Welcome to the Big Apple...
I drove into New York City at the height of the annual
Columbus Day Parade which blocked my way to get to Mike Burke’s apartment on
the Upper West Side for several hours. I remember thinking that if I was going
to be delayed, what better place to spend a couple of hours than in the
world-famous Stage Deli. This was the first time in my life that I had been to
New York before so be assured that I had planned to visit every clichéd site
and truly take it all in. So, why not start it all off with a giant legendary
kosher pastrami sandwich at a legendary dining spot?
George had arrived a few days before me and we got settled into our new living quarters. This was a one-bedroom and all Mike had for us was a fold-down couch, which we had to share. Truly less than ideal, but hey! We were livin’ the dream, right?
I started going on auditions right away, and if there is anything in the universe more humbling than NYC Theater auditions, I wouldn’t know what it would be. Most of them had all of hopeful actors standing in a line opposite the director and producer and sometimes, the casting director and wait until they either pointed at us to stay or gave us a curt “thank you” and out the door we’d go, on to the next “cattle call” as they were known.
Every one of my auditions that first week ended in a “thank you”.
What I came to realize was that if you didn’t visually fit the director’s image of who/what he wanted in whatever role, it wasn’t worth his even being nice about it. For example, if the leading lady in the show was over 5-foot-10, then I might as well not even bother showing up.
I also came to learn that to attempt this brutal experience you had to have a solid sense of your own self-worth as well as needing your ego to be fully in check and tied down really tight.
George was doing far better than I was with auditions, most likely because he looked like a leading man and had a powerful singing voice. He would eventually wind up spending several years in such long-running hits as Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music and Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom of the Opera.
But, my Broadway dream was about to come true.
Mike Burke told me that the National Touring Company of the giant Broadway megahit, Fiddler on the Roof was recasting the next day. Boy, did I jump at that opportunity.
The auditions were held in the wonderful old Majestic Theater right in the heart of the theater district just off Times Square on 44th street. This grand old lady had housed some of the theater’s most famous shows: Carousel, South Pacific, The Music Man and Camelot just to cite a few.
The auditions were right out of every theater folklore story I had ever heard. I checked in at the door with the person with the clipboard and then just waited in the wings for my name to be called. When they said “Mr. Wuergler” I walked onstage to find a guy at a piano and one spotlight into which I walked. The house was completely black so you couldn’t see anyone out there at all.
A deep and resonant disembodied voice boomed out from the blackness, “What are you going to sing for us Mr. Wuergler?” Since I was going for the role of the Russian Tenor I announced that I would sing that part of one of the big production numbers from the show, “L’Chaim – To Life.”
At one point in the show, the Russians have interrupted the wedding celebration and this guy (me) gets up on a table and belts out this ringing high-G, holds it for what seems like forever until everyone at the wedding is looking at him, then slides down the scale into what amounts to a blessing on the happy couple and the family.
George had arrived a few days before me and we got settled into our new living quarters. This was a one-bedroom and all Mike had for us was a fold-down couch, which we had to share. Truly less than ideal, but hey! We were livin’ the dream, right?
I started going on auditions right away, and if there is anything in the universe more humbling than NYC Theater auditions, I wouldn’t know what it would be. Most of them had all of hopeful actors standing in a line opposite the director and producer and sometimes, the casting director and wait until they either pointed at us to stay or gave us a curt “thank you” and out the door we’d go, on to the next “cattle call” as they were known.
Every one of my auditions that first week ended in a “thank you”.
What I came to realize was that if you didn’t visually fit the director’s image of who/what he wanted in whatever role, it wasn’t worth his even being nice about it. For example, if the leading lady in the show was over 5-foot-10, then I might as well not even bother showing up.
I also came to learn that to attempt this brutal experience you had to have a solid sense of your own self-worth as well as needing your ego to be fully in check and tied down really tight.
My very first job in New York wasn’t an acting job at all. Mike
Burke got me hired as the assistant stage manager in an Off-Broadway show that
was beyond terrible. The Immaculate
Misconception (trust me, the show was far worse than the title) was being
funded and directed by a theater-wannabe from somewhere out in Indiana who
wrote it, produced it, and starred in it. The two weeks of rehearsals that were
absolute agony and I had a feeling that this show was doomed from the very
beginning. Sure enough…all the critics actually walked out an intermission, and
the guy announced right then and there that his show would be closing that very
night. At least the check cleared!
My very first acting job was being cast as the Doctor in Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates,Bur which
was being produced at the Papermill Playhouse over in New Jersey by the
National Children’s Theater.
My very first theater job! I was really in heaven,
until I learned that the show would only run two weeks. Well, ok…it’s a start.
George was doing far better than I was with auditions, most likely because he looked like a leading man and had a powerful singing voice. He would eventually wind up spending several years in such long-running hits as Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music and Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom of the Opera.
But, my Broadway dream was about to come true.
Mike Burke told me that the National Touring Company of the giant Broadway megahit, Fiddler on the Roof was recasting the next day. Boy, did I jump at that opportunity.
The auditions were held in the wonderful old Majestic Theater right in the heart of the theater district just off Times Square on 44th street. This grand old lady had housed some of the theater’s most famous shows: Carousel, South Pacific, The Music Man and Camelot just to cite a few.
The auditions were right out of every theater folklore story I had ever heard. I checked in at the door with the person with the clipboard and then just waited in the wings for my name to be called. When they said “Mr. Wuergler” I walked onstage to find a guy at a piano and one spotlight into which I walked. The house was completely black so you couldn’t see anyone out there at all.
A deep and resonant disembodied voice boomed out from the blackness, “What are you going to sing for us Mr. Wuergler?” Since I was going for the role of the Russian Tenor I announced that I would sing that part of one of the big production numbers from the show, “L’Chaim – To Life.”
At one point in the show, the Russians have interrupted the wedding celebration and this guy (me) gets up on a table and belts out this ringing high-G, holds it for what seems like forever until everyone at the wedding is looking at him, then slides down the scale into what amounts to a blessing on the happy couple and the family.
“Za va shas da rovia
Heaven bless you both nazdrovia
To your health and may we live together in
peace”
(By the way, I wish I had a photo of me in the show. Sadly, I don't. So, I inserted this photo just to give you an image of what my big moment on stage would soon look like.)
(By the way, I wish I had a photo of me in the show. Sadly, I don't. So, I inserted this photo just to give you an image of what my big moment on stage would soon look like.)
This interruption
does, in very deed, stop the show and is an absolutely wonderful moment for the singer.
So, I sang my heart out in that little part hoping to impress the folks out
there in the darkness and as I ended, I heard the standard, “thank you” and
walked off into the wings and out onto 44th street and took the
subway home.
Where, of course, I nervously waited
by the phone.
Two hours later the call came in
from Hal Prince’s office that yes, I had the part and would need to join the
company up in Toronto, Canada that next Monday to
start replacement rehearsals.
I could hardly breathe. I was in
a Broadway show.
Well, actually in a Broadway
show that wasn’t actually on Broadway, but for me…close enough!
Would've loved to see you preforming in that broadway show that wasn't actually on broadway ;) How exciting and cool to see what your experience was arriving to the big apple! I need to make a visit :)
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