Waiver Games, Part II: It Makes The Magic Happen

...second in a series regarding my experiences in Los Angeles Waiver Theaters, go here for part one...

During my senior year at Cal State Northridge I performed in a modern version of the ancient Roman comedy The Menaechmi.  The text had already served as source material for Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors and Rogers' & Hart's The Boys From Syracuse;  at CSUN, the piece was adapted for children and became The Twins. 

This college performance in The Twins was the antecedent of
my performance as Otto in Poof!.

I had a ball playing a bumbling sidekick to the villain of the piece.  My friend Ronnie Sperling was one of the stars of the show, and though we had both been performing throughout our college careers, this was one of the only times we worked closely together. 

Ronnie's in the red shirt, I'm on the floor in stripes.

I believe my performance in The Twins led directly to my second Waiver Theater production.

Our Roman
farce had
 Greek dancing.

Ronnie was involved with an off-campus performing company called the Camille Ensemble;  they were soon to acquire a children's theatre branch called the Prosody Players.  That offshoot was run by one of the finest human beings I have ever known, Kenny Michelson.  I did not know Kenny at this time, though I had worked with his sister Lisa at CSUN. 

Lisa Michelson (on the far left) and I knocked 'em dead in CSUN's Jesus Christ Superstar. She sang solo on "Could We Start Again Please," while I (on the far right) wowed the crowd as the Second Leper.

Poof was the second production
by Kenny's Prosody Players.

Shortly after I graduated, Kenny called me out of the blue, and asked if I would be interested in appearing in a new musical for kids, called Poof! . This phone call began one of the most enjoyable and rewarding theatrical experiences I have ever had.

Kenny and his partner had written Poof! for several particular actors, one of whom, my college chum John Dantona, was to play the role of Otto, the wizard's hapless apprentice. 

I directed John at CSUN, as El Gallo
in The Fantasticks.

If I remember correctly, John had lots on his plate at the time, and had to decline the production, and Ronnie, who was to play one of the comic roles in the show, suggested me as a replacement.  Poof! was a delightful little show, concerning the sprightly spirit that lives inside every magician's hat which makes "the magic happen."  The score was a perky gem, and I was blessed with what would probably be considered the 11 o'clock number, if one-hour children's shows had such things. 

This is a screen grab from a home movie made of
the original Poof! That's me in my big number.

The show was performed at The Company Theatre, one of the leading Waiver houses at the time, and we ran several months, on weekend days, and the occasional Friday night.

One of several raves we received from the critics.

We were all young and enthusiastic and grateful to be working in a professional setting; the show was a hoot, and performing in it provided a much needed respite for me.  After graduation from CSUN, I had allowed myself to be persuaded by convention and my parents that I needed a full-time job.  I was perfectly happy to continue my part-time work in the Sears Complaint Dept, but that was not going to cut it with the folks.  So, I allowed my father to put in a good word for me at Lockheed, where he was a pretty big muckity-muck.  I landed in an entry level, salaried position which most MBA grads would have killed to have, but I hated it from the first day.  Full time office work was just not my bag, but thankfully, I had my theatrical life at night to keep me sane.  For the first months of my gig at Lockheed, Poof! provided relief from the office doldrums.

I kept my double life secret from Lockheed, until this review popped up in the daily newspaper.

I was very sorry to see Poof! close.  The show itself went on to have several more productions without my involvement, but it holds a very special place in my heart. 

Tommy Tune, eat your heart out.

It was the only time I actually created a role in a brand new show in a Waiver Production.  I always thought the piece deserved a long life, and it probably would have had one, had tragedy not struck.  After surviving some severe health crises, Kenny stopped one night along the freeway, to help a stranded motorist.  Another car struck them from behind, and Kenny was killed.  It was a terrible tragedy which may not have happened had not Kenny been the caring and compassionate man he was. 

Kenny's sister Lisa, second from left, starred in
the second production of Poof!. In a terrible
bit of irony, she was also killed in a car crash.

I loved being in Poof! for many reasons, most importantly because it gave me the opportunity to meet and become friends with Kenny Michelson.  In spite of all his troubles, he remained a most enthusiastic, gentle, and optimistic soul.  It's been over 30 years since we worked together, and I still miss him.

My next foray into Waiver Theatre gave me the chance to work with my best friend, who remains so to this day.  Come back for Part III of The Waiver Games...

