History of The Talented Talent Bros -- Chapter XVIII

Things seemed to turn around that final weekend at The Looking Glass Theatre. The show was running pretty smoothly with occasional moments where we were really hitting our stride. Attendance was up too. A number of folks who saw the show during the festival returned to see it on a larger stage. From a financial stand-point it was too little too late, but from an emotional stand-point it was rewarding.

It was during that final weekend that I really began to realize that this little story of mine had legs and was, indeed, something special. It was deeply personal, yet others were grasping and appreciating the story. There were moments on stage that were beautiful. One that was very special to me was doing my scene with Caitlin … one night it just clicked. It was powerful. It moved both of us. It moved the audience.

Ask any actor and they’ll tell you that they look for moments like those.

Finality

At least the show wouldn’t sputter out, but would conclude on a high note of sorts. I felt a sense of relief. I felt a sense of pride. And I was glad that it was over. The run of The Broken Jump had come to an end … and I was sure that ending signified something much larger. We donated some set pieces to The Looking Glass because it was just easier than trying to move the stuff. The show was over … and I didn’t really care what came of the props and costumes.

It was time to move on. For me … and probably for everybody else involved. Everybody said their good-byes to one another and took off. Irony of ironies, you can probably guess who was left there at the end … doing the final clean-up, moving the final load of stuff out, locking the doors behind us … Matt, Mel and me. This era of The Talented Talent Brothers ended pretty much as it had begun.

Aftermath

The days and weeks that followed The Broken Jump were among the most difficult I have ever encountered. Whether I liked it or not, I was going to have to address issues with my health. I would also have to decide whether or not any of those answers I had come with when asking myself, “Why am I doing this?” were valid. I was going to have to make some tough decisions … personally and professionally.

Weeks after the show had come to an end, I took stock in just how much I had lost. Money, weight, my hair, my family, my job, my pride, my ambition, my sense of self. I had all but lost everything. And why? Because I was trying to create something … something bigger and more important than my self. I was less than pleased with where I was and what I had become.

The whole idea, concept, conceit of The Talented Talent Brothers was to create a creative, communal group with an “all-for-one, one-for-all” attitude. I was trying to create a sense of family within a community of creative-minded people. I wanted to be part of something bigger than I could ever be alone. John, Paul, George and Ringo were special … The Beatles were legend. In some ways, that was the mindset.

I had said years before, at the beginning of this journey, that The Talented Talent Brothers would be my last, best shot. In the weeks that followed The Broken Jump, recovering at home alone, I decided that I would stick to my guns. I had taken my shot and that was that. I had been the driving force behind The Talented Talent Brothers … I was the one who believed in it. I tried to give others opportunity to shine, to create, to become involved, to grab the bull by the horns … but eventually, it all rested squarely on my shoulders. I’m too old and tired to carry that weight any longer.

It was time to concentrate on more important things … on trying to recover all that I had lost over the previous three-plus years. This point was driven home by how minimal a sense of community had been established. After an extended stay in the hospital, the only folks to reach out to me were Mel (a few weeks later while I was visiting Ty in Virginia) and JB (a week or so after that). Just like ever other show I had ever done … folks just moved on. When I was most in need … aw, what’s the use in complaining? It’s not like anybody was shocked.

Starting Over

Sometimes when you remove all the extraneous clutter from your mind and soul, new opportunities arise. I have been blessed to find a new place, a new job and a new opportunity to start over. I left New York … with no fanfare, with hardly a goodbye spoken … and now live by the Carolina coast. A place where I was happy years ago. A place I had always assumed I might retire to. I write this on Christmas Eve … after having spent the afternoon at the beach … from a better place than I had been the last several years.

And The Talented Talent Brothers? They are no more. They were nothing more than a spark of my imagination. They existed only because I believed in them … I don’t any longer. I’ve joined everybody else. It was my last shot … I gambled and lost. It was a great game and I enjoyed playing it … but the game is over. I learned a long time ago to never say never, but I doubt you will ever see me on a theatre’s stage again. I just don’t have that desire in me any more.

I’ll continue to get up on stage at a comedy club here and there, I’ll still write … but performing will no longer be the number one priority in my life any more. My priorities were all out of whack for too long. I suffered from an addiction to being on stage … I’m in a self-imposed rehab now. My priorities are faith, health, family and peace … and I will no longer put those at risk to satisfy a selfish need to be on a theatre’s stage again.

This may sound like an ending … a depressing one at that … but it is not. It is a new beginning. A positive beginning. For a change.

History of The Talented Talent Bros -- Chapter XVII

That early Sunday matinee performance must have been trying for everybody involved. My recollection of that particular performance is minimal. What I do recall is trying to maintain my composure between every scene because I was afraid I was going to have a breakdown at any moment. I recall making it through my long scene with Mel thanks to her strong performance and the fact that the theatre’s air conditioning was blowing right on me. I seem to recall that it was raining after the show and that Mel drove me home. I went right to bed and slept all day and all night only to awake Monday morning feeling like I needed a nap.

Who knows what the rest of the cast thought. You have to give them props for continuing on in a show where the producer and lead actor looked like he had just pulled himself out of the grave. If they thought that, they weren’t too far from the truth.

The final three festival performances of The Broken Jump at Where Eagles Dare were much less eventful than the previous three. We had some good audiences and some small ones. We received a nice write up and I received some positive feedback from a few of the people who caught a performance. I felt better and better with each subsequent performance … the after-effects of my little seizure becoming less and less with each passing day.

