside not the season it should be

Wear sunscreen

Keep alcohol intake moderate

Avoid recreational drug use

Learn how to say “no” or how to say “yes”

Walk away from stressful situations and people

Seek out mental health professionals to help you deal with life

Find people who like you for you and challenge you to be the best version of you there is

And smile, often and sincerely.

As you can see, making a name for yourself takes work. Being taken seriously as a professional actor takes work.  And sometimes that work has nothing to do with actually cultivating talent or performance. Anyone can call themselves an actor. Anyone. If you’re lucky enough to reach a certain point, everyone in the room who is auditioning for the job has talent and performers. The things listed here are the things that can separate you from that herd, in a good way.

I won’t lie to you. It’s gonna be hard, especially at first. I’ve been trying for a life time it seems, and I still fail at multiple things on these lists, sometimes routinely. But I keep trying. That’s all I can do. That’s all anyone can do. Because being a performer is more than just calling yourself one.

“...If you’re gonna talk that talk that talk baby, better walk that walk that walk.”

The overpowering feeling...

Part 2 of a multi-part post

Picture it. Sicily. 1936. I was a young chorine. I packed my bags and hopped on a steamer to New York City to make my dreams of being in show business a reality.

Speaking of reality, a "chorine" is a female chorus member. The “steamer” was a grey hound bus. It was far from 1936. And making it in show business was a little different than I expected.

I met Amir (...In the rich man's world) while working at a theme park. He was stunning. It didn’t matter what your sexual preference was. Everyone found him to be beautiful. We became great friends. After our contract had ended, we made plans to find an apartment together. I had given up my pied a tier on 96^th street and Central Park West to go do shows. I was subletting from my friend Manuel. Amir was graduating from school.

As luck would have it, both of us kept working. There was never a moment where we were in the city at the same time to look for an apartment. Manuel and Amir became friends. When I got back into town, all of our mutual friends, Manuel and mine, asked where I was living. When I replied “with Manuel” the response was unanimous: “But Manuel and Amir got an apartment together”.

There’s a whole story of betrayal and backstabbing, which I’ll tell you over drinks. This moment is important because it’s when I came to the conclusion that there was no stability in my life, both personally and professionally.

At the time there was a huge difference between union and non-union performers. The difference wasn’t in talent or drive or any of the fundamental things that make a performer a performer. The difference lay in the fact that non-union performers almost always were paid on 1099s. That meant no taxes were taken out for the federal or state governments. No taxes taken out meant no unemployment insurance between jobs. 

Along with no unemployment insurance, non-union performers had no pension, no health insurance and no real guarantee for safety or well-being.

Union members were always paid better than non-union members. A performer had to be in the union to work on Broadway. Besides all of that, I thought the only real chance a performer had of purchasing a home was through the Actor’s Equity Credit Union. In short to be successful, to be on Broadway, to be “stable” with a home and good credit, I learned one had to have an Equity card.

And other than performing, I wanted all of those things. So I put “get Equity card” on my to do list. Included on that list was "find a place to live".

The rumors were true, even though Manuel initially denied them. He and Amir had gotten an apartment in midtown. Amir’s dad co-signed for them since Manuel was teaching and choreographing non-union shows and Amir didn’t have a job. In fact Amir never had a job outside of performing. His family was incredibly wealthy and generous, so Amir was completely set. He was living the dream. He could audition and take classes and network and see Broadway shows and party till his heart was content. Amir didn’t drink or do drugs so his “partying” wasn’t detrimental to his health or career.

My situation was quite the opposite, not the drugs and drinking part. I wasn’t dependent on my family for money. I had student loans. I had to work. I also had to find a new place to live.

Pedro, the guy I was subletting from, was supposed to finally come back. Even though Manuel was moving out, there was no way I could live with Pedro. He could barely speak English and he was a huge jerk. Or maybe he wasn’t and I just couldn’t understand him. At any rate, we didn’t get along. When Pedro came back to the apartment during his Easter break from tour, he announced that he was moving out. When he went back out for the next leg of his tour, he’d be leaving the apartment for good.

I was stuck with an apartment I couldn’t afford, in an area I didn’t like or feel one hundred percent safe in. On top of all that, I found a copy of the lease. Manuel had been forging his original roommate’s signature on it since that roommate left: ten years ago.

It was time to get stuff done. So I put my nose to the grind stone...

My bestie Thurston had just finished a cruise ship job. He had become friends with someone in the orchestra. Luckily that person was looking for a roommate. Done deal. I had the first thing checked off the to-do list. On to the next.

I got a job working on the Spirit of New Jersey, a dinner cruiser that sailed around Manhattan. I was hired to be a singing waiter. The performing part was a breeze. The waiter part, not so much. I didn’t have any experience waiting tables so I lied on my resume. It’s a lot harder than it looks. Tip your waiters well.