Friday Dance Party: Birthday Boy

Neil Patrick Harris is becoming a habit with me.  I don't intend to break it.  Our favorite song-and-dance man has appeared on the Dance Party for the past two years or so.  Go here for his first appearance, which coincided with various Gay Pride celebrations and included a brief rundown on his career to date.  A year later, NPH, as he insists I call him, was celebrated for his turn as host of the Tony and other Awards.  Today is his birthday, and he has just had another triumphant hosting gig at Sunday's Tonys, so it's only fitting that he star in this week's Dance Party.

NPH won the Emmy for hosting the Tonys in 2009. He also picked up the Guest Performance in a Comedy trophy for his appearance on Glee.  He has yet to win for his regular series gigs.

Breaking with those earlier clips, which feature NPH in upbeat musical numbers, let's take a peak at one of his quieter moments. 

After Doogie Houser, Neil turned to
the stage to transition into leading
man roles. In Sweeney, he played
manchild Tobias.

For several years during the early 2000s, before he snagged his current role on TV's How I Met Your Mother, Neil was making the rounds, honing his musical theatre chops.  In several concert productions, he played the slow-witted Tobias in Stephen Sondheim's masterpiece, Sweeney Todd.  I am very fond of Sweeney, and was in the audience during one of the performances which was filmed for the famous video of the show, starring Angela Lansbury and George Hearne. 

Baranski and Stokes Mitchell were
highlights of KenCen's Sondheim Festival.

Years later, I was thrilled with the Kennedy Center production starring Christine Baranski and Brian Stokes Mitchell.  I even enjoyed the film version, which was widely criticized because it bore little resemblance to whichever stage production was everybody's favorite.

This particular production was one of those concert stagings which we love so much.  It was filmed in San Francisco for PBS, and just seeing this clip makes me want to track down and watch the full DVD.  Our Mrs. Lovett is being played by Patti Lupone, who has run hot and cold for me over the years. 

At this year's Tonys, Harris and Lupone reunited to mow the lawn.

This is a good role for Patti (she was to go on to star in a major revival of Sweeney on Broadway in 2005), and here, you can actually catch the exact moment when she decided the fate of poor Tobias. 

As Mrs. Lovett in the Broadway
revival, Lupone played the tuba.

NPH is particularly lovely in this clip, and is displaying a depth which we are not used to, judging from his comedic work on TV.  The song is the most famous of any of the Todd tunes, and is rendered in a clear tenor voice by our hero.  It was this performance, and others like it during this period, which alerted the public to the musical talents of Harris, and ultimately led to his current status as the go-to guy for musical hosting.

NPH visited Stephen Colbert last week, who wondered why Neil's happiness as a gay man did not rob Stephen of his own.

NPH turns 39 today, so to celebrate, enjoy:

Taming Of The Show

Seven weeks ago, give or take, I began work on the Titan Theatre production of The Taming of the Shrew.  It was early April when I auditioned for this production, which was to be performed in Queens, NY;  it was to be my New York City debut, though I didn't know it yet.  All I knew in April was that I liked the artistic director of this young company.  He had an enthusiasm which was refreshingly different from the attitude I had been encountering at other NY auditions. 

Director Lenny wore
the same jeans 18 days
in a row, until I called him
out. He changed jeans, which
he wore the next 18 days.
They were his wife's.

The lovely and talented Lenny Banovez seemed excited to be seeing an actor of my age, willing to work for subway fare.  The fact that I had no NYC credits, having only recently opened my NY Branch, didn't seem to bother him in the least. I liked Lenny for another reason, too:  his casting call asked that each actor prepare two monologues, and that one of them be a speech delivered by one of Shakespeare's clowns.  I LOVED that kind of specificity, this kid clearly knew what kind of production his Shrew was going to be, and what kind of actor was needed to fulfill his vision. 

My old buddy Jack Young trained many of
my Shrew castmates. I played Buckingham
to his Richard III 13 years ago.

Between the time of my initial audition and my callback, I did a bit of digging into Titan Theatre's website, and discovered that one of their earlier productions had been directed by my old friend, the lovely and talented Jack Young.  After I had completed my callback, during which Lenny offered me a place in his production, I mentioned I had worked with Jack years earlier.  Lenny's eyes lit up, and an immediate connection was formed.  I was soon to learn that many members of the Titan Theatre company had been trained by Jack.  Small world! 

