I could tell you about the sadness that Alistair Irving’s death caused, not only me, but the entire theatre community, but in the interest of making my story a short but coherent whole, I’ll take for granted that you understand.
It was three months later that I presented myself to the same theatre company which made Alistair famous. I introduced myself to Edward Zwick, the artist director of the World’s Stage Players.
“Miss Wells,” he said, “it is a pleasure to finally meet you. If one good thing could have come of
“I was never in hiding, Mr. Zwick, and ingénue might be too generous a word for me. I was a student of Alistair’s.”
“No point in being humble, Alistair told us all about how much the two of you worked together.”
I’d never been aware that he’d talked about me to others. I tried my best not to look embarrassed. Or proud.
“Regardless,” Zwick said, “I assume you’ve come to me for a reason.”
I’d mentally prepared a speech that perfected outlined my acting capacity, and how I would be an incredible boon to the already famous company. Instead, like loose change from a pocket, these words tumbled out of my mouth, “I would like to join your company, Mr. Zwick, if that would be at all possible.”
Zwick smiled, his mouth growing huge as the smile spread. “Absolutely.”
After such a pathetic speech, I expected to be turned down, or at least questioned. I absolutely did not expect straight approval. Weighting my words, holding back all gushing sentiment that sprang to mind, I finally said, “Thank you. What would you like me to do?”
“Matter of fact,” Zwick replied, pulling some loose paper from his drawer, “we’ve just lost a member of our cast for Romeo and Juliet. If you were free to fill in for that role, that would be wonderful. But we’ll need you immediately.”
“Absolutely!” I gushed. Then held myself in restraint.
“Good,” he smiled. “If you could come to the main stage at eight tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
My mind reeled with the possibilities. Who could I be? Juliet?
Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
Ah, poor my cord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
No, that was impossible. No matter how much
And I also couldn’t believe that I had been accepted so easily into the company. Without an audition? I figured that the great Alistair’s praise carried great weight within the WSP.
I was very young then and foolishness always accompanies youth. As you have likely already figured out, the company did not give me any of those roles. I was a member of the chorus. With no spotlight, and no lines whatsoever. I was one of the maskers that accompanied the Montague youths to the Capulet ball. I was also a servant in the Capulet household. And finally, I was a musician for the wedding scene.
I was also a spoiled, eighteen year old-girl, so I began my acting career with a great deal of complaint. This did not carry well with the company. I never spoke to Zwick about my wasted talents, but several members of the cast and crew were unlucky enough to have to listen to me.
At the end of the first week, the actor playing Benvolio took me aside. “I’m very sorry we’ve all spoiled your dreams or stardom, but we do have a play to perform. Now, I don’t care how many times you spread your legs for
When he left, I found a quite corner and cried for a very long time.
But I knew that the worst thing I could do was leave. Well, the worst thing I could have done was to complain. If I left the company, acting might as well have been over for me.
At the start of the next rehearsal I was the model member of the company. It was the only thing to do, really. I took very quickly to the dance steps that I was behind in. I also fed lines to the actors who had forgotten them, doing my best to be simply helpful and not a know-it-all. On the following day, we rehearsed the wedding scene over a dozen times. I was tireless and perfect in my piano playing, and I was the only one who did not complain when asked to do the scene a fourteenth time. I gained tolerance, if not respect, from the others in the company who had thought of me as
Thought it bothered me to no end, I had to pretend not to hear all the comments about the illicit relationship I was presumed to have had with
They didn’t, however. They got worse.
It was during this play that I became good friends with Celestial Harmony. This is not a form of spirituality, or a church, or a James Redfield book. Celestial Harmony was an actress. You may have seen her, or more likely heard her on a Broadway stage. Celeste has a vocal range that staggers the imagination, and a presence that can set a whole room abuzz.
Celestial Harmony was born Athea Brown. She began a singing career as the lead of a gospel choir in her father’s church. When she was eighteen, she changed her name—among other things—and began a stage career. She wanted to be noticed, she knew how to garner attention, and she fit in easily and well to the stage life. She began in musicals: Showboat, Ragtime, as the narrator in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, and as Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard. And then, a year before I had arrived, Celeste decided to try Shakespeare for a change of pace. She met with considerable less success there, where there are few roles for women, and especially few for black women.
In Romeo and Juliet she was playing the Nurse. Not exactly a star turn, but much better than the chorus roles she had had previously. As the Nurse she was truly a crowd pleaser, especially when she teases Juliet:
I am a-weary; give me leave a while.
Fie how my bones ache! What a jounce have I had!
She rubbed her bum when she said the last line, and you couldn’t help but love her.
The non-principle characters were also expected to help out with costumes and make-up, as they generally had very little to do otherwise. I was drawn to Celeste simply by her presence. She was someone you wanted to know, someone you wanted to call you a friend. As the nurse wasn’t a tremendous role either, we had plenty of time simply to talk.
“So what was it like to work with
“We weren’t as close as these people would have you believe,” I told her.
“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t buy into any of that. I’ve been there myself. If they tell stories about your sex life, that only means that you’re successful. That’s the only way some men can explain the success of a woman. Stories have called me a slut, a lesbian, a bitch, a cold fish, too masculine, too feminine, too black, too white—I’m starting to think I’m the most successful actress there ever was.”
Where Alistair taught me about the principles of acting, Celeste taught me everything I know about the practical side of the business.
“If you’re a woman in this field, you have to work twice as hard to get the same respect attributed to a man. That’s a fact. If you don’t make yourself get noticed, you might as well be invisible. That’s why I changed my name. Athea Brown is about as memorable as John Smith. But Celestial Harmony, that one’ll stick to the roof of your mouth for a couple of days.”
“As women, we have a very small window to fit a career into. The younger you start, the better. You’re lucky Kate. You’ve got a whole career ahead of you. A women’s career is probably over by the time she’s forty. Not for men.
“And film is a nightmare. If you think the stage is bad, don’t ever try the screen. You’ll see cinematographers talking with directors about how terrible your skin is. Talent aside, you will be judged for your body every day.”
Celeste revealed to me one day that she had had surgery done, another change that she had made on her eighteenth birthday. She had liposuctioned her waist, and she had gotten a nose job—both surgeries making her penniless. “It’s not that I didn’t love who I was. I always have been and always will be proud of who I am. But I knew that it would get me farther. It got me roles that would have been impossible for me otherwise. The question is, where to stop? I’m a beautiful woman but I could have bought myself a face twice as beautiful. It’s possible, with enough money. Things have changed, and you don’t have to end up looking like one of the
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