Great. I had a job and a place to live. Two of the three main things I had to achieve I achieved. The third proved to be a bit more elusive and took a bit more time.

When trying to get your name out there, I had always been told it was best to go to every audition. Cast a wide net to get cast. Now I had an expensive midtown rent of four hundred dollars (it deosn't sound like a lot today but back then working as a receptionist in a huge corportation paid about $8 an hour) I had to be highly selective on which calls I would attend. Auditioning was on an “I really need to go, that part is perfect for me” basis.

I was an EMC (Equity Membership Candidate) now. I was half way to Equity. Being EMC meant that I could audition for Equity shows, if the people behind the tables wanted to see EMCs and if they had time to do so. I thought my long days of sitting outside, in the hall of the Equity lounge, waiting, were over. Now instead of waiting to hear if the people behind the tables would see non-equity, I had to wait to hear if they would see “future members”.

On those audition days, there was no way to work the day job. Instead of being a waiter I was stuck waiting. I got to the hallway early in the morning and sometimes I would sit there, on the "bitter bench", until 430pm or 5pm, depending on how long the audition ran. Sitting. Waiting. Worrying about how to pay rent and not being able to leave, not even to use the restroom. (To pee or not to pee...) The fear was as soon as you stepped foot outside of that hallway, the monitor would announce that the people behind the table would see EMCs. Then you’d miss your name and have to resign up at the end of the list.  Your chances of getting in the room to audition then, were practically zero.

I was still able to book some non-equity performing gigs. I was “The Prince” in an off Broadway musical retelling of Sleeping Beauty, from his perspective. I worked on Holland America, sailing the Bahamas doing three shows including Smokey Joe’s Café. I understudied “Prez” in The Pajama Game. Was cast as “Daddy Brubeck” in Sweet Charity, was a replacement in The Wiz, and had my third go round in A Chorus Line at Surflight. 

But they were just more of the same: no unemployment, no pension, no health, no security, no money and no card.

Amir had no such problems. He was able to attend every audition. In fact he ended up getting his Equity card rather quickly. After that it was just a short amount of time before he got his first Broadway contract. Classes and networking paid off for him. As did having his family's money backing him.

I remember going to see Amir’s Broadway debut and being insanely jealous. I seethed with anger for quite a while. He’d made it. He got his card. He got his pension. He joined the credit union. And he got to be on Broadway. He was stable and his life was perfect. Mine not so much.

The cruise ship orcehstra roommate got a boyfriend and decided to move to the upper west side with him. So, the brother of that roommate moved in with me. The man was “mugged” twice within two weeks. Of course his rent money was stolen. I couldn’t afford my apartment alone, and I certainly couldn’t afford to live with someone who frequented questionable places. What if he brought some of that home? So I hightailed it out of there. I moved four blocks over to live with my friend Sean. We had met doing A Chorus Line at Surflight. Sean hated living with his current roommate. It was his apartment, so he kicked the roommate out and offered me the spot. And by "spot" I mean the sofa bed in the living room.

I went from a pied-a-terre on 96th and Central Park West, to a one bedroom, shared by three people, on 187th street, to my own windowless room in midtown, to sleeping on a sofa bed. I also went from constant non-equity work, to sporatic performing, to waiting tables and singing on a dinner cruiser.

All of this lit a fire under my butt. This was not what I had come to NYC to do. I worked long and hard. I budgeted and counted pennies. I even got on the work/study program at Broadway Dance Center. I did whatever I could to get to class. On top of that, I attended every audition humanly possible. I had one goal: get my Equity card.

And get my card I did.

“...And oh the towering feeling...”

Give in to that easy living...

PART 1 of a multi-part post

In high school drama club we had a tyrant of a director. His name was Mr. Eiklor. If you’ve been keeping up with my blog you've read all about him. He was completely opinionate and his opinions were the only ones that mattered. To offset throwing coffee cups at our heads, he would give some of his special students treats and trips to the theatre. I was lucky enough to be invited to see a show with him.

I remember when he came to my house to pick me up. Dick, a friend of mine since the third grade and the Drama club star/president, was already in the car. I got in and Mr. Eiklor’s first words to me were “You smell like a French whore. The both of you do.” I guess Dick and I had over done it with the cologne. We were teenagers and it was a big day. We were going to see professional theatre.

The town right next to ours had built a gigantic theatre. It could seat 2200 people inside. The rear walls of the audience opened up, much like a garage door. Behind the doors was a giant sloped lawn which was essentially a huge amphitheater-like space. Another 2500 people could be “seated” outside. The theatre was a union house, meaning only Equity actors and IATSE (the stage hands union) members could work there.

From the moment we entered the huge courtyard which led to the front doors I was in awe of everything. I don’t even remember what show we saw there. It may have been Godspell. At any rate it was amazing. I do remember that much.