Our rehearsal process was to be short and swift.  Our first read-through of the script was at NY's The Players Club, courtesy of one of the only other actors in the company of my generation, the lovely and talented Michael Selkirk, who is a member of this famous actors' club. It was an auspicious beginning, to first read our text at The Players Club, which had all the great thespians of yesteryear as members. 

The Players Club, the site of our first rehearsal.

That first rehearsal set the tone for our rehearsal period, not only because it was held at the first of SIX different spaces in which we rehearsed the show, but also because it was steamily hot. 

Romeo and Juliet has its balcony, while Shrew's most famous
sequence is surely the wooing scene, beautifully played by
Elizabeth Audley and Michael Poignand.

I don't recall ever NOT feeling overheated in any of our half-dozen rehearsal haunts, which was just as well, as the air-conditioning which was purported to cool our theatre really didn't.  But other than that mildly uncomfortable temperature issue, I had a ball with this production.  Lenny had cast the show very well, there didn't seem to be a weak link or a diva in the bunch. 

We had a lively run of only 12 performances, and they were not as well attended as one might have wished. 

Our deck set was simple but effective.
The theatre owners were so impressed,
they asked Titan to leave it intact, for later use.

The Secret Theatre, where we performed, seems slightly off the beaten path as it's in Long Island City, Queens.  Being a newcomer to the city, I had to ask around before I was informed that yes, this would count as my NYC debut (one Facebook wag informed me that yes, a production in Queens does count as my New York City debut...until I snagged a gig in Manhattan, in which case that would be counted as my New York City debut). 

Adam Van Wagoner and Laura Frye played
our younger lovers, Lucentio and Bianca.
Both were trained by my old friend Jack Young.

I couldn't have asked for a stronger production with which to get started in New York.  Just as strong word-of-mouth was spreading, we closed, which is always a bittersweet moment.

Marc LeVasseur as Hortensio.
We had lots of fun as Bianca's
futile suitors.

Titan Theatre operates under the AEA Showcase Code, which, like the old L.A. Waiver Code about which I've been writing lately, allows Equity members to appear without a full contract.  It's really the only way a fledgling company can get started these days, at least in New York. 

Corey Tazmania wins the award for the
Best Name in the cast. Her work as
Biondella was physically dynamic.

I'm hoping I have a future with Titan, though artistic director Lenny is heading to Milwaukee to work for at least a year; he plans to maintain a presence in New York as well, so stay tuned.  Meanwhile, I'm grateful to a company of actors who were gracious and welcoming to a newcomer.  Thanks to everyone for my share of the feast.

The highlight of my work as Gremio was surely the orange shirt I wore. It's actually mine, given as a gift from my Shear Madness buddy Matt Sawyer, right before he shipped out for military duty. I thought of him every time I donned it to play this silly character.  As for this pic itself, it really doesn't reflect the true goofiness of the role. I told others, I look like I just wandered in from The Three Sisters.

Friday Dance Party: Fathers And Sons

I'm a week early for Father's Day, but I've been thinking a lot about the pater this week . 

My father, at the height of his Lockheed
career.

I feel very, very lucky that dear ol' Dad, as he's often known to his kids, is a healthy octogenarian.  I lost my mother almost 30 years ago; ever since, my father has taken on an added importance in our family dynamic, I'm sure that's not unusual.  I can't claim that my dad and I are particularly close, in personality or temperament or interests, but since my mother died, he claims a position of great importance in my life.

My parents, at my sister's wedding.

I would not say that my father and I didn't get along as I was growing up;  instead, I would suggest that he did not understand me much, and I didn't do much to help.  He was confused by my lack of interest in sports or airplanes or anything else which he admired, but I never felt abandoned by my dad, as many of my tribe did.

Another sister's wedding.

Much of this has popped up this week, I'm sure, because my good friend Scott lost his father last Saturday. Scott feels he actually lost his father years ago, for damages which he cannot forgive, and so this current loss is softened. Still, the loss of a parent is significant, even if that can't be realized immediately, and it certainly brings back memories, good and bad. I have only one memory of Scott's father, which I'd like to share.

Since moving from Los Angeles in the early 90s, I have made semi-annual return visits, always staying with Scott and his husband Drew. 

