ALMOST BROADWAY

My first Broadway show came after I’d been in NYC for 12 years. I had a couple

of reasonably close calls before that.

1984: Rehearsing TRIXIE TRUE, TEEN DETECTIVE in Delaware. One night,

Jennifer called to tell me that I had an audition in NYC the next day for SUNDAY IN

THE PARK WITH GEORGE. I’d have to get out of rehearsal… I MUST get out

because casting director John Lyons said it was an emergency audition, they were

seeing four guys and “one will leave with the job.”  The role was the American tourist

and understudy for Louis the Baker. 

I called our director and asked for a day off. I was hopeful because, though I  was

always onstage, much of it was sitting, listening. He said, “sorry, I can’t spare you.”  I

whined and begged but, “no, sorry.”  That was that.

Next day at rehearsal I sat onstage all day, listening to others, and did nothing

myself. No songs, no scenes, no nothing. Didn’t speak a word.

1988. Open call for the upcoming LEGS DIAMOND. Casting director Meg Simon

behind the table. I sang and read and got a callback on the spot. 

At the callback, Meg Simon again, also the director and musical director. I sang

and read a scene from the show (with a charming Irish lilt eff oi seh so muhself).

Then a callback in the large audition room at Equity, for Peter Allen. He was the

star and composer and kind of a big deal for a minute. THE BOY FROM OZ was

about him, with Hugh Jackman playing Allen.

I watched seven or eight guys go through the same routine: a guy would go into

the room, audition, exit, and wait. After 15-30 seconds, a young lady came out of the

room, told him he was free to go, and called the next auditioner in.

I was the last guy. 

There was a mess o’ folks behind the table.  20-something people packed in there

including Meg Simon.  Seated comfortably at the center of the table was Peter Allen. 

He greeted me and told me to sing. I did. Felt good. The crowd even applauded. I

then read my Irish scene. Got a couple of sweet laughs. 

Finished, thanked, and asked to wait outside. Just like everybody else. 

So I waited. 20 seconds passed, 30 seconds, 45 seconds… Nobody came out of

the room. A minute, two minutes…I’m not sure how long, but much longer than

anyone else had waited. Had they forgotten me? I stepped to the door, peeked through

the little triangle in the frosted window…and saw The Last Supper. 

Everybody was leaning toward Jesus, uhh, Peter Allen. People were gesturing,

several talking at once, some pointing. It looked like frustration. Clearly opinions

were being expressed. I read it as people championing … me. 

Except. Peter Allen sat, silent, wearing a frown, arms crossed, slowly shaking

his head side-to-side. 

It seemed painfully clear. People in that room had liked me. Except for one.

Twenty people wanted to make me a STAR! Peter Allen wanted me gone. 

Finally the lady came out of the room. “That’s all we need.”  And I left.  Jobless.

Later-- a handwritten postcard from Meg Simon. Something like: “thanks for

your audition. Sorry we couldn’t cast you, but we’ll see a lot of you in the future.”

  Never saw the woman again.