Chapter 1 Pandoras Box Part 2

This audition was for what I like to refer as the “Company”.  Could I do it? Could my pride be swallowed? Did I really need money that much?  My bank account was definitely telling my brain to go to the audition.  It was one of the only upcoming shows listed in the paper.  It did mention that it was a new show and that a Broadway name would be writing the music.  I would have to think about it.  I could barely remember how bad it was the last time I worked for them.  Was it really as awful as I remembered it?  It seemed like a lifetime ago that I had worked for them.  Did I blow my experience out of proportion?  I remember the weather, the apartment and all the friends I had made.  I must have forgotten all of that when I told my stories of the crappy treatment that we received.

My head began to swim.  I sat down on someone’s front stoop and took out a cigarette.  I lit and watched the smoke as it danced around my head.  It would be three weeks until the audition and I would have plenty of time to either talk myself out of it or go and try to get the job.  “Oh well”, I told myself “I have plenty of time to figure things out”.

Unfortunately, time in New York City goes by in the blink of an eye.  Three weeks later I find myself in the waiting room of a New Dance Group on 47^th street.  I was dressed as dancers do in that day; I was wearing the obligatory black.  Black turtle neck leotard, black jazz pants and black jazz sneakers.  I had three songs prepared and a monologue just in case they needed it.  I spent some time in LA and Vegas.  I was amazed at how people dress for auditions out there.  In LA they look like they just put their street clothes on and happened to walk into an audition.  In Vegas they wore very little.  Come to think of it, my costume when I worked in Vegas had two looks, no shirt and vest.

I look around the room and realize just how small this city actually is.  I know all the boys waiting with me.  Currently, they have us packed in a tiny little holding room.  Boys are everywhere.  There are boys going through plie’s while holding on to the piano, others swapping phone numbers and still others hugging and kissing.  It is a literal sea of boys all waiting to be called into the room to audition.  “Jesus”, I think to myself “Are there no other jobs right now?”  It seems like all the boys in New York City are here, and we are all competing for the same job.

I stopped warming my body up awhile ago.  I can only stretch so much before an audition.  It then becomes a game of psych out, where you try a few different things to make others double judge their abilities.  It’s the oldest trick in the book and it always works.  You can move off in a corner and not talk with anyone; it puts people ill at ease.  It looks as if you know something that the rest don’t.  Actually, I always get nervous before an audition.  I’m a wreck on the way there.  Once I’m there I still a wreck until I enter the room then I feel a lot better.  I guess it’s because I then know what’s going on.  Or at least have a slight handle on it.

I began to let my mind drift and that about what I would be doing the rest of the day.  I am not very focused before this audition.  I think it’s because that no matter what you know that’s not what it’s about.  It boils down to who you know.  I was sure that I would know a handful of people in the room and I’m sure a couple people in the room would know me.  Did they like me?  Was I nice?  Oh crap, now I’m getting more nervous.

The “Company” likes to use the same people over and over again.  One time they ran an ad looking for people who had the “Company” look.  What does that mean?  Anyway it got them into a little bit of trouble, but it was fun hearing them explain what they meant by that.

Sitting here I am reminded of the Tracey Ullman skit where she can actually fly.  She’s at an audition for Peter Pan but she just doesn’t have that right something the casting director is looking for.  Tracey is flying around the room and the whole audition panel feels that she’s missing something.

I am so busy daydreaming that I don’t hear my name being called by the casting director’s assistant.  Now everyone is in panic mode.  I look around and see people scrambling to gather up their dance bags and to get into a single file line.  I jump off the floor that I’ve been lying on and grab my bag.  I’m number fifteen and I get into my proper spot between numbers fourteen and sixteen and march into the hallway.

to be continued...........

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writting "Not Only Magic Floats". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Chapter 1 Pandoras Box Part 1

I went to my local newsstand every Thursday to pick up the latest copy of Backstage.  Backstage is the local trade paper for the entertainment business.  Back in the day it was one of the only vital link’s to auditions and every other aspect of our business.  Tucked in amongst the ads it has listings for voice teachers, dance classes and Drama Classes.  If you are lucky and it is a busy audition week every page will be crammed full of job listings for upcoming shows or showcases.