"Karl"

During one of these visits, I met Scott's parents, who popped over to my hosts' spacious patio for a summer BBQ. The memory of that day remains a delightful one. It was a summer afternoon/evening, and we were all enjoying drinks and dish. I had had just enough alcohol to make myself unshy, and even sociable; I teased Scott's dad that his name must be Karl (don't ask me to explain that, I can't). His name wasn't Karl, I actually don't know what his name was for sure, but "Karl" seemed to enjoy the banter between us. 

My friends thought my
mom resembled Ruta Lee.
I thought Juliet Prowse.

My nicknaming Scott's dad may have been an unconscious answer to Scott's nickname for my own parents;  years earlier, when our gang gathered at my L.A. home in Granada Hills, my mother and father were nicknamed Ruta (for Ruta Lee) and Jerry (for local newscaster Jerry Dunphy).

In later years, I've learned that Scott's father and my own had quite a few similarities. Both of them had long careers at Lockheed. Karl, if I remember correctly, was some kind of engineer for the company; my father was in management. There is a more substantial similarity between our fathers, though. They both did absolutely everything they could to provide for their families. There was a time, according to Scott, when his father's work at Lockheed was not paying the bills, and he went to work in a retail watch shop. My father, thank goodness, was never faced with that, but when I heard Scott tell that story, I knew that our dads were cut from the same cloth. My father would have done anything necessary to provide for his family, and Scott's father did the same.

My father spent his life working his way up the corporate ladder, all to serve his family.

To paraphrase a poignant speech in On Golden Pond, we all look back on our childhood with a certain amount of regret.  I'm no exception:  I wish my father and I had more in common, and had been better friends during my youth.

My father is enjoying a
well-deserved retirement.

I strongly believe that if your parents did the best they could, under their own specific circumstances, then they deserve our respect and profound thanks. Not all of them were the most accepting of their kids' lives; I know my father did not understand my own life choices, but I don't blame him, since I know he did the best he could. Oh, Fathers and Sons: is there a more cantankerous relationship in the family unit?

This week's Dance Party is all about Fathers and Sons.  It comes from the PBS production of a flop Broadway musical called Working. In it, a variety of people describe their jobs, and either revel or revile them. The show was not a success, at least in its first incarnation, but the writers (there are about a dozen of them, all told) have continued to tweak the piece. 

This number has remained unchanged, and always makes me think of my father. Though Dad always wore a tie to work, and this guy (played by Barry Bostwick), is a blue-collar worker, I can hear my father's attitude toward our family loud and clear.  It's a week too early for Father's Day, but please enjoy this clip, in celebration of my own father, in memory of the fathers who aren't here anymore, and dedicated to all our dads:

Friday Dance Party: Last Chance For Romance Tonight

Musicologists usually claim that the disco music craze lasted only a few years, and if that observation is based solely on record sales, Grammy awards, and radio play, they may be right. 

If there was one iconic image
of the disco era, this was it.

But disco music was hot many more years in the gay clubs;  the genre was practically invented on the gay dance floor, and it was that underground influence which pushed disco music into the mainstream.  At its height, everybody wanted into the act.  Diana Ross, the Jacksons, and the BeeGees, for example, had big hits in non-disco styles, but they all contributed many songs to the disco hitlist as well. 

KC and the Sunshine Band released numerous hits
during the early disco period. You cannot sit still
when one of their songs plays; they helped "boogie"
move into the vernacular.

Disco had more than its share of one-hit wonders, while there were a number of acts who hit the charts repeatedly, with only disco hits (KC and the Sunshine Band, The Village People, and Gloria Gaynor, to name just a few). 

The Village People's mainstream success
belied their gay camp roots. If you ask
anyone to name a disco group,
they will likely name these guys. Go here
for their own Dance Party.

Streisand delivered at least three disco hits, and Cher engineered a major comeback based on her disco contributions.  Musical stars who had no business being played in dance clubs still tried to make it there with one or more disco releases: Midler, Manilow, and even Merman all jumped on the bandwagon (or rather, the mirrored ball). 

"The Queen Mother of Disco," as she was laughingly called, released the most egregious attempt to jump on the disco bandwagon. Ethel recorded her numbers in her usual trumpeting style, the disco beat was added in post-production.  I'm ashamed to reveal that this thing actually got lots of play in the gay clubs in the San Fernando Valley.  

Well, you can see where this is going.  Just as Aretha is the undisputed Queen of Soul, there is one, and only one, Queen of Disco.

Donna Summer

1948-2012

Her career extended beyond the disco phenomenon of the 1970s, but when listening to her 80s hits, it's obvious she was forever influenced by her time as the Queen of Disco. 

