Location: Donation

Two of my favorite little theaters are in the midst of crucial fundraising campaigns. Well, I should revise that: EVERY little theatre is ALWAYS fundraising, but I'm paying a bit more attention to these two right now.

Wayside Theatre, where I had a ball this spring playing Sancho Panza, is always living on the edge. They are located out in the boonies of Virginia, amongst folks for whom theatre-going is not a natural activity. So, they have ongoing campaigns to raise funds, like the traditional Buying of the Brick, and the Sponsoring of a Seat, and so forth. They try to get creative, too. A month or so ago, they ran a gin tournament, with the proceeds going to the theatre, in conjunction with their production of (you guessed it) The Gin Game. But Wayside's fundraising has kicked up a notch lately, as they received the promise of a $25,000 donation if they can match it with 25 grand from other donors.

Since I'm not a fundraiser (thank god, I'd be piss-poor at it), I don't know if that kind of challenge is welcomed by a theatre or not. On the one hand, it seems like, if someone has the intention of donating a sum of money to a theatre, just go ahead and do it. Why make the organization jump through hoops? Maybe they want to test the resolve of the theatre to raise funds? I don't know. On the other hand, perhaps theaters actually appreciate such public challenges; it gives them a hook with which to reel in more donations. It worked with me, I'll tell you. When I heard that Wayside could receive $50,000 for raising only half that, I pulled out my plastic and donated. I could only afford a pittance, to be sure, but every single dollar helps. I believe it is the first time I ever donated to a theatrical organization. Hey, I'm on unemployment right now, and I've already sent money to cancer and AIDS causes this season. But I want Wayside Theatre to succeed here. If you can spare a ten-spot, or more (or less!), go here to help them out. They have only until the closing of their current show (Sept. 26, just two weeks away!) in which to raise the 25 grand, or they will lose the matching donation.



North Carolina Stage Company is getting creative, too. They are now on my radar because I played Polonius for them in Roz and Guil Are Dead early this year. Located in Asheville, which is a booming arts center these days, you might think things would be easier for them, but you would be wrong. Just like Wayside, NCStage is having trouble funding their upcoming season, and this weekend, they are running what has become an annual event. They call it their "Bard-a-thon." They are reading 12 Shakespearean plays in the 48 hours between Friday and Sunday night, all day and all night long. Sort of like a walk-a-thon, the actors have all secured promises of donations once they complete the marathon. New curtains go up every four hours, so the actors get a half hour or so between readings to try to catch some zzzzs.

This theatre is run by two real pips, as my mother would say, and they have nicknamed their event "Bard Till You Barf." A little crude for such a worthy endeavor. I prefer "iambics till you're ill," but that's just me.

The fun part here is, you can watch the whole thing on a live stream on the Internet. Go here to take a peek, and if you like, make comments on what you are seeing (if you get a test screen, it just means you are between readings. Go here for the complete schedule). I've watched a bit of it, and it's kind of fun. The actors, all volunteers of course, are to be commended for putting themselves through this (as you can imagine, most of the casts are made up of college-age thespians who don't have as much trouble staying up all weekend as we...um...mature folks). I'm told the readings which begin at 4 AM are quite unique; early this morning, they read Two Gentlemen of Verona, and if you are going to read something aloud at 4 o'clock in the morning, it might as well be Two Gents. Tonight, or rather, early tomorrow morning, they are reading the same play they read during that slot last year, Titus Andronicus. I don't know, I have a feeling they are reviving that crowd-pleaser because things went horribly (or hilariously) astray last year. I doubt I'll be awake to see it.

Anyway, the Bard-a-thon ends at 7 PM tomorrow, Sunday, and their hope is to earn $7000. Doesn't sound like much for the extreme effort this is taking. Once again, I pulled out my plastic and pledged a pittance. Believe me, the irony of theaters needing contributions from their actors is not lost on anybody involved. But if you can spare anything to help NCStage out, go here.

Once more, to help Wayside Theatre get their huge matching donation, go here. They lose 25 grand if they don't make their goal by September 26.

To help out the volunteers at North Carolina Stage Company during their 48 hour "Pentameter Till You Puke" weekend, go here. (If you actually want to sponsor a specific actor, sponsor either Angie or Charlie Flynn-McIver; they run the joint, and if one of them beats the other, they get a free gift from a business called Hip Replacements. I don't want to know what kind of free gift a business called Hip Replacements might offer...)

Yes, it's tough asking for donations in this economy, but these two theaters deserve to keep their doors open, if for no other reason than, I want to work there again. My unemployment's running out!

