It had been a while since I had what I considered a victory. I mean, I’m sure Chinese earthquake victims would punch me in the mouth for saying it, and they’d be right,  but it just felt like everything I was attempting in order to achieve the American Dream was succeeding in the very same way that a lead balloon does not. I needed something. The kind of something that keeps you believing that Paul Potts and Roy Hobbs aren’t  just pipe dream entertainment but options. I haven’t doubted that it would eventually appear in some unexpected fashion, but I was certain it wasn’t coming anytime soon.

I ran into my buddy Mike at Dick’s Grocery Store. He was dressed in all black with a massive silver “peace” sign necklace hanging around his neck. I was carrying five gallons of water with no cart (I would much rather look like a fool than take the time to get a cart. They were at least 30 yards away.)  He was playing the bass in the show at the theater next door and was looking for a drink. Mike and I had a long history together. He was in “Another Story to Tell” and “Much Ado About Nothing” and was a great support in both.

“Tryouts for Jekyll & Hyde are Saturday,” he said.
“This Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought they weren’t ‘til, you know, July.”
“Yeah, they moved them. They’re Saturday.”

It was an odd thing at the time. I hadn’t as much as looked at auditions for about three years. Partly because just after the success of ASTT in 2005, I was all about getting another of my own produced and instead I got married. Being married, truly being married, means everything else comes second. And if you marry correctly, you’re more than happy to follow the rule. The other reason was because I had never gone to auditions and been cast in a musical. Never. Not even the Boston Red Sox can say never. I’ve only ever had the opportunity to sing on stage when I created it myself or the director was desperate for a body. I don’t know about the rest of you, but it’s hard to miss something you are really bad at. Except for a few shows, I wouldn’t regret passing up the chance to fail again.

Except for a few shows.

One of which was the aforementioned “Jekyll & Hyde” to which Hope introduced me. The title character fascinated me. My introduction and ‘official’ performance was the concept album with Anthony Warlow. The man had power in his voice as both Jekyll and Hyde. I wanted that same power, the same range. I wanted to blow the doors of buildings the way he no doubt would if he sang in the average living room. Rumor has it they reinforce the hinges on any performance house he happens to be playing in. Pretty ambitious for guy who’s never been cast as a tree let alone a lead.

But it was more than the voice or the songs, but the opportunity to play both hero and villain in the same production. Sometimes even at the same time. In my limited exposure to theater, I can’t think of another role quite like it. Advantages lie in playing either, but to save the day one minute and burn it to the ground the next? Great times.

If only a local theater would run it.

Well, Rodgers Memorial put it on their 2008 schedule last winter, something I noticed early on, but now that I was married, I really didn’t give it much thought except to remark to myself how surprising it was that this “family entertainment” venue would run a considerably darker show than last year’s Marquee headliner, “The Sound of Music.”  And by “much thought” I mean, I took a deep breath and shook my head once, and muttered some substitute for a swear word. I then promptly forgot about it. Seriously. At least, until Mike freakin’ brought it up again.

“So I ran into Mike at the store getting your water...” I said, nonchalantly to my beautiful wife.
“Oh?”
“Yep.”
“What’d he have to say?” This is always what Hope says. She rarely stars with, “How is Mike?” or “How’s he been?” Always, “What’d he have to say?” I love it. It makes me feel like she knows exactly that this is not nor hardly ever is a “by the way.” I don’t do “by the ways.” I just don’t see the point. My wife clearly knows this.

“He ran up to tell me auditions for J&H are this Friday.” (this is how married people talk to each other – in abbreviations. At least this is how these married people talk.)

“Huh.”
“What do you think about it?” I asked very, very carefully.
“What do YOU think about?” she asked, not nearly as carefully.
“It’s one of the three, you know. And I never thought a local theater would do it, not one just across the street. Not one where I might actually have a chance at it.”
Then there really was a beat. Finally, my extremely understanding and brilliant wife made this point:
“I think you would regret it if you didn’t try out.”

I love my wife.

But  there’s a difference between willing to support your husband’s audition and actually being an accessory. And I needed my wife to be an accessory.

“I have to sing 16 bars of a song.”
“Kay.”
“They don’t allow recorded music.”
“Yeah?”
“Mark lives too far away. I only have tonight and tomorrow to work on it.”
Nothing.
“Will you help me?”
“Of course.”

Not even a hesitation. May all you fellas be as fortunate.
It had been four years since I last auditioned for anything.  Just enough time to once again get my hopes high enough to cause some real damage when they come crashing down again...