Back Through The Looking Glass

Our final festival performance was on Sunday, August 5th. Immediately after the show we hauled everything from Where Eagles Dare on 36th to The Looking Glass Theatre on 57th. We wouldn’t reconvene for a week and a half. But at that time we would need to set up, deal with lights and sound and get ready for the second half of our run.

I had hoped that would go smoothly. With the number of Weasel folks around who were familiar with the space and with JB’s help, I figured this half would be a walk in the park compared to the run during the festival. I should have known better. Nothing has ever been easy where Baby Hippopotamus Productions is involved.

JB had a family emergency and he and Grace would be heading to Texas. We would be without our stage manager and somebody to run our lights and sound for our load-in, tech rehearsal and first weekend performances on 57th Street. The cast rallied together to implement a plan to cover for Grace during scene changes. With a little luck and an ad on craigslist, we found somebody to run our lights and sound and Jack Boice brought in a friend with lighting experience to hang and focus our lights.

But with those issues handled, other issues arose. We were without half of our cast for our tech rehearsal. I was quite disheartened. The camaraderie that had existed during Weasel Erotica was severely diminished this time around. With JB and Grace in Texas, Mel dealing with an emergency in Jersey and other cast members unavailable due to other engagements, the bulk of the load fell on those remaining. Most of the credit in getting everything ready for our “re-opening” must go to Jack Boice and, of course, brother Matt.

Imagine that: Matt once again proving to be the guy that holds everything together.

First Weekend Back

This trend of being disheartened escalated during those first three performances at The Looking Glass Theatre. Our crowds were tiny. I had extended our run to provide our cast with the opportunity to work on a longer run. I, for one, hate the idea of rehearsing for 6-8 weeks just to give two or three performances. Well, we had a longer run, but it didn’t look like anybody cared. I had also hoped that the additional performances would give us a chance to re-coup some of the financial loss. Instead it looked like it was going to only contribute to the financial loss.

And having quit my job that very week sure didn’t brighten my monetary outlook.

The aggravating part of all of this was that the performances were getting stronger and stronger. This was turning into one hell of a show … and nobody was going to see it.

History of The Talented Talent Bros -- Chapter XVI

The run of The Broken Jump was going to be an unusual one. A total of twelve performances were in the works. The first six of which would take place as part of the Midtown International Theatre Festival at Where Eagles Dare Theatre on 36th Street. These performances would take place on a variety of days at a variety of times between July 21st and August 5th. Then we would have another six performances at The Looking Glass Theatre on 57th Street on Fri-Sun between August 17th and 26th. The show was kept simple as to keep it mobile and because, frankly, I was about out of money.

Opening the show was quite exciting. I was nervous about loading in. I was nervous about running long (if the performance ran over our allotted time we would be fined). I was nervous about loading out. I was nervous about whether or not anybody would bother to come see the show. And finally, I was nervous about my own performance. For our first performance, I needn't have worried about anything ... well, except my performance, which left a bit to be desired.

Breaking Down During The Broken Jump

Our third festival performance was on a Sunday at 11am. Why anybody would bother to schedule a show at this time was beyond me. I felt a sense of dread in the days before that particular show that nobody would come and we would just wind up hauling everything right back to my office on 42nd Street. Little did I realize how much of an ordeal that particular performance would actually be.

The night before I stayed at home, watched a ballgame, ordered a pizza and generally had a relaxing (albeit somewhat lonely) evening. A little after 11pm I got ready to go to bed. I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, turned off the TV and headed into the bedroom. I felt a little lightheaded, but thought nothing of it. I had eaten too much earlier and felt like a tinge of heartburn was about to kick in. Then I went into the bedroom, started to set the alarm clock ... and all hell broke loose ... internally.

Quite suddenly I was overwhelmed with pain. The only way I can accurately describe it is like this: imagine a Charlie Horse (surely you've had one of those) as severe as possible. Now imagine that taking place all over your entire body from your armpits to your knees. I collapsed onto my cold, hard tile floor. Wearing nothing but a pair of unzipped jeans, I writhed around on the floor, banging my head against the chest-of-drawers. I rolled back and forth trying to relieve the pain. In a matter of seconds I realized that this was something more severe than I had ever encountered.

I tried getting up, but couldn't. The pain of having damn near every muscle in my body contract was searing. I quite literally crawled back into the living room, desperately racing for my cell phone. The process of pulling my body across the floor had pulled my pants down around my ankles. Searching for my phone I thought, "This is it. I'm gonna die. In Union City, New Jersey in my underwear. Alone." My recollection of the next several moments is hazy. I don't actually recall speaking to the 911 operator, but know that I made the call. I don't recall getting to my door, but somehow I did. I do remember thinking as the paramedics came up the stairs that they sure had responded fast. And I do recall crying through all of this, thinking that I did not want to die this way.

By the time they loaded me in the ambulance, the pain had mostly subsided. I was sore. I ached. I was nauseous. I wanted to throw up. My head was pounding. I was exhausted. But I felt alright. They took me to Christ Hospital on Palisade where they stuck an IV into my arm and kept me under observation. Actually, I don't know that they observed anything. I fell asleep trying to figure out how I had a t-shirt on, because I hadn't had one on when the paramedics arrived. I guess that one of the paramedics grabbed some clothes from my house. They would come in handy in the morning.

I awoke a little before 8am in a quiet and empty hospital room. Suddenly I panicked. I had a performance in three hours. I saw a pair of socks and my sneakers over in a corner. I knew I didn't have time to mess around. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm, put my socks and shoes on (I had a t-shirt and my jeans on), walked briskly past an empty nurses' station and right out of the hospital. I didn't have my cell phone on me, but my wallet was in my back pocket. Unfortunately, I didn't have any cash and my debit card was at home next to my computer. I didn't have time to waste. I would have to walk.

