Cornucopi-obits

Just in time for Thanksgiving comes the final clearing out of the obituary file. I just could not face the holidays until I had acknowledged the following dead people. Some were famous, some were not, some were foolish, some were a different species. But they all caught my eye, and deserve a bit of a send off. Grab your turkey baster, and take a gander.

Dino De Laurentiis

1919-2010

He was one of the most prolific producers in the history of international film, responsible for artistic triumphs and popular schlock in equal numbers. He was a leading participant in what is known as the Italian New Wave of 1950s cinema, and delivered two Oscar winners with La Strada (1954) and Nights of Cabiria (1957). He was the first producer to recognize the financial wisdom of international co-productions, and was known for casting big spectacle films with stars from differing countries speaking differing languages, then dubbing and re-dubbing the films as they were released around the world. Thus, he put Henry Fonda and Audrey Hepburn in War and Peace (1956), Kirk Douglas in Ulysses (1954), and Charles Laughton in Under Ten Flags (1960).

On the schlock side, he persuaded Jane Fonda to star in her then-husband's sci-fi skin flick Barbarella in 1968 (Fonda later lamented that she turned down both Rosemary's Baby and Bonnie and Clyde in order to shoot Barbarella, I can only be thankful for Dino's persistence, as I shudder to think what Fonda would have done to those classic films).

Dino produced John Wayne's last film, The Shootist, in 1976, and the same year, introduced a young Jessica Lange in the King Kong remake. He is credited with producing what most consider to be David Lynch's finest film to date, Blue Velvet (1983). Other prestigious films he guided include Serpico (1973), and Three Days of the Condor (1975). He held the screen rights to the first of the Hannibal Lechter series of books, and made two films from that source material: Manhunter (1986) and Red Dragon (2002). He was also responsible for the prequel Hannibal Rising (2007).

Dino died early this month at the age of 91; one of his surviving grandchildren is Food Network star Giada de Laurentiis.

Noel Taylor

1913-2010

He toyed with playwriting and acting in his youth (he played a bellboy opposite the Lunts in the early 30s), but his lasting fame was as a costume designer. He made a big splash by translating the Alice in Wonderland illustrations, by John Tenniel, into stage costumes for Eva Le Gallienne's production of the classic in 1947; he made 140 costumes in two weeks, by himself, with no assistants. The production was one of the sensations of the decade, and Taylor became an in-demand designer for the rest of his career.

His Broadway credits include Teahouse of the August Moon, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Stalag 17, No Time for Sergeants, and Night of the Iguana. For television, his designs for the 1953 production of Hamlet began a 17 year association with the Hallmark Hall of Fame. He was nominated for four Emmys, winning in 1978 for Actor: The Paul Muni Story. He once remarked that he could not count the number of dresses with bustles he had made over the years. I bet he thought he caught a break in 1973, when he designed the PBS broadcast of Steambath (everybody in the show wore a towel).

He designed for some of the most demanding women in Hollywood; Elizabeth Taylor, Bette Davis, Rosalind Russell, and Gloria Swanson all wore his designs. Katherine Hepburn called him the finest designer she had ever worked with, and when Julie Harris was awarded her Kennedy Center Honor in 2005, she asked him to accompany her (and she wore one of his designs, natch). He died Nov. 4 at the age of 97.

James Stovall

1958-2010

I did not know James, but quite a few theatrical folk in the DC community did. He grew up in Baltimore, and studied musical theatre with Debbie Allen, who was attending Howard University at the time. He went to college in Atlanta, and landed his first Equity gig at the Alliance Theatre there. He was known for his work in musicals, appearing on Broadway in Once On the Island, Sweet Charity, The Rocky Horror Show, and The Life. He assumed the role of Coalhouse Walker in Broadway's Ragtime after playing in the Chicago and Los Angeles companies. More recently, he was in the 2009 revival of Finian's Rainbow, and was preparing a developmental staging of the new musical Shoulda Woulda Coulda, a Jazz Age Musical for Off-Broadway's York Theatre when he died last month from heart ailments. James was a spiritual man, and was executive director of the Ministry of the Arts & Culture at the United Palace Theatre in Harlem, which premiered a production he co-wrote, produced, and directed, Nativity: A Life Story.

