I Climbed Ev'ry Mountain

Patricia Neway

1919-2012

I have never been a fan of The Sound of Music, and I resist anyone's attempt to drag me to a production.  The film makes my teeth ache, and I really want to smack those children. 

"So long, farewell..." now go jump in that lake.



A nun with a guitar
never gets old.


But I have to admit I may be too hard on the old chestnut.  Olney Theatre has just concluded a hugely successful run of the show, which extended several times and received great reviews.  I did not see that production, but was aware of the catastrophic injury one of its cast members received during the rehearsal period.  Monica is a colleague of mine (we recently appeared together in Olney's Witness for the Prosecution), and her accident made the whole DC theatrical community shudder. 


Monica Lijewski


Monica was slated to play the Mother Abbess in The Sound of Music, which is probably why Patricia Neway popped up on my radar.  When Neway died last week at the age of 92, it was remembered that she won the Tony for the original production of The Sound of Music, playing the Mother Abbess.

Neway's Mother Abbess advises
Mary Martin to haul ass up that Alp.

Neway's career straddled the worlds of musical comedy and opera, with her greatest success coming with the latter.  She was particularly well-regarded for her appearances in various 20th century operas.  


Neway as Lady Macbeth in
Verdi's opera.



Her performance in The Sound of Music was her biggest success outside the opera world;  in the show, she sang that anthem of hope, "Climb Ev'ry Mountain."  As my friend Monica continues her arduous recovery from her fall, I hope she gets some comfort from the song.

New Year's Letter: A Bit of Heaven in '11

I love those newsletters that people sometimes send with their Christmas cards each year, but most folks make fun of them, at least in my experience.  So, I don't ever send one (the fact that my Christmas cards always feature a picture of myself is cause for enough ridicule).  But perhaps I can duck all that ridicule by, instead, writing a newsy New Year's Note.

2011 was one of my better years in recent memory, though it began with absolutely nothing positive on the horizon.  On January 1st, I had no jobs lined up, and no prospects. 

All that changed at the end of the month, when somebody dropped out of the Olney Theatre's production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, after one rehearsal.  I was working the front desk at our annual local Equity auditions when the casting director, the lovely and talented Brad Watkins, grabbed me by the arm and said, "Get your Equity ass to my theatre at 2:00, you're hired."  I started rehearsal that very day, and had a blast playing dual roles.  Wearing a skanky beard which completely covered my face, I played Joseph's father, Jacob, and in another sequence, I enjoyed a little song-and-dance as Potiphar, a rich Egyptian.

By the time we finished the run, nobody in Joe's Coat  even remembered that I was a replacement.  I was surrounded by some of the strongest singer/dancer/actors in the DC area;  the cast was littered with Helen Hayes winners and nominees, all of them playing one of my sons or one of my wives. 

I really loved the concept of this production (the show itself is not one of my favorites), but more, I was grateful to get the opportunity to work with this big group of talent.

That same audition during which I so unexpectedly snagged the gig at Olney Theatre, I was approached by the artistic director of Wayside Theatre, the lovely and talented Warner Crocker.  "Do you know the play The Nerd?" he asked.  I did not, but he urged me to read it, with an eye to playing a role in his upcoming production.

Several weeks later, I was spending the day as an extra on a big-budget film which was blowing through town (I don't know the name of it, but it's the one with Julianne Moore playing Sarah Palin). 

During the long stretches of boredom, I bumped into an acquaintance, the lovely and talented Bill Diggle.  "What are you working on?" I asked, knowing that he was always working on something.  "The Nerd," he answered.  "Really?" I responded, "I'm getting ready to do it!"  "I know," he said dryly, "I'm directing you in it."  Turns out that Warner was ducking out of directing the play in order to take care of some administrative duties.

No harm was done.  The Nerd turned out to be one of my all-time favorite theatrical experiences.  Warner knew what he was doing when he cast me as the wise-cracking neighbor with a secret agenda; it was the best part I've had in quite a while. 

The experience was capped by the visit of my whole family, who gathered from North Carolina, Georgia, and New York, to celebrate my father's birthday, and to see the show.  A year earlier, the family had gifted me with a very special Christmas present: a donor's brick on the wall of Wayside Theatre. 