Friday Dance Party: Great Misbehavin'

This week's Dance Party comes from what is generally considered the most artistically successful musical revue to ever appear on Broadway, Ain't Misbehavin'. With a score composed of Fats Waller tunes, the show celebrated the explosion of black swing music between the world wars, a time commonly called the Harlem Renaissance, during which The Cotton Club and the Savoy became the hottest nightspots in New York. Ain't Misbehavin' began at the Manhattan Theatre Club in 1978 (a young Irene Cara was in the cast; she would later make a splash in the original movie musical Fame). By the time the show moved to Broadway, it had a five-member ensemble of real showstoppers, all of whom, with one exception, continue to work today. Amelia McQueen has become a dramatic actress, and Andre DeShields has dipped his toe into classical theatre. Ken Page has appeared in numerous films, TV shows, and on the cabaret stage, while Charlayne Woodard is now a respected playwright.

The show was very much an ensemble effort, but there was clearly a breakout star: Nell Carter.

The story of Carter's personal life includes one tragedy after another. She was rendered fatherless when her dad stepped on a power line and was electrocuted. At the age of 16, she was raped at gun point, a crime which led to the birth of a daughter. She endured two failed marriages, three miscarriages, two bankruptcies, an attempted suicide, and a brain aneurysm. She struggled with substance abuse throughout her life and died at the age of 54, from a heart attack brought on by obesity-related diabetes. At the time of her death, she had come to terms with her bisexuality, and was survived by her partner, Ann Kaser.

But Carter was a real dynamo in her professional life. She headlined a successful sitcom for six years (Gimme A Break), for which she received two Emmy nominations. She was equally well-known for her vocal ability, and she appears to good effect in the film musical Hair (compared to her later girth, she is positively svelte as she rocks out to "White Boys"). She was Michael Bennett's original choice for the role of Effie in Dreamgirls, a role she helped develop during the show's workshop period. She deserted the project to take a role on the soap Ryan's Hope, which launched her television career.

On stage, she has the distinction of appearing opposite Bette Davis in the disastrous attempt to musicalize The Corn is Green (Miss Moffat died on the road). She had greater success in Don't Bother Me, I Can't Cope, and won the Tony for her performance in Ain't Misbehavin'. It was her presence in that cast which encouraged a version of the show to be televised in 1982, during her run in Gimme A Break; she won an Emmy for her performance in this TV version of her Broadway triumph.

Our Nell made a high-profile return to Broadway as the headliner of the 20th Anniversary production of Annie. She was soon butting heads with the producers, who refused to shoot a new commercial advertising the show; Carter was incensed that the ad which ran on television featured white actress Marcia Lewis in Carter's starring role of Miss Hannigan. The revival lasted long enough for Carter to be replaced by another white actress, Sally Struthers.

As for Ain't Misbehavin', the show not only won the Tony as Best Musical, it set the standard for the revue genre. Its original production ran over 1600 performances, and spawned high-profile productions in London and Paris. A 1995 national tour of the show starred the Pointer Sisters, and a 30th Anniversary tour starring American Idol Ruben Studdard recently made the rounds. Cast recordings of both these tours are available, but they could not possibly hold a candle to the two-disc set which preserves the dynamic performances of the originals (that Original Cast recording won the Grammy). I have to confess that I am waiting for the day when "non-traditional casting" gets to go both ways; I'm dying to sing some of those Ken Page numbers.

From the television version of Ain't Misbehavin', enjoy the Waller Girls and Guys:

Nell Carter's birthday is Sunday. She would have been 61.

16 Bars

No, it's not the game plan for the next Gay Pride Weekend. It's instead the most onerous term in the entire theatrical lexicon (at least to me): 16 bars.

For you non-musical types, a traditional musical theatre song hovers around 64 bars (measures) in length, and usually includes two verses and a refrain. Sometimes three verses and the refrain repeated. Who cares. The point here is: 16 bars equals approximately one-half of one verse of a song. And it is the preferred length of a general audition for musicals. Often, it is the required length of the audition.

"Show us your best 16," is the command from casting folks, and it is usually at this point in the audition process that yours truly drops to the back of the pack.

Don't get me wrong, I love doing musicals, and am proud of my work in them. Over the years, I've played quite a few classic musical roles. Cabaret's Emcee, Damn Yankees's Devil, Grease's Teen Angel, Fiddler's Motel the Tailor,...Forum's Pseudolus (and ten years later, ...Forum's Senex!) are just a few of the parts I loved playing in my earlier career. As I've matured, I've had a ball with Moonface in Anything Goes, MacAfee in Birdie, the King in ...Mattress, the Duke in Big River, and just recently, Sancho in La Mancha. It's a very nice list, of which I am quite proud. You know how many of these great roles I secured with an audition which began with "16 bars?"

