I received some bad news from the show biz front last night. My buddy Matthew and nineteen others were laid off from Mystic Scenic Studios in Norwood, Massachusetts. The reason was that there had been too many cancellations of gigs. No telling how long it might last.
This reminded me of a semi-similar situation back in the fall of 2001. F/X Scenery And Display experienced a steep drop in business after 9/11, but Mack, the owner, kept everybody on for the months affected by that situation. Now, to be fair to Jim Ray of Mystic, F/X had around twenty employees to keep while F/X has over a hundred. And, frankly, I was flabbergasted that we were all paid to come in and do nothing for many weeks. On the other hand, I was disgusted when a couple of our gung-ho Union guys were whining that we didn't get Christmas bonuses or raises at the end of the year. Humans will be humans.
I was among the laid off from Mystic after the crash of 2008, which, as we all know, was caused by Obama several months before he was elected. I was on unemployment for several months, worked for Harvard's American Repertory Theatre for one week, then for Jim Ray's former partner John for three months in Somerville, MA. After all of that, I was called back to Mystic in June of 2009 for the two weeks before we began packing up for our move to Albuquerque. In Albuquerque, I applied for hundreds of jobs, heard back from maybe seven or eight, had interviews with three, and was hired by none. What I did was get involved with scenic construction on a volunteer basis at Albuquerque Little Theatre. The Production Manager managed to squeeze a few hundred bucks out of his budget to pay me for my hundreds of hours of work. That was my last paid gig in the Biz.
So I understand Matthew's situation pretty well. He has applied for a couple of jobs already, but whereas I was 56 when I was laid off, he is 66 now. Good luck out there, buddy. And don't contract any viruses.
Saturday, March 21, 2020
Saturday, February 22, 2020
I Could Do That!
"I could do that!" were the very words spoken by me, words that marked the turning point that spun me in the direction of my long career building and installing custom works of three dimensional art. I've never had a dream to drive me to pursue any career. I never went to any school or program to learn any of what I ended up doing. My Facebook profile says that I attended the Gilbert H. Emerson School of Art from 1953 until 1987. What that means is that I either watched my dad or helped him create solutions to whatever problems arose, and invent ways to produce whatever he dreamed of creating. When we moved to Vero Beach, Florida in 1968, he carved a niche for his commercial art business in a town that repeatedly told him that they had no use for a commercial art business. He did it by taking on whatever half-baked idea anyone had, and making it happen. He was a genius at that.
.
So when I graduated high school in 1971 and moved back to Maryland, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I got a job pumping gas at the Auto Service Department of the Montgomery Ward store in Glen Burnie, Maryland. Now, Aaron Montgomery Ward began his mail order business in 1872, so there were big doin's afoot. There were guys I saw installing "CENTURY II" signs and displays throughout the store. What do you suppose I said to that? So I cozied up to them, met Fred, the Display Department manager, and put the wheels in motion for a transfer. In March of '72 I became a member of that department. Before long, there became a category called "Jim jobs," projects that required time and planning and engineering things for which the others had no patience - like things my dad and I had done for years.
In 1980, back in Vero Beach, back working with my dad in the art biz, I finally decided to get involved with the community theatre. I quickly became one of the hard core, working onstage and backstage. And with the flexibility that accompanied working for Emerson Art Service, I was afforded the opportunity to work paying gigs doing load-ins, load-outs and various jobs during performances of the various touring professional shows that came to our beautiful little gem of a theatre. So, I was unloading chunks of scenery from the truck and wrestling them into place so that the touring professional scenic carpenters could put them together by whatever fastening systems - screws, bolts, clamps, lashings, loose-pin hinges, whatever - and I said "I could do that!"
In 1988, less than a year after newlyweds Carmen and I moved to the Orlando area, I was still unsure of what path my career might take, I saw an ad for SCENIC CARPENTERS AND STAGE HANDS in the Orlando Sentinel Help Wanted ads. What do you suppose I said then? Image International was an Events company that specialized in corporate theme parties for the huge convention industry in and around Orlando, but took on pretty much whatever half-baked idea their clients and sales staff had. I quickly became a respected professional scenic carpenter.
My final example took years to come to fruition. Sometime during the late '80s or early '90s, we went to the Orlando Science Center museum. Part of it was screened off with temporary wall sections. Through a crack between sections, I could see a bunch of guys working, installing an exhibit. "Wow!," I said, "I could do that!" In 2005, I was happily working away behind a temporary wall installing exhibits in the Museum of Science in Boston, and did so regularly for four years.