Denise Borino-Quinn

1964-2010

She wasn't much of an actress, but that's ok, since she didn't really consider herself one. In 2000, she was working as a secretary in a law office when she attended an open casting call on a fluke. She claimed she was really there to support a friend, and to see the huge crowd. By coincidence, she had attended the same high school as David Chase, the show's creator, but as there was a difference of 2 decades between them, she did not expect any special treatment. She was plucked from that crowd of New Jersey wannabes (numbering 14,000!), and though she had no acting experience, landed the small role of Ginny Sacrimoni in The Sopranos. The character went on to become one of the best loved of the Soprano's mafia wives.

The Sopranos became the proof that HBO was a major player in the field of original television programming. Throughout the show's run, our gal effectively played opposite Vince Curatola as NY crime boss Johnny Sack; with her large girth and sunny disposition, she became a fan favorite, and though hers was an extremely small part, an entire story arc of The Sopranos in 2002 centered around a disparaging remark made about her weight.

She went through a stomach-stapling procedure, and apparently never acted again. She died October 27th after a battle with kidney cancer.

Here's a gal whose death made me wonder if any of the current crop of "reality stars," who seem to be famous just because they so desperately want to be so, will end up with similar obits:

Mary Leona Gage

1939-2010

During her day, she was the most famous, or rather most infamous, beauty ever to be crowned Miss USA. She was Miss Maryland when she won the award in 1957, and kept her crown only 24 hours. Enterprising reporters uncovered the scoop: she lied to pageant officials about all her biographical details. Instead of the 21-year old single girl she claimed to be, she was instead an 18-year old who was already twice-married and a mother of two. She had hoped to escape a bad marriage by winning fame and fortune as a pageant queen, but the Baltimore Sun outed her and she was stripped of her title (Miss Utah, the first runner-up, got lucky that year).

The poor thing never recovered from the bad publicity, though she attempted to parlay her notoriety into a show business career. She worked in Vegas for a time, and toured strip clubs with a singing and dancing act. She attempted suicide twice, and all six of her marriages ended in divorce. Destitute and alone, she died last month from heart disease at the age of 71.

Anyone who studied theatre in college or beyond knows this name very, very well:

Oscar Brockett

1923-2010

He earned one of the first doctorate degrees ever given in Theatre, and taught across the country. He designed scenery for a time, but his lasting influence will be scholarly. In 1968, he wrote what is still considered the definitive history of theatre, a volume which is currently in its 10th edition and is required reading in just about every theatre training program in the country. (It's even been translated into Farsi). With his History of the Theatre, he moved the emphasis of theatrical study away from the text, and concentrated more on how those texts were realized on the stage. His work had a profound effect on the way Theatre History is taught; my "Brockett" was rarely off my desk during my grad school years, and it still sits on my bookcase. I just pulled it out to have a look; page after page of the text contains points I highlighted, so I could find them again when studying for the comprehensive exams required for my MFA. I would guess my Brockett was the major source I used to pass my comps (a year early, thank you Oscar!)

"Brock," as he was known to his countless students and colleagues, suffered a massive heart attack several weeks ago, at the age of 87.

Shannon Tavarez

1999-2010

This cheerful kid attended a cattle call at the Apollo Theatre in Harlem in 2008, and less than a year later, she was starring in The Lion King, sharing the role of Nala with another young actress. She was in the show about six months before complaining about aches in her back. She was diagnosed with leukemia and was forced to withdraw from the production. A bone marrow transplant was needed, but as Shannon was of mixed-race (her mother was African-American, her father Dominican), there was very little hope a donor could be matched.

