It was cool to see the responses I got from yesterday's blog about debt. My horoscope had told me to put myself out there in a way that I was uncomfortable doing. Debt and money (my lack thereof) are things I tend to be ashamed of talking about so it was exciting to write the blog and even more exciting to see people talking and arguing about it. Groovy. Thanks for reading that post y'all.
Today I am going back in my comfort zone completely and gonna spend the next ten minutes writing about the local production of "Annie Get Your Gun" that I was in in fourth grade. WOOT WOOT!
It was produced by the theater department at Berry College. Gail DesChamp directed it. Gail was one of the random theater professionals that had somehow ended up in Rome. She was British and had worked a pretty steady legit career in the West End for many many years.... somehow she and her French husband Robert ended up in Rome to send their teenage son to the private school located in town. Gail was a lady of the theater through and through. The walls of their house were lined with photos of Gail in "Streetcar".... in fact the first time I decided I wanted to read "Streetcar" was after seeing a whole row of photos of Gail giving, what appeared to be in the photos, a gloriously wounded performance as Blanche DuBois. I took one look at the photos and asked my mom to drive me, immediately, to Waldenbooks where I bought a paperback copy of the play.... you know that trade paperback published with Marlon Brando on the cover? Coincidentally..... that same trade paper back and the Marlon Brando photo was one of the first articles I used as "pornography" once beginning puberty (that AND the photos in the soundtrack to the made for tv movie of "Bye Bye Birdie" with Marc Kudisch).
Gail was a fabulous character, oozing with classic drama school training, and fabulous British actress lady wonderfulness. She was intense, scary, gorgeous, lovely, and fierce. Since coming to Rome, she had become an adjunct professor at the college and directed one of their shows each year. In this case, she was directing a big production of "Annie Get Your Gun". Big show, big cast. They invited tons of local kids to audition for Annie's siblings. Gail treated us the same way she treated the college aged adults. We were expected to come in with sixteen bars and a monologue.... or poem. Against my better judgement, my mother convinced to come in with sixteen bars of "You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile" (good song, not for me) and "The Queen of Hearts she made some tarts...." poem. I was pretty sure I'd get the part. I was up for the role of Jake. Annie's kid brother. I was the exact age. I was adorable. I had the chops. My audition got a swell response. Sold, right?
Matt Johnson. Matt fucking Johnson. Couple things about Matt Johnson. A. he always got the good parts. Like ALWAYS. Tiny Tim? Matt. Kid brother in Lost in Yonkers? Matt. Son in Shennadoah? Matt. The thing about him was he was older than me, like five years older but looked super duper young. Along with that he was adorable, very smart, and the most charismatic performer since Alice Fay. I hated him.
Matt Johnson got the part. I was devastated. Like throw a black veil over my face, close the shutters, devastated! Not only that, Matt and I had to perform with a group of other boys at the Piggly Wiggly Food Expo at the Forum Civic Center that very afternoon. We were performing our "All I need now is the girl" routine from the Joanne Collier's School of Dance dance recital. So not only was I faced with the horrific news that Matt was Jake and I was merely cast in the townspeople chorus.... I was then expected to tap dance with him at the Food Expo before a crowd of people sampling the newest in sausage creations from Jimmy Dean. At first I refused to go then my mother forced me. I went. I did my routine. I left. Without looking Matt in the eye.
For a few days after Gail called our house trying to find out if I was going to be part of the show in the townspeople chorus. My mother had to field the calls. At first I refused.... but knowing that in all honesty, the idea of a production of "Annie Get Your Gun" happening in my town without me would KILL ME. Finally I told my mom I'd only do the show if I got a name. I was far beyond doing mere chorus work but should I be in the chorus as "Edgar" or "Victor" or "Sal" then that might change things.
My mother tried to reason with me.... "I can't call this woman and demand something like that, Jeffery" she'd say. I refused..... hiding under the bed in an act of childishness that I'd repeat for years to come. Finally, after much lashing out.... my mom made the call. I hid behind the sofa and listened in.
"Hi Gail. It's Nancy Self".... she said, nervously.... politely.... she paused for Gail to speak.... "Well, Gail..... he wants to do it but.... well.... he wants a name." She sighed..... like a woman coming home from battle.
"Its just. He feels like he'll fade away into the background if he's just a towns person and thinks that if he had a name, he'd have a bit more motivation to standing out and really.... um.... being there." She quoted me word for word.
There was a pause. Then Gail's voice on the other line said "Well, Nancy.... of course we'll give him a name. How about Henry?"
My mom paused, and held her hand to the phone. She called out to me behind the sofa.... "Is Henry okay?"
I paused and imagined who this Henry kid might be. I think he travels around with Buffalo Bill's show and works sort of.... undercover in the towns..... drumming up business and talking up the show.... he's an orphan, obviously, and I think he ran away from the orphanage just a few years ago. He's trained on the streets now and completely independent. Oh. And he steals but nobody knows.
"I think that'll do perfectly." I said.
My mom agreed and I went to play practice that night. It was a pretty good production of "Annie Get Your Gun".
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