I walked as quickly as I could all the way home. I felt a strong chill all over my body, yet I was pouring sweat. After about 10 minutes of walking my head hurt so bad that my vision would occasionally blur. The weather was cool, but not cold. I wanted a cigarette. I just kept hustling ... a cup of coffee, a smoke, a splash of water on the face ... they were all waiting for me at my apartment. So was my costume and props for the show ... sitting in my gym bag next to my bed. By the time I made it home my shirt was drenched in sweat and my body ached. I felt as weak as a newborn and struggled to get up the three flights of stairs.

It was 9:15am when I got home. I guzzled an entire bottle of water, changed shirts, put some deodorant on, grabbed my debit card, gym bag, a ball cap and some change and went right back out the door. Going down the stairs was just as difficult as coming up. I walked (much more slowly now) to the bus stop and was glad I didn't have to wait at all to catch one. I fell asleep on the short drive to the city. Once there, I made it to the office at 9:45 ... I had made good time. I crawled on the couch and tried to get comfortable. People would be arriving soon to load stuff up. Maybe if I rested for a few minutes I would feel better, right?

Not so. By the time JB and Grace arrived I was so stiff and in so much aching pain that I couldn't even help them load stuff onto the hand trucks for our "performance day caravan." I was starting to wonder if I would even have the strength to make it through the show.

During this whole ordeal -- the 2.1 mile walk from the hospital (I looked it up on Mapquest before I wrote this), the physical trauma of this unusual seizure I suffered and the aches and pains associated with it, the checking myself out of the hospital and the exhausted collapse on the sofa at work -- I kept asking myself, "Why am I doing this? Why am I risking my health, my life? Why am I spending thousands of dollars I don't have? What am I getting out of this?"

I didn't like the answers I came up with ...

History of The Talented Talent Bros -- Chapter XV

Rehearsals for The Broken Jump were underway and we still had not found an actor to play Mr. Klein. JB and I debated a number of solutions, the first of which was to ask our cast if they knew of anybody. We were both of the mindset that it would be beneficial to bring in an actor who already had an established relationship with a current cast member, if not ourselves. Caitlin recommended a friend of hers and JB immediately gave him a call.

Enter “the Cuban Missile” Dan Hernandez into our hectic and odd little world. Dan didn’t necessarily “look” the part but JB and I both thought he “felt” right. He was pleasant and likable and since we didn’t want to role to be a caricature or to come across as a jerk, we both felt that Dan would be a solid addition to our cast. Plus, he and Caitlin already had an established relationship having gone to college together … it’s always good to have a degree of familiarity when starting a new project like this. They would have some degree of the same comfort level that Matt, Mel, Tony and I already had. Our cast was filled out and we felt that we could move forward, full steam ahead.

Things would quickly have a different feel than we had experienced in either Abnormal Stew or Weasel Erotica. For one, we were rehearsing in a new location, Pearl Studios, after having the majority of our previous rehearsals at Shetler Studios. Pearl was a great location with brand new rehearsal studios and the advantage of offering us a bit of a discount since we were booking so much time. Everyone (exluding myself, obviously) was not that familiar with JB (they had all met him but nobody had worked with him) and I did get the impression that there was a “feeling out” period that had been less prominent during Weasel Erotica.

I imagine that things might have been most awkward for Melissa, having directed us the last time out and being very much an outspoken leader who was comfortable telling her "brothers" what to do. However, everybody seemed to quickly appreciate JB and a sense of camaraderie was slowly starting to develop. This might have even been improved when Grace Falconer came on board as our stage manager … she was great and much of the credit for holding the whole thing together must go to her.

On a personal level, rehearsals were not all that easy for me. I spent a lot of my energy simply trying not to get sick. Exhaustion set in and set in hard and there were more than a few nights where the last thing I wanted to do was rehearse. I was having a hard time concentrating and felt very uncertain about the performance I was developing … which seemed to me odd, since the character was my creation and so very close to me. There were more than a few nights where rehearsal (for me) was more about trying not to throw up for three hours than actually getting some productive rehearsal in. I persevered … but not nearly as well as I had in the past.

On top of all this, I was trying to promote the show, attend festival meetings, get mailings out and find/buy all the props and set pieces we would need. Thank goodness for JB and Grace who had, found or donated a number of items and took some of that load off my shoulders. Some credit must also go to Kelly Heaton (who had built our weasel puppets a year before) for taking care of some of the costuming chores that I simply hadn’t the time or energy to address.

The musical portions of the show were ignored for too long … primarily because we hadn’t had the opportunity to get the music recorded. I felt bad that I had constantly dropped the ball on this and was relieved when Grace brought in a musician friend of hers to get the recordings finally done a few weeks before we opened. I was also relieved that both Jack Boice and Caitlin Mehner were experienced musical performers and were able to tackle their numbers with confidence. Tony and I, however, were a different story and much time in the last few weeks were spent getting more comfortable with our number at the top of the show.

Festival performances were also going to present a challenge in that we would have to load-in and load-out with each performance. There really was no storage space at the facility to speak of, so once again my office on 42nd Street would become the home of all of our stuff. We would re-visit the days of Abnormal Stew with a group trek to 36th Street before each performance. I would also have to cope with working in an office over run with costumes, props and set pieces. Ah, the sacrifices we make.