Her predicament inspired several campaigns to entice minorities to become registered as possible bone marrow donors. The "Get Swabbed" campaign included celebrities such as Alicia Keys and Rihanna, and encouraged all races to enter the data base with a simple swab of saliva. Ten thousand new donors signed on, but Shannon could not find a match. She died last month at the age of 11; the lights outside The Lion King's Minskoff Theatre were dimmed in her honor.

Leonard Skinner

1933-2010

There's a reason this guy's name is familiar. In the late 60s, he was a hard-assed P.E. coach at Robert E. Lee High School in Jacksonville, FL. He sent a trouble-making student to the principal for breaking the dress code (the kid's hair touched his collar.) The kid was Ronnie Van Zant, and he remembered his various run-ins with Skinner when he changed the name of his fledgling rock band from "One Percent" to "Lynyrd Skynyrd". By 1973, the group had hits with "Sweet Home Alabama" and "Free Bird", and Skinner, who had left teaching and opened a real estate office (and later a bar), became a bit of pop/rock trivia.

Skinner eventually warmed up to his part of musical history, and even took advantage of the band's popularity by renaming his bar. The band's musical output was cut short when Lynyrd Skynyrd's private plane crashed in 1977, killing Van Zant and several others. As for the man who inspired the unusually named group, Leonard Skinner died Sept. 20 from Alzheimer's.

I had never heard of this guy until he died, since he was a sports figure, and I don't usually follow sports. But apparently, he gained international celebrity last summer, so I thought I'd wrap things up with his obit:

Paul

2008-2010

His early life is a bit sketchy. It was originally reported that he was hatched in a tank at the Sea Life Centre in Dorset, England, and subsequently transfered to another Sea Life Centre in Germany. But once he gained fame, ESPN reported that Paul had actually been captured as an adult off the island of Elba in the spring of 2010. The timing of that story does not pan out, as Paul had already reached regional fame in 2008, for his psychic skills. It was in that year that he correctly predicted the outcome of 6 of the 8 international soccer games the German team was playing that year.

But it was during the 2010 World Cup that Paul's celebrity exploded. Two plastic, clear boxes were presented to him, side by side. Each had the flag of one of the competing teams, and each had a juicy morsel inside for Paul to taste. Paul correctly guessed the outcome of all seven of Germany's games, including their loss to Spain in the semi-finals. By then, his fame was international, with the Iranian president accusing the octopus of "spreading Western propoganda and superstition." When the Germans did indeed lose to Spain, as Paul predicted, death threats were made and the Spanish government offered to fund the mystical mollusk's protection. (Death threats were nothing new to Paul: when he correctly predicted that Germany would beat Argentina, famous Argentine chef Nicolas Bedorrou posted an octopus recipe on Facebook. )

Paul capped his career by successfully predicting Spain's win over the Netherlands in the final round of the World Cup. He retired with a 100% record for the 2010 series. On October 26, Paul was found dead in his aquarium; as he had reached his life expectancy of 2, foul play was not considered. As I said, I had not heard of Paul during the height of his celebrity, but I am glad to learn of the "pick the box" routine he used for his predictions. As an octoped, if he had used the "One Potato, Two Potato" method, it would have taken forever.

Tending the Career

I took a very quick trip to New York this week, to do some career-tending. That's sort of like bartending, but without the sliced lemons. In the early pages of this site, I wrote about my relationship with the Big Apple. I spent a lot of time there during my college years, and am proud to have seen the original Broadway productions of several shows which have since become legendary, such as A Chorus Line, Chicago, and Annie, among others.

But in recent years, I don't get to NY very often, and when I do, it is only to attend an audition. I had such an opportunity this week, when a regional theatre in Florida called me in to read for their upcoming production of the latest Mamet. It's not the kind of role I usually get to play, but if a regional theatre calls, one must answer. I made arrangements to hook the audition trip into an overnighter with my sister, and hit the road at the crack of dawn.

Though it's cheaper to take a bus to NY from DC, I really hate to do so. I prefer driving, and though parking is problematic in Manhattan, I have good luck with street parking at the north end of the island. During the day, the express subway shuttles me into the theatre district in about 25 minutes.

