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Letter of introduction written in 1997/ The Letter

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  Dear Friends, It’s taken me quite a while to sit down and write this. Recently, I received an email from someone who had a terrible experience in the theatre world, and it stirred something in me. After much reflection, I’ve decided to share a story of my own. It’s not easy to tell—and perhaps, by doing so, I’m committing a kind of theatre suicide—but here it goes. This journey began over a year ago, with an audition for what was described as an exciting new project from an established company. I won’t name the company directly—though by the end, you may be able to guess. I auditioned alongside about 100 other hopefuls. We danced, sang, and were slowly whittled down through cut after cut. My photo was taken with a Polaroid, and I was even measured for costumes. Then came the words every performer longs to hear: “You got the job.” I was given a start date and told to be ready. Six months passed. Nothing. Not a word. The start date came and went. I found myself shouting at the TV e...
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Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 1

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  Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 1 Every Thursday morning, I made my usual trip to the neighborhood newsstand to pick up the latest issue of   Backstage . For those outside the business,   Backstage   is the go-to trade paper for the entertainment industry. Back then, it was one of the few essential resources for finding auditions and staying connected to the ever-changing pulse of show business. Nestled between ads for voice coaches, dance studios, and acting classes, you'd find pages packed with audition notices—if you were lucky. This paper, along with a healthy dose of ambition, had the power to transform a chorus dancer into a headliner overnight. Timing was everything. You had to grab it first thing in the morning—before the listings went cold. We used to joke that the auditions were “fresher” before noon. But living in an artist-heavy neighborhood came with its disadvantages. My local stand often had a line, and worse, it sometimes sold out. There was a rumor...
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Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 2

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  Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 2 This audition was for what I like to call   the Company . The name alone gave me pause. Could I really do it again? Could I swallow my pride, ignore the ghosts of the past, and go back for another round? My brain wasn’t sure, but my bank account was screaming yes. There weren’t many listings in   Backstage   that week, and this one did boast a new show with music by a known Broadway composer. On paper, it sounded promising. But in my gut, all I could feel was the heavy memory of how things had gone the last time I worked for them. Was it really as bad as I remembered? Maybe I’d exaggerated it over time. I mean, I   did   make friends, and I   did   love the weather and the apartment we were crammed into. Had I let the frustration of crappy treatment erase all of that? Had I thrown out the baby with the bathwater? My head was spinning. I sat down on someone’s stoop and lit a cigarette, watching the smoke curl abo...
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Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 3

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  Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 3 I recognized almost everyone in my group—familiar faces from a hundred other auditions. We were the first fifty called in, and the room we were herded into was tiny. They packed us in like sardines. Within minutes, the space was hot, cramped, and buzzing with nerves. We tossed our dance bags to the side and took our spots. As usual, a long table was set up at the front. Behind it sat the casting director—someone I’d auditioned for more times than I could count. He’d only cast me twice. Next to him was the choreographer. He had that polished, charming look—like a young Alec Baldwin with a Broadway smile. I was instantly attracted. Someone whispered, “He was in   Cats ,” and somehow, that made him even hotter. To his left sat his assistant—a dancer I remembered from when I’d worked with this company before. He gave me a small nod and a warm smile. Familiar ground. At the center of the table was the director, squinting through thick glasses, ho...
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Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 4

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  Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 4 I stayed. Along with about twenty other guys from the original fifty, I was asked to remain. “You’ll dance some more and then sing,” the director announced, rising from behind the table to face us. His tone was clipped and matter-of-fact, as if we weren’t already sweating through our clothes. I gathered my things and walked back into the hallway. The next group of hopefuls was lined up, ready to be ushered in. Their eyes scanned ours, trying to read the outcome from our expressions. “Are you staying?” a friend asked. All the boys in line turned to look at me. “I am,” I said, not trying to hide the pride in my voice, and continued walking. I bounded down the stairs and pushed out through the front door of the studio. My cigarette was already in my mouth before I hit the sidewalk. I knew I had hours to kill before the next round. Plenty of time to nervously chain-smoke my way through a pack. Dancers who’d been cut trickled out. We exchanged brief g...
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Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 5