I suppose, as tremors, arthritis, carpal tunnel syndrome and factor 5 deficiency blood clots slowly eroded my effectiveness in my chosen profession, I must have seen some retired geezers and said "I could do that," because here I am.
.
So when I graduated high school in 1971 and moved back to Maryland, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I got a job pumping gas at the Auto Service Department of the Montgomery Ward store in Glen Burnie, Maryland. Now, Aaron Montgomery Ward began his mail order business in 1872, so there were big doin's afoot. There were guys I saw installing "CENTURY II" signs and displays throughout the store. What do you suppose I said to that? So I cozied up to them, met Fred, the Display Department manager, and put the wheels in motion for a transfer. In March of '72 I became a member of that department. Before long, there became a category called "Jim jobs," projects that required time and planning and engineering things for which the others had no patience - like things my dad and I had done for years.
In 1980, back in Vero Beach, back working with my dad in the art biz, I finally decided to get involved with the community theatre. I quickly became one of the hard core, working onstage and backstage. And with the flexibility that accompanied working for Emerson Art Service, I was afforded the opportunity to work paying gigs doing load-ins, load-outs and various jobs during performances of the various touring professional shows that came to our beautiful little gem of a theatre. So, I was unloading chunks of scenery from the truck and wrestling them into place so that the touring professional scenic carpenters could put them together by whatever fastening systems - screws, bolts, clamps, lashings, loose-pin hinges, whatever - and I said "I could do that!"
In 1988, less than a year after newlyweds Carmen and I moved to the Orlando area, I was still unsure of what path my career might take, I saw an ad for SCENIC CARPENTERS AND STAGE HANDS in the Orlando Sentinel Help Wanted ads. What do you suppose I said then? Image International was an Events company that specialized in corporate theme parties for the huge convention industry in and around Orlando, but took on pretty much whatever half-baked idea their clients and sales staff had. I quickly became a respected professional scenic carpenter.
My final example took years to come to fruition. Sometime during the late '80s or early '90s, we went to the Orlando Science Center museum. Part of it was screened off with temporary wall sections. Through a crack between sections, I could see a bunch of guys working, installing an exhibit. "Wow!," I said, "I could do that!" In 2005, I was happily working away behind a temporary wall installing exhibits in the Museum of Science in Boston, and did so regularly for four years.
I suppose, as tremors, arthritis, carpal tunnel syndrome and factor 5 deficiency blood clots slowly eroded my effectiveness in my chosen profession, I must have seen some retired geezers and said "I could do that," because here I am.
Thursday, February 13, 2020
Don't Give Up Your Day Job
My day job doesn't pay much, but it pays a lot better than my night gig. I can't say for sure whether this has been the case ever since I gave up show biz eleven years ago, but I can say that ever since my sleep study in Nashville, when I began sleeping on my left side exclusively, I have been building and installing scenery professionally pretty much every night in my sleep.
What I am building is never very clear, but whatever I am working on is fraught with problems. No place to build it. It's gone when I arrive for work the next day. Materials can't be found. Tools are missing. The truck has already left without me or my project or both.
The other part of the story is the venue. We can't find the place. The place is so huge and convoluted that we can 't find the ballroom or the theatre or whatever we're looking for. We brought the wrong stuff. We can't find our way home.
It's interesting to me that pretty much without exception, the problems I dream about never happened during my twenty years in the business. Sure, there were always problems, but I guess since we always figured out solutions, those problems aren't worth dreaming about.
Anyway, I usually wake up scratching my head about some ridiculous situation we encountered. And I usually wake up exhausted. That's show biz.
What I am building is never very clear, but whatever I am working on is fraught with problems. No place to build it. It's gone when I arrive for work the next day. Materials can't be found. Tools are missing. The truck has already left without me or my project or both.
The other part of the story is the venue. We can't find the place. The place is so huge and convoluted that we can 't find the ballroom or the theatre or whatever we're looking for. We brought the wrong stuff. We can't find our way home.
It's interesting to me that pretty much without exception, the problems I dream about never happened during my twenty years in the business. Sure, there were always problems, but I guess since we always figured out solutions, those problems aren't worth dreaming about.
Anyway, I usually wake up scratching my head about some ridiculous situation we encountered. And I usually wake up exhausted. That's show biz.