Because I'm a bit neurotic about being late, especially for an audition, I arrived in NY several hours early. I had heard through the grapevine (thanks, Monica!) that there was a general call for a couple of musicals happening only a few blocks away from my audition space. This call promised to be very crowded, but I dropped by anyway, just to see what was up. Turned out, they had plenty of audition appointments available after 3, so I signed myself up, and walked up 8th Ave to my Mamet reading.

The studios which house auditions and rehearsals in NY always rattle me. They generally take up a floor or two of a tall building, with a catacomb-like maze of hallways wrapping around rehearsal rooms of varying size. There is never an actual waiting room in these places, the actors wait out in the corridor outside the audition chamber. There are chairs set up, but make no mistake, you are waiting out in the hall. Along with everybody else waiting outside their own audition chamber. This week, I was not confronted with my usual experience; usually, these halls are filled with young actors/singers/dancers, spread out all over the floor, warming up, talking on the phone, and screeching with delight when they run into one of their friends. It is not conducive to the kind of quiet I like before heading into a reading. Yes, I'm an old-fashioned kind of actor: I like to concentrate before an audition.

But as I said, this week was an exception, and the only distraction out in the hall was a squirrely guy with a Napoleon complex, shouting into his cellphone. And, of course, the other distraction is one to which I have become accustomed over the years: everybody else waiting to audition for this play looks like me.

I was pleased to discover that the actual director of the play was in the audition room, rather than a junior associate or, worse, a casting director. This guy was warm and welcoming, and did my favorite thing a director in these situations can do: after my first read, he gave me some direction. I love that. I always pretend it means he is interested. I actually think this guy was genuine, as he had me read a second selection, then directed me on that one and heard me again. All in all, the audition made the trip to NY, and the jerk in the hall, worth the trouble. This audition may not lead to an immediate gig, but I am now on this theatre's radar, and this director will be pleased to know that he is now on my nationally famous Christmas Card list.

The auditors at the musical audition I attended an hour later, though, are not. This was a union-mandated audition, and was attended by hundreds of hopeful actors hoping to be seen. There was no one of creative authority in the audition chamber, really, but what the hell, it was worth popping in anyway. The snafu here was the accompanist, who was described by the monitor outside as one of the best in New York; I saw no evidence to support that rave. My song, a very well-known, easy to play tune (I learned the hard way, years ago, never to present a complex piece of sheet music to an audition accompanist, it rarely turns out well), was mangled only a few moments after I began.

The experience reminded me of a Facebook conversation I had earlier in the week. A young friend had a bad experience with her own audition in DC, where the accompanist had gummed up the works. I happened to know that this particular accompanist is the best in the city, and said so. But now I see that even someone with a good reputation can foul things up every once in a while. So, Aviva, I stand corrected. You are right, your lousy audition was probably the accompanist's fault!

So, I would call the trip to Manhattan a success. Though the musical audition was probably a wash, I can hope that I will remain in the files of the Floridian theatre doing the Mamet, and I had the added enjoyment of bumping into a young gal I worked with at Shenandoah Summer Music Theatre, when she was still a college student. I've already written about Beth Tarnow, who was a demure young thing when she played my daughter in Bye Bye Birdie several years ago, and who is now taking New York by storm. I was pleased to get the chance to congratulate her on her continued success.

After a relaxed evening of pasta, wine, and catching up with my sister, I returned to DC the next day, feeling good that I had done some nice tending to the career. It could be weeks, months, or even years before I know the effects of this trip, but I will still call it an effective one. Wrapping up the week, on Sunday, I will be participating in a reading of Walt Whitman's poetry, including his behemoth classic Leaves of Grass, to be held at the Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery in DC. That event will likely be my last career-oriented activity until the holidays are over. Deck the halls!