Mr. Eiklor told us the only place worth anything in terms of theatre training in our area was Brother Augustine’s program at Niagara University. So naturally both Dick and I, and our female counterparts applied there and got accepted. Only three of us actually went though.

At the end of our freshman year at Niagara, auditions for a summer show were posted. The University had partnered with the local union theatre to do a pre-season show. Luckily for me it was “Joseph...” Lots of guys are needed for that show, guys who can dance.

Both Dick and I got into the show. He actually got cast in the part that should have been mine. This was where my educational institute began to fail me. But hindsight is 20/20 and that’s another story.

After the pre-season show the union house held local auditions for their season. The students weren’t allowed to work outside of the theatre department. Only the seniors from our school were allowed to attend the auditions, since they would technically have graduated when the shows started. If they got cast in a show, they would get their Equity card at the end of the contract. That was every seniors dream: graduate, book a show at this Equity house, get their Equity card and then head to New York City.

My senior year Niagara University did West Side Story for the union house pre-season show. I played “Chino”. I auditioned but didn’t get cast in the union theatre’s season though. No one from my class did. I did however get booked to be a supernumerary in the opera portion of their summer season, which preceded the musicals. I was going to do La Traviata, Das Rheingold and Girl of the Golden West. We were paid pretty well for standing around in costumes doing nothing.

Hard as I tried, I had no life plans after the operas were to close. However Life had plans for me. I only got to do two of the three operas. After the second I got a call from a theatre company that attended the NETC’s (New England Theatre Conference). I had auditioned for them there and they wanted to cast me. I was off to do my first gig outside of my hometown area.

That first gig we were paid $65 a week plus housing and transportation. Part of our pay was withheld. That money would be awarded us upon completion of our contracts. It may sound shady but that’s how they got people to stay for the season. I guess turnover was great.

That summer I did Sugar Babies, My One and Only and 42^nd Street. I worked from July through September. When September came around, the company offered me their winter season with double the pay. At the same time the musical director from the summer season offered me a job doing a Christmas show at quadruple the money I had made that summer. He was from Buffalo, which is about 20 minutes from my hometown. That meant basically going back home. I could see nothing in my future after the review closed, except getting stuck at home. So I took the theatre’s offer to work. I played “Andy Lee” in 42^nd Street. I worked right up until Christmas then headed home for the holidays.

After the holidays were over I got on a greyhound bus and went to New York City. I didn’t have my Equity card. I didn’t have a job.  What I did have was two hundred dollars, three suitcases and an unnatural fear of never leaving my home town. I needed a way to make money and a place to live. What I didn’t need was an Equity card. There was non-union work to be had.

So I auditioned my butt off. I got cast in a show at Columbia University. They were doing a “revival” of Chekov’s The Bed Bug. It paid, not well, but it paid. It didn’t matter though. A friend from the winter season got me signed up with a temp agency. I was temping in offices to make rent.

Then I got cast in a two week stock season in Massachusetts. Two week stock means that every other week a new show is opened. The company would be performing one show at night and rehearsing the next show during the day. That summer I did Sugar Babies, La Cage Aux Folles, Little Shop of Horrors, Dreamgirls, Man of La Mancha, 42^nd Street, A Chorus Line (for the second time in my career) and The Three little Pigs.  I met some great people there including Arthur and Chandra Wilson. We made pretty good money that summer. And we were on the Cape so it was a win/win.

After the summer, I was invited back to do that winter season again. I went right from summer stock to winter stock again. I did 42^nd Street (again), La Cage Aux Folles (again) and Annie.

Up until this point I had been subletting and couch surfing with friends in NYC. This time when I returned, I had what I thought of as a decent amount of money. With a friend from university, I rented my first apartment. It was a pied a tier on 96^th Street and Central Park West.

Also because the money was “flowing”, the credit card companies came a knocking on my door. They offered me all kinds of things: zero percent this and perk that and cash back on purchases. You name it they offered it to me. I had never had credit cards before. My parents had taken care of all my finances. But I was an adult now. I vowed not to accept help from my parents. So I took the credit card companies up on their offers. All of them.

My friend Arthur was cast in Dreamgirls in Connecticut. They needed a guy to play the part I had just played the summer I had met Arthur. He recommended me. The theatre hired me. We did a long run. This time I could commuted to and from the show, which was great. I got to enjoy my apartment and work in theatre and make money and live in New York City.

After the show closed, it seemed like work dried up for a bit. It had been three years of almost constant non-union theatre work. A break was to be expected. As hard as I tired I just could not do enough temp work to pay my all my bills, which now included credit card bills and my student loans. I had taken a deferment on my student loans so I could do that initial theatre job making $65 a week.

And doing that initial job was the right choice for me. It provided me with contacts which provided me with more work, which provided me better pay, which provided me more contacts...you get the picture.

