Well, dear readers, I must write these here notes in a hurry for she of the Evil Eye will be here all too soon. Since come Monday I’ll be sharing some more acting days anecdotes, today I’ll just give you a short one, from one of the real highlights of my acting career, such as it was. Around the time I was doing a lot of guest shots in The Partridge Family and other shows like that, I got a call to come in and read for a play being done at the Mark Taper Forum. There was a casting director there who had been very fond of my audition for Godspell the year before – even though I didn’t get that show, she remembered me and asked for me specifically. I got the sides and loved the part I was reading for, a young sixteen-year-old named Ivor, in a British play by Peter Nichols called Forget-Me-Not Lane. I loved all things Brit and I did an impeccable accent, so I had the jump a little bit on the others reading for the role. I went in and there were a few other actors my age. I read, but I don’t believe the director was there at that point. I did well and a few days later got a callback to meet the director. I came in, read again, got my laughs, and the director, Arvin Brown, really seemed to like me. I REALLY wanted the job, that’s all I can tell you. I waited by the phone every day. The phone didn’t ring. The cast album of A Little Night Music had come out and I was quite obsessed with it, and every night I’d play Every Day A Little Death over and over because I was quite sure I hadn’t gotten the play. And I really wanted the play. I got another call, this time to read for the larger of the two young male roles. Interestingly, I didn’t even care about it – I loved Ivor. But apparently they couldn’t find anyone to their liking so they had me read for it. I did okay, but I knew I had a much better handle of Ivor. I went home. No call. I played Every Day A Little Death more and more. Days went by. I got a call to come down and read one final time. I arrived and the only ones in the waiting room were me and actor Henry Jones. Like everyone, I’d loved Henry Jones in The Bad Seed, where he gave a completely brilliant and completely weird performance. And here he was, reading for the same play I was. As I sat there, Mr. Jones lifted one of his buttocks off the chair and let loose with a very loud fart. I pretended not to hear, but they could have heard this fart in Long Beach. I studied my lines. A few moments later he did the same thing. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing. Mr. Jones went in and read. Then I went in and read. I went home. Nothing. I played Every Day A Little Death more and more. I was sure I hadn’t gotten it. The next day my agent called and told me I had the job. I don’t know why it was so important for me – heaven knows, it wasn’t the $425 a week. No, it’s because it was theater and it was the Taper and because I loved the play and my part. I was ecstatic. I retired Every Day A Little Death from the playlist.
I later found out why it took so long for them to give me the part – it was because they could not find anyone for the other part and were keeping their options open about having me do it. If only I’d known that, life would have been a little easier. They ended up casting Bud Cort in the other role, and the rest of our cast was rather wonderful – Donald Moffat (no, Henry Jones didn’t get the part), Beulah Garrick, John McMartin, Charlotte Moore, Betsy Slade, Jill Cook and a few others. Since there were two songs to be sung live in the show, they hired pianist Ray Henderson to play. Rehearsals were a dream. Mr. Brown was and is a wonderful director – for Bud an my big act one scene, which was really long, he simply said, “Why don’t you go off and work on it and show me what you’ve got.” We did. We blocked it, figured out business, the whole thing. We showed it to Arvin, he loved it, and everything we’d come up with stayed. I would frequently quiz John McMartin about Follies, but he wasn’t very talkative. Donald Moffat was one of the most brilliant actors I’d ever seen – I would frequently just stay to watch him work. He was amazing. They’d asked me as a favor if I would understudy Bud, since that was the easiest thing for them. I agreed, even though I came to wish I hadn’t. It was a little extra money, though, and Bud assured me he had no intention of missing, and I, in turn, assured my understudy, John Voldstad (who would go on to be in The Bob Newhart Show as one of the Daryls) that I had no intention of missing. I did have to attend understudy rehearsals and I didn’t mind doing so, although I just didn’t like playing the other role and it was really hard to watch John do mine. Betsy’s understudy was Deborahlee Scott, who would go on to appear in Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman and other TV shows. And McMartin’s understudy was Ron Randell, who I recognized immediately from the film King Of Kings and Kiss Me, Kate. He was so happy that someone knew who he was, and we had many nice chats.
Working at the Taper was VERY prestigious, and our opening night was filled with fantastic celebrities. It was a wonderful time. They all came backstage and were gracious to us all. The opening night party was fantastic – Steve Allen was there with Jayne Meadows, Ray Bradbury was there with his daughters – I can’t remember who all else was there, but during the course of the run we had backstage visits from Groucho Marx, Julie Harris, and many others of their ilk. I bonded and became good friends with Bud, who was a very odd boy. On matinee days, we’d stay between shows and I’d play the piano for him and he’d sing at the top of his lungs – he wasn’t very good, but he was loud. He was staying at Sally Kellerman’s house and I used to pick him up from there. We went out after the show quite often, too. The reviews were great and there was talk of a transfer to Broadway, which really, REALLY excited me.