Friday Dance Party: Body Language

I've already confessed that I do not watch reality television, which includes the huge hit Dancing With the Stars, but it's difficult to avoid the passionate discussion which seems to follow each week's elimination round. From what I can glean, the under-performing advocate for teen abstinence, who has apparently left the care and feeding of her bastard child in somebody else's hands for months now, keeps progressing in the competition, despite universally poor scores from the professional judges. Really, people are surprised at the efficacy of the Palin team to get out the vote? The Washington Post has been reporting that there are even teabagger websites where people are boasting of their ability to beat ABC's system of counting votes. Somebody claimed to have voted for Bristol Palin 300 times in one evening.

None of this has anything to do with this week's Dance Party, which is a clip of a couple of real dancers. The routine is hair-raising stuff, and the absolute trust these two have in each other is wondrous to behold. The clip seems to be from a competition somewhere in the French speaking world; the raw emotion of the dancers is as compelling as their acrobatics. Enjoy and marvel:

Friday Dance Party: Second Anniversary

This week marks the second anniversary of the Friday Dance Party in these pages. I started this segment two years ago, stealing the idea from my buddy from Wayside Theatre, Larry Dalke. He abandoned his blog many moons ago, in favor of, you know, real life, but I remain poised at my computer, ready to drone on about whatever pops into my head.

And on Fridays, for the past two years, that has meant some sort of musical clip. In reviewing the past 52 Dance Parties (yikes!), I noticed a trend: whenever possible (and appropriate), I tried to link the Dance Party to one of the overwritten obits I offer for people of interest who have recently bit the dust. Just last week, for example, the Dance Party paid tribute to both Tom Bosley and Composer Jerry Bock.

Many of this year's clips followed that pattern. When soap star James Mitchell died, we watched his performance as Dream Curly in the film Oklahoma; when Lionel Jeffries died, we visited his hilariously waterlogged solo in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Tony Curtis was not known as a musical performer, nor was Rue McClanahan, but that did not stop me from including clips from Sugar and Nunsense in their honor. Nobody had even heard of Shirley Rich, who was a casting director of note who died this year, but she was central in placing Yul Brynner in his signature role.


When character actor Glenn Shadix died, I dug up a musical clip from his biggest film, Beetlejuice, and when retired mime Lorene Yarnell went to that invisible shrinking box in the sky, we took a peek at her work with her partner Bobby Shields. And when the last surviving Ziegfeld Girl took her last kick, attention had to be paid.

Speaking of Ziegfeld girls, Streisand (she doesn't need a first name in these pages) showed up in a fun clip from Funny Girl, proving that you don't have to be dead to be in the Dance Party (but it helps). Emma Thompson did some smooth hoofing with her then-husband Kenneth Branagh, and Diana Rigg got her own montage. Teri Garr teetered precariously on top of a motorcycle, and Neil Patrick Harris proved that he is the modern Song-and-Dance Man.

Lesley Ann Warren appeared twice on the Dance Party this year: in her Oscar nominated role in Victor/Victoria, and in one of her early Disney successes, The One and Only Genuine Original Family Band (that one featured a terrific dance-off opposite Goldie Hawn, only a year before Hawn would become a TV star on Laugh-In). Warren is not commonly remembered as a musical performer these days, but she coincidentally appeared in a well-regarded remake of the TV musical Cinderella, which had originally starred Julie Andrews (Andrews and Fred Astaire both appeared in these pages 3 times in the past year, making them co-champs. They are the Betty Whites of the Friday Dance Party.)


A couple of Gleeks showed up: Matthew Morrison huffed and puffed at the Tony Awards, and Jane Lynch huffed and puffed in that track suit.

There were some oddities this year, including a creepy song by Bert Parks which somehow made it onto the Miss America telecast, and I never understood anything out of Bollywood. Dr. Seuss showed up with his only live action feature film, but the creepiest moment this year had to be the pre-teens who grinded their hips to Beyonce's "Single Ladies." That clip became so controversial, it was yanked from YouTube, and the parents involved with the presentation appeared on the Today show to try to explain why their daughters should not be taken away from them and placed in foster care, where they may get better role models. (Not all young girls were bumping and grinding, though; a young dynamo celebrating Sondheim's birthday stopped the concert cold with her rendition of one of his Dick Tracy songs).


