CAUGHT DANCING WITH A VACUUM (AND I’D DO IT AGAIN)

Aaaaand… quadruple turn into an aerial then prep to whip thirty-two fouette turns into a side-straddle leap step kick your face slide into the splits then stand on your head and spin. 5-6-7-8 GO!

Holy flexibility. I’m dizzy.

Ouch.

while back in my day

Were you a dancer who could sing-ish, a singer who could dance-ish, or an actor who could sort of carry a tune and manage a move or two?

Musical theatre productions of old were quite clear on what group you fell into: dancers were part of the ‘dancing chorus’ and singers were part of the ‘singing chorus’... and never the twain shall meet. Threatening the status quo, A Chorus Line offered up the dancer-singer-actor fusion. And henceforth, all MT (musical theatre) wannabees  were required to perform in triplicate. Or at the very least, fake it till you make it.

It should be mentioned that triple threats were not exactly a new concept, as my showbiz idols were indeed as such, but back in my day it wasn’t expected that a fourth category be added to that amalgamation; dancer-singer-actor-contortionist. The flexible, acrobatic-isms dancers do nowadays upstages the “tricks” we were equipped to do back then.

Quite ambitiously there was one or two who could accomplish a full-on flip and, for all I know, a couple more might have been able manage to perform a cartwheel on BOTH sides. BOTH SIDES.THAT was impressive.

Making allowances for the fact that my cartwheels could only occur heading right, I was, however, a dancer who could do a bit more than sing in tune. (Mind you, nobody was about to give me a record deal but I could heartedly “sing out Louise”). As a result, I rather enjoyed auditioning. That’s not to say my nerves weren’t triggered, it’s just that I had a rapt audience who had to listen to me belt it out and I appreciated them sticking around. Thank you.

I had two songs  I offered for every single audition (well three once I added “All That Jazz”). My uptempo: “If They Could See Me Now” and my ballad: “Where am I Going?” (which I come to find out is not actually considered a ballad… but slowed down, voila, a ballad it became!)

Nowadays, MT peeps carry around an AUDITION BOOK (a three-ring binder-full) filled with sheet music for song after song after song after song; 2 or MORE contrasting contemporary, traditional, classical, standards, pop/rock, country, folk, jazz, comedic, a Sondheim, R&B, 50’s/60’s, patter song, etc, etc… all (marked clearly) in both 32 bar, 16 bar and 8 bar offerings for the accompanist. With a table of contents, tabs and sheet protectors (NON-GLARE). WHOA. I’m exhausted. 

I haven’t even considered adding to my repertoire. Still singing my go-to pieces… albeit in my shower.  

And if you weren’t a member of  a concert dance company YOUR JOB was to audition in hopes to chorus-your-way through musical theatre productions and receive actual money. On the flip side we all logged in waaaaay too many gigs for a pittance of a handout. But we needed something to slap on our youthful resumes and, get ready for it… EXPERIENCE. 

Ah yes, that proverbial experience – AKA ‘cost effective’ talent. And unfortunately that ‘for the experience’ has not changed. Dancers – the hardest working – always relegated to the bottom of the pay scale. Stop it right now!

the big payoff. or how we survived.

Extolling the virtue of products was how many of us dancing-singing-acting types cobbled together a living in the 70’s and 80’s. In these full-fledged industrial musicals (oft referred to as corporate theatre) we declared “You’re Simply the Best”, clarified “The Bottom Line” and put some zip into “It’s Not Where You Start it’s Where You Finish” to a whole bunch of sales people at national sales meetings. We were there to pump them up!

Heck, we could make more moolah under a two-week “business” theatre contract than we could doing eight shows a week in a run of Oklahoma. In particular, our payday finale for one cosmetics company always included a $1000 bonus – a much sought after engagement. Ya think?

Additionally, we were wined and dined, our travel and accommodations were paid for and we received a daily stipend for meals which we squirreled away by finding the cheapest options… like Tiger’s Milk bars, cheese sticks, yogurt and trail mix.

There were huge budgets for these things… the extravagant costumes, the sets, the original music gushing over new products, lauding employees and inspiring them to boost sales. The lyrics? Often witty, often silly, and usually cheesy … but gosh we had FUN.

And quite proudly, I was a Hoover hoofer. 😁

Yes we danced with vacuum cleaners, waxed poetic about tires, caressed washing machines and Busby Berkeley-ed our grocery carts filled to the brim with cereal and cleaning supplies. New products were gushed over and employees were inspired to boost sales through our full libretto delivered with flair, enthusiasm and a whole lot of “cheeze”.

In recording sessions, where we sang about cereal, burgers, mufflers, washing machines, ice cream and vacuum cleaners, my nerves were on edge. I froze each time that scolding voice streamed into the studio, “someone is off key” or “I’m not hearing the harmony”. 

Psssst… as for that harmony, I really did give it my best shot (prob off-key)… but mostly I just sang along with whomever was standing next to me (aka no harmony). Uh-oh.

As absurd as some of this may sound, these companies were serious about their theatre. And when my hair went from straight, at the audition, to permed one month later (at the start of rehearsals) those executives had a tantrum resulting in a meeting of such consequence … the bone of contention being my HAIR … I surely thought my Equity card would be permanently revoked due to the flourishes framing my face. 

But common sense, and the fact that my blow dryer could easily straighten out the issue, prevailed. All those executives… men. 

Most contracts were for a two or three week period where we rehearsed in Chicago, traveled to the meeting location, rehearsed on the stage and then performed our finished product one time. Yes, we did it for the money, but in return we got so much more (and I’m not just referring to that big bonus moolah). It was all the joy while working together that was so fabulous.

The laughter.

The laughter.

The laughter!!

And it was our love for one director-choreographer in particular, Bob Simpson. Tall, lanky Bob who strode into rehearsal with his full-length fur casually draped over his shoulders, extravagant in his way of gesturing with his perpetually lit cigarette and regaling us with old show biz gossip. And his, “for chrissakes dahling, just do four counts of eight…turns, kicks, something…over there”. We could all lovingly imitate him. What a character… an amusing, charismatic, lovable character. Sadly we lost him when he succumbed to AIDS. He was one of a kind.

Our ability to be triple threats, or at the very least a one-and-half, offered up a much appreciated paycheck, travel throughout the country, and so much damn (and I can’t say it enough) fun!! We may have lacked the ability to belt a high Z, twist ourselves into a pretzel, spin like a top or fly through the air and land on one finger but we ‘werked’. And we did it with two audition songs, a double pirouette (to the right), a cartwheel (to the right), beaming smiles and lip-synching expertise akin to a winner on Lip Sync Battle.

INDUSTRIAL SHOWS, BUSINESS THEATRE, CORPORATE MUSICALS… whatever you want to call them … what a fabulous thing it was!!

WHAT’S MORE… WE COULD KICK OUR FACES LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS. 

Check out the documentary: Bathtubs over Broadway

Photo credit: huge thank you to Halle Farago for vacuum wizardry – cause my tech skills only go so far 😳

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