The blue neon sign of the Moondog was blinking uneasily. Funny, I thought as we entered the place, blue and uneasy both match my mood.
The last time I had visited this local hangout, it ended with Secunda clocking Gary Golden. Tonight I entered with an unexpected ally. The bar was packed. It was the height of the summer season; the people were all pretty available and wanting. There was expectation in the smoky air and, although festive, the room radiated a certain unsettling heat. The music was charged and there was a whole lot of bump and grind going. It was also hot, sweaty, humid, and close. The temperature added a touch of danger and edge to the vibe. Anything could happen.
We pushed our way through the dense crowd and ordered three beers. It was wonderful how many people greeted us. We were almost famous, and even ASK, who was only a secondary player in our shows, was given the VIP treatment. Free drinks and arm candy. For the first time in his life women were throwing themselves at him, but he was unavailable and uninterested.
Gary, ASK, and I talked about sports and girls, and he queried ASK on how it felt to be in a show, wondering where he found the courage to perform in front of strangers and what was the best part of the gig.
“Sharing a dressing room with all the dancers,” ASK replied. Gary’s eyes widened. He now wanted to be an actor.
I grabbed us another round and began looking for Ellie, hoping this was one of her stops. It didn’t take long to discover her sitting at a table with several people, all strangers but one. I only wished they had remained unknown.
“Gary, Ellie is over at that corner table. Do you know any of the guys she’s with?”
On recognition of Ellie’s escorts, his mood darkened. “Fuck, she’s hanging with Johnny Colon. He’s a punk. Shit. Let’s just fix this now.”
He started pushing his way across the room. We were right behind him, which was a good thing, because it was clear that Colon was not happy with the pending interruption.
“Hey, El,” ASK said as if she had been expecting to see him. “Introduce us to your friends. Wow, this is a great place, first time here for me.” He thrust out his hand to one of the men at the table. “Hi, I’m Alan. I work with Ellie at the theater.”
Ellie seemed both embarrassed and pissed off. She tentatively made introductions to Colon, Jake Strong, and Tim Morgan.
What the fuck is she doing with these guys? I wondered. They were too old for her and looked like they ran guns or dope or were paid to provide muscle.
They obviously knew Gary, and their reaction to meeting us was monosyllabic. I made an effort to bring the energy back to positive with a big show of how nice it was to see Colon again, which was rebuffed by another terse response. “Been calling you for two days now, August, and not a word back. Don’t keep a lot of friends that way.”
“Sorry, Johnny. Been crazy. But I was going to reach out tomorrow for sure, or if you like we could talk now.”
“I have a date right now, pal, and she’s had just enough to drink where she could be a whole lotta fun. Not a good time for me.”
The guy was a pig. I felt ashamed for Ellie and frightened by the explosive potential of the situation.
“Ellie, we have an early day tomorrow. Why don’t we all finish our drinks and get home by one? We’ll go settle up at the bar and come back in a few to get you home all right.”
“I’ll get her home when I’m good and ready,” Colon said. “I helped you out before, August. Don’t make me regret it now. I think you guys should blow. There are plenty of girls here for you to take home. I’m in charge of Ellie at night. She only works for you during the day.”
Ellie looked stunned. She was silent. She didn’t look any of us in the eye.
She had clearly had more to drink than was appropriate with this crowd. “Colon, I think we’ll come back in a while and take her home,” Gary said.
He was firm yet avoided being confrontational.
“You won’t be doing shit,” Colon replied. “Now get out of my face.”
“We’re going to leave you guys alone to say good night,” ASK said, trying to defuse the tension. “We’ll be at the bar, El, whenever you’re ready.”
Colon had the energy of a wounded animal. He was a forty-year-old gym rat who had put on too much weight, yet still thought he was twenty-five and fit. I would have clocked him, but that would surely have led to an ugly result. Our collective goal was to get Ellie out of this safely and deal with the fallout tomorrow.
“Hey, twit,” Colon said to ASK, “don’t ruin my night. In return I won’t fuck with yours. See ya.” He grabbed Ellie’s arm, turned her away from her friends, and pulled her into the corner behind their table into harm’s way.
The music that had sounded so festive when we arrived was now the soundtrack of a scary thriller. The rest of the Moondog crowd hadn’t noticed the skirmish and continued on with their merriment. I was at a loss as to how to proceed.
Gary leaned in close so I could hear him over the din of the nightclub. “I’ll give this ten minutes and then I’m taking Colon outside and you take Ellie home. You stay away from any shit. It will be all right. Just stay out of it.” He pushed me toward the bar. He clearly knew this milieu better than I. Behind us, I could hear Colon and Ellie arguing. Then I heard him slap her and tell her harshly to shut the fuck up. Stay out of it my ass, I thought. I turned to go after him, but Gary blocked my way.
Colon was stroking Ellie’s hair and comforting her now. “Sorry, babe. Drink your drink and we’ll go have some fun.” I was sick to my stomach.
Out of nowhere, she pushed him away and bolted for the front door. Colon took a moment to save face with his cronies and muttered, “Bitch” as he chased after her. He kicked the door wide open and headed after his “date.”