Speaking of dynamos, Sutton Foster, who would be a household name if Broadway stars became the celebrities they deserve to be these days, reminded me how much I love Thoroughly Modern Millie. She tapped her feet off in a clip from the Tony awards, and the film version of her show appeared twice more on the Dance Party: Julie Andrews and Mary Tyler Moore cranked up the tap shoes in an elevator, and then Andrews broke a bunch of traditions by singing at a Jewish wedding. That wedding clip from ...Millie generated some discussion among the gang with whom I recently worked, on A Modest Suggestion, but that was nothing compared to the controversy which erupted in January, when one of those Facebook phenomenons took flight. To bring more attention to breast cancer, many many women on Facebook spent a week posting the color of their bra; their intentions were honorable, but there was a strong negative reaction from some women who had lost their breast to the disease, and who felt their tragic disfigurement was being mocked. Thankfully, I was there to moderate a truce by posting this goofy song by Bette Midler from her melodrama, Beaches.

As you can see, sometimes current events influenced the Dance Party. As the Prop 8 decision continued to be reviewed, I posted this clip from the current revival of La Cage Aux Folles, which concerns a same-sex couple in a long-term relationship. I almost couldn't believe the hypocrisy of Bristol Palin's appearance on Dancing With the Stars, and when last winter's snow became too much, we all played Beach Blanket Bingo.

My own personal favoritism was apparent all over the past year, and why not? These are my pages, after all. When Ringo turned 70, I recalled seeing The Beatles in concert as a kid. Cass Elliot was always one of my favorites, so this clip showed up, from the touching indie film Beautiful Thing, in which her music plays a large part. I am a sucker for a Christmas song, so during last year's holidays, we celebrated with the Muppets, the King Family, and the eye candy from an old TV series, Here Come the Brides.


Several of my favorite Broadway divas made appearances, including the great Dorothy Loudon in Annie, the great Joanna Gleason in Into The Woods, and the great Bea Arthur singing two comic songs: from I Love My Wife (with Rock Hudson) and from Wonderful Town. Damn Yankees is also one of my favorites, and I had the hubris to include this clip from a production of that chestnut in Glendale in 1992. Yes, that's me as star of the Dance Party.

After reviewing all this year's clips, I have to conclude that the clips from yesteryear remain my favorites. Gene Kelly's solo dance from Summer Stock, the Nicholas Brothers from Stormy Weather, and Sammy Davis, Jr., (only recently out of diapers) are fantastic. Fred Astaire appeared in three Dance Party clips this year, once with Leslie Caron, and twice with Ginger Rogers. This one, from Swingtime, is certainly one of my top two favorite clips of the past 52 weeks. The other favorite starred uber-tapper Eleanor Powell, whose partner in her dance clip stole the show.

You can reach all 104 of the Dance Parties, in reverse chronological order, by going here. But please don't tell me you did so. It might rattle me a bit to think some readers are that deranged.

Just about everyone who appears in my Dance Party segment is famous, but that was not the original intention. The very first clip I presented, two years ago, is a sweet dance recital with two kids who clearly love to dance. A year later, I presented another couple of kids who loved to dance. I suppose this is now a tradition, so, for the first Dance Party of the third year of this project (that would be clip #105), please enjoy. And happy anniversary!

Impediments Removed

This time of year, I start to look forward to early December. It's become a bit of a tradition for me to travel to Los Angeles for a week or so, where my best buddy Judy employs me to run some movement workshops for her high school actors, and more importantly, I get to hang out with the family I chose.


Several months ago, I arranged for my airline tickets, and just a few weeks ago, I snagged the deal of the year on my rental car (thank you, William Shatner). My trip to LA seemed set in stone, but in my life, that is never really the case. If a job popped up, I would probably have to take it, and abandon plans to spend any time in hedonistic California.