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  Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box — Part 5 I read from the script—and I land a laugh. Not a polite chuckle, but an honest-to-God belly laugh from the table. “That was great,” the director says, still laughing, eyes twinkling behind his thick lenses. Then, once again, I’m sent back out to the hallway to wait. When I’m called in again, they take a Polaroid of me and jot down my measurements. No fanfare, just tape measure, flash, clipboard. Then I'm dismissed. Two days pass. I come home to find the light blinking on my answering machine. My heart does a little flip. I press play. It’s Casting. Offering me the job. I scream. I scoop up one of the cats and spin around the room, both of us dizzy and thrilled. “Soon you’ll be able to eat!” I promise her. (In truth, my animals always ate before I did. But still—victory.) Casting tells me a contract is on the way via FedEx. I go to my crappy day job and give notice, grand and theatrical. “So long, suckers!” I shout on my way out. “See you in three...
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Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box – Part 6

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  Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box – Part 6 I call my parents. My mom’s first question: “Do you get health insurance?” Not “Congratulations,” not “I’m so proud of you,” not even “When do you leave?” Nope. It’s always about the benefits. I could win the Nobel Peace Prize and my mother would still ask, “But do you get dental?” I flip through my phone book (yes, an actual book—this was   before   iPhones turned us all into contact-hoarding monsters) and begin dialing from A to Z. I call everyone. Friends, acquaintances, that one guy from acting class whose number I meant to delete—I’m telling   everyone . Plans are made. Farewells scheduled. I’ve got a lot to do and not much time to do it. I ring up the Company’s Casting Director to get the official word. “You’ll be playing the lead villain in all three shows,” he says. The shows themselves? Still to be determined. But I don’t care. I’m ecstatic. Over the following weeks, the phone calls keep coming. Each one adds another layer...
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Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box – Part 7

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  Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box – Part 7 I board the plane bound for the Bahamas, mentally noting which bag holds my suntan lotion. I’m sure I’ll be needing it—a lot. The flight first takes me to Florida, where I’m instructed to transfer to a small plane the crew affectionately calls an “Island Hopper.” Once we land in Florida, we exit onto the tarmac. A warm, salty breeze greets me as I step into the sun. I breathe it in—it feels like freedom. Or at least vacation. It’s a short hop to the Bahamas—less than an hour—and the landing is smooth. I step off the plane, expecting festive chaos: a bustling airport, maybe a few women in colorful Bahamian dresses offering rum punch and flower necklaces. Instead, I’m met by flickering fluorescent lights and a steel band half-heartedly playing “Living in America.” There are no crowds. No garlands. No celebration. At the gate stands the Company’s Casting Director, decked out in a loud white-and-blue Hawaiian shirt and a straw hat tilted slightly too...
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Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box – Part 8

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  Chapter 1: Pandora’s Box – Part 8 I step inside the condo and freeze—someone’s already sitting in the living room. “Hello!” he calls out, waving energetically. “You must be one of my new roommates.” Before I can reply, he jumps up and hurries over, thrusting out his hand and gripping mine with a vigorous shake. The accent is unmistakably British. “I’m going for a swim—it’s absolutely ghastly out. I’ve been here two days already.” He gestures toward the back of the condo. “Fancy joining me?” “Thanks, but I just flew in. I could use a minute to unwind.” “Your loss,” he says breezily. “I’ve already taken the bedroom at the top of the stairs. There are two more you can choose from.” He continues chattering as he heads toward the door, talking about his audition, the flight, the casting process, and—rather casually—about lying to the Bahamian government at immigration. It’s all said with the ease of someone who doesn’t lose sleep over questionable decisions. But then something he says...
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