Both Gary and I pushed across the room and through the ass-to-ass crowd to follow. I saw that Colon’s cohorts were about to pack up and head outside. ASK, proving that dynamite comes in small packages, threw himself fearlessly in their way, and Gary and I moved out through the crowd to the parking lot. It was hot and the air was heavy.
Off to the side, we heard shouting from Colon and a frightened whimper from Ellie. We found them both next to his black Eldorado convertible. He held her hair and was pulling her roughly into the passenger side of the car. I was grateful that Officer Richardson had alerted me to what my friend had gotten herself into. I was unfazed by a potential brawl, but I was afraid of what this guy might do to Ellie.
Gary didn’t hesitate. He ran full tilt toward Colon and shouted, “Let her go, you fuck—” He leapt without finishing and kicked Colon squarely in the side of the head. Colon released Ellie to keep his balance and moved toward Gary. Wounded animals are dangerous, and he had a head start. Gary circled around to his right and hit Colon three times to the face with quick left jabs. I felt he could have knocked him out with a good right cross, but that didn’t seem part of Gary’s agenda.
He backed away after each jab to give Colon a chance to regroup, and then hit him again with a trio of jabs. He then started shouting obscenities and baiting Colon so he’d come looking for more. Gary beat him until about a sixth round when he released his right cross; then he grabbed him at the same time so Colon couldn’t go down. He slapped him repeatedly across the face, then grabbed his hair and pulled him over to Ellie, who had not moved since Gary took over.
“Apologize to your date, you fucker.” Gary demanded. “Now, you prick!” He pulled Colon’s head up by his hair so he was looking at Ellie.
Colon looked at Ellie and said in a barely audible voice, “I’m sorry.”
“Now ask us to make sure she gets home safely,” Gary said venomously.
Colon had no option but to acquiesce. Gary rabbit-punched him so viciously I was surprised Colon’s neck didn’t snap. Colon ate dirt and gravel and ceased to move.
ASK, who had watched the whole thing from just
outside the entrance, jumped five feet in the air shouting, “Holy fucking shit!” Ellie ran into my arms, and with tears running down her face she allowed me to offer some comfort. Gary knelt down next to Colon and in a calm and scarily serene voice said, “This is the last time you ever see her. Get it, fuckface?” Without giving Colon a chance to answer, Gary kicked him in the groin for good measure, to make sure he understood.
He looked at Ellie and said, “If it’s possible, you are better looking crying than when you smile. Give me a minute to wash up and then I’m going to get you a milkshake and then home safe and sound. Milkshakes are the best thing for making a bad situation sweet.”
At that moment, the neon sign stopped blinking and all the letters went out except M O O. Maybe Gary was on to something with this milkshake idea. We would just have to wait and see.
“Moo,” I said to myself, and then followed with a final word to the unconscious Colon. “You know, you didn’t have to have a cow.”
68
I began the morning with a call to my dad, filling him in on recent events. Talking them over with him alleviated much of my anxiety; speaking with my father always relaxed me. It was a good place to visit. He told me that he and my mother were going to arrive in two weeks to see the close of Funny Girl and stay through the opening of Company. They would be bringing my aunt and uncle as well.
Then I shared a problem with him that I couldn’t find a solution for, and I was running out of time. Zach Rush was playing the romantic lead in Funny Girl and needed to wear a top hat in a particular scene. To our shock and chagrin, Rush’s hat size was 8½. He wasn’t the Elephant Man; he just had a freakishly large head. Mary was unable to make a hat that big in the shop, and we had scoured Boston.
“You know what they say about guys with big heads?” my dad asked.
“Dunno, big brains?”
“How about guys with big feet?”
“Big dick.” I knew that one.
“Nope, big socks,” he said and laughed. We had played this routine many times.
“You’re an idiot, Dad.”
“Sammy, I’ll find the kid with the enormous head the top hat and get it shipped to you in time for your tech. Love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too, Dad. See you soon.”
The hat arrived on Friday morning and fit perfectly.
I then called Officer Scott Richardson to report on the Ellie situation and thank him for his concerns. I also offered apologies in case I had been disrespectful, but before I could explain, he said he understood that I was in uncharted waters. He suggested that Ellie file a police report to keep it on record. I thanked him again and hung up.
Then I called Mr. Foster’s office at Dupont and left a personal request that he call me at any time. After the call, I met Secunda and we headed to the gym for a long workout. We sparred three rounds in which I didn’t land a punch. Something had to be done.
We returned to the compound. I showered and set off for the dining hall to have breakfast. Whatever tensions, resentments, or distance I had felt earlier in the week were nowhere to be found. In fact, the energy on that Friday morning was like the lovefest at Woodstock. Bottle it and you were rich.
Marc Seconds’s article was on the front page of the Patriot Ledger. It was the buzz of the morning. His reporting was honest as it told of the tensions and problems he had witnessed, yet it also addressed with great appreciation and admiration the talents assembled at PBT. He mentioned several actors by name including Feston. Additionally, he wrote highly of everyone’s work ethic and ability to put their squabbles, confrontations, and distractions aside to deliver a better performance the following night than the previous one he had attended. There were numerous photos and mini-interviews with members of the company.