None. Zero. Zip. Nada. I have never landed a role in a musical by singing 16 bars. I must be in the minority here; everybody else must be able to show the entirety of their ability in half of one verse. Those who successfully navigate those bars are those who sing snippets which include a very high note, and usually a pretty low one, too. I can't choose songs that way. Songs are speeches to me, sung by characters. All of the material I use during musical auditions resembles a monologue.

During the past week or so, I have been auditioning for Olney theatre's spring musical (that's Spring: 2010. We have a terrible habit of casting shows waaaaaaaaay too early here in DC...but that's a different rant), a chamber musical which had a brief life in New York, Triumph of Love. The folks at Olney are very good about seeing me for their shows, and for once, I did not fail during the initial "16 bars" phase. I am sure this is solely because, in addition to singing a snippet, they also asked for a brief monologue. I was called back a week later, to sing and read for one of the supporting, comic characters. That went well, too, so I am closing the book on this audition pleased with my work. This week, we read one very brief scene between the two henchmen, and the director mixed and matched actors, very normal during the callback phase. And of course, we sang one of the numbers in the show. That went well, too. The gent who will be getting this part is a stronger singer than I, and is better known in DC as a musical performer (and he's good, too), so there isn't any bitterness about losing this one. Just more reinforcement of my history with such things. You know what we sang during these callbacks?

16 bars.

Army Archerd

1922-2009

Archerd was a familiar presence on the Red Carpet at movie premieres and award shows, and was the master of the 15 second interview. In fact, he invented the "Red Carpet Interview" which has since degenerated into the over-indulgent pre-show event now common before the Oscars, Emmys, and the like. But Archerd was considered a newsman, and remained conscientious about truth in reporting, even as Hollywood was his beat.

He had a brief career at Associated Press before joining Daily Variety, where his column was a Must Read for decades. Once a Hollywood type appeared in one of his columns, he knew he had made it. Archerd hated being called a gossip columnist, and believed there was a place for his brand of Hollywood News, particularly in the company town of Los Angeles. He was proud to have been the first to link Rock Hudson to Aids, which did much to raise the profile of the disease.

On occasion, he allowed his own beliefs to shadow his work, as when Elia Kazan was awarded an honorary Oscar in 1999. Kazan was infamous for naming names before the McCarthy Inquisition of the 50s; Archerd wrote, "I, for one, will not be giving him a standing ovation." On another occasion, he took issue with several anti-Semitic lyrics of a Michael Jackson song; the singer called to apologize and rerecorded the number.

Army became the famous face of the Hollywood press, and appeared as himself in over 100 films and television episodes. He researched the stars he was to greet on the Red Carpet in advance to insure he gave them the recognition they deserved (can you imagine Joan Rivers doing such a thing these days? She rarely even gets people's names right). Archerd greeted stars at the Oscars and other celeb-fests, as well as during private interviews, with a dignity and up-beat charm which suited such occasions.

Here he is with Barbra Streisand and Sammy Davis, Jr., at the first People's Choice Awards, an organization he co-founded:

With Lucy, in the early 50s:
With Paul Newman:
With Hitchcock: With the Ben Hur boys: With Halle Barry:

Army Archerd died yesterday from a rare form of cancer thought to have been caused by his exposure to asbestos during World War II. He was 87.

Dedicated to a Couple of Cwazes

About a year and a half ago, I wrote about my sister and her animal brood. She had recently suffered the unexpected death of one of her dogs, a loss which she accepted but still mourned. Over the years, I've learned from my sister's life that folks who have pets suffer real grief when those pets are taken from them. I confess that, until a few years ago, I rolled my eyes whenever I encountered some poor schnook grieving so mightily about the death of their dog or cat.

I lost my mother too young, you see, and I could not see how folks who lost a pet could have grief comparable to mine (I don't know why I thought it was a contest). "Get over it," I used to think, when confronted with friends who whined on and on because they outlived their animal. It's a DOG. Wait 'till you lose your MOTHER.

I don't think that way anymore. My sister, of course, also lost a mother (and at an earlier age), but that does not mitigate the grief she feels when one of her pets dies. The loss may not be comparable, but that does not negate the real sorrow people feel when their beloved pet dies.

I'm thinking about this now, because today is a special day. A year ago, my best buddies, a couple in Los Angeles whom we collectively call "BOB," lost their dog, whom they treated as their daughter. They had the pet for a decade or more, I'm not sure, but what I do know is, their loss was, and remains, very real. This dog was such a member of the family that the guys adjusted their entire lifestyle to suit her; they ceased traveling anywhere that the dog could not accompany, instead purchasing a motor home which would allow them to travel with their loved one.