The break in theatre gigs didn’t last long. Well, long enough for me to want to kill myself if I had to sit behind another desk and answer phones all day long. Luckily I got hired to be in the ensemble of Hello Dolly at a theatre in Pennsylvania.

Then Manuel, a dancer from Dreamgirls in Connecticut called. He told me to audition for a theme park show. He was assisting the choreographer and thought they would like me. So I auditioned. I booked the gig.

Unfortunately the theme park show and Hello Dolly overlapped each other. I had to do some fancy talking and promising in order to keep both contracts. Manuel even offered to help me catch up in terms of what the rest of the cast would learn while I while I was finishing up the “Dolly” contract. Thanks to Manuel, it was settled. I could join the theme park show a week late.

And I was off again.

It was different now though. I had an apartment to myself. My roommate had moved out. He was going through some stuff. He actually blamed his leaving on the fact that he couldn’t stand to hear my belts clinging in the morning when I got ready to go temp. 

So the shoe was on the other foot. This time I had to find someone to sublet my apartment.

First I offered my place first to my friend Franchesca. She was in an abusive relationship and wanted to leave her boyfriend. I hadn’t met him, so her coming to live in my place worked perfectly. Franchesca disappeared into my apartment. She got her life back on track and then moved out. After her, my friend Neil wanted to move into the city from Jersey so he took over the sublet.

The theatre doing Hello Dolly loved me. They offered me a contract to do their next show, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Now that is one of my favorite shows and I’ve always wanted to do it. Badly. However even though I was one of the best dancers in the company, the theatre wouldn’t allow me to be one of the brothers. I had to be a suitor. And we all know why. So I turned down the contract. Then to entice me, they also offered me the next show after that as well, which was The King and I. I was offered the role of “Lun Tha”, the romantic lead in the show.

I pondered over the decision for weeks. I wanted a crack at being a lead, sine my University did not provide me that opportunity. I also wanted to do one of my favorite shows. It was a tough choice. I finally decided that I was going to do the theme park gig. Sure the contract was shorter, but the pay was better. I would be making about $500 a week. That doesn’t seem like a lot now but at the time the basic chorus contract on Broadway was just around $1100 a week.

Being out of the city for so long I decided it was best to give up my pied a tier on 96^th Street and Central Park West. So when I got a break for Easter, my friend Helga, whom I had met at that $65 a week job, and I packed up my entire apartment in one night put my stuff in storage, and off I went.

After all my contracts had eneded I returned to NYC. Once again I needed a place to live. I took a sublet from my colleague Pedro. We had done Dreamgirls in Connecticut together. He was going out on a non-equity tour. He wanted to keep his apartment. He happened to live with Manny, the guy who helped me with the theme park show. Perfect solution. I also went back to temping to try and get ahead on bills. For some reason I didn’t fully realize that I had to pay back the credit card companies for all the things I had purchased. Silly me. Adulting is hard.

With my theme park salary, combined with the number of weeks I had worked, I qualified to become an Equity Membership Candidate or EMC. I no longer had to wait outside of the Equity lounge to be seen. I could sign up for auditions just like Equity members. I could even audition for Broadway shows without having to wait around all day for the people behind the tables to decide if they were seeing Non-Equity. If.

I continued to work non-equity and audition for Equity shows.  I did another theme park show, starred in a brand new musical off-Broadway and booked a cruise ship. Pedro did multiple contracts on tour. This meant I was able to keep my sublet. I made it my home base and returned there after each gig.

When the dust settled and I was back home in NYC, I returned to temping (again) and auditioning. In the next year I got cast in The Pajama Game, ensemble with a “Prez” understudy in New Jersey, as “Big Daddy” and ensemble in Sweet Charity here in the city, The Wiz in Connecticut, PIE Story Theatre, which was a theatre company that performed in Central Park, and my third go round in A Chorus Line at Surflight.

All of those jobs were non-Equity.All of them were paying. All of them allowed me to live life, take care of my bills, put a little money in the bank and have fun.  All of them took me places I would have never gone to on my own.  All of them taught me so much about the business, and about myself. And all of those jobs connected me with the most fantastic, talented people, many of whom you've heard of, and many of whom I’m still friends with today.

It was a long time ago. And...

“...Might be over now, but I feel it still...”

That Sunday shine is a certain sign...

Passover has arrived. Easter is here and Spring has sprung. Finally. This winter the weather has been all over the place. One day it’s 65 degrees and sunny and the next day it’s -11 and frigid cold. We’ve had four nor’easters, including a snow-magedon, a snow-pocalypse and a bomb cyclone.

There has been one good thing that's come out of the weather. It’s something my friend Sandy, a non-actor, taught me: if there’s a storm in New York City that doesn’t close the subways, that’s when you have the best chance to get tickets to see a Broadway show. I guess it’s because people are afraid of being stranded in bad weather. At any rate it worked for us.

