MY 24 hours with PLAY IN A DAY
Armed with my brand new postcard sized head shots, I arrived at the Open Stage Theater on Saturday evening, early - of course - for the 7pm call. Standing outside of the door was my very own dark lady from LOVE’S LABOURS WONNE, my Miss Marci, Marcia Sekulien, whom I had not seen since the closing matinee three years ago! My Miss Marci is a tall lady, every bit as tall as me. We hit it off at LLW and that friendly sparkle in her eye was still there. She immediately asked about my folks, somehow having heard through the Pittsburgh theater grapevine that I had been spending a great deal of time with their respective recuperations.
Inside of the theater, major changes had taken place - new ventilation, raised stage platform, new lighting grids - no longer looking like a former bingo hall. Melanie Armer, the director of SYMPATHETIC MAGIC had set up her artistic director desk at the far edge of the stage, here we mingled, the relatively few who had risked this intense experiment. Chris Kirsch, also of SM, embraced me with a great big kiss, asking if we were all fools. In exchange for our headshots, we were given name tags! Melanie, every the trusted friend I had made in the brief time I worked on SM, commented positively on my head shot, stating that it really was an accurate representation of the Tony Dale she knows and respects. Grabbing a few chairs from the corners of the space, Miss Marci, her pal Rachel, Chris and I took places in the back row, while a few stragglers wandered in: one of them, long time friend, Mark Calla. I felt at ease, knowing that I had these past friends there in my present.
Briefly, Melanie reiterated the goals of the event, as well as the writing and acting rules. One script written expressly for the chosen actors, to be completed by 7am Sunday, actors to return at 8am pick up the script, work with playwright and director until show time - Sunday eve at 7pm. The she asked the playwrights to step forward, where they drew named cards to acquire their casts. I thought of “Last One Picked” from WHOOP-DE-DOO and Janis Ian’s “At Seventeen” while the five writers chose. Playwright Jennifer Schaupp called my name in addition to the name, Molly Seremet. Melanie, in the meantime, assigned directors to each group, we got Richard Bonime - who immediately told us that he was 70 years old (I would have thought older) and had just been fired from a directing job with The Pittsburgh Savoyards - Gilbert & Sullivan’s RUDDIGORE. Well, that certainly did NOT earn my trust. Jennifer said that she was 23, had just finished her Bachelor’s at Carnegie Mellon in Creative Writing, and was now attending Pitt, still in a writing program. Ironically, I pointed out that I attended Pitt before working for Carnegie Mellon for fifteen years! Obviously, the writer and I hit it off. Molly, a mere 18 seemed to be a sweet, if softly spoken young lady. After these momentary introductions, Richard dismissed Molly and I.
Other actors had very short meetings with their creative teams as Mark Calla was standing outside the door with Marci when I came out. I immediately asked if he had plans for the evening, to which he said, not until 9:30 which gave him about an hour and a half which he’d rather spend doing something other than driving home to McKeesport. I told him that I was heading to Red Fin Blues, and he was more than welcome to join me for a cocktail or two. He’d heard of the place, but, had never been there, so it was a plan.
Michael greeted me on the deck, great guy who serves and bartends there. Ambisextrous to the max. Mark and I sat at the bar and as if three years had NOT passed between our last get-together picked up our friendship with talk of new projects, new men and women, New York trips while imbibing our Sam Adams (Mark) and vodka martinis (me). Nine-thirty came and went before mark and I were in the parking lot saying good night, and sharing formerly unspoken feelings. It wasn’t until I was driving past the Highland Park Bridge that I realized that I had only eaten a few handfuls of Trail Mix throughout the day and that I really needed cool air hitting my face, for I was pretty damned plastered by those four HUGE Red Fin Blues martinis, martinis with vermouth only whispered over the glass.
Minx was downstairs, Dad in his chair and Mum in bed when I stumbled in the door. I poured a cold cup of coffee and fixed the coffee pot for an early a-rising. Dad told me, from the other room, that Carmen had brought his son Brandon out that evening, and that Brandon was a firecracker, a rambunctious child, exploring every crevice of the house that he could get to. All I could really think about was getting Minx onto her leash, out the door and up into bed. But, a wonderful sight hit my eyes as I opened my yahoo messenger, downloaded my emails and prepared to shut down for the night; my dear friend Alex, from Australia, had been trying to reach me. We connected and had a great, if drunken - I believe the word I used was “shit-faced” - nearly deep and meaningful conversation. Alex even offered to phone, if that would make it any easier to communicate.