Between Joe's Coat and The Nerd, the little independent movie I shot in 2010 was released.  And by "released," I mean it was self-distributed by the producers.  I understand that they had been submitting the film to various festivals around the world, and no one had nibbled.  A Modest Suggestion  can now be purchased here, and streamed here, as a one-week rental on Amazon.  I bought about 8 copies, and gave them as Christmas presents.  Who wouldn't want a Christmas present which starred me?

My unemployment had run out by the time I snagged another unexpected gig in September.  Once again, someone from Olney Theatre had dropped out of a show, though this time, it was a couple of weeks before rehearsal began.  The lovely and talented Brad Watkins put an emergency note on Facebook, asking for suggestions of replacements. 

The role, Carter in Agatha Christie's Witness for the Prosecution, was a very small one, so small that I wondered if Olney was looking for a non-union actor to play it.  Nevertheless, I dropped Brad an email suggesting myself for the role.  A week later, I was auditioning for the director, and a day or so after that, I was offered the gig.

I'll never make fun of Facebook again.

So, for the second time this year, I landed a job because somebody else quit.  Who cares? I had a lovely time with the show, though the timing of the gig caused some challenges with my personal life.  In the midst of rehearsals, I was notified that I was being awarded a subsidized apartment in Manhattan Plaza, an artists' complex right off Times Square in New York. 

It was a flukey lark that I landed on the waiting list for such a place, back in July of 2003.  It took 8 years, but my name finally rose to the top, and on Halloween, I spent my first night in Apt #29G at ManPlaza. 

It still seems like I'm camping when I'm there, as there is no furniture to speak of, and a blowup mattress serves as my sleeping arrangements.  But the opportunity is too good to pass up, so for the foreseeable future, I will be Bi-Urban, splitting my time between NY and DC as duty dictates.

The year ended with my annual trips to Los Angeles and to North Carolina, so I put Real Life on hold for a bit of Holiday Cheer.  Only now is it sinking in, that I should be dipping my toe into the New York lifestyle, whatever that means.  And I'm ending the year right where I started, with no work on the horizon, but this time, I'm not so worried.  (Yet.)  A lot of people would consider 2011 pretty lousy, and I won't argue, but for me, it was a pretty good year.  I can only hope for more of the same.

Witnessing The Prosecution

My current gig, Witness for the Prosecution at Olney Theatre, is roughly half-way through our run. There was the possibility of an extension, but it appears that will not be happening. Though the Word of Mouth has been good for the show, it's an expensive one to run, with 17 actors and 9 Equity contracts. Our houses have been good, but not full, and I suppose the Powers That Be crunched the numbers, and decided we will be closing as scheduled.

The clientele of the theatre, which tends to be a bit senior in age, likes a good mystery, and this one is put together very well indeed. At our first table read, a few people, including our director, Jack Going, offered their opinion that Witness for the Prosecution is Agatha Christie's "best play," meaning I guess that it is the best written. I offer no opinion on that, academically, but I can suggest that it is her most challenging, as the suspense depends solely on the dialogue. As in Greek tragedy, almost all the action of the play happens off-stage (and in this instance, before the play even begins). This is quite different than other Christie classics, which present a slew of characters, usually gathered in some secluded location, with a murder happening, onstage, toward the end of act one. Witness is not structured this way, which puts a big burden on the actors and director of the piece, to keep the show lively and interesting. Jack is a master at such obstacles; our rehearsals were painstakingly detailed, as Jack and the actors worked out every little piece of business, every little movement, every line emphasis.

That attention to detail seems to have paid off, as our audiences have been very enthusiastic, even during a 3 hour presentation.

The length of our show brought some snarky comment from the Washington Post critic, who compared the production to the short story and the Billy Wilder film version from the 50s, both of which are substantially different from the play script. That critic had nothing but good things to say about our actors and design elements; indeed, his only darts seem aimed at Dame Agatha Christie herself, for penning such an over-written piece. That woman clearly didn't know what she was doing when she was writing a play.

