Auditions

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Today I am grateful for auditions.  No, I’m not getting new head shots and hitting the pavement. . .again. . .searching for the perfect role on stage or in a film.  Kathy Bates has already taken over for me.  But I got to talking today (big surprise) and told a story to some women that bears sharing.

I used to audition a lot back in Sheboygan, Wisconsin and later when we moved to Pennsylvania.  I’ve been in tons of plays, some student films, a commercial here and there, a few Forensic Files, and a couple of industrial films including one on Sexual Harassment which was particularly fun, especially for the off-camera one-liners. 

Light years ago, in Sheboygan, there were auditions for a Chamber of Commerce fund raiser called The Red Garter Follies.  Bob, a friend of mine and I found out there were some good roles available so we decided to check it out.  Finding a song to sing for auditions when you are an alto-tenor is not easy.  I chose “Secret Love”.  Poor, poor Doris Day. 

Auditions were held in front of the stage at the huge hall of the United Methodist church.  Towards the front of the massive room was a table for the director and other staff.  At least a hundred chairs lined the perimeter of the room.  “Hopefuls” twitched in their seats like bad dates at a junior prom.

Bob and I were both nervous.  He said, “Do you think they’ll notice us?” 

“You’re six feet six inches tall and I’m eight ax-handles wide.  They’ll notice!” I said.  “I’m only hoping I don’t have to go after Nancy.”  FYI - Nancy was THE singer/actress/dancer triple-threat in town.  She was petite, pretty, funny, with tones like Streisand and the acting skills of Streep.  I wanted to hate her but she was also so damned nice, to everyone, even me.  I hated that she was nice.  “If I have to follow Nancy, I’ll just die.” I repeated, as one horrible singer after another screeched their audition.

Then the number before mine was called.  NANCY!  Swell.  I started to sweat like I stole something.  She went up to the spot, tossing a little wave to the crowd, gave the accompanist her music, put another copy on the lip of the stage and said, “I’m so sorry.  This is a fairly new song and I’m afraid I don’t remember all of the lyrics, yet.”  Giggle.  Giggle.  Then she opened her mouth and, like a performance at Carnegie Hall, sang “Love, soft as an easy chair. . . Love, soft as the morning air. . . ”  It was “Evergreen”. . .was Barbra Streisand in the house?  Sounded like it.  You coulda heard a cough-drop in that hall.  After thundering applause, my number was up.  Literally. 

I stood, clutching my music and started the walk of death, heading straight for the back of the director forty miles away.  The titters started as a low buzz.  Then suddenly everyone started to laugh.  I usually like a good laugh, but I was confused.  I looked back at Bob and he was pointing to the floor behind me.  I looked down.  I was so clueless that when I had put my crossed feet under the folding chair, the strap of someone’s tote bag had gotten wrapped around my ankle.  I was dragging it like a recalcitrant beagle.

Not even able to register a thought, I took a few more steps, dragging the tote, completely flummoxed, as tampons, lipstick, cigarettes, a wallet, an apple, comb, brush, the frigging kitchen sink, trailed behind me like Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs.  The crowd went hysterical. They clapped.  They cheered.  They howled like it was a comedy club and I was the headliner.  I was mortified.  I bowed.  The director turned to see what the fuss was, just as I gave that tote a healthy soccer kick towards the wall.  We had to wait five minutes for the crowd to settle down before I could sing, “Once I had a secret love. . .That lived within the heart of me. . .”  Dear God, make it be over!  Not my shining moment.

I got the comedy relief role.  Nancy got the lead.  Bob got a part, too, although we’re pretty sure he sang his audition number in the key of “Q”.  Nerve-wracking as they are, I’m grateful for auditions. . .and glad I survived this one.