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I left New York because I could not play the game anymore.  It was too much work to keep up the agenda that I knew would lead to disappointment.  I have been in this crazy world of show business for a long time.  I have opened my own one woman show in Las Vegas as a pre show for Don Rickles, sang with Tom Jones, yes, that pussycat guy, performed at Radio City, been in Pine Valley, Landview, upstate, down river, off off Broadway, thisclose to Broadway, had cocktails with Julia….yes, her….flew to Hollywood,  worked on set, off sides, have gotten  thephonecall-and waited by the phone when I knew it would not ring,have had my own trailer, been in rooms where I knew I needed to get  out of-in a hurry- and have been left out of rooms where I had hoped to be invited. I have been on the list-and left off even more. 

I got out of the business, then got back in-thinking maybe, it had changed.  But it has not.  Somehow,I have managed to work in every capacity of show business without sacrificing my character-and without giving too much of myself away. There have been some soulless casualties-I confess.  I have had a reasonable amount of success. I am not looking to replace a parent-or a lost childhood. I am not searching for love and acceptance above any beyond the normal day to day existance of love and acceptance.   I love what I do because of the people I get to play and the stories I get to tell. I am not interested in people hopping to get ahead.  Maybe that is why I am still here.  Maybe that is why I can’t tolerate the sometimes extremely cruel things I have seen happen to other people who are willing to accept certain conditions in order to make it.

 I always go back to theater-because it is where I started-it is what I know best in my bones.  There are no surprises.  There are honest mistakes made-live.  There are souls exposed in the most beautiful of light.

I did not have connections or a trust fund.  I worked  (sometimes 3 jobs)to pay for classes and to pay the rent.  There were times when my father helped out-but he kept a running tab of what I owed-and I chose to take on another job instead of signing a promissory note.  Yes, my father had a promissory note drawn up that totaled all I owed since college.  I refused to sign it.  But that’s another blog.

I did not get my MFA in theater arts or attend an Ivy league school…someone actually asked me the other night where I did my graduate study…….I wanted to say …:”ahhhhhh 57th and 7th…..?  83rd and Columbus?  44th and Broadway- the lower east side?…..late nights and endless rehearsals?”   20 years of working and creating my own work is where buddy.  I did not need to sit in a class until I tasted the imaginary orange.  I have tasted the orange.  As if a graduate degree is a guarantee for getting ahead in show business.  I don’t want to push and claw.  The times I did, I felt like I was going to throw up on the subway ride home.  I could not handle the cocktail parties where I was expected to say the right things and do the right things in order to impress someone.  AND NO, I would not be going back to any one’s hotel room for a nightcap, or to hear a demo, or to see a clip, or to………..

Last night, at a little gala prior to a show opening, I saw a hint of that old way of working a room-manipulating a person, checking off items on a hidden agenda.Someone else putting ego first-and feelings last.   It caught me off guard. And then it pissed me off-because I bought into and it affected the way I played the hour- my precious limited hour- I had on stage.  It affected my performance.  I gave my power away to some one’s snide off handed, skillfully planted and well thought out comment.  I forgot to remember how it works.

My Vegas gig ended early.  After I opened and had gotten a decent review in Variety, I was approached by the owner of the hotel who wanted me to “look at his running shoes”  He knocked on my door, late at night, with nothing on but a robe. He was in his late 50’s.   He was holding a box and in the box was a brand new pair of running shoes.( really…this was wayyyyyyyyy before Justin Timberlake and his box) He ( this man and his box) went on to say, he noticed I had gotten up nearly every morning and had gone for a run-he said he noticed the strength of my legs and the sweat on my shirt……could I, would I, advise him on his choice of running shoes?  He kept the conversation on the topic of running-but we both knew it had nothing to do with running. I was 25.  I was very green and Las Vegas was a whole new world for me-but I knew he could give a shit about the shoes,my sweat or running for that matter.  He sat on the bed, his robe opened , he confessed he was a “hedonist” and that he could make things very good for me in Las Vegas if I was willing to “go running with him”.  I was scared.  I did not think he was going to hurt me but at the same time I knew what was being presented.  I told him I wasn’t interested.  I told him no.  I told him to get out of my room or I would call security.  He asked me if I knew what I was saying.  I said yes.  He still sat on the bed-holding that stupid ass box of running shoes.  “Get out!”, I said and moved towards the door.  He said something to the effect that I had just made the biggest mistake of my life…. “you’re such a little girl”, he said.  ” I thought you were a big girl”  I WAS 25. I was by myself.  He left.  I was shaking.  I called Joe, the man who had helped create the show I was performing. Joe, who had been in the business forever, and crafted many award winning Broadway shows.  Joe who was kind hearted and brilliant( it can happen).  Joe, who became my friend in a very harsh world.  Joe, who told me to simply stand and sing and that would be enough.  It was.  He assured me I had done the right thing-and then told me to pack my bags.  He was sure things were going to change.  Sure enough, the next morning, I was notified my contract was being cancelled (Mary Hart and her million dollar legs replaced me) and I was left on my own.  I had to be out of my room by 11am, my car had to be turned in and all of the items that were given to me for the show had to be returned.  I was on a plane back to North Carolina the next day.  I never went back to Las Vegas.  I have no idea what sleeping with Mr. Golden Nugget would have gotten me.  I was not willing to massage any thing or any one at the cost of my own being.  Even back then I was not willing to sacrifice my character.  That remains intact. 

Last night was not that extreme.  I flubbed a line.  I recovered and the show went on to be a wonderful piece of ensemble work.  I was not mad that I flubbed the line- I was mad that I allowed someone to cause me to leave my mind for just a moment…..

There is no doubt in my mind this person with said comment will achieve great things in her path ahead.  There will be moments of great success-I can see it already forming.  I just wonder about the costs-and will it even matter.

When I first moved to New York- two years after the Las Vegas incident- my mother sent me a refridgerator magnet with a quote.  I still have the magnet-it says: Fame is a vapor. Popularity an accident, riches take wings. Only one thing endures and that is character. 

 I will add to that:

kindness is in our power-even when fondness is not.