The more things change, the more they stay the same …

History of The Talented Talent Bros -- Chapter XIV

The months leading up to the opening of The Broken Jump were pretty darn eventful. I had dreamt up a new concept for Baby Hippopotamus Productions while in San Francisco for a CfMC Conference. A friend and I had talked briefly about the advantages of a company (not necessarily a production company) being an Employee Owned Enterprise … where the employees were able to buy stock in the company and thereby have a stake in the company’s future. It is an interesting concept that rewards loyalty and allows everyone to participate in the success of an organization. Wouldn’t it be cool if Baby Hippopotamus functioned in a similar manner?

Entertainer Owned Partnership?

The basic concept would be simple: Baby Hippopotamus would promote and, in some cases, produce gigs for a variety of entertainers. The entertainer would “invest” a small percentage of their income for the gig in Baby Hippopotamus … a certain percentage if Baby Hippo only promoted the gig, a higher percentage if Baby Hippo produced the gig. This capital (and we’re not talking about a lot of money really) could then be used to produce bigger and better gigs. The entertainers involved would have a stake in the success of the other entertainers, thereby almost forcing a situation where we all worked together and supported one another. Baby Hippopotamus Productions could be more than just The Talented Talent Brothers.

Right out of the gate, I had another entertainer … or “entertainment package” … which was my new career as a stand-up comedian. Thanks to Laz Viciedo, I had really become invested in this new venture. I enjoy stand-up (and am intimidated by stand-up) more than I imagined I would. After twenty-plus years of being a performer I suddenly had this new outlet and I was (and am) only a beginner. There was so much to learn, so many more challenges … I was a novice all over again and it was exciting.

On top of that, Rebecca was really becoming interested in putting together her own little cabaret act and had been invited to put a show together at Vlada Lounge. She did and was terrific. After her first show I could envision how a little time, a little money and a little effort would be all that was necessary for her to have a full-fledged act that could be booked into any lounge, cabaret or club in New York. She has the pipes, she has the charm and she comes fully equipped with a following.

With my comedy act, Rebecca’s cabaret act and new Talent Bros show on the horizon, maybe this silly little idea could work. And more importantly, maybe this silly little idea would bring in more talent and more commitment from other entertainers. Maybe this could create the sense of community and ownership I was hoping for.

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

Of course this would all be academic if we couldn’t get The Broken Jump put together. Being part of the Midtown International Theatre Festival (MITF) could bring us some publicity and recognition, but we had to have a solid cast come show time. So JB and I set to work preparing for our next set of auditions.

To this day I am not sure why we received so many submissions for Weasel Erotica and so few for The Broken Jump (only about 100 really, if that many). The most likely culprit was that we were looking for specific types this time around, primarily a girl young enough to play Christina. Since there was only the one female role available, I guess the biggest reason was that actresses in their late-twenties or thirties and actresses who just didn’t look young enough simply didn’t submit. After all, it was that type that submitted in bulk for Weasel. We were also looking for older males to play Senator Drew and Mr. Klein, so we weren’t bombarded with the young leading man types either.

Ultimately this was an advantage. There were fewer headshots and resumes to sift through. Auditions were scheduled for a single day at Shetler Studios and we did our best to see all the men first and then all the potential Christinas later when Rebecca was available. JB and I agreed that having Rebecca’s input on casting somebody who could actually sing would be invaluable.

Desmond Arrives

I had also decided to make one major change to the script. I would add a new character, Irish comedian and singer Desmond Donagal. He was written explicitly for Jack Boice to play. Once Jack had expressed interest in doing the show I began to look for how we could include him. I am a firm believer that if you have somebody with remarkable talent, you don’t let that go to waste. Since none of the roles left in the script were for a singing part (and since we wouldn’t expect just to randomly add a song for the Senator to sing), I set to crafting Desmond for Jack’s unique talents.

I had met Jack during The Passion Play in 2006 and developed a good rapport with him. He is a gifted performer who can “sing the sh*t out of a song” and I knew early on that his personality would be a good fit with the Talent Bros.

I redistributed some lines from Jack and from Milton (and from Julius, for that matter) and created the role of this nuisance of a performer who would be an old friend of Julie’s and an annoyance to Jack. Not a terribly big part, but a scene stealing part … perfect for my old friend Jack. All we would have to do is dress him like a leprechaun and let the magic just happen.

From The Audition

Greg Homison was the first person to audition for us and, as he left, we knew that somebody was going to have to blow us out of the water to take the part of Senator Drew away from him. He looked right, he sounded right, he felt right … JB and I didn’t really have to debate much at all. The role is demanding and features an extremely long monologue (a campaign rally speech) near the top of the show that would be daunting to anyone. We just knew that Greg would be the one to tackle it.

Casting Christina was an altogether different experience. JB wanted them to perform a monologue, perform their song and also read a scene opposite me. I knew what he was looking for … could they act? Could they sing? And did they look and feel right with Julius? We had one actress that looked perfect (she really could have been related to Melissa) but her song wasn’t strong enough. We had another who had a good song but felt wrong with me (JB commented that he thought she wanted to get in my pants. Not a bad thing, but certainly not right for the part. Damn his artistic integrity!) when we read our scene together. Others just didn’t look like they could pull off the youth of the character convincingly.

Only little spitfire Caitlin Mehner fit the bill in all categories … she had the pipes, she looked young, she looked like she could be family (although JB commented that she looked much more like me than Melissa, which was certainly an interesting element for the show) and she certainly had the energy. In retrospect, there was no other choice. She may not know what she was getting herself into, but pretty little Caitlin Mehner would be joining our merry band of misfits.

