đźŽHow The West Was Lost—Or, Pure As The Driven Smog (Part 2)
Behind the Curtains
Okay, so maybe the Aquarius Rising Theater didn’t have curtains, but we definitely had a backstage area where all the stress went to play before the play. It’s in that area where one realizes exactly how much work goes into play acting.
I promised you yesterday that I’d introduce you to the powerhouse woman who made all the difference in my stage presence. This castmate was both an actress and a stunt woman, and she had a commanding influence as a trainer behind the scenes. The actress was Spice Williams-Crosby, whom you may have seen play a saloon girl in The Cherokee Kid with Sinbad or the Klingon Vixis in Star Trek V: The Final Frontier. If you want to learn more about Spice and her super health conscious endeavors that make me think she is still just as powerful now as then, check her official website.
Since I was only 16 or 17, I don’t recall if Spice was actually an official director or not, but she definitely directed me and others to pull off a truly great performance. She took our little production as seriously as if it were a high-paying, top Hollywood release. By the end of her training, I knew how to speak and act like a New York newspaper boy, a little orphan girl, and an old Indian woman.
Seven Costume Changes and One Tired Teenager
That newspaper boy had more than one headline to sell, and in between those sales, three little orphan girls had to show up in tattered clothing and then change to more appropriate sleepwear. The fun Irish nanny taught us to have hope for tomorrow with a little song that went something like:
Some fine day when my ship comes in,
I won't care about, never think about,
What my life has been.
I'll have chicken every Sunday,
Never go to work on Monday,
When my ship comes in.
That was the chorus, and I know the verse had the line, “I’ll live the life of Riley, hip hooray” in it, but I can’t recall the rest.
Wild, Wild Mabel
For some reason, though, I can recall all the words and the tune for a song I didn’t sing myself, and that’s the song Wild, Wild Mabel that was sung by Spice.
(Chorus)
Wild, wild Mabel,
Wild, wild Mabel.
There's never been a man who was able
To tame her.
Meaner than a lion, she could scratch and claw.
With a red hot trigger and fast on the draw,
Yes Wild, Wild Mabel was her name.
(Verse--partly spoken)
(Speak)
On a cold dark night,
Back in 74,
Mabel went out
To settle a score
(Sing)
With a tall dark stranger who was known as Dangerous Dan.
(Speak)
A shot was fired,
And the silence was broken,
The door swung open,
With the gun still smokin'.
(Sing)
Yes, Wild, Wild Mabel got her man.
(Repeat chorus)
Wild, wild Mabel,
Wild, wild Mabel.
There's never been a man who was able
To tame her.
Meaner than a lion, she could scratch and claw.
With a red hot trigger and fast on the draw,
Yes Wild, Wild Mabel was her name.
When I shared these lyrics with Gemini to see if they exist anywhere online, I got a little history lesson about an embedded joke in the lyrics. Gemini says, “That is a direct, hilarious nod to ‘The Shooting of Dan McGrew,’ the famous 1907 Robert W. Service poem that practically defined the entire ‘Wild West saloon melodrama’ genre!”
It’s a very long poem, but it has some interesting history and alternate texts, so I recommend looking at its Wikipedia page for all the info, like the fact that Ronald Reagan and Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney did their own alternating recital of it.
Stay Tuned for Our Final Act: Part 3
While the orphans were getting ready for bed, the Irish nanny had some comedic surprises of her own as she sang to us about failing at being a “Shoplifters Daughter,” and then walked to the corner of the room to sing the ultimate guilt-trip torch song, “Tears on My Pillow.”
You won’t find these lyrics anywhere else on the internet (or if you do, please tell me where), so make sure to check back tomorrow for the grand finale of this fun journey down my memory lane.
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đźŽHow The West Was Lost—Or, Pure As The Driven Smog (Part 1)
Did you know I used to be an actress? And I played a newspaper boy!
It all started the other day while listening to Forties Junction on Sirius XM in the car. I heard a song I thought was by Judy Garland (I didn’t look at the screen until it was over), and I asked Gemini which movie she sang it in. Well, it wasn’t her, and it wasn’t in any movie. It was from a small theater production and only on the radio.
As we chatted about plays that never make it to the silver screen, my own memories of performing in a repertory theater in my late teens came rushing back. It was a simple showcase that lasted for about eight weeks, and it was one of the most amazing events in my lifetime. (I’ve spent a couple of days collaborating with Gemini to search for real examples of this period, and it’s been a huge help even if we couldn’t find everything. If anyone reading this happens to remember Aquarius Rising in Reseda, California, and has any snapshots, I’d love to hear from you.)
The Reseda Time Capsule
Just a few blocks from the busy intersection of Reseda and Sherman Way Boulevards, a small theater was born from a dying discotheque just off the main drag. Because it was alcohol-free, I frequented it while it was still a disco. I don’t recall how I first found it, but I’m thinking it was because of attending my first concert at Wolf and Rissmiller’s Country Club (later called Chuck Landis Country Club) to see Tanya Tucker and Glen Campbell when someone offered me a free ticket. (His girlfriend stood him up, and he knew I was too young for him to date, but it was okay with my mom to go see one of my favorite singers.)
At first, I danced until it felt like my feet would fall off, but later, my dancing moments came at the beginning and end of the night, with the middle finding me planted firmly on a barstool at the entrance having wonderful conversations with the owner’s wife in the ticket booth. Her name was Teddy Love, and she was one of the sweetest, most interesting people I’d ever met.
As the disco craze began to wane, fewer people at the ticket booth meant more time visiting with Teddy. So when her husband Jim (who worked for Burbank Studios) decided to convert the Aquarius Rising disco to the Aquarius Rising Theater, I was still very interested. I don’t recall if the magic shows were before or after the play, but I still remember their amazing feats of illusion, and the funny show that included the story of Petey the Snake. (Yes, I remember my promise to record it for you one day.)
My Big Break
Besides small plays in school—including a funny mime of being the target in a knife-throwing act and not surviving—I hadn’t done any acting. But it was definitely something I dreamed of, especially being so close to Hollywood. So when Teddy asked if I wanted to be in a play they were getting ready to showcase, I was totally on board—even though it meant I’d have to play a New York newspaper boy. And mine was the opening act for the play, “How the West Was Lost—Or, Pure as the Driven Smog.”
I studied and memorized the lines, but I had no idea how to fake an accent I’d only heard on TV and in movies. Thankfully, a true Hollywood powerhouse was about to join the cast, and she would teach me how to knock out not only the newspaper boy’s voice, but those of the other two characters I ended up playing as well. Because of her excellent guidance, and some great makeup help, audience members didn’t know I played all three roles unless they saw it in the theater program.
Stay Tuned for Part 2
Tomorrow, I’ll take you backstage to join me in my rapid-fire pace of seven costume changes in just under two hours, and I’ll introduce you to the whip-cracking castmate who gave me a no-nonsense masterclass in stage presence and voice control (even if she intimidated me at first). And you’ll love the lyrics to the song she performed in the play: Wild, Wild Mabel.
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