Monday, January 20, 2020
The Face of Reality
My mental health professional gave me homework: update the blogs! Okay, this is number three.
So here I sit in Jacksonville, updating my blogs primarily because it's an assignment. Sure, I love to write, and I have already come to some interesting conclusions about the chain of events that precipitated my return for help from those in the mental health field. And the rise and fall of the Bellevue project, detailed in the previous post, contributed a considerable chunk.The initial response was so great and so immediate, I could not possibly have predicted the way it crashed and burned after six months of diligent hard work by the few of us who carried the ball to the end zone.
The good news is, moving away from Tennessee was a much easier transition than it would have been, had we actually birthed a viable community theatre group in Bellevue. We did not.The other good news is that our friend Pat and I have attended locally produced shows many times since I moved here a year ago. I haven't yet done any onstage or backstage work here yet, but I haven't given up on the idea either.
The reality is, I'm not ever going to be a show biz professional again. Perhaps a vastly talented amateur dabbler. I think that will be enough.
So here I sit in Jacksonville, updating my blogs primarily because it's an assignment. Sure, I love to write, and I have already come to some interesting conclusions about the chain of events that precipitated my return for help from those in the mental health field. And the rise and fall of the Bellevue project, detailed in the previous post, contributed a considerable chunk.The initial response was so great and so immediate, I could not possibly have predicted the way it crashed and burned after six months of diligent hard work by the few of us who carried the ball to the end zone.
The good news is, moving away from Tennessee was a much easier transition than it would have been, had we actually birthed a viable community theatre group in Bellevue. We did not.The other good news is that our friend Pat and I have attended locally produced shows many times since I moved here a year ago. I haven't yet done any onstage or backstage work here yet, but I haven't given up on the idea either.
The reality is, I'm not ever going to be a show biz professional again. Perhaps a vastly talented amateur dabbler. I think that will be enough.
Saturday, September 15, 2018
Rising From The Ashes
Wow! I just reread my post from February 14th. The road ahead looked a whole lot prettier than it turned out to be. Bellevue Creative Arts Community subsequently had a near-death experience!
First of all: the Bylaws and Articles of Incorporation. I wrote them from a template, with many questions to put to the Board about how we wanted to be structured and how we wanted to get things done. I know from long experience that the best first step is to go ahead and write them, then make changes from there. So I did. I brought several copies to the next meeting, each with blanks to fill in and all areas of concern highlighted. I was prepared for a meaty session of discussion of everything I had questions about and anything else the others might find to hash out. But no! The writers of the spiffy musical Once Upon A Tree were there with copies of 2/3 of their script. They and President Mary were hell-bent to do a read-through of it. So there was no discussion of Bylaws that evening. I gave a copy to President Mary. I feel certain that she never read them - to this day!. Mary said that she would be happy to go over everything with me sometime during the week. So we communicated via Messenger and found a chunk of time when we could do it by phone. I called her at the appointed hour. It turned out that she was in her car somewhere and it was pouring rain. "So, looking at the second page of the Bylaws..." "! don't have them with me," she said. So we limped through the session, me reading the questionable portions out loud and suggesting possibilities. It mostly went pretty smoothly, considering. We didn't have time for the Articles. I didn't have the heart for it anyway, and most of those questions were the same issues as in the Bylaws. I made the changes, printed several copies, and got them signed by all Board members present at the next meeting. I wasn't happy with the Bylaws - to this day. But we needed to get them signed so that we could move forward with the IRS. We could change them later.
And then! And Then!! Mirabelle, who was working diligently toward submitting our 501(c)(3) paperwork, noticed that Mary had signed a different last name than I had printed on the page. Oh, the name I used, the name I knew her by, was her maiden name, her pen name. She had, of course, signed her legal name. So, I made that correction, printed more copies, and gave them to Mary to take around to get signed again. March 19th was when the last signature was obtained. May 9th BCAC became 501(c)(3).