We were still without a Mr. Klein though. We had auditioned a number of guys for the part but none of them really stood out for us. In fact, some of them seemed completely wrong for the part … and one of them frankly freaked us out a bit. Ah well, it wouldn’t be the first time we proceeded without one role cast … no reason to stop us now. We would find a solution soon enough … or at least we had better.

History of The Talented Talent Bros -- Chapter XIII

You would have to go back to 1991 and the beginning of the In The Round Productions era of my life/career (maybe I should write a history of that period?) back in Texas to find a time where I worked so repetitiously with the same core group of people. Although I knew going in that this one was going to be more difficult than the others and also not being informed yet of the decisions from the theatre festivals we submitted to, I went ahead and began to put together the team for The Broken Jump.

Avengers Assemble

Although Melissa had done a phenomenal job directing Weasel Erotica, I knew right out of the gate that I wanted her to play Natalie in The Broken Jump. There were several reasons for this, not the least of which is that she is a damn fine actress. I had suspected during Hamlet and had seen firsthand during Love’s Labors Lost that she was a strong and commanding presence on stage. She exudes the intelligence, strength and beauty that I wanted for the part. On top of that, if I was going to go through with this, then I frankly needed Melissa right there with me. Not backstage, not off stage, not up in a light booth … I needed her quite literally right there with me.

In all honesty, if Melissa had not been available, had turned down the part or had decided she didn’t want to participate in this show; I would not have proceeded any further. Whether because of a lack of confidence in myself or just the simple fact that I enjoyed Melissa as a performer, she had to play Natalie … end of discussion. I had grown to care for her on a deeply personal level and had become accustomed, to some degree, to relying on her and leaning on her. This was going to be a very personal journey, this was going to be a physically demanding task, this was not going to be easy … and I needed Melissa right there to grab hold of in an emergency.

It may sound silly here and now … but I can tell you pure and simple, I was not going to do this without her. She was that important to the project … she is that important to me.

Plus, I had another directing option (I sure as hell wasn’t going to direct this thing myself) staring me right in the face. In the months that immediately followed Weasel Erotica, JB and I had re-established a connection. In the year that had passed since the Abnormal Stew fall-out, things had changed … JB had grown, I had grown … we both simply moved past it. Each of us had seen our personal lives shaken to the very core. Apologies weren’t necessary … we had come to terms with whatever rift there may have been between us. “If mama says we’re family, we’re family.”

In the past year JB had become divorced, quit acting and changed his creative focus more towards directing and filmmaking. His first small project was creative, imaginative and visually fantastic. He was already preparing to direct a Spring/early-Summer production of The Merchant of Venice when I gave him the script to read. JB (now J.B. Lawrence) liked what he read and I knew he had to be the guy to take the reins on this one.

One of the themes of The Broken Jump is coming to terms with one’s mistakes, making amends and striving to move on to a better place. There couldn’t be a better theme for the first project that would reunite the two of us. JB would have my faith and trust and he would direct The Broken Jump.

Filling Out the Cast

The first advantage JB had was that he was directing a Talented Talent Brother show. He knew me. He knew where I was coming from. He also knew that he had several of his primary roles already cast … like Tony King playing Milton Kean. Although he had read Jack at the Super Bowl Sunday read-thru, I don’t think there was every any doubt in anybody’s mind that Tony would play Milt. Brash, young and cocky, Milton was Julius’ partner and had served as his mentor’s straight man. But circumstances, desire and some less-than-stellar material were about to push him out of the crib and into the big bad world. If there was an actor born to play this role, it was certainly Tony.

Plus, Tony and I had realized during Weasel Erotica that we hardly spent any time on stage together and we both knew that had to be remedied this time around.

Another challenge that The Broken Jump would present to both JB and I was that, although not a musical, our initial draft had three musical numbers in it. Neither of us comes from a strong musical theatre background and we certainly didn’t want these numbers to come off half-assed. Luckily, we had our own little “Opera Girl” in-house and Rebecca Sponseller was quickly recruited. A naturally gifted singer, she has her Masters degree in this nonsense … that trumps anything JB or I could possibly bring to the table. Rebecca would be on hand to help us cast our Christina (who would be required to sing a solo) and to whip Tony and I into shape so that we didn’t make fools of ourselves during our routine.

Not to blow smoke up anybody’s tail pipe here, but Matt (brother Mo Talent) Olsem might just secretly be the best actor I have ever worked with. Although he played a fine Claudius in Hamlet, I don’t think I started to realize this guy’s potential until LLL and certainly saw it take center stage in Weasel Erotica. Matt could play the leading man role, he could play the more “show-y” parts … but that is not necessarily where his strength lies. A play is better served if Matt is cast where he can better serve the play … which may sound redundant to you, but makes perfectly good sense to me (and this is my blog, so the heck with you). Matt is an anchor. Matt is the hub of our little wheel … I may be out there on one of the spokes making a damn fool of myself, but it is Matt that is holding everything together. That’s the way we roll …

However, where to cast Matt was initially something of an uncertainty. I had initially thought of Jack because the more I worked on the script, the more prominent Jack was in holding the through-line in place. Then again, wouldn’t the Senator be an interesting departure for Matt to play? JB and I had numerous discussions about how to best use Matt. And I want to point out a difference here … we discussed how to best use Matt, not what part he would play. It is a tribute to Matt’s talent that we were less concerned about what his role would be, what size his role was, what role best fit him and more concerned with how Matt would best serve the play.