I wish I could have helped my friends during their period of grief, but nobody really can. Like Terri Garr said in Tootsie, you just have to feel the way that you feel until you don't feel that way anymore. The junior member of this couple has lost both parents and several siblings; his husband had never experienced such a severe loss, even after half a century on the planet. But they both have been in mourning for a long while. I hope the sorrow is not quite as sharp as it was a year ago.

By the wildest coincidence (or was it fate? Or something even Higher?), another friend posted this sweet little song on Facebook yesterday. Unavoidably, it's embedded here slightly off-center, but that suits, too. My thoughts about God are extremely convoluted; I can't begin to explain my spiritual feelings. I know that "BOB" doesn't believe in an intelligent higher power, but I dedicate this tune to them anyway. Maybe it will help them get through this gray anniversary day.

Friday Dance Party: Colonel Maggie

I've always had a soft spot for Martha Raye, one of the great film clowns of the 30s and 40s, and an early TV star of the 50s. She is barely a footnote today, but her career actually spanned sixty years or more, and included vaudeville, Broadway, radio, recordings, and live appearances, as well as film and television. She hit the stage at the tender age of 3, as the daughter of vaudevillians "Reed and Hooper" (she was born in Butte, Montana, while her folks toured there. Her mother was back onstage two days after giving birth). She was clearly the star of the family, and her parents soon teamed her with her brother and renamed the act "Margie and Bud."

The family landed in New York, and Martha attended an elementary school geared to children who were performers. She left school in the fifth grade, and remained functionally illiterate for the rest of her life; she was forced to have scripts read aloud to her, a humiliation which added to her already low self-esteem. She was not considered a particularly attractive woman (as opposed to that other female clown of the period, Betty Hutton, who starred in the Dance Party a while ago). Raye possessed an oversized mouth which she accentuated with her comedic mugging, even nicknaming herself "The Big Mouth". By the late 1930s, she had parlayed that mugging into a contract with Paramount, beginning a period of 20 years or so in which she appeared with every comic star in Hollywood. Her film co-stars included everyone from the low-budget Abbot and Costello to bigger names such as Bing Crosby, W.C. Fields, and Bob Hope. Some believe her work in Charlie Chaplin's cult classic Monsieur Verdoux in 1947 to be her finest film performance:

Raye became one of the first stars of television, as one of the rotating hosts of the 50s variety show All-Star Review. The program eventually morphed into The Martha Raye Show, and Raye herself was proclaimed the "funniest femme in television" by Variety, quite a feat considering Lucille Ball, Eve Arden, and Gracie Allen all had shows running at the time. But Martha is hardly remembered alongside that illustrious group, as her show was live and did not generate reruns which could be viewed by later generations.

After her show folded, Martha maintained a presence on TV for many more decades, guesting on countless programs, and becoming the spokesperson for Polident denture cleaner. She returned to the stage often, and was one of Carol Channing's replacements in the original production of Hello, Dolly!. On video, she can be seen hamming it up in the Canadian television version of Pippin, and in the low-budget kids' film Pufnstuf, a gig which led to her starring role in a Saturday morning program called The Bugaloos.

Raye's personal life was a tumultuous one. She was separated from her fifth husband (she had seven total) when her TV show was cancelled in 1956, and she attempted suicide. She abused alcohol throughout her life, and her outrageous antics masked her self-consciousness about her unusual features (she would occasionally flip out her upper dental plate, just for a laugh). She made tabloid headlines when, at the age of 75, she married a man of questionable orientation who was 33 years her junior; he inherited the entirety of her estate, with Raye's only daughter, from whom she was estranged, being excluded.

With all her problems, Martha Raye had a charitable soul, and her greatest legacy is probably her lifelong work with the USO. She travelled all over the world (despite a fear of flying) to entertain troops during WWII, and in the Korean and Vietnamese conflicts (her long history with the USO led her to believe the Bette Midler film For the Boys was based on her life. She attempted to sue, but the case was dismissed). She was the first civilian to be allowed to wear the Green Beret, and she was nicknamed "Colonel Maggie" by the troops she entertained. In 1993, suffering from Alzheimer's and having had both legs recently amputated, she was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by Bill Clinton; a year later, she died, and was buried with full military honors at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.

Martha Raye's birthday was last week, and in her honor, please enjoy this week's Dance Party, a number from Hellzapoppin, one of the most incoherent musicals ever to emerge from the studio system (if you're interested, I used another clip from this chaotic film to celebrate the life and mourn the death of Musclehead Manning, the inventor of the Lindy Hop). But this clip is a good illustration of Raye's aggressive film persona. Don't ask me to explain the plot of this film, or the significance given to the pool, just enjoy Colonel Maggie's quirky performance: