The Curtain Drops
I learned some very sad news this week. The American Musical Theatre of San Jose, the theater company where I worked for10 years, filed for bankruptcy and will be closing its doors for good. This is a company that has been producing shows in the Bay Area for 73 years! They survived the Great Depression, but were not able to survive some bad decisions made during the current economic crisis. It is the end of an era, and a chapter of my life that I am extremely reluctant to close (even though I haven’t worked there since bringing the kids home).
Many of the best times of my life were spent backstage, in the dark, helping create the magic unfolding for the audience on stage. I worked as a dresser, taking care of costumes and assisting actors with their “quick changes.” As Jeff once put it to a family member who asked, “What do you DO in that theater?” - “She hangs out in the dark, dressing gay men.” Which was only partially true. I also dressed women on occasion. But the men’s chorus members were much more fun.
During much of my time with AMT, I was an admin at Stanford University. By day, I worked with a group of stuffy physicians (with a few exceptions) who walked around in overly starched lab coats, worried about their next manuscript. When 5:00 pm came, I couldn’t leave my mauve and gray cubicle fast enough! I’d make the hour-long drive to San Jose, grab some dinner, and enter an entirely different world. A place flowing with creativity, where people laughed at themselves and were less inhibited. A place where people accepted you for who you were, quirks and all. A place where people had FUN. I’d often smile to myself, wondering what the doctors would think if they caught a glimpse of my backstage life.
Some of my favorite people in the world came into my life because of AMT: Cathy, Steph and Andy – my “Theatre Sisters” (and yes, Andy is a guy, but he’s still one of my “sisters” and always will be). Matty, Rickey, Liz, Jeff, Kari, and Val. We bonded over harried costume changes, hours of ironing men’s shirts and steaming women’s gowns, and the general craziness that happens backstage. Our required uniform of dark clothing earned us the nickname, “Chicks in Black.” I received my second marriage proposal at AMT, from a gay chorus member I was dressing, and whom I suspect secretly had a crush on Jeff. It was also my AMT sisters who taught me how to knit. We were working on a production of “A Chorus Line,” which is boring as hell for dressers. We had ONE costume change, at the very end of the show. The two hours before that change were quite a lot to fill, so we all knitted, while the lead actor (playing the role of “Zach”) danced for us in front of his dressing room.
I have so many fond memories of my time with AMT, but here are a few that really stick out:
• Flashing “Carlotta” as she left the stage from one of her big scenes in “Phantom.” The Carlotta madness began with a simple burp, but escalated each night as the group of us waiting backstage to do our next change thought of new ways to shock her when she walked past. Towards the end of the run, a small crowd had gathered to see what we would do. The pressure was really on, so we decided to flash her. A member of the men’s chorus made the prank when he stood, bare-bottomed, reading a newspaper. It was so unexpected that the actress playing Carlotta burst out laughing – it was the only time we were able to get her to break character.
• Watching the men’s ensemble perform the “Sally Simpson” scene from “The Who’s Tommy.” They looked very, very good in their pleather uniforms. (of course, peeling the sweaty things off of them after the scene ended wasn’t as much fun)
• Working with Jamie Torcellini – when he wasn’t performing for the audience, he would be doing a separate show for the cast and crew watching in the wings backstage. It was his mission each night to make someone laugh on stage and break character.
• Hanging out in the men's chorus room backstage – there was always so much going on in there, and in such an uninhibited fashion, that it was quite an eye-opening experience for a sweet, innocent girl like me.
I’m so grateful for my time with the American Musical Theatre of San Jose, and for the opportunity I had to work with so many wonderful people. Hopefully another company will step in to try and fill the big void AMT has left behind. And hopefully, someday in the not-too-distant future, I’ll be backstage, hanging with my theatre sisters once again.
The dressers for AMT's production of Funny Girl - The Center for Performing Arts in San Jose, 2004
Many of the best times of my life were spent backstage, in the dark, helping create the magic unfolding for the audience on stage. I worked as a dresser, taking care of costumes and assisting actors with their “quick changes.” As Jeff once put it to a family member who asked, “What do you DO in that theater?” - “She hangs out in the dark, dressing gay men.” Which was only partially true. I also dressed women on occasion. But the men’s chorus members were much more fun.
During much of my time with AMT, I was an admin at Stanford University. By day, I worked with a group of stuffy physicians (with a few exceptions) who walked around in overly starched lab coats, worried about their next manuscript. When 5:00 pm came, I couldn’t leave my mauve and gray cubicle fast enough! I’d make the hour-long drive to San Jose, grab some dinner, and enter an entirely different world. A place flowing with creativity, where people laughed at themselves and were less inhibited. A place where people accepted you for who you were, quirks and all. A place where people had FUN. I’d often smile to myself, wondering what the doctors would think if they caught a glimpse of my backstage life.
Some of my favorite people in the world came into my life because of AMT: Cathy, Steph and Andy – my “Theatre Sisters” (and yes, Andy is a guy, but he’s still one of my “sisters” and always will be). Matty, Rickey, Liz, Jeff, Kari, and Val. We bonded over harried costume changes, hours of ironing men’s shirts and steaming women’s gowns, and the general craziness that happens backstage. Our required uniform of dark clothing earned us the nickname, “Chicks in Black.” I received my second marriage proposal at AMT, from a gay chorus member I was dressing, and whom I suspect secretly had a crush on Jeff. It was also my AMT sisters who taught me how to knit. We were working on a production of “A Chorus Line,” which is boring as hell for dressers. We had ONE costume change, at the very end of the show. The two hours before that change were quite a lot to fill, so we all knitted, while the lead actor (playing the role of “Zach”) danced for us in front of his dressing room.
I have so many fond memories of my time with AMT, but here are a few that really stick out:
• Flashing “Carlotta” as she left the stage from one of her big scenes in “Phantom.” The Carlotta madness began with a simple burp, but escalated each night as the group of us waiting backstage to do our next change thought of new ways to shock her when she walked past. Towards the end of the run, a small crowd had gathered to see what we would do. The pressure was really on, so we decided to flash her. A member of the men’s chorus made the prank when he stood, bare-bottomed, reading a newspaper. It was so unexpected that the actress playing Carlotta burst out laughing – it was the only time we were able to get her to break character.
• Watching the men’s ensemble perform the “Sally Simpson” scene from “The Who’s Tommy.” They looked very, very good in their pleather uniforms. (of course, peeling the sweaty things off of them after the scene ended wasn’t as much fun)
• Working with Jamie Torcellini – when he wasn’t performing for the audience, he would be doing a separate show for the cast and crew watching in the wings backstage. It was his mission each night to make someone laugh on stage and break character.
• Hanging out in the men's chorus room backstage – there was always so much going on in there, and in such an uninhibited fashion, that it was quite an eye-opening experience for a sweet, innocent girl like me.
I’m so grateful for my time with the American Musical Theatre of San Jose, and for the opportunity I had to work with so many wonderful people. Hopefully another company will step in to try and fill the big void AMT has left behind. And hopefully, someday in the not-too-distant future, I’ll be backstage, hanging with my theatre sisters once again.
The dressers for AMT's production of Funny Girl - The Center for Performing Arts in San Jose, 2004