Well, Witness for the Prosecution is being touted, even by our press, as a classic whodunit, but I would beg to differ. Ten Little Indians, The Mousetrap, and Black Coffee are all whodunits in the classic sense, with half a dozen suspects presented to the audience. But I would suggest that, rather than a whodunit, Witness for the Prosecution is a "Didhedoit." As I mentioned, the structure of the play is different, and more difficult to manoeuvre.

Well, the Post's critic notwithstanding, we have had some lovely response from the other reviewers. Go here to read an absolute rave, and the only review likely to mention my minimal contribution to the show. I am playing the very small role of a lawyer's head clerk, and in the courtroom scenes, I don a mustache and wig and observe the proceedings as a silent barrister. I don't mind confessing that this routine was a pain during the rehearsal process, as it meant I was called to every rehearsal (in fact, to every hour of every rehearsal), though my responsibility in the show is very slight. But it all worked out, as, now that we are running, I enjoy dashing about changing costumes, it makes the evening move along nicely. One of my least favorite aspects of live theatre is the fact that, often, the actor spends more time in the green room, waiting to go on, than onstage. This is not the case with me this time, and I'm grateful for that.

Happy Dancing

Because my name begins with an initial, rather than a name, I have participated in the following dialogue for decades:

Somebody: "What does the R. stand for?"
Me: "It stands for my first name."

Yeah, I'm often that kind of smartass. My first name is no secret, it's Robert. But I have never been known by that name, to anybody who matters. Even my social security card, obtained for me when I entered school at age 6, proves that my name is R. Scott Williams.

That "R" may stand for something else, judging by recent events. I suppose I am becoming "Replacement Scott Williams." And I'm loving it.

Many months ago, I told the story in these pages about my being hired for a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat on the very day I was to start rehearsal. Somebody dropped out after one rehearsal, and I was in the right place at the right time. A similar situation arose just a few days ago. Olney Theatre's Producing Director, the lovely and talented Brad Watkins, was in a pickle. He had just lost an actor for a show starting rehearsal in just a few weeks, and he posted on Facebook his dilemma. He hoped any of his FB Friends would forward his info on to any actors who might be appropriate to fill in.

I saw this note on Facebook, and dropped Brad an email, alerting him that I was available for the time period in question. The role is a pretty small one, so I was unclear whether or not Olney was looking for a union actor, but Brad responded immediately, inviting me to read a short scene for the show's director. I have auditioned for Jack Going a couple of times in past seasons, but had not attended the initial call for Witness for the Prosecution several months ago.

You can see this happy ending coming, can't you? I auditioned for Jack and Brad yesterday (in the midst of some substantial chaos happening in this region, due to the earthquake), and today, I was hired. So, for the second time in a single season, I have a job because somebody else quit. Hey, I don't care in the least how I get a gig, I only care to do my best once I get it.

I know I'll be writing more about this project as it begins, but for now, I'm just glad to have a fun way to spend the next couple of months. It's time for some happy dancing.

Orange and Blue

The other day, I returned to the scene of my most recent crime. I auditioned out at Olney Theatre, where only a week or so ago, we closed our Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. It's funny and odd that, for nine weeks, the place felt very comfortable and homey, but under the new circumstances, it felt very chilly and professional. It doesn't matter how much fun and fulfillment you get from doing a show at a particular theatre, once the experience is over, you are back to square one, waiting with some trepidation outside the audition chamber alongside a dozen other actors. It does help, I confess, to bump into several of the support team who worked on Joseph, including the lovely and talented Kelsey and Kendall, who did a swell job smoothly moving actors in and out of the firing squad. When I got inside, I was greeted by the Powers That Be, as well as by the Grand Pooh-Bah of Music out at Olney, the lovely and talented Chris Youstra, who cracked me up a bit with his comment, "I know you. You're the guy who never shows up for the first day of rehearsal." This was a reference to the fact that I was hired so late for Joseph... that I missed the first day's rehearsal (I wrote that story here). Being back at Olney revived that familiar melancholia which always accompanies the closing of a show one enjoys. I had avoided some of that depression last week by tackling my taxes the day after we shuttered, but as the week progressed, the expected melancholy emerged. Eight o'clock would roll around, and I would suddenly wish I were standing onstage with 18 actors shouting "Dad!" at me. That's how I started each performance (I wrote about being the center of attention here). Our last weekend of Joseph... was, as usually happens in such instances, bittersweet. Each performance brought the thought, "I will only be doing this 3 more times" or "2 more times," etc. So, each time the lovely and talented Heather Beck offered me water as one of my wives, and the lovely and talented Erin Driscoll followed up with an offer of wine, and each time the lovely and talented MaryLee Adams gave me an airkiss, I felt a pang of loss.

