The Downside of Fame...Getting There!

I've still got a lot to learn in this world. And I think at every age, we feel like we're going through emotions and experiences that no one has gone through ever before. On rare occasion, we're right. Very rare occasions. But most of the time, we're just going through the natural course of life.

Don't get me wrong. I don't mean to say that every life is the same. Clearly they are not. I like to think of it, however, in terms of a great big "Choose Your Own Adventure" book, with different decisions taking you to different pages with different outcomes. And it's the nuance of each individual that makes those general "endings" so different.

With that said, let me tell you where I stand. I'm 27 years old, a little overweight, balding, and stuck as a singing cupcake decorator for a pittance of a paycheck. Some days I do my job extremely well, like two days ago when five 7-10 year olds dressed in my same "Hersheyizer" outfit and we all planned a Chocolate War with Ghiradelli across the street. I had those kids eating out of the palm of my hand for over an hour, and of course my bosses see "repeat customers". Other days, I sell six cupcakes and do my best to get out of work five minutes after closing time (hasn't happened yet). But this isn't where I wanted to be.

When I was auditioning for different colleges, when auditor at Otterbein College asked me what my goals were. If I'm not mistaken, I believe I told him that I wanted to act on Broadway, work with Muppets, sing with Chanticleer, and become President of the United States. He thought I was kidding.

I have since modified these goals into one sort of umbrella goal: I want to be rich and famous. If fortune cookies hold any truth, then I may indeed achieve that goal. (My fortune once read, "One day you will become rich and famous.") But at 27, with my scalp growing in, my belt disappearing, and my cupcake job not paying enough even for rent, that goal seems no closer than the day I made it.

It hasn't been a particularly easy road either. At every stop along the way there is someone telling you you're not good enough. Sure, most people realize that actors have to audition and that they often are rejected, but I'm talking about things beyond that. When I finally decided to attend Millikin University, I went in knowing that not only was I the best actor from my high school, but so was each other freshman theatre major the best actor from there's. I didn't expect to take the theatre program by storm. But I really didn't expect what I got in return.

I had done a few scenes and shows here and there, but none of the school's mainstage shows. I was being taken aside by upperclassmen and told that I was the best actor in my class. Then I'd be taken into the office of the professors and told I was awful and that I'd never make it. I read the writing on the wall but refused to believe it. I began to bide my time by writing and producing my own plays and hoping that the faculty would take notice so that I could stop that nonsense. Eventually, even that ran it's course and I transferred. One of my lasting memories of that school, aside from the great friends I made and the overpowering smell of processed soy was of the head of the Theatre Department telling me I'd never make it as an actor or singer and that I should get out of the major. He even went so far as to bet me fifty bucks that I'd make more money in ten years as a director/producer than I would as a performer. (That bet pays out on May 13th, 2008.)

I met some success, following that, at Ball State University--where I transferred to. I was immediately cast in a mainstage show and a popular comedy troupe and everything seemed to be turning around. This inconsistency is only feeding the problem. How am I supposed to believe that I'm talentless when I keep having these bouts of success?

It was a success that carried me through a rough patch right after college. After a year of compressing the springs of my brother's couch (sorry, Steve) I finally got a job that would take me to Chicago. I began working at Tony n' Tina's Wedding in August 2001 and I loved it! I was a professional actor in a major market and even began to develop my own degree of fame. I could go to the bar across the street, where everybody not only knew my name but would give me free booze and food, clear tables for the TnT cast, and let us stay after closing. We were recognized in grocery stores. I was able to avoid a few traffic tickets. I even got my name in a few papers...even out of state. This was becoming a national effort!

Then I became the show's union steward. That changed everything. Let me clear this up right now: I had always been an anti-union person. I've seen how today's unions can cut so deeply into the heart of employers. My only intention when becoming the union steward was to make sure my dues weren't being wasted.

The stewardship, and in fact, the union, carried with it major problems. This was the Hotel Employees Restaurant Employees union and we were the only theatre company as part of it. The union/show relationship came about under rather shady circumstances, but my concern was only of the present and future, not the past. However, since we were the only theatre in the HERE union, it was next to impossible to rally the troops, so to speak. Not one person in that cast ever felt they would go to work in a hotel or in a union restaurant, so their efforts would go largely unrewarded. Not so in, say, Actor's Equity where you may lose one job and find several other union acting jobs right around the corner. The system put the actors at a severe disadvantage.

To make a long story short, the management of TnTW felt threatened by the presence of an active union steward and made me pay the consequences of their fears. I've been out of the show for a year and a half and I'm still paying those consequences. Before the union, I was one of their go-to guys, and was receiving compliments left and right. Once things soured, I was out. Today, this very day, there is a cast of Tony n' Tina's Wedding "alumni" who were flown to Minnesota to be in their touring production. They've gone to Wisconsin and Oregon, among other places. But I'm not invited. Ever. Even at the suggestion of my name when they were strapped for actors to play my parts, they scoffed.

To say I don't mind is probably not the whole truth. I do mind. It bothers me that they made such stupid decisions so long ago that prevent them from giving me more money. But with things the way they are, it does NOT bother me that I am not associating myself with them.

In the nineteen months following my Tony n' tenure, I've had some small successes. I've done a children's show. I co-wrote, produced, directed, and starred in a show called Guyanetics. I've been a professional a cappella singer and now a singing cupcake decorator. But it's all scraps. Most famous guys have "made it" by the time they're my age. But I'm no Brad Pitt. I'm no Tom Cruise. At best, I hope I can compare myself to Dennis Franz or William H. Macy who were working all along before finally making names for themselves. It's not a lottery. You don't have one set of numbers for just one week. This would be like a lottery where you have your numbers and your ticket is good for every drawing until it hits or you die. And I don't plan on dying soon.

I haven't hit rock bottom, yet. There were a few times when I sure felt like I had. (When judging "rock bottom", I use meals. I'm not sure which was worse: a bowl of rice with hot sauce and my last piece of cheese melted on top with a glass of water or what was left of my peanut butter and jelly on saltines and a nearby drinking fountain.) These days I'm eating rice and beans by choice. I'm only recognized at the grocery store by the cashier. I'm keeping the spedometer below the limit. And I'm auditioning like hell, waiting for my numbers to hit.