I also became very friendly with Ray Henderson, who I adored. We played Scrabble backstage almost every night. He was also living with Elsa Lanchester – he was her accompanist and he’d been close with Mr. Laughton back in the day. Elsa took a liking to me and I became one of their inner circle, attending soirees at her house in Hollywood, and then Sunday brunches at her house in Malibu, which was located next door to Christopher Isherwood and Don Bachardy, who always brunched with us. Mr. Bachardy repeatedly tried to get me to pose nude for him, and I repeatedly said no thanks. Mr. Isherwood was a wonderfully witty and smart man – he gave me several first editions of his books inscribed to me. A few years later, Ray took Elsa to see The First Nudie Musical in Hollywood. She called me afterwards and said, “My goodness, I had no idea what a naughty boy you were – I LOVED it!” Elsa was unique and wonderful and I spoke to her and Ray often until they both passed on.
The understudy rehearsals were during the day every now and then, and the theater was REALLY cold. I caught cold and got very sick and at the end of one of the five-show weekends my voice was shot. I woke up on Monday, our day off, with no voice at all. I was horrified. I did not want to miss a show – in fact, I would rather have been hit by a truck than miss a show – unlike most actors today, who will miss shows for any old reason at all. My wife called the stage manager and told her I had no voice. The SM gave my wife the number of the Taper ENT doctor. I went in to see him an hour later. He swabbed my throat, gave me a shot of something, told me I couldn’t speak during the day until the Saturday matinee, but told me I’d be able to go on the following night, on Tuesday. I didn’t believe him. I had no voice. I kept quiet, wrote notes instead of speaking, and by gum and by golly and buy bonds I went on the next night. My voice wasn’t as strong as it usually was, but I got through the show, and it continued to get better every day – by the weekend I was fine.
My other favorite memory was on one of our Mondays off I got a call from Bud asking what I was doing. I said nothing. He told me to get in the car – he was at Groucho’s and he wanted me to come over and play the piano so Groucho could sing. Say what? I was over there in about twelve minutes flat. Groucho was in his pajamas, and Bud was there and Groucho’s companion Erin Fleming was there, and maybe one or two others. We sat and chatted and Groucho, despite his advanced age, was sharp as a tack and hilarious. He showed me all his memorabilia. There was a cat padding around the house and every time the cat would sidle up to Groucho he’d lean over and say to the cat, “You’ll have no balls tomorrow.” The cat was going to be spayed the next day. It got funnier every time he did it. I did play the piano (not so well) for Groucho and he sang Hooray For Captain Spaulding and Hello, I Must Be Going. I don’t know that I quite appreciated exactly what was happening, but it was an altogether amazing night. And that three-month run was probably my happiest time as an actor. To go to that theater and do that play eight times a week was such a privilege and an honor.
The end of this tale is that the show didn’t go to Broadway (what a disappointment) because they asked Peter Nichols to cut it down by twenty minutes (the play ran close to three hours) and he refused and that was that. Then the word came that the show was going to be taped for PBS’s Theater In America. I went through the same long waiting period to see if I’d be going or not. I know they tried to find someone in New York, because they couldn’t bring all of us in. They’d already committed to Betsy and Donald and kept holding off on me. But I guess they didn’t find anyone because they finally called and told me I’d get to repeat my role. Bud’s part was going to be played by a newcomer, Tom Hulce, who was currently understudying Peter Firth in Equus on Broadway. McMartin’s part was being played by the wonderful Joseph Maher, and Beulah Garrick’s part was played by Geraldine Fitzgerald. Charlotte Moore’s part was played by Arvin’s wife, Joyce Ebert. We rehearsed for a couple of weeks. Interestingly, about twenty minutes of the play was cut for TV – go know. And that included my first scene. It was great fun – we rehearsed in New York and taped the show at a studio in Connecticut. Joe Maher and I got on really well, and Miss Fitzgerald and I had a great time. It was one of those experiences you just never forget. Oh, and our curtain call, the song Forget-Me-Not Lane was choreographed by Marge Champion.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I must get my beauty sleep and it’s almost time to post these here notes.
Yesterday was quite a nice day. I don’t really remember much of the actual day, but I know I did the long jog, and I know I picked up a package, and I know I answered several e-mails, and I know I had several telephonic calls. We finished affixing postage (almost $900-worth), and now all that’s left is to get the CDs on Monday and get them into the packages and the packages off to the postal office. After all that, I went to adjudicate for Karen Morrow’s class at AMDA. Twenty-three students came in and sang two audition songs for us – Susan Egan, myself, and also Jane Lanier was taking notes. We wrote our thoughts down for each singer. I really love doing this sort of thing, and I love watching young hopeful performers. And there were some very good ones. After that was over, Karen, Susan, and I went over to Musso and Frank. Susan had other dinner plans so she just hung with us for a while. I must say, I just love Karen Morrow to pieces. She’s so funny and wise and warm and has great stories and we just had a wonderful time. I had the Seafood Louis with too much dressing, but only one piece of bread and no dessert. The Louis was the best it’s ever been and I hadn’t had it in ages.
Today, I’ll be heading over to the editing room to do a few final fixes on the Kevin and Sean show, and then we’ll add the head and tail credits, and the editor can then up-rez the whole thing and then color correct. Then, I’ll do the mix and that will be that. I may try to go to Nate ‘n’ Al’s for pastrami after that.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, do the long jog, go to the editing room, maybe eat pastrami, and then watch more Claude Lelouch movies. Today’s topic of discussion: What was the book that was a life-changer for you – and why? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we – I’ve enjoyed our little visit down Forget-Me-Not Lane.