This paper and a dream can help your career go from chorus dancer to star overnight.

It was best to pick it up first thing in the morning.  We used to joke that that this was when the auditions were fresh and best for picking.  Unfortunately at my newsstand there was always a line and sometimes they would run out.  That was one of the down sides of living in an artist neighborhood.

 Rumor had it that the newsstand on Astor Place got Backstage Magazine before anyone else in Manhattan did. Rumor also had it that their line was longer than any other newsstands as well.

I let my eyes run over the racks of magazines and newspapers.  This stand carries everything from porno magazines to Better Homes and gardens.  Every inch of the overcrowded and dusty shelves is packed with crap. Kathy Lee Gifford’s face is splashed across at least three periodicals.  Pushing her image to the side I find what I am looking for.

Rummaging in my pocket I throw a crumpled five dollar bill on the counter.  Scoop up my change and walk up the street.  I can’t wait and begin thumbing through the various listings when I come across it.  It seems like such an innocent little advert at the time.  The headline listing jumps right out at me.

Wanted Seasoned Performers for an Established Company.  Skimming the ad, all the perks are in my favor.  I was perfect for the job until I reached the last part of the ad.

to be continued.........

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writting "Not Only Magic Floats". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Once Upon a Time- Pandoras Box Part 1

Once upon a time…or that’s how all fairy tales start or should start. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t a Fairy Tale but a true tale that takes place in a Magical World… or should have take place in a magical world, at least that’s what the ads promised.

I promise that by once we get to the middle of the tale, you will understand completely what I am hinting at.

So, lets start again. Once upon a time … I needed a job. I am a dancer. That’s what I tell everyone. I try to work steady as a dancer but sometimes I have to work as a waiter, or front desk clerk or an un-knowing coke dealer but that’s another story.

I am a dancer.  I spent the youth of my life vigorously taking class, starving, living in strange places, but dreaming of some day being on Broadway.  Ah Broadway, Isn’t that the end all? Sadly, it is what validates us in the eyes of the world as being a true dancer. Strangers would sit through me spouting my list of credits, only to ask “Ever been on Broadway?”

I had work as a dancer in ballet companies, modern and Jazz Companies and once danced dressed as a lobster on a seafood bar… You have to pay the bills.

Lately I was having a steady stream of good luck but I am quickly coming up to the end of that. I had several dance jobs in a row. I could be found in exotic cities and strange little towns. Step, Kick, Kick, Leap, Kick, Touch, Again. Or you could find me dressed as a Transvestite trying to avoid returning to outer space.

I was having a blast. I was Learning to speak German, French, Dutch and Swedish. That way I could converse and order off the menu. I was working in the European cities that Mozart had travelled through. I was busy seeing all of These United States. I spent three years of my life just traveling on a bus, that doesn’t count performing on various tours, just taking the bus.

Life on the road can be lonely and boring, but that’s the way it is. Sadly, I was very lonely, as I would often find myself alone at the end of the day.

Being out of town so much I had to have relationships that were all long distance.  In the beginning, sleeping with other cast members in the show is fun but it usually ends up causing more problems than it’s worth. If you brake up you find that you have to ignore each other on the bus.

That’s why, one day while I was touring through Germany, I made a vow to myself that I would settle down in one place for at least a year.

It was clear, my path and technique were secure, I wanted to get a Broadway Show! So my plan to get to Broadway was to work and build an extensive resume.  

I would go every audition that I could find in Backstage. Who knows? My philosophy is that “It is better to have to turn down a job, than to never be offered a job.” 

My current job is about to end and I have nothing on the horizon to look forward to. I am close to spending all the money that I had saved from all my previous work, but as I have said, I am a dancer and I live in New York City.

To be continued………

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writting "Not Only Magic Floats". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.