During the fourth storm a couple of weeks ago, Sandy and I were able to get really good last minute seats to see HELLO DOLLY, now starring Bernadette Peters. Our tickets were in the orchestra row L. And we paid less than it cost for rush tickets. For those who may not know, there are several ways to get affordable tickets to see a Broadway show, almost any show. But you’ve got to have time and you’ve got to be prepared to not see it. (Perhaps that should be a future blog)

HELLO DOLLY is one of my favorite shows. It always has been, ever since I saw the movie as a kid starring Barbra Streisand. As an adult I know that the movie is a little off on some things, but I still watch it. And I still enjoy it.

I remember being excited when Broadway announced “Dolly...” was coming back. It has a part that I’ve always wanted to play. Given who the leading lady was slated to be, this was going to be high profile Broadway. I needed advice on whether I should audition or not. Let’s face facts. For some projects auditioning is a futile endeavor. I wondered whether this would be one of them. I chose to talk my talk and walk my walk. I counseled myself just like I would anyone else asking me a theatre question. I took emotions out of the equation and logically responded, like I did for a good friend on Facebook.

Recently my friend became a new Equity member (Congrats!). She seemed a bit confused or lost on a couple of things. So she posted a query on the union Facebook page:

“Just got out of an audition for a theater that had a season full of u/k pieces ... much of it was period specific... but all the women around me were in jeans and slightly dressy shirts or even less. Am I missing something? ...why are people auditioning for established theaters in casual street wear? Is this a thing now? No judgement, truly but I'd like to keep abreast of what is acceptable when pursuing work. Many thanks!”

Another colleague of mine replied with:

“You definitely do NOT need to dress up for an audition anymore, though dressing to suggest never hurts... but casual IS in.”

And then some other woman commented:

“I wear jeans to almost all auditions, unless they have requested that everyone wear stretchy, movement-friendly clothes.”

What?

Are you crazy?

Why would anyone do that to themselves?

Okay. I’m back now...

Here’s the bottom line: An audition is a job interview. Like my friend so astutely said, auditioning is “pursuing work”. Nothing more, nothing less. A person arrives with resume in hand. They enter the room to be interviewed to see if they’re qualified for the position. The boss then decides if they can work together or not. If so, they will be offered a job, unless someone more qualified and more personable comes along. As much as I am loath to admit it, sometimes a big part of acing that interview and getting the job is about how you look. Sometimes it’s not.

After much debate with myself I took my advice. I decided to not audition for HELLO DOLLY on Broadway. The show was too high profile for this big ethnic guy to be cast in one of the leads. Sometimes it comes down to money and name recognition. Talent and or how inclusive the people behind the table state they want the cast to be, no longer matters.

Watching the show, I saw just how incredibly talented and inclusive the cast was. There was every size and shape and hue on that stage. However none of the size or shape or hue was in a leading role. The leading roles were names: first Bette Midler (and Donna Murphy), David Hyde Pierce, Kate Baldwin and Gavin Creel, in the role I want to play. The cast Sandy and I saw had Bernadette Peters, Victor Garber and Santino Fontana, in the role I want to play.

Don’t get me wrong. Clearly one shouldn’t avoid going to a Broadway audition if one feels right for the show. However there are two things that trump talent. Money. Those who have it and those that can bring more to those who have it. The people who were cast in the lead roles in “Dolly” are people who put butts in seat. They bring money to those who have fronted money to put up the show. I made an educated guess that this would be the case. So what I would have worn to the audition, or job interview, wouldn’t have mattered what-so-ever. But outside of that particular scenario it really does matter.

You only get one chance to make a first impression. Is that impression one of not caring about appearance? Or Hygiene? Or any of the other things that job interviewers make judgements on the moment a potential employee walks through the door?

So naturally my reply to my query-minded colleague was:

“As for dressing for an audition...be appropriate. Wear what is comfortable to you, allowing you to do physical work if need be and something that is in the normal scope of you...the nicer dressed version of you. Auditions are job interviews. Respect should be given to all those involved.

And above all else stop looking around the room. The other auditionees are not you, do not have your skill set or your life experiences. You would be remise to judge what you do and or wear by what you see and or hear.

You do you.”

And that is the most important thing: You do you, but the nicer version of you, both in attitude and dress. Again an audition is no more than a job interview where you demonstrate your practical skills pertinent to the job itself. Think about it. How much faith would a stockbroker have in someone interviewing for a job if that someone showed up in jeans and a t-shirt?Who goes to an office job interview in sweats and flip flops? Does someone believe showing up at a law firm in stretchy pants and an over-sized top will help land the position?  Attending a job interview looking like you rolled out of bed does not instill confidence. The issue arises when we creatives believe there are other rules for us because we have talent. And to be honest, in some places that’s all you need: heaps of talent and confidence in said talent.