I knew I was going to miss my favorite moment in the show, in which I shared a cute little soft-shoe number with the lovely and talented Eleasha Gamble: And of course, I knew I would be missing my interactions with the lovely and talented Alan Wiggins, who played Joseph, my Favorite Son. Once the stress of the opening performances subsided, Alan and I had some fun every night chatting with each other onstage, as the ensemble delivered the expositional number "Jacob and Sons." During the rehearsal process, we were encouraged by our director, the lovely and talented David Hilder, to make these mimed conversations very specific, and so we did. It can now be revealed that those chats (which could not be heard by the audience nor the other actors onstage) rarely had much to do with the plot. We were more likely to be discussing such things as "is that a moose?" or "do you smell popcorn?" or "do you see that tree? It's where I buried your mother." That last weekend also brought some poignancy backstage, as I started to feel how I would miss my dressing roommates. I don't know how we lucked into a dressing room with only four of us, but we couldn't have been better suited. The lovely and talented Russell Sunday and I formed the Caucasian contingent in the room, and we often found ourselves sitting back and enjoying the hell out of the...ahem..."ethnic" humor of our mates, the lovely and talented LC Harden and Stephawn Stephens. (I was particularly pleased to be sharing space with Stephawn, who was the only person in the cast whom I knew much before we started: we cris-crossed the country years ago in the First National Tour of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer).

Yep, I've been missing all my sons a bit, particularly their habit of upstaging their old dad onstage. The show isn't about Jacob anyway, it's about his sons, so no harm done. But as our run progressed, I started to realize an entire one-act play was going on behind me during the number in which my sons reveal the supposed death of Joseph, "One More Angel." The lovely and talented Nick Lehan led the charge here, with all the guys following suit. I'm told the lovely and talented Andrew Sonntag was particularly active behind my back during the number, with the smile of an angel but a devilish glint in his eye.

By the time we closed the show, everyone had forgotten that I was an emergency replacement for somebody who quit after one day's rehearsal. That's what nine weeks and many adventures will do for you. Speaking of rehearsals, I quickly got in the habit of stashing a couple of oranges in my backpack to peel and eat during our breaks (Costco helped out there, as they sell 13 pounds of them in a box). That routine carried over into performances: I would sit in the green room and eat an orange before every show, even on two-show days. The habit was widely commented upon by the cast and crew, so for closing day, everyone received an orange from me. Hey, I'm the last of the Big Spenders. The accompanying card, which was left in the green room for everyone, reflected my thanks for their support, and my sadness that the experience had come to an end:

To All My Sons, and All My Wives,

And to that Lady on the Bed, and to her sons, too,

And to those folks in the corner who never put down their instrument except to pick up another one,

And to those odd people in black, who were always dashing about, pulling ropes, pushing platforms, pointing lights, and peeling clothes off actors,

I joined your tribe late and unexpectedly.

Thanks for the welcome.

Thanks for the ride.

Close Every Door (But Not On My Head)

We are heading into the final week of our production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat; the past two weeks have been...um...unexpectedly spontaneous. A little while ago, I posted a note of admiration for our company of players, for having survived an intense 9-shows-in-5-days work week without injury or illness. No sooner had I posted that mash note than the wheels on the bus started to wobble.

We knew in advance that the gal playing Mrs Potiphar, the lovely and talented Heather Beck, would have to miss one of our performances due to a prior commitment. This kind of thing is very likely to happen if a show extends beyond its original date of closure, as ours has. Heather was replaced in that particular performance by the lovely and talented MaryLee Adams, who in addition to subbing for Heather, accomplished all her other duties in the show, including her scene-stealing moment as a camel.

