HOP TO IT

I’m a born and bred New Yorker with a never yet realized yen. Trying to cross W. 44th St. the other day, as usual, pedestrian traffic was packed to a tight standstill. Beeps, drivers on the tails of those in front moved at a snail’s pace. The three minute delay had me antsy for no reason other than I disliked being held prisoner. This time the wait was worth it. In spite of all the street noises I got lucky. Two well dressed young ladies were in front of me and I happened to hear them talking about a Cattle Call. Well, there I stood, straining to hear ‘when, why? where?’ The light changed but I stayed on their tail and gathered all the schmaltz.

Meryl Streep, who I believe is the today’s finest all around actress, singer, dancer, comedienne, is going to star in a new musical this fall. The money is already on the table. The call is for vocalists and dancers at the St. James Theater. My steps bounced, almost flew, there. I opened the side entrance and entered my dream world. Lots of young girls in leotards, funky clothes, were sitting in awkward positions on the stage. Others were doing exercises that I have only seen on t.v. They looked like their bodies might split in half. Nobody glanced at me, asked any questions. I took off my fleece jacket, rolled up my shirt sleeves and plunked down amongst all these strangers. One young hopeful did ask me if I had signed in. ‘No, I’ve never been to a Call before. I’d appreciate your help. What do I do?’ Priscilla was her name. ‘I don’t have much experience either but go ask the man standing near the piano, the one with the walking stick.’ ‘ I tried that already and he told me to get away, sit down someplace.’ So, I sat there for three hours. At 5 P.M. the man with the walking stick bellowed over his mike, ‘Casting is over for today. Everyone go home. We start at 8 A.M. tomorrow.’

Dejected and hungry, I stopped at Nate’s for a mile high corned beef sandwich on fresh rye, onion rings, slaw and a Dr. Brown chocolate fizz. I had to force ½ of it down, got a box for the rest, and have my dinner for tomorrow. The fizz was flat and I left it there.

At 7:30 A.M. I was back at the entrance door to the theater and was about the 100th person in line. The would-like-to-bes and the novices were mooing, were anxious to get inside. A new sign was plastered on each side of the box office, ‘ Opening this fall, Meryl Streep in a blast of a musical ‘A Frog He Would–-‘ tickets on sale September 10.’ Most of the hopefuls knew about this before I did and were wearing green outfits. Some had papier mache’ frog masks. All I had was my own face and determination to try out for this show.

What I know is I can cha cha, go way down low under the limbo pole, and if no experts are watching, can do a mean tango. What I can’t do is lift women over my head, pull them thru my legs. I can’t even toss my hat in the air and catch it without falling. Still I won’t give up and was at the side door 6:30 for two full weeks.

Mr. Jackson, the man with the walking stick, nodded to me once. My spirit soared. On the 16th day of my vigil he motioned for me to come up to the piano. I felt faint, didn’t know what, if anything, I could show him. The pianist clomped the keys. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was I trying to do what I can’t. The beat began to clarify and it seemed something was jumping from place to place. I got it, fell to the floor, put my hands between my legs and began making grrumph, wordless sounds, jumping as my deep, guttural voice croaked. Mr. Jackson didn’t throw me off the stage. In fact, he smiled and actually said, ‘Mr. Frogie, don’t leave until I tell you. We will talk after lunch.’ The next day I was made the frog for the entire run of the show. I had to join the Actor’s Guild and ended up with a pittance and satisfaction.

At home I jumped and made loud noises until I began to think I looked like a frog, was going to be the best darn frog there ever was on the stage. Meryl was her usual fantastic self and every nite when she shinnied up a tree to kiss me, my costume seemed to magically disappear and as the curtain came down, I stood straight and became the prince I had always dreamed of being.

My yen to be an actor was over and I went back to being a plain born and bred New Yorker whose lips will always taste like pure Meryl Streep.