Halfway There

This still left us with some significant roles to fill, not the least of which would be Christina. Where were we going to find a pre-teen (or preferably, a twenty-something would could pass for thirteen in a pinch) with the acting chops to tackle the part and the voice to sing a solo? Oh boy …

We were accepted as an official selection of the 8th Annual Midtown International Theatre Festival and now had an opening date in July set. With six performances at the festival, I went ahead and started to make arrangements to hold additional performances back at The Looking Glass Theatre for August … I hated the idea of working this long and this hard on a project for so few performances.

But if we were going to get this show on its feet, we needed to find the rest of our cast. Looks like its time for another round of Baby Hippopotamus Productions auditions … yay!

History of The Talented Talent Bros -- Chapter XII

In January 2007 I had assembled the bits and pieces that would make up The Broken Jump.

I wanted, sprinkled throughout the story, vaudeville routines that might liven up the proceedings and do a good job of establishing tone and character. First I turned to a sketch I had put together in 1999 and performed with James Langer at the annual 5 by O. Henry production at the Greensboro Historical Museum (yes, if you haven’t been able to tell already, I am a firm believer in recycling material if it works) and then began to turn to musical bits and pieces. I knew I wanted to do a little Gallagher & Shean bit and would open the show with that number. I also found another rare gem from the period written by one Leonard Marx (wink!) that would be an ideal song for the show.

I was fairly confident that my story would be moving and was beginning to become pleased with how it offset with the humor from the vaudeville bits. But every time I read through it I was uncertain how it might sound, how it might play, somewhere other than in my head. The next step was obvious … I would have to have a reading of this latest draft of the script. I needed to hear it come from the voices of talented people. I had to find out if the story would progress as it did in my imagination. But it needed to be in a casual situation …

Super Bowl Sunday

So a reading was scheduled at my place on Super Bowl Sunday (as mentioned in this blog at the time) with the idea that folks could come pre-game, have a drink, read the play and then stick around to watch the Colts beat and batter the Bears. It couldn’t be more casual than that, right?

So I invited friends and “family” (primarily the Weasel crew) out to Union City to give this script a little look-see and enjoy one another’s company. Melissa, Rebecca, Tony, Jeremy and Jessica all agreed and came out … luckily The Broken Jump has a small cast … and although only Rebecca and Tony really stuck around for the game we did manage to squeeze in a read. The results of which I was pretty happy with. It sounded okay. Reading Julius McGowen out loud was something of an eye-opening experience … this guy really was me.

Julius McGowen and the Other Characters

The primary character in The Broken Jump was always written with the intent that I would play the role. In fact, to say that Julius is my alter-ego would be something of an understatement. We are one and the same. I may have never been a vaudeville comedian, I certainly wasn’t alive in 1918, I don’t normally carry a cigar with me onstage (although it was remarkably comfortable), I’ve never been to Michigan or Canada … but Julie’s heart, mind and soul are parallel to my own.

Milton Kean, Julie’s stage partner, was also an interesting role to write. In some respects he personified the confidence of my youth, filled with carefree ambition. I still find it interesting that I would write Milt as a younger go-getter … so much of my “career” has been spent with other actors younger than myself. In some ways he reminds me of my old Lubbock protégé Hayden Hooper … but he reminds me of my twenty-something self much, much more. Within the play he would serve as a constant reminder of what Julie had been.

Initially, in my mind at least, these were to be the two most well drawn out characters in the story. But one’s creativity has a funny way of throwing you a curveball and I found that, as I wrote, I was falling in love with theatre owner Jack Ruby. I had originally envisioned Jack as a fairly standard stock character who was only necessary to help move the plot forward. But the more I wrote him, the more I thought about him, the more I enjoyed him. His backstory would be as rich as Julius’ … an ex-boxer, perhaps a little punch drunk but not as slow on the uptake as you would guess, a true friend and confidant to Julie with a truck-load of his own headaches to deal with.

Writing Natalie and Christina was another challenge altogether. Their scenes with Julius were among the last written and certainly the most re-visited. For one, they were both from that mysterious gender … female … that I have never (and will never) fully understand. Each had a bond to Julius … and those bonds served as primary conflicts within the play and within Julie’s psyche. Natalie, whom Julius had been in love with years before, had to be brighter and stronger than Julie … but the spectre of their lost love had to scar her as well. Christina, only a child, had to have an immediate bond with Julius that might be awkward and uncomfortable … but it needed to be natural. I agonized over those scenes … those relationships. One thing I was certain of, however, was that if there was guilt or blame to be had, it must lay solidly at Julius’ feet. Maybe that would wind up being uncomfortable to play, but it was important to Julie’s voyage through the story.

Senator Drew was actually an easy character to write, but I was concerned with how he would be played. I was afraid that he might come across as the bad guy and I certainly didn’t want that. Although some in today’s society might see him as conservative (in fact, a few sentences in his opening speech were adapted from a speech given by Ronald Reagan) I didn’t want to make the equation: conservative = evil. In fact, just the opposite … his concern regarding children in our society very closely mirrors my own. As I wrote him, I found that I really liked Senator Drew. If he were running for President in ’08, he would get my vote.

First Breath

Hearing these characters brought to life, even though only in my smoke-filled living room by a group of actors cold-reading while downing a cold brew, sent a charge through my body. Although I was disappointed not to get more feedback from the group, the feedback I did receive and my own observations led me to believe that this could actually be something special on a stage. It needed some work here and there and it certainly wasn’t going to win a Nobel Prize or anything … but it was a good story. Good enough to submit to a couple of festivals.