Everyone was ecstatic; they all had the start of a scrapbook. Marc even had kind words for me, saying I was “a young man to be reckoned with” and that I would make my name in the professional theater more quickly than anyone could imagine. He urged his readers to scoop up any remaining tickets because this was a “special group spending time with us during the summer of ’76.” He never once mentioned how terrific it must have been to play with Carol’s now world-famous breasts.
I walked to the theater to begin my day.
69
Funny Girl was our third production and we had all learned much from the previous two. Most shows don’t rehearse for a mere nine days and then go before an audience. Yet that is the experience of summer stock. We had done fine with Cabaret, when everyone was fresh and on their best behavior. We hit a small speed bump with Anything Goes because of fatigue and time lost preparing and performing at the parade. Now we had a formula, a paradigm within which to work, and I felt more confident about what we needed to accomplish before our upcoming day off. It also didn’t hurt that we had the wind at our back from the news story this morning, which would certainly help us navigate through the next two days.
There are five primary areas in putting on a show.
The songs. The learning and preparation of all the musical numbers for both the principal performers and the chorus players, whose background vocals are often more complicated because they deal with harmonies and complex choral arrangements. Often the chorus members are also dancing while singing; so for those of us who find it difficult to walk and chew gum at the same time, we can appreciate the challenge.
The production numbers, specifically the choreography. The entire company often performs in the former, and even those who are not great on the beat or with their feet have to find a way through. The dancers need to learn their steps for as many as five or six numbers at PBT, all within days.
The staging and blocking of the show. The entrances and exits, where everyone stands once they are on stage, and how to focus the audience’s attention. When the entire company is on stage, the spacing and the placement of actors is important so the visual for the audience is always exciting and a continual surprise. Then there are the small scenes; how, when, and where do the actors cross, sit, stand, turn. As important, how to manipulate even the most subtle movements; the turn of a head or the touch of a shoulder, and more, can influence a scene.
The technical elements. The lighting, the costumes, the scenery, and props all have to be added and become part of the actors’ performance. There are times when a performer has ten seconds to change costume, stripping out of one while his or her dresser is putting on the new one. There are set changes that are like a magic act: scenery is flying in from above or being trafficked in from the wings, actors are changing clothes or running to their next entrance, and if something goes awry people get hurt and it all goes downhill from there. These quick changes have to be planned like clockwork, orchestrated and scripted in advance. The lighting designer has to see all of the above days before his tech so he knows what part of the stage needs color or specials or projections to highlight the scenes and dances, and to help cover the myriad set changes so they go unnoticed.
The sound design. The sound designer has to blend the voices in big numbers so the lyrics are heard in balance with the orchestra and the larger number of people in the chorus do not overpower the lead performers. The sound must be natural, enhanced yet still coming from the mouths of the performers so as not to seem robotic, detached, or inhuman.
At PBT, all this and more needed to happen in nine days. That’s the fun of it all. That’s the challenge. That’s the work.
I had set Friday’s rehearsal as a work-through. We’d start at the top and plow through with the intention of getting the entire show set by the end of the afternoon. If things were sloppy we’d stop and work on them. If they needed adjustment we’d give notes. So that on Saturday we could run the sucker without stopping; show the designers what it looked like; orchestrate in principal all the technical ins and outs; get the actors set on their marks and actions in the scenes; have the dancers know their steps and hit their “five six s
even eights.” All the while using the stage as a blank canvas on which to paint an arresting visual, one where the audience was almost forced to look, use their imagination or miss something important in the telling of the story. We had to control the audience’s eye, keeping them surprised and eager for more.
If Friday was a workday, Saturday was like being on a roller coaster that only went down. If you screamed no one would hear you or pay attention; they were having their own problems holding on. We were flying without a net, and it was fantastic! By the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, we would have done the impossible, mounting a major musical, and even in its rawest form it played. We would be breathless and exhilarated, wanting to polish and lock in everything we had accomplished that day. We would be like the reader of a great novel who can’t wait to finish the page so they can turn to the next one to see what happens before racing to see the next one and the next and the next . . .
Believe it or not, it was a hell of a ride, one where the moment it ends you want to get right back on because you simply can’t believe it was that much fun. It’s like your first kiss, a walk-off home run, or a buzzer beater for the championship. It’s your kid’s first word or first step. It’s sex for the first time or your wedding night. It’s making your first million, connecting with God, or making a child smile. It was my work, and it all started in ten minutes.
I was exhausted just thinking about it, yet itching to begin. I guess I just didn’t know where to scratch first. Wherever I chose, it was sure to feel so very delicious.
70
I spent the entire day inside the theater. So much for a job near the beach. It was a good day. Solid work and no off-stage drama, just what was in the script. Most of the stops had to do with music and dance and not within the scene work. It was interesting to watch Ellie work with the dancers, running and rerunning their routines. She would do the steps downstage and as they mirrored her, the numbers came together with confidence and verve. I wondered how she did it, how she held up after the night that had ended just hours ago. We all have demons—and strengths that allow us to overcome them. Ellie was a much more complicated woman than I had ever imagined.
Little Did I Know Page 27