Then there was the May 19th Bellevue Picnic. I did my research. A booth at the picnic would cost $500.00. We could have a cool booth with scenic elements from Once Upon A Tree. We wanted to perform a song or two from our spiffy musical on the stage. I wanted to put together a flash mob. Mary wanted to generate flyers to pass out to the crowds. It was all very exciting. I let the Chamber of Commerce know what we were thinking about, and they were excited too. I needed to let them know ASAP if we were using the stage so they could assign us a slot. I issued a survey to the membership asking which of these projects they would like to be involved in. Eight people wanted to pass out flyers, and fifteen wanted to do the flash mob. We asked the writing team for a full script so that we could hold auditions and cast the June show and be ready to stage a song or two at the Picnic. It was then that I learned that the script was not finished yet, but they would finish it by the end of March. Auditions were tentatively scheduled for the first weekend in April. From that moment on, the whole thing went south. The script wasn't going to be finished in time. I let the Chamber know not to expect us. The fundraising wasn't going well. We couldn't reserve a booth. We called rehearsals for a flash mob. Seven rehearsals advertised, a grand total of three people other than Mary and me showed up (two at one rehearsal and one at another.) Mirabelle put together the flyers, and we told everyone where to pick them up on their way to the Picnic. NOBODY showed up. Mirabelle passed out some and Mary passed out some. I didn't even go. By then I was sick to my stomach about the whole BCAC project.
There were those among the Facebook group members who told us that there was much more interest in the visual arts than in theatre. Arleen proposed a meeting at her place for interested visual artists to brainstorm about how to get that action going. Arleen was there. Mirabelle was there. Cheryl was there for support - she wants to support BCAC any way she can - and Glen was there, a new face to the project. Nobody else. Not even Mary or me.
We called a regrouping meeting. Nobody showed up other than the three of us. Still we kept working. We found a carrier who issued liability policies for nonprofits, because we were required to have insurance for a million dollars in order to rent any venue for a show. $650.00 per year was the best rate we found. Mary offered to borrow money to get the policy so we could move forward. Mirabelle advised against it. Mary persisted. Mirabelle resigned.
Mary and I began thinking about abandoning the project. We went to the bank with Mirabelle to get her name off of the account, and she offered to help us dismantle the whole thing. We decided to hang on for a little longer, to let the group know what we were thinking about, to see if anybody stepped up to help get back on track.
Lo and behold, Joe stepped up. He was ready to take on the whole show and carry it to the next level. The existing Board members voted Joe president and Mary vice president, and at Joe's first meeting there were ten people. The second meeting is in a week and a half, and I hope that it is at least as well attended.
Who knows, Bellevue may yet have community theatre.
First of all: the Bylaws and Articles of Incorporation. I wrote them from a template, with many questions to put to the Board about how we wanted to be structured and how we wanted to get things done. I know from long experience that the best first step is to go ahead and write them, then make changes from there. So I did. I brought several copies to the next meeting, each with blanks to fill in and all areas of concern highlighted. I was prepared for a meaty session of discussion of everything I had questions about and anything else the others might find to hash out. But no! The writers of the spiffy musical Once Upon A Tree were there with copies of 2/3 of their script. They and President Mary were hell-bent to do a read-through of it. So there was no discussion of Bylaws that evening. I gave a copy to President Mary. I feel certain that she never read them - to this day!. Mary said that she would be happy to go over everything with me sometime during the week. So we communicated via Messenger and found a chunk of time when we could do it by phone. I called her at the appointed hour. It turned out that she was in her car somewhere and it was pouring rain. "So, looking at the second page of the Bylaws..." "! don't have them with me," she said. So we limped through the session, me reading the questionable portions out loud and suggesting possibilities. It mostly went pretty smoothly, considering. We didn't have time for the Articles. I didn't have the heart for it anyway, and most of those questions were the same issues as in the Bylaws. I made the changes, printed several copies, and got them signed by all Board members present at the next meeting. I wasn't happy with the Bylaws - to this day. But we needed to get them signed so that we could move forward with the IRS. We could change them later.
And then! And Then!! Mirabelle, who was working diligently toward submitting our 501(c)(3) paperwork, noticed that Mary had signed a different last name than I had printed on the page. Oh, the name I used, the name I knew her by, was her maiden name, her pen name. She had, of course, signed her legal name. So, I made that correction, printed more copies, and gave them to Mary to take around to get signed again. March 19th was when the last signature was obtained. May 9th BCAC became 501(c)(3).