It was the unexpected happenings which added some spice the past week or so. On different occasions, Car Trouble caused not one, but two of our actors to arrive so late to the theatre that we did the show without them. In both instances, we expected the actors to arrive in time to slip into the show in progress, but that was not to be. I was particularly impressed, then, that one of our non-Equity ensemble members, the lovely and talented Vinnie Kempski, was alerted (in the middle of the show!) that he would be performing one of his understudy assignments, singing the role of the Baker. I slipped into the vom under the audience to watch (I have about 15 minutes offstage, alone, during the show, so I often slip out to watch, the cast never suspects), and I can verify that he played the role with smooth aplomb.

But it was last Thursday's school matinee that caused the most consternation. We started the show missing two ladies, one of whom had a previous commitment, and the other had (you guessed it) Car Trouble. A momentous crash was heard backstage, during Joseph's "Close Every Door" scene in the jail cell. One of our actors, the lovely and talented Ben Lurye, had been clobbered backstage by a falling door. You may well wonder how a door can fall over onto somebody. Only in the Theater, folks. There were these huge metal doors, you see, which I guess had been impeding the backstage traffic during performances, so they had been removed from their hinges and propped up against a wall. Gravity being a cruel bitch, one of the doors fell over, conking our Ben on the head while he changed his clothes. His skull was cracked open, or it seemed so, as blood gushed all over the place. I was backstage at the time, and overheard Ben keeping a level, if bloody, head. His first thought was the show, and he whispered urgently, "Tell Parker he has to go on as the Butler." Yes, while his head was bleeding profusely, this actor was anxious that his understudy be alerted that he would have to perform his number in about 2 minutes. Now that's commitment. The noise backstage, and all that blood, caused stage management to halt the show, which was ultimately canceled outright. We were about half-way through, but it was thought unwise to attempt to continue with 3 actors absent. The matinee was rescheduled for the following week, causing a whole lot of dashing about by company management in order to get the necessary riders signed (riders are addenda to our original contracts). This added school matinee also necessitated yet another rehearsal for yet another Mrs. Potiphar, as both the lovely and talented Heather, who usually plays the part, and the lovely and talented MaryLee, who is her understudy, were unable to make the additional early morning show. So, between our performances on Saturday, we spent an hour or more rehearsing the lovely and talented Briana Marcantoni in the role.

All this dashing about proved moot, as the production office curtly alerted the cast and crew on Sunday that the extra matinee had been cancelled.

This kind of confusion isn't all that unusual, as I said, when a show extends its run. On the same day that one of our actors had car trouble and missed the show completely, another of our guys had an important rehearsal elsewhere, and was forced to leave the performance before it was over. In a cast of 21, you may not even notice such a thing. All of the men in the show play my 12 sons, and there are many mentions of Joseph and his 11 brothers. That one day, he had only 9; for a while, our family was looking a little dissipated.

Many theatres try to minimize the effect of missing actors by employing swings. These are performers who learn the music and choreography of the show, with the expectation that, should an actor go out (that is, miss a show), and the actor's understudy bumps up from the chorus to play his role, the swing would step in to fill in any gaps in the ensemble. We had swings for all our shows at The Shakespeare Theatre Company when I interned there, due to the extensive fight choreography, and most musical houses employ them as well. I imagine it was a financial decision to forgo hiring swings for Joseph, even as there are surely musical theatre students over at Catholic University who would eagerly sign on for such a gig, for 200 bucks a week or less. The lack of swings for Joseph has probably caused some frustration for stage management, and has certainly caused the show to look a little under-populated when things such as Car Trouble and Falling Doors sideline our actors. Who knows what our final week of performances will bring? We already know Joseph will have only 10 brothers Saturday night, we'll see about the remaining shows. I have no doubt this cast can put out any fires that spring up unexpectedly; Ben, the aforementioned injured actor, returned to the show that very night, earning respect for his professionalism and a new nickname to boot. We've been calling him "Staples," since that's what he now has in his head. The adrenalin has been flowing out at Olney Theatre, that's for sure. I'll be sorry to see it all end Sunday afternoon.