However a lot of us need to realize that an actor is a business owner, a proprietor, just the same as someone who sells soup. The product, or soup, an actor sells is his or her talent. Is what's being sold chicken noodle or lobster bisque? The “can” the talent comes in is the actor’s physical body. Is it sleek and plastic or metal and eye catching? The “label” of that can of soup, what helps get everyone interested in buying the soup itself, is what the actor is wearing. The actor’s clothes support or distract from his or her talent.

Does your soup label say chicken broth yet the contents are Vichyssoise?

You have to know what you’re selling, what the package is and how to literally dress it up. Then target auditions and theatres who are most likely to purchase that product, because no one can realistically attend every audition. No one. Especially with the new online sign up system Equity has put into place.

Part of the job of an actor is sifting through the auditions and choosing what’s right for the product he or she is selling. Sometimes that’s a show on Broadway and sometimes that’s a show on the Broadway of Wisconsin. Other than budget, there is really no difference between the two. Both can have major talent. Both can be mega hits. And both can propel your career forward.

So the HELLO DOLLY calls keep coming. And I keep not going. It’s not that I doubt my talent...much...anymore. It’s that I’m being very selective in which auditions I attend. I focus and hone in on projects that are within my scope of talent and that I can realistically be cast. I believe “Dolly” on Broadway is not one of them right now.

But in truth if you don’t go to an audition you definitely won’t be cast in the show unless the producer owes you a favor or your dad has a barn...

HELLO DOLLY was everything I think Broadway should be. It was full of talent, designed well and it left the audience feeling something. I loved it and Sandy really liked it too. Did I agree with everything that happened both backstage and on stage? No and neither did Sandy. She couldn’t understand why everyone was walking around on “tippy toes”. But the few things I thought were less than stellar were still amazing and extremely well done. When the cast entered for “Put on Your Sunday Clothes” I smiled from ear to ear while the tears streamed down my face.

Because of targeting projects I want to do and can do, I've had a successful year. I’ve been called back for roles like “Sebastian” in LITTLE MERMAID, “Amos” in CHICAGO, “Ken” in AINT MISBEHAVIN, “Melvin P. Thorpe” in BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE IN TEXAS and “Rooster” in ANNIE. And the callbacks have been more consistently happening. Most of the people behind the tables, the people with the money who are looking to me to make them more money, commented very positively on how I was dressed.

Do you want to make a great impression that extends far beyond your talent, freindliness and ability to bring money to those who have it? Do you want to stand above the throngs of people who just schlep from audition to audition not caring what they look like or knowing what they’re selling? Do you want to increase your likelihood of actually getting the part? Or at least getting a callback? Then be smart. Know your product. Target specific shows, companies and theatres that buy what you’re selling. And when you’re getting ready to go to those auditions remember it’s just a job interview. And the easiest non-verbal, non-talent related way to help make a great impression is to...

“...Get out your feathers, your patent leathers, your beads and buckles and bows...”

The way you grab me, must wanna get nasty...

This blog post is rated NC 17 for adult language and sexual situations...

It’s time we had “the talk”.

You may have started to notice certain changes. These changes could be happening with you or with your friends.  People are looking at you, or someone you know, in a very different way. More attention is being given to someone for no apparent reason. Well there is a reason. It’s so common place that it was even immortalized in a Broadway show: “I mean I had eyes. I saw what they were hiring”.

I knew Lester from acting school. I’ve written about him in the blog before. Lester was a dork who looked like an Amish serial killer. He wore plain dark clothes, had a simple haircut, glasses and a full beard with no moustache. He was silly and goofy and fearless. And he thought the world of himself. It’s a good thing too because the world thought nothing of him.

Now Lester, as untalented as he was, was cast as the lead in our school’s drama. He was a personal friend of the program’s director, a close personal friend. Don’t get me wrong, our director was friendly with everyone and everyone thought of him as their friend. However there was a group of guys who were obviously the favorites. They got everything and anything they wanted. Lester was one of them.

With all the late night drives home, and the gifts and the back rubs, the rumors flew.

I met Phineas when I was the assistant director on an Off Broadway show. I’ve written about him before as well. Phineas grew up in a military family on the west coast. He was more of an intellectual artistic child. Aloof and distant, he cultivated his talents. He plays several instruments, dances like a dream and has a beautiful clear high tenor voice. Phineas was a dork too. But he thought despairingly about himself.

One day it happened. Lester had his “I had eyes I saw what they were hiring” moment. So he decided to take his career in his own hands, or more specifically his appearance. While in grad school he took to working out and getting fit. He shaved his “Amish” beard off and got a pseudo trendy haircut. He also got contacts. His transformation finished just before graduation.