Here in DC, theatre work, generally, does not pop up unexpectedly. The theatres in our region have a deplorable reputation for casting their shows WAAAAAAAAY in advance. As a comparison, consider that, in New York, shows are generally cast roughly 6-8 weeks in advance. Here, it is not uncommon to audition for, and be cast in, a show starting rehearsals a full year from the date of the audition. I kid you not, this happens with frequency. It drives out-of-town actors crazy, and we locals too.

But that routine means that, once I booked my flight to L.A. in August, I was pretty sure I would not have a work conflict in December.

A couple of weeks ago, I received a rather frantic call from one of the suburban theatres, a place where I have worked before, and where they are very good about calling me in for their auditions. This theatre (let's call it "Theatre Oh!") held auditions for their holiday musical last July (five months in advance, see what I mean?), and I attended, was called back, and was not offered employment. No prob, I was already planning my fun-filled jaunt to L.A., and this gig would have interfered.

Fast-forward to that phone call from the other week. Theatre Oh! had lost one of their actors, only a day or two before they were to begin rehearsal. How could an actor bale on a gig so unexpectedly? Well, even though actors in this region are booked many months in advance, the theatres do not usually provide those actors with a contract until the day of the first rehearsal (in violation of union rules, but everybody, including Equity, looks the other way). So, the actor in question had not signed a contract to appear in Theatre Oh!'s holiday show, and he got a last-minute offer from a larger, more prestigious theatre, with a higher profile, a longer contract, and a bigger paycheck. Why wouldn't he take it?

So, I get a call from Theatre Oh!, asking if I was available to begin work immediately; apparently, I was one of the finalists during the initial casting process (I probably lost the pageant during the swimsuit competition). I was available to do the project, but was told my name was going "into the hat" with some others, from which the director, an out-of-town gent, would choose.

"Into the hat"? This sounded like the director was going to pick his replacement actor at random. When a follow-up call did not come in the next 24 hours, I knew my L.A. trip was safe, I was not going to be employed at Theatre Oh! this time around. Four days later, I received confirmation that they had indeed hired somebody else. I had lost the gig. For the second time. An actor's life.

Meanwhile, The Shakespeare Theatre Company, one of the giants in the DC theatre world, called, out of the blue, to invite me to audition for their next Shakespeare, to open in early January. They were looking for an actor to play two smallish roles who would also understudy one of the supporting leads. Here's the unusual circumstances: the show is going into rehearsal in early December, only a month away. Very unusual to still be casting at this point. But that's not the reason this audition call was so unusual. I did my internship for my MFA at The Shakes, spending a full season there. I took class with their leading actors, and appeared in all their shows that year. I consider it a significant portion of my training as a stage actor.

Since finishing that internship 14 years ago, I have never been invited to audition for a specific show at The Shakes. This is not unusual for actors who have interned there. In fact, it was pretty much a given that, if you interned at The Shakes, you would not be considered for actual paid employment unless you moved to New York and were submitted by an agent there. It's as if the theatre did not trust its own training program.

So, you can imagine my astonishment at being called in to read for this play, after having been ignored for 14 years. I prepared my sides, and felt pretty good about things as I was ushered into the audition chamber, a room in which I had spent hundreds and hundreds of hours as an intern. The director for this show was an Out-Of-Town hire, and was in fact out of town during this audition. The folks behind the table, who were to watch the audition, pointed a little Flip camera at me, told me to stand on the big white "X" which had been taped on the floor and to read. The resulting video would be sent to the director in New York for review.

I won't be getting this gig either, which is once again fine with me, as it would have interfered with my L.A. trip. I can always hope, though, that this audition could perhaps put me back into the active actor files at The Shakes.

So, I had two back-to-back opportunities to tank my annual trip to Los Angeles, neither of which came to fruition. Every once in a while, it's good to be an unemployed actor.