And after a little cleaning up and a bit of a re-write, that’s exactly what I did … submitted the script (along with our company’s production history, bios on folks who would be involved, a financial and advertising plan) to the New York Fringe Festival and to the Midtown International Theatre Festival. Having done likewise with the original draft of Abnormal Stew and being rejected by both, I was also making preparations to produce The Broken Jump regardless of inclusion into either festival. My God, was I really going to do this again … ?

My mind was made up … this would be our next show.

History of The Talented Talent Bros -- Chapter XI

It is a testament to how much I enjoyed working with the Weasel folks that even before our run ended I was looking into some way to reunite us all for another show. I can honestly say that I have never felt that way about a cast before. It was during a performance one night, while listening to Tony’s striptease scene, that I realized I had just such a vehicle sitting at home in a manilla folder. I had already outlined our next show … and I had done it over a decade before.

Outline of an Unfinished Play

Quincy & the Showgirls was the working title for an outline to a play that I had dreamt up sometime in the early ‘90s. The plot involved some complex mistaken identity / double identity stuff that was inspired by the Carmen Miranda / Groucho Marx film Copacabana. It revolved around Quincy, a washed-up comedian who was trying his hand at being a theatrical agent and his one client, his gorgeous burlesque dancer girlfriend Trixie. Trixie, as sweet as she was, had no higher aspirations than to be a showgirl and marry Quincy, who refused to get married until he could afford to support her. Ironically, Trixie was the only one bringing home the bacon.

Enter Quincy’s home grown, corn fed younger sister from Indiana (Indiana?) Ethel (Ethel?) who just so happens to be a terrific singer and is hoping her big brother can give her a leg up in the big city (which is never defined, although we assume it to be Las Vegas). Suddenly Quincy has another client who he tries to sell to Herbert, the owner of the club/theatre that employs Trixie. Herb is interested, but wants to know if Quincy has any other clients … perhaps somebody more exotic? Quincy, lying through his teeth, says that he also represents Nancy Nefratiti, an Egyptian songbird that only performs under a veil and who would certainly be out of Herb’s price range. Herb says that he’ll be the judge of that and would like both ladies to audition for him that afternoon.

Some quick change magic and a few little white lies and Ethel is going on with the charade not knowing the duplicity involved. Naturally Herb likes them both and hires both on the spot. Yikes! Now poor Ethel will have to perform as two people each night. Meanwhile, Herb’s kooky secretary Jean is suspicious of the duplicity and could unravel everything at any point in time were she not out of her mind. Jean’s dilemma is complicated further by an unrequited love for Richard King (wow, original name there, huh?), the house Elvis impersonator. Obviously, hilarity ensues.

The outline also featured a number of other fun little elements … Jean’s day dreams would become full-on song and dance numbers and Mr. King’s Elvis would age through the course of the play, going from young Elvis to fat-sequined Elvis (inspired by the Elvis stamps that had come out recently). Quincy would accidentally go on stage as a showgirl, the bank would try to foreclose on Herb’s establishment, Mr. King would flirt with and chase Nancy Nefratiti before recognizing true love and a police detective would arrive attempting to arrest Nefratiti for not having proper immigration papers.

Was it Ahead of It’s Time?

It was a busy, convoluted idea … no wonder I never bothered to finish writing it. But now I had inspiration … Bob’s Burlesque. The club where Roy (Tony) did his dance number in Weasel Erotica. I could see it, and cast it, now: I would play Quincy (after all, why not have the worst comic play the worst comic), Anne McDaniels could play Trixie, Rebecca Sponseller would tackle Ethel/Nefratiti, Herb would become Bob and be played by Matt, Richard King would become Tony King and be played by … Tony King, Jeremy Sykes could come back as the dim-witted detective, Jennifer Sandella was just kooky enough to be Jean … my God, it was perfect! Bob’s Burlesque would be our next show. It wouldn’t be a sequel to Weasel Erotica, but something of a parallel universe to Weasel Erotica. I was even trying to decide how I could work Gary & Weezie (the weasels) in for a cameo.

So, I set to work revising the story … turning Quincy & the Showgirls into Bob’s Burlesque. There would be full scale production numbers, dancers and showgirls, sequins and feathers. Although not necessarily musical theatre (only in Jean’s fantasies would people break out into song for no reason) we would see and enjoy elements of the shows being performed at Bob’s … particularly Ethel, Nefratiti and Mr. King. This could work. This could really, really work.

After a few months of writing, tweaking and day dreaming I put Bob’s Burlesque on the back burner though. As it was shaping up there was no way this could be the next Baby Hippopotamus Production … it was just too much. If Weasel had cost $14K to produce, then this thing would cost $50K easy … dancers, musicians, Vegas-style costumes, a proper venue … how in the world could this get produced out of my back pocket when I was already having a hard time just paying my bills? I enjoyed the story and dreamt about how much fun it would be to do … but was it worth the cost?

The Broken Jump

Plus, I was already invested in this other idea I had. The Broken Jump was originally dreamt of as a film taking place primarily on trains telling the story of a couple of vaudeville comedians. It would be an atmospheric piece (with dingy theatres, snow covered train stations, soot and ash) that would un-romanticize the era of American vaudeville. The original idea had come up in 2002 and was very different than the show that would be produced in 2007. For one reason or another I saw this concept as a perfect opportunity to tell a very personal story, a very different story. The events of the past five years would alter The Broken Jump beyond recognition.

While on a business trip to San Jose, CA I found myself in a hotel room writing not what I thought was amusing and would be fun, but rather writing from the very core of my being. I admit to a sense of excitement and fear as, for the first time in my life, I opened up my very soul and put it on a page. This story was morphing into something very personal … the issues, the atmosphere, the dialogue … it was all me. It came out quick, and in something of a haze. When I looked over it I questioned whether it was something I could even share … much less produce.