It happened to Phineas too, but he decided that there was nothing he could do about his situation. He didn’t go to school. He didn’t go to the gym or alter his appearance in any way. His self-esteem was so low that he thought it was pointless. He stayed on the west coast not auditioning or pursuing theatre at all.

Meanwhile Lester had developed. He looked like his ego: strong, proud and insurmountable. He thought he was on his way but he was getting nowhere in theatre.

Lester’s obstacle in landing a performing gig was his lack of product cohesiveness. His physicality went from dorky outsider to hot guy next door. However his personality remained dorky. Had he adopted the persona of the hot guy next door, the likelihood of him working in theatre would have greatly increased, regardless of talent. His dorkiness didn’t come through in pictures though. He excelled at being photographed. He just looked like a hot guy. The model agencies started knocking on his door. But something terrible happened.

The modeling agencies interest was stroking Lester’s ego, all the while the actual agents tried to stroke other things.

Being a model demands that the clothes fit. One has to be measured to make that happen. With men there is a measurement called the inseam. It’s the length of the inside of the leg, beginning at the groin.

Do you see where this is going?

That measurement on Lester was taken several times. Each time had a brush of the hand or the slip of some fingers. Again and again and again. Being new to the modeling world Lester thought this was de riguer for the industry. However it went against the morals of the dorky guy still inside of him. So he hightailed it out of there.

Phineas wasn’t going anywhere in his career. He simply wasn’t pursuing it. He lacked the nerve even though his dorkiness combined with his talent put him in a perfect position to book work. When he finally got up the nerve to make a move, something terrible happened.

His lack of confidence and initiative necessitated that that perfect position be horizontal.

Phineas wanted to be in a show. He wanted it so badly that he actually slept with the director...

...of a community theatre show...

...to be in the chorus.

Talk about low self-esteem.

Phineas’ insecurities told him this was perfectly acceptable to do. He may have even thought this was the only way he could be cast. I found out about it when he was practically bragging in the dressing room of the show I directed.

Some may shudder at the thought of it. Some may not know the history of theatre, where women, in particular, were perceived to be prostitutes. Acting is the second oldest profession.

Guess which one is first.

Those days are long gone but let’s face facts. Sex sells. If you don’t believe me just watch commercials. Everything in commercials is based on either sex or humor. The picture on this blog is an old ad for jeans. JEANS! You may not find it personally sexy or humorous but the powers that be do. And so the people behind the tables look for it and they hire it. This makes performers the biggest purveyors of sex and sexuality outside of the actual sex industry.

Performers can use sex and sexuality to our advantage. We get callbacks and gigs because of it. We get noticed by the press because of it. The world of performing opens wide if an actor is perceived to be sexy. In American standards a performer is hard pressed to achieve super stardom without being sexy, without being a paragon of masculinity or femininity. But it’s acting on that masculinity, femininity and perceived sexuality that’s not acceptable in a professional situation. Acting on it should never be a prerequisite for getting an agent or a callback or a job or keeping an agent, a callback or a job.

 Harvey Weinstein Is My Monster Too

Let me be clear: Initiating unwanted sexual advances with the promise of work is wrong. Initiating unwanted sexual advances in any situation is wrong. Touching of a sexual nature is not a legitimate industry standard. Period.

So what can be done?

First, an actor should be aware for whom they are auditioning. Research the agent, the company, the theatre, the living situation if it’s out of town and the management. If it doesn’t seem reputable it probably isn’t. Stay away.

But what happens when the job or casting director or project is totally legitimate, as with Salma Hyak and Frida?

This industry is small. The best source for finding information on these things is other performers. You probably know someone who has worked for that person or at that theatre. If not, you’re definitely connected to someone who knows someone who has. (You’ve heard of the game “Six degrees of Kevin Bacon”). Someone has been there. Someone has experienced it. Take what they say into consideration before making your decision.

I was offered a contract with a reputable theatre. Colleagues of mine had also been offered the show. They had done their research and decided it was best to turn it down. I decided to take the contract. I should have followed my friends’ advice because it was hell. Everything about it was awful, from the producers, to the choreographer, to the sound engineers to the wardrobe people. Everything. It was an awful experience. I took it because I was hungry for the work at the time. Much like Phineas, desperation clouded my judgement.

Secondly, take note of where and when the audition is taking place. The majority of major auditions happen during the day like 9-5, or 10-6, during the week. Think office hours. Reputable auditions can happen outside of those times however. For example Actors Equity AAA agent auditions usually start at 7pm and end around 10pm. They’re held at the Actors Equity office in Times Square.

Any audition that happens not in a rehearsal studio in Manhattan, on the upper west side or midtown, immediately flips a security switch within me. Add a nighttime appointment to that and I’m on high alert. I find out as much as I can about where I’m going and why. And how to get back (I have no sense of direction).

