HE'S GOT POSSIBILITIES 

When I heard that composer Charles Strouse had passed away, many memories came back to me, of the various musicals he had written, and of the several times I interacted with them. Most recently, here: 

Quite a few years ago, I played that poor, put-upon schnook Harry MacAfee in Strouse's Bye, Bye, Birdie, a character I had dreamed of playing since first seeing the movie version as a kid, with Paul Lynde in the role. But playing MacAfee was not my first encounter with this musical; 35 years earlier, Birdie would have a big impact on my development as a performer.

It was during my college days, in the late 70s, when I first landed in Birdie, which, let's face it, is one of those musicals done constantly in high schools and colleges. 

Ron Hill headed the chorus dept at my Atlanta
high school. He had an early death and I harbor
no ill will for his comment to me that I could
not sing. But it kept me out of musicals
for a while.

At the time, I was unsure about my place in musical theater, as I had had a music teacher in high school who informed me I couldn't carry a tune. I believed him for a while, but my attraction to musicals finally won out. Turns out, this guy was wrong (maybe it was my voice changing which confused him). Anyway, I gradually dipped my toe into musical waters, first in a very small role in Hello, Dolly as a senior in (a different) high school, then in another small role in L'il Abner in college. 

That's me as Lonesome Polecat, Indian Brave. He made Kickapoo Joy Juice, "heep grade A." The racism in this role is apparent now, but back then, they just smeared Texas Dirt all over me and sent me onstage.

I sang a full verse of the opening number in Abner, which gave me some much needed confidence. 

I had no business playing Motel the Tailor, the
orthodox Jewish boy who didn't know how to
wear his prayer shawl. I also couldn't sing his
big solo, until it was transposed to a lower key.
"Wonder of Wonders" was my first full solo number
in front of an audience. I ended it with a cartwheel,
cuz that's what you do when you're insecure about
your singing.

Soon after, I landed in a community theater production of Fiddler on the Roof, and sang my first full solo number in front of an audience. I was gradually proving to myself that I could carry a song successfully on my own. During this period, I met my great friend Judy, who approached me in the hallway at CSUN and asked me to be a chorus boy in her directing project, a slimmed down version of Cabaret.

I was originally a Kit Kat Boy, but by the time we opened, I was playing the Emcee. It was a dream role for me, and I was lucky to play the role in a full-length production 10 years later.

I had always loved Cabaret, (I wrote about my adoration of this musical here), and Judy was mixing the Kit Kat Club girls with some boys (since the Alan Cumming revival of Cabaret, this is commonly done, but back in the mid 70s, no one was doing it). Of course I said yes. During our rehearsal period, the guy playing the Emcee was showing up high to rehearsals, and Judy dumped him and elevated me to the role. 

Dick Van Dyke didn't get much competition from me, but I was still proud that I handled the leading role without, you know, crapping out. That's me as Albert in Bye, Bye, Birdie, in the bowtie, surrounded by the citizens of Sweet Apple, OH, which apparently had a majority Armenian population. Everyone in this picture is of Armenian descent except me and the guy in my lap. Oh, and there's one Latino in this crowd, doing director Judy a favor by giving his talents to the ensemble. Thanks, Ronnie!

A while after that,  Judy gave me a tremendous gift. She was developing her director skills by directing a full-scale musical for her church's youth group, and she asked me to play Albert J. Peterson, the Dick Van Dyke role in Birdie.

I was afraid of "Talk To Me," Albert's
big ballad in the piece. My costar
Carla was afraid of the romantic kiss
at the very end of the show.

This was my first leading role in a musical, with four big songs, including a ballad. I had never sung a ballad in public and I was very afraid of it. (It's all those held notes, don't cha know.)  We only ran a couple of weekends I think, but the show was a success, and I think I was, too (so don't tell me otherwise, let me remember it this way, k?) 

Our college chum Bob Newman played our
Birdie, not everyone can pull off gold lame`.
Bob went on to a successful TV career, and
several Emmy nods for Guiding Light.

I learned how to be a leading player while portraying Albert, and after that experience, I never again shied away from auditioning for roles in musicals, leading or otherwise.  

Thirty five years after that college experience, I landed in Birdie again, at Shenandoah Summer Music Theatre, this time playing Mr. MacAfee. (I wrote about this gig when it was happening, go here for that report). This climactic scene was completely revamped in the film. In the stage version, MacAfee, completely starstruck by the show's host, creates total chaos on The Ed Sullivan Show. 

Unless I'm missing something, these two productions of Birdie were the only times I sang songs by Charles Strouse. One of them, "Put On A Happy Face," found its way into the Great American Songbook, and another, "Kids," is one of the funniest numbers in any classic musical comedy.  With that first production back in the 70s, I believe he played a big part in my development as a musical theatre actor.  Thanks, Buddy!

Charles Strouse 

1928-2025