Then there was the May 19th Bellevue Picnic. I did my research. A booth at the picnic would cost $500.00. We could have a cool booth with scenic elements from Once Upon A Tree. We wanted to perform a song or two from our spiffy musical on the stage. I wanted to put together a flash mob. Mary wanted to generate flyers to pass out to the crowds. It was all very exciting. I let the Chamber of Commerce know what we were thinking about, and they were excited too. I needed to let them know ASAP if we were using the stage so they could assign us a slot. I issued a survey to the membership asking which of these projects they would like to be involved in. Eight people wanted to pass out flyers, and fifteen wanted to do the flash mob. We asked the writing team for a full script so that we could hold auditions and cast the June show and be ready to stage a song or two at the Picnic. It was then that I learned that the script was not finished yet, but they would finish it by the end of March. Auditions were tentatively scheduled for the first weekend in April. From that moment on, the whole thing went south. The script wasn't going to be finished in time. I let the Chamber know not to expect us. The fundraising wasn't going well. We couldn't reserve a booth. We called rehearsals for a flash mob. Seven rehearsals advertised, a grand total of three people other than Mary and me showed up (two at one rehearsal and one at another.) Mirabelle put together the flyers, and we told everyone where to pick them up on their way to the Picnic. NOBODY showed up. Mirabelle passed out some and Mary passed out some. I didn't even go. By then I was sick to my stomach about the whole BCAC project.
There were those among the Facebook group members who told us that there was much more interest in the visual arts than in theatre. Arleen proposed a meeting at her place for interested visual artists to brainstorm about how to get that action going. Arleen was there. Mirabelle was there. Cheryl was there for support - she wants to support BCAC any way she can - and Glen was there, a new face to the project. Nobody else. Not even Mary or me.
We called a regrouping meeting. Nobody showed up other than the three of us. Still we kept working. We found a carrier who issued liability policies for nonprofits, because we were required to have insurance for a million dollars in order to rent any venue for a show. $650.00 per year was the best rate we found. Mary offered to borrow money to get the policy so we could move forward. Mirabelle advised against it. Mary persisted. Mirabelle resigned.
Mary and I began thinking about abandoning the project. We went to the bank with Mirabelle to get her name off of the account, and she offered to help us dismantle the whole thing. We decided to hang on for a little longer, to let the group know what we were thinking about, to see if anybody stepped up to help get back on track.
Lo and behold, Joe stepped up. He was ready to take on the whole show and carry it to the next level. The existing Board members voted Joe president and Mary vice president, and at Joe's first meeting there were ten people. The second meeting is in a week and a half, and I hope that it is at least as well attended.
Who knows, Bellevue may yet have community theatre.
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
All Business
Back in November, while walking the dog - when I do my best thinking - I was thinking about theatre, and how much I love it and how much I miss it. All at once I shifted from feeling sorry for myself because I had not found any practical theatrical opportunities, to realizing that I really had not done much in the way of seeking them out. In Vero Beach, the Theatre Guild was very visible and accessible. In Albuquerque I had started volunteering at the Little Theatre a couple of months after arrival. In Meadville, I was drafted by Carmen's Church members. Here in Nashville, all I could see were opportunities too far away for me to consider as a basically vehicleless individual. But had I really looked for opportunities? I decided that I had not.
I came home from that dog walk, picked up my Kindle Fire and began searching in earnest. I applied to join the Facebook Group "Theatre Nashville" and the Facebook group "Hip Bellevue" and once admitted, asked the question "Is there a community Theatre in Bellevue? The answers were mostly answers I would expect in a culture that assumes everyone has unlimited access to a vehicle. There's one in Brentwood. There are two in Dickson. There is a theatre in Bellevue, but it is professional dinner theatre, and still a long treacherous walk in a place where sidewalks hardly exist. I expressed my disappointment, and then someone replied, "Start one." Start one? Start one? Is that possible?
Timidly I went back to the Hip Bellevue page and asked, "Would anybody be interested in helping me start a community theatre group in Bellevue? " Within a few minutes there were five or six "Yes!" responses. Within a few hours, we were up to fifteen. Within a few days we were over fifty. Within a week we were planning our first meeting. Within a month we had a name, a logo, a website under construction, a mission statement, bylaws, Articles of Incorporation and a Board of Trustees. We created seven committees, and called for volunteers to fill them. The Board decided that our first production would be Once Upon a Tree, a spiffy musical written by two of our members, slated to open in June. Now we have a Tennessee Charter, a bank account, and enough money raised to file for 501(c)(3) status.