If you must go to some random audition for some random company in some random spot at some random time, go. But find an audition buddy to go with you. You can even ask a non-performer friend to come. Just have another person who knows you well along for the ride. There’s a reason people say “There’s safety in numbers”.

That being said I have actually auditioned at someone’s home, alone, at night and in a hotel. I had done my homework and deemed it a safe environment. But I made sure more than one person knew where I was going and when I would be back. I booked both gigs.

I’ve also walked out of an audition in a midtown studio at high noon because the work was offensive and the work environment did not seem to foster healthy development of the piece or an appreciation of my talents.

Removing the temptation and the opportunity for impropriety goes a long way to combat sexual harassment in the work place. Lester was right to leave the model fitting. He was right not to be in contact with that agent or agency again. However he never said anything to anyone when the incident happened. Which in my opinion is not right.

Recently there was, or still is, a flurry of speculation and accusation against theatre professionals. Agents, Casting Directors, Actors, Producers and people in every job description are being accused of impropriety, misconduct and sexual harassment. One of the major casting agencies in NYC has fired a casting director. It’s rumored that others in that office are on the chopping block. The agency has lost clients, multi-million dollar Broadway shows, because of allegations, some of them decades old. Careers are being ruined now and people are losing jobs now because of old indescretions. And not just the people being implicated. And that is not fair.

Had someone spoken up, made the accusations early on when the situation(s) in question first happened, perhaps innocent people would have been spared. Perhaps the support staff of the agencies, the backstage personnel of movies and shows, and their co-stars would have kept their livelihood today. Had someone spoken out, perhaps the next Kristen Chenoweth or Audra McDonald would not have internalized the harassment, destroying their lives. Perhaps the next Markus Schenkenberg (one of the world’s first male supermodels and cover for this blog) wouldn’t have become disillusioned with the “business” side of the fashion industry and left.

Perhaps the myriad of women allegedly abused by Bill Cosby could have been reduced to one.

So why didn’t someone speak up?

Performers are faced with the promise of becoming a star or the threat of never working again. Simply put, McCarthy era blacklists and the “You’ll never work in this town again” or the studio star makers era with the “I’m gonna make you a star kid” mentality, lives on.

There is not a human being on the planet that can stop you from performing, except you. That’s what happened to Phineas. He got in his own way. He let his own insecurities hinder his success. In truth, the director who hired Phineas was probably going to hire him anyway. His singing voice is not one easily replaced. But Phineas will never know that because he slept with him to get the non-paying, non-equity, community theatre job.

What lengths will Phineas go to in order to star in a Broadway show?

Listen, eventually you will be noticed. Someone responsible and upstanding will offer you work based on the merits of your talent. Maybe it’ll be your star making role, maybe not. But there are no short cuts. The road to success is long. It takes work and dedication. It takes research. It takes long countless hours of soul searching and product development. It takes integrity and morality. Sheer tenacity.

Lester continued his quest for work and validation of his inflated ideas of his talent. He left the east coast. He’s now balding and pudgy and does stand-up comedy in L. A. He's happy and his ego is as healthy as ever.

Phineas had moved to NYC from the west coast to pursue theatre. He was cast in my show because of his immense talent. Well, that and the casting director thought he was hot and wanted to date him. But the casting director never made a move. He thought it unprofessional to act on the attraction, even after learning about Phineas’ indiscretion.

Phineas now works as a waiter in a restaurant in midtown. He’s done a one man show but other than that I don’t know. I cut ties with him about year after the show I had directed closed. The caustic and self-deprecating energy was too much for me to handle.

Sex sells. But don’t let someone take it from you. And don’t give it away for a job or a career. If someone does try to make unwanted advances toward you or someone you love, please realize that it has nothing to do with you or your loved ones. Nothing. No one brings it on themselves, not even the overly endowed guy who only wore sweatpants and nothing under them to dance auditions. (True story) It’s not his fault if someone makes unwanted advances with promises of stardom. No one can blame the girl with the breast implants for someone else’s socially unacceptable, sexually aggressive behaviour.  

As victims, we should advise our friends and colleagues about what lurks in the darkness, what’s hiding in the wings. Publicly blast any situation of unwarranted unwanted sexual advances in the work place you've encountered. Use social media, Facebook, Audition update, Twitter or whatever other things you have in your viral arsenal. And if asked have the courage and fortaitude to privately reveal the details. This doesn't mean keeping it hush hush. Tell the unions (SAG-AFTRA, AGVA, AEA, AGMA). File greivences. File lawsuits. Because #TimesUpNow. Agents, Casting Directors, Directors, Teachers, Co-stars, Crew and anyone who traverses into the performing world needs to know that mixing business with personal sexual pleasure is not okay. That here, in the Business of show, there are no...

“...Blurred lines.”