The backlash against disco was fervent, so
Summer's 80s hits became "dance tunes."

Listen to her song "She Works Hard for the Money," which is not classified as disco.  Call it what you will, it's a disco song.  Summer's popularity was unequaled in the disco era;  she won five Grammys for her hits, and sold tens of millions of albums.  Her reputation was tarnished in the mid-80s, when she became a born again Christian, and rumors spread that she had called AIDS God's punishment for the sins of the homosexual.  Gays were merciless in their condemnation of a star whom they had, let's face it, personally created.  She ultimately (years later) denied making the comments, but by then, the damage to her career had been done.  She was never to achieve the success she had in the 1970s. 

Streisand had already hit the disco charts with "The Main Event," and at the urging of her son, recorded "Enough is Enough" with Summer.  It was Barbra's first duet ever released as a single; its success encouraged Streisand to team up with Barry Gibb for "Guilty," which yielded several hits and remains her biggest selling album to date. Summer and Streisand never sang "Enough is Enough" together in public, but it is one of the few disco songs still highly regarded today.

Donna Summer's death last week affected me a good deal, bringing back memories and emotions surrounding my first explorations into the gay nightlife.  While later artists like Whitney Houston remind me of the later 80s (go here for Whitney's Dance Party), Summer's music provided the soundtrack to those early years.  The very first disco album I owned was her two-record set, "Once Upon A Time." 

This was not by any means her most successful recording, and the hit it yielded, "I Love You," only reached #37 in 1977.  But the album, which was inspired by the Cinderella story, was a hit with the gay crowd.  Of course, Summer's entire output during the 70s consisted of giant disco hits, and her music was surely the most frequently played in any of the clubs I visited. 

Manilow's "Copacabana" is often considered a disco hit,
but I would call it a story song with a dance beat.
It received lots of play in the clubs,
but I preferred this less-successful tune,
"You're Lookin' Hot Tonight."

It didn't matter how many people were hanging around the bar or "socializing" (ie: cruising) in the corners, whenever any Donna Summer song popped up on the DJ's console, the dance floor filled.  There was something celebratory and sensual about her music, and it simply had to be danced to.  This week's Dance Party features one of her biggest hits, and it happens to be her song which had the biggest influence on me.

Disco songs were released in two versions. One ran about 3 minutes, to target radio stations. The other ran significantly longer, and included repetitive dance interludes. The 12-Inch single was a product of the disco era; it looks like an LP, but includes only one or two songs on each side. DJs in the clubs used these long versions to entice patrons onto the dance floor.  Donna Summer can be credited with helping to invent the 12-Inch single, which came and went with Disco.

I've often quipped that I lost my virginity to "Last Dance," and though that's not literally true, it is, figuratively.  The song was played in every dance club everywhere, every night. 

Thank God It's Friday was one of a number
of disco-themed films which attempted
to repeat the success of Saturday Night
Fever.

Always, it served as the number which accompanied the announcement of Last Call for Alcohol, which usually heightened the sensuality of the late night club scene.  When you listen to the song, notice its unusual structure.  It begins with a slow tempo.  Usually, this section of the song did not signal a big rush to the dance floor. 

This was a typical look for me during the early
disco years. No wonder there was a backlash.

Even that late at night, during those years, same-sex slow-dancing was reserved for the committed couples, or the folks who were already sure their evening was going to end together.  But you didn't slow dance with just anyone.  (I have railed for years against whoever it was that decided, back in the late 1950s, that couples who were dancing together should not be touching;  that nitwit committed treason against romance.)  Anyway, "Last Dance," as you'll see, soon picks up in tempo, and becomes a standard disco beat.  This is the point in the evening when the dance floor of the club would fill up one last time.  But you'll also see that the song slows down again, and at this point, most of the couples on the dance floor would move into each other's arms to correspond to the beat. 

At least the suspenders are gone.

This moment, to me, was always highly charged with excitement, anticipation, sensuality, and fear.  Hey, I was young and completely inexperienced.

Even after the song had fallen from the pop charts, the clubs I attended continued to play "Last Dance" at the end of every evening.  From NY's Studio 54 to West Hollywood's Studio One, to the tiny little In Touch Lounge on Van Nuys Blvd in the San Fernando Valley, everybody knew what the song meant: last chance for romance tonight.