The Bellevue Creative Arts Community group on Facebook has a hundred fourteen members (last time I looked) many of them chomping at the bit for us to call auditions. April first is our target date for that. I have designed the basic structure of the set, with details to be figured out as we go. We have a director, a costume person, and a pretty big pool of interested parties who we hope are willing to help get this sucker staged. What we don't have yet is a stage. We are working on that, and I have no doubt that we can git 'er don e before June. All in all, I am pleased as punch with our progress.
My first community theatre was The Vero Beach Theatre Guild in Vero Beach, Florida. They started up in the sixties, with no internet, no targeted Facebook groups, no email, no cell phones, no texting. What a very different experience it must have been for them. I joined them in 1980, when there were still a few original creators working on shows, still enjoying the theatre family experience, and the thrill of bringing a play to life in front of an audience. I think now about how gratifying it must have been for them to have birthed this baby and watched it grow.
Our labor pains are pretty intense now, jumping through all of the hoops it takes to become a legitimate nonprofit corporation in the twenty-first century. Two hours in the bank answering questions and signing papers designed to prevent our meager funds going to drug lords or terrorist organizations. Can't raise money until we are 501(c)(3), can't become 501(c)(3) until we raise money. But the theatre family experience is still sustaining us, just as it did those pioneers in the sixties, keeping on keeping on, knowing in their hearts that the curtain would soon open on a spiffy musical, and gladden the hearts of the entertainers as well as the entertained.
I came home from that dog walk, picked up my Kindle Fire and began searching in earnest. I applied to join the Facebook Group "Theatre Nashville" and the Facebook group "Hip Bellevue" and once admitted, asked the question "Is there a community Theatre in Bellevue? The answers were mostly answers I would expect in a culture that assumes everyone has unlimited access to a vehicle. There's one in Brentwood. There are two in Dickson. There is a theatre in Bellevue, but it is professional dinner theatre, and still a long treacherous walk in a place where sidewalks hardly exist. I expressed my disappointment, and then someone replied, "Start one." Start one? Start one? Is that possible?
Timidly I went back to the Hip Bellevue page and asked, "Would anybody be interested in helping me start a community theatre group in Bellevue? " Within a few minutes there were five or six "Yes!" responses. Within a few hours, we were up to fifteen. Within a few days we were over fifty. Within a week we were planning our first meeting. Within a month we had a name, a logo, a website under construction, a mission statement, bylaws, Articles of Incorporation and a Board of Trustees. We created seven committees, and called for volunteers to fill them. The Board decided that our first production would be Once Upon a Tree, a spiffy musical written by two of our members, slated to open in June. Now we have a Tennessee Charter, a bank account, and enough money raised to file for 501(c)(3) status.
The Bellevue Creative Arts Community group on Facebook has a hundred fourteen members (last time I looked) many of them chomping at the bit for us to call auditions. April first is our target date for that. I have designed the basic structure of the set, with details to be figured out as we go. We have a director, a costume person, and a pretty big pool of interested parties who we hope are willing to help get this sucker staged. What we don't have yet is a stage. We are working on that, and I have no doubt that we can git 'er don e before June. All in all, I am pleased as punch with our progress.
My first community theatre was The Vero Beach Theatre Guild in Vero Beach, Florida. They started up in the sixties, with no internet, no targeted Facebook groups, no email, no cell phones, no texting. What a very different experience it must have been for them. I joined them in 1980, when there were still a few original creators working on shows, still enjoying the theatre family experience, and the thrill of bringing a play to life in front of an audience. I think now about how gratifying it must have been for them to have birthed this baby and watched it grow.
Our labor pains are pretty intense now, jumping through all of the hoops it takes to become a legitimate nonprofit corporation in the twenty-first century. Two hours in the bank answering questions and signing papers designed to prevent our meager funds going to drug lords or terrorist organizations. Can't raise money until we are 501(c)(3), can't become 501(c)(3) until we raise money. But the theatre family experience is still sustaining us, just as it did those pioneers in the sixties, keeping on keeping on, knowing in their hearts that the curtain would soon open on a spiffy musical, and gladden the hearts of the entertainers as well as the entertained.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Back In The Saddle
We've been here three weeks and four days. The first week was about moving in and getting settled. The second was about buttoning down the sale of our house in Meadville, PA. The third was about seeing if we can buy a condo/townhouse. Toward the end of last week, I got an email from On Location Casting - I signed up with them in Albuquerque - urging me to pay the fee that activates my account. I went in and updated my profile with my new address and phone number. It was all still Albuquerque. I added the plays I'd done on PA, fleshed out the rest of my profile and then went into the casting notices. Lo and behold, there were casting calls for the TV show "Nashville." They said I could look them up on Facebook to get the latest info. I did. There they were. There was a call for Friday that had people in my age range. I followed instructions: send an email with Friday Booking as the subject line. Include name and valid phone number. I did. In a very short time I got an email back saying that I had not been booked. Next was a Monday booking. I applied, was rejected. Tuesday was shooting on Lebanon, TN, 40 miles away. Not going there. On Tuesday afternoon the notice about Wednesday came up. Extras would be "Coffee Shop Patrons." I applied, and within a few minutes received an email back that I was booked and I'd better show up if I ever wanted to work in this town again. Or words to that effect. Within an hour after that I received a phone call confirming that I had seen that email.
At about 6:30, details about the gig came up on FB. Call time 11:00, at First Church of the Tangerine or something like that, 510 Woodland Avenue. I looked up the address on Googlemaps, printed out a map, and printed out a #5 bus schedule. Then I assembled the three outfits they said we should bring in a fancy garment bag Carmen found for me, made a copy of my driver's license, packed my backpack with everything I might need, and went to bed happy.
Wednesday morning was fairly cool, as Nashville summer days go. I got up, fed the beasts as usual, and we took Grace for an hour walk at Edwin Warner Park. I took a shower, dressed in my favorite of the three outfits, and set out for the bus at 9:02. I caught the 9:10, which got me downtown. I had never been to downtown Nashville, so I was happy to be early so I could figure out where 510 Woodland Avenue might be. I knew from my Google map that it was between 5th and 6th Streets, so I was happy to see that the Music City Center bus station was at 5th and Charlotte. Walking around showed me that Woodland was not nearby. Luckily, I had my Nashville street map with me. Looking at that, I saw that Woodland was on the other side of 4th. Hmmm. Then I noticed that the signs said "5th Street North." That indicates that there is a 5th Street South. I walked past 4th, around some fancy downtown structures, and found myself on Woodland. Luckily there was a nice breeze as I walked along in the Tennessee sunshine. Crossing the bridge over the Cumberland River I was hit up by a man asking for a quarter. I gave him a dollar. He blessed me and asked me what church I belonged to. I told him. Of course, he never heard of Unitarian Universalism, so I explained it to him. (As the wife and research assistant of a UU minister, I'm pretty good at this.) He took up nearly ten minutes of my trip to 510 Woodland. I tore myself away and continued walking past 1st Street South, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and saw, with great rejoicing, the aforemisnamed church.
Having done three TV gigs in Albuquerque, I knew what to look for. None of this was evident at the church. I walked all the way around. Nothing. But across the street I saw a gaggle of trailers and a gaggle of humans standing around. Jackpot! I crossed over, found the food wagon - where one is most apt to find humans - and asked where extras should go. The human I asked got on her smart phone and called someone who knew. Molly came, showed me the air conditioned trailer where I could hang out, told me to eat some food and wait for further instructions. I was the first to arrive, at 10:25. I followed orders, having bacon, eggs, hash browns and a biscuit. When I finished eating in the air conditioned trailer, Dominic gave me my paperwork to fill out. He watched me struggling with my tremors, and filled it out for me. Nice guy.
Other extras began arriving. They were put in the trailer across the way. For most of the time at base camp, I was all alone in my trailer. Soon another person came breezing through. She looked at me, said "That's good." and breezed out. Molly told me that I had just been approved by the wardrobe department. I was glad I had carried that garment bag all over Nashville and never opened it.
About 11:40 we the extras were taken to an old rattletrap school bus and shuttled to the shooting location on Fatherland Avenue. The holding area was in the fellowship hall of the Baptist church across the street from the Coffee Shop. At noon I announced that we had now earned eight bucks! Soon after, Dominic came in and plucked four people from our ranks (there were twelve of us) to go over to the set. at about 12:45 he came back in and plucked me and one other guy. Yay. So he and I were shown our starting places and told what to do. "Action!" Two previously plucked women walked past the shop. When they were halfway across the street, I walked down to the corner and crossed the street in the other direction, past the shop. The other guy then walked by and across the other street. After all of this there was a long pause, then a principal character came out of the shop, stopped and went back in."Cut!" Techs swarmed around for a bit, "Reset" was called, and we all went back to our starting places and waited in the blazing sun for many minutes. "Action!" And we did it again. Wait. "Reset." Wait. "Action!" Walk. Wait. "Reset" go back to start. Wait. "Action!" Walk. Wait. "Reset." This went on for about an hour. I could feel my bald head burning in the sun. Good thing all that dog walking had tanned it some.
When we were told to go back to the holding area, it was because we were done, all of us. I'm pretty certain that at least four extras never did anything but wait.
That's show biz.
At about 6:30, details about the gig came up on FB. Call time 11:00, at First Church of the Tangerine or something like that, 510 Woodland Avenue. I looked up the address on Googlemaps, printed out a map, and printed out a #5 bus schedule. Then I assembled the three outfits they said we should bring in a fancy garment bag Carmen found for me, made a copy of my driver's license, packed my backpack with everything I might need, and went to bed happy.
Wednesday morning was fairly cool, as Nashville summer days go. I got up, fed the beasts as usual, and we took Grace for an hour walk at Edwin Warner Park. I took a shower, dressed in my favorite of the three outfits, and set out for the bus at 9:02. I caught the 9:10, which got me downtown. I had never been to downtown Nashville, so I was happy to be early so I could figure out where 510 Woodland Avenue might be. I knew from my Google map that it was between 5th and 6th Streets, so I was happy to see that the Music City Center bus station was at 5th and Charlotte. Walking around showed me that Woodland was not nearby. Luckily, I had my Nashville street map with me. Looking at that, I saw that Woodland was on the other side of 4th. Hmmm. Then I noticed that the signs said "5th Street North." That indicates that there is a 5th Street South. I walked past 4th, around some fancy downtown structures, and found myself on Woodland. Luckily there was a nice breeze as I walked along in the Tennessee sunshine. Crossing the bridge over the Cumberland River I was hit up by a man asking for a quarter. I gave him a dollar. He blessed me and asked me what church I belonged to. I told him. Of course, he never heard of Unitarian Universalism, so I explained it to him. (As the wife and research assistant of a UU minister, I'm pretty good at this.) He took up nearly ten minutes of my trip to 510 Woodland. I tore myself away and continued walking past 1st Street South, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and saw, with great rejoicing, the aforemisnamed church.
Having done three TV gigs in Albuquerque, I knew what to look for. None of this was evident at the church. I walked all the way around. Nothing. But across the street I saw a gaggle of trailers and a gaggle of humans standing around. Jackpot! I crossed over, found the food wagon - where one is most apt to find humans - and asked where extras should go. The human I asked got on her smart phone and called someone who knew. Molly came, showed me the air conditioned trailer where I could hang out, told me to eat some food and wait for further instructions. I was the first to arrive, at 10:25. I followed orders, having bacon, eggs, hash browns and a biscuit. When I finished eating in the air conditioned trailer, Dominic gave me my paperwork to fill out. He watched me struggling with my tremors, and filled it out for me. Nice guy.
Other extras began arriving. They were put in the trailer across the way. For most of the time at base camp, I was all alone in my trailer. Soon another person came breezing through. She looked at me, said "That's good." and breezed out. Molly told me that I had just been approved by the wardrobe department. I was glad I had carried that garment bag all over Nashville and never opened it.
About 11:40 we the extras were taken to an old rattletrap school bus and shuttled to the shooting location on Fatherland Avenue. The holding area was in the fellowship hall of the Baptist church across the street from the Coffee Shop. At noon I announced that we had now earned eight bucks! Soon after, Dominic came in and plucked four people from our ranks (there were twelve of us) to go over to the set. at about 12:45 he came back in and plucked me and one other guy. Yay. So he and I were shown our starting places and told what to do. "Action!" Two previously plucked women walked past the shop. When they were halfway across the street, I walked down to the corner and crossed the street in the other direction, past the shop. The other guy then walked by and across the other street. After all of this there was a long pause, then a principal character came out of the shop, stopped and went back in."Cut!" Techs swarmed around for a bit, "Reset" was called, and we all went back to our starting places and waited in the blazing sun for many minutes. "Action!" And we did it again. Wait. "Reset." Wait. "Action!" Walk. Wait. "Reset" go back to start. Wait. "Action!" Walk. Wait. "Reset." This went on for about an hour. I could feel my bald head burning in the sun. Good thing all that dog walking had tanned it some.
When we were told to go back to the holding area, it was because we were done, all of us. I'm pretty certain that at least four extras never did anything but wait.
That's show biz.
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