It was lacking in structure, much of the dialogue sounded like it came from my voice only and not the different characters, it was vague on certain elements and situations … but it was my story. My heart … my hurt …

But would anybody get it? Would anybody enjoy it? I had to find out …

History of The Talented Talent Bros -- Chapter X

The Looking Glass Theatre is a un-air conditioned space under a church on 57th Street. The space is fairly old and features some nice leaky pipes in the ceiling and wants to flood if and when there is any rain. There is a huge fan that attempts to keep the place cool during the summer months, but once you fire up the stage lighting the place (at least on stage and backstage) becomes something of an oven. This was discovered a few days before we opened on August 4, 2006. The Wednesday prior to opening, we moved in – “load in day,” they call it – and as fate would have it, it was the hottest day of the year in New York with temperatures in excess of 100 degrees.

Nothing comes easy.

Considering how minimal our set was one would think that load in would not be terribly time consuming or exhausting. They would be wrong. A good amount of our time would be spent hanging and focusing lights. Thank goodness that Melissa recruited a friend of hers who just so happened to be a bit of a lighting expert. Raven would be more than valuable that day as we quickly discovered that the space had some major issues – the wiring (or cabling) was a convoluted, tangled, hazardous mess. We would have to pull everything down, rewire, re-hang all the units, point and focus and then program the light board to accommodate all of our scene changes, of which there were quite a few. All credit for making our low-budget, hardly-a-set-at-all production goes to Raven … he did a magnificent job with the tools at hand.

It is truly amazing how cleaning a stage, hanging a bunch of black fabric, making a “Bob’s Burlesque” sign out of Christmas lights, running a few errands and such in ridiculously hot and humid temperatures can wipe you out. I am certain that at some point in time I actually suffered a heat stroke. Luckily we were able to get everything done and actually have a rehearsal in the space that evening. The entire cast pitched in and worked their butts off to make sure it was all done. A solid, complete and collaborative effort. Whew!

Weasel Erotica Rolls

The next four weeks would be filled with fun on stage, fairly good-sized audiences (for the most part), a practical joke here and there, a constant battle to stay cool and just a great deal of enjoyment. Although there were nights where I had to suck it up, put on a brave face and ignore the pain I was in. But once I hit the stage, all was right with the world. Professor Wagstaff might be dehydrated and sweaty, but he was back and he was ridiculous.

As mentioned before, Weasel Erotica contained a handful of elements first worked out during Abnormal Stew. I would perform a variation of the “Monster-logue” towards the end of Act I (this time with the bonus of having Rebecca sing her own rendition of “Embraceable You”), She Said Maybe would set up our young couple’s relationship near the top of the play, Harry (played by Matt) would torture the evil Mr. Grimm with a variation of the “deaf guy” bit and Tony and the monster would question one another’s sexuality in a variation of He-Man’s bit from Stew. Even the legal disclaimer would make an appearance in Act II as I would come out on stage and apologize for offending the audience while Jeremy made a massive costume change from Larry back to Grimm.

Every night was a new experience as folks adlibbed here and there and explored their comedic potential. I was genuinely surprised most nights to find out just what Rebecca might pull from her impressive (and adored) cleavage each night … brussel sprouts, ice cream, an artificial hand, a hot dog with mustard … during my speech to-end-all-speeches. Tony and Jeremy would explore the boundaries of bad taste in bed (and one night, I explored it on Jeremy’s behalf). Kimi would be forced to do different animal imitations on occasion. The show was meant to be nothing more than silly and the cast embraced the idea whole-heartedly.

I have mentioned in this blog several times my disregard for critics and reviews, but was pleased that we received a few nice little write-ups and one completely nasty, negative podcast of a review. I was thrilled by them all. Good press, bad press … so what? As long as our audiences were having fun (the majority of them certainly seemed to) and as long as we were having fun, what did it matter?

This cast also loved to party with one another and some of the evenings spent post-show were great fun ... jeez, I drank a lot for a few weeks there. This was one run that I was not looking forward to ending. I was dreading the “load-out” considering how exhausting the “load-in” had been, I was not looking forward to a scheduled surgery the week after the close of the show (it would be postponed until the middle of September) and frankly I wasn’t looking forward to saying good-bye to this group of people. Actors have a habit of moving on after a show and those relationships just kind of fall by the wayside (another topic I have covered in this blog) and this is a natural progression that I didn’t want to accept.

How sad it would be to say good-bye to Weasel Erotica. But the success and sheer joy of the experience really got me to thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, this whole Talented Talent Brother thing could continue. However, I was fully aware that for it to continue I would have to go back to the drawing board. Fact of the matter is that nobody has really grasped and embraced this silly little concept (or maybe I should say, conceit). Clyde and Jabbar didn’t grasp it. Neither did Jef or Paige. JB grasped it for a bit but it ultimately wasn’t a priority. It wasn’t necessarily a priority for Matt, Mel and Tony either. Baby Hippopotamus Productions and The Talented Talent Brothers were my creation and would only move forward with my driving it.

Don’t get me wrong, I have zero negative feelings towards Clyde, Jabbar, Jef, JB, Matt, Mel or Tony … it’s not their baby, they feel little if any ownership of it. The ownership, as much as I might wish it otherwise, is all mine. I breathed first life into it and it would require my breath, my energy and my dedication (not to mention my time and my money) to survive. And although I was completely exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally my mind was swirling with what could be the next step in this little adventure.


But there was also a more personal story that I wanted to tell …