The Gypsy Camp It's Showtime folks! And the chorus Gypsy makes it happen
Working Broadway dancers are called gypsies; their apt and affectionate name-tag stolen from the rootless and romanticized families that have traveled from country to country over the centuries. These gypsies toil behind the principals eight shows a week, trying to please the choreographer, the stage manager, the audience, and be good enough to go on to the next gig or the next level as an understudy, a stand-by, a speaking role, a star. Dancer Magazine talked with an ensemble of working gypsies, dancers who group and regroup as families, not with the same name but with the same home - the dressing room.
Meet Christophe Caballero, Paula Legget Chase, Lisa Guida, Peter Gregus, Amy Higgins, Mary Ann Lamb, Matt Risch, and Alex Sanchez. All are working on Broadway, or on an Equity tour. No more early-morning line-ups at the stage door. No more bumpy bus-and-truck non-union tours, no more dreaded waitering or office temp jobs for them. They are in a show, have union membership, medical benefits, a decent salary, and their name in print in the playbill. Often, if they are really lucky, some gypsies will rehearse one show in the afternoon, preparing ahead for the eventual closing, and perform another at night. Just being in one show is not carte blanche to put your feet up and watch Oprah every afternoon. The competition is fierce. Someone is always in the wings waiting for the next pulled muscle or slipped disc. The unemployment lines are a never-ending reality. Still, they have crossed the threshold from have to have not, and the glamorous adventure has begun. Even the title "Gypsy" commands respect, admiration, and prestige in the dance community. Mention that you just signed a contract for the new musical coming down the pike, and ears perk up, eyes widen, heads turn. You are "someone."
Hundreds of dancers appear at the stage door for an audition on a specific date and time, and are affixed with a three-digit number (sometimes four) on a nametag. Often the lines go around the block, and the wait to be seen seems endless. Most will be rejected; too tall, too short, too blond, too reticent, too loud, not loud enough. A handful will be invited back for yet another callback, then if the luck holds --another, and finally for a few, a contract with the excitement of a Broadway debut. Some will have one show, and then get lost in the shuffle never to be seen again. Some will move continually from show to show, reaching "A-lister" status, the coveted level where one need only to wait at home for the phone to ring offering the next job. Some may workshop new shows with new choreographers pro bono on the chance that when they appear on the audition line the choreographer will remember them. It is tough, minimally rewarding financially, often exasperating, but question anyone of them...do you love it? The answer is always...you bet!
Ask Matt Risch, a brand new gypsy in "Chicago" who loves everything and everybody in his new life; or Mary Ann Lamb, who at 47 cannot believe there will be a time when she is not dancing; or Christophe Caballero, who left dancing, moved to Paris for a new life in fashion, only to chuck it when the opportunity to tour with "Chicago" came up; or Paula Legget Chase who park-sat for two years after the birth of her second son, but grabbed the phone when "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" called.
It is a special family, this gypsy camp. People coming from various backgrounds and experiences to gather in theater basements, or at the top of many flights of stairs, wherever their dressing room happens to be. They report eight times a week, and at the announcement of "half hour" paste on the eyelashes, stretch out their limbs, plug in the adrenalin, and get ready for the opening notes of the overture. They assemble behind the closed curtain on stage and listen to the muffled sounds of the audience coming in, realizing the ticket price is steep, and they owe a fully energized performance each night. This is part of the gypsy credo. The overture begins, they take their places, and they smile.
In 2007, there will be a Broadway revival of "A Chorus Line," the landmark Michael Bennett musical that begins with dancers standing on line anxious, hopeful, and desperately wanting to be in the chorus of a show. This year there was an original mus-ical "A Dancer's Life," the tale of one chorus dancer, Chita Rivera, who was in so many shows she became a legend. A chorus dancer's life begins on the formidable audition line. The journey from line to legend can be perilous, funny, satisfying, or painfully disappointing. Yet being a gypsy is being a member in good standing of a community, a bonded, loving group that faces the dressing room mirror at half hour and stands on the stage on the hour of eight. It is a group that wears both good luck and success as an insignia.
CHRISTOPHE CABALLERO -
"Chicago tour"
"Gypsies working in a show together especially on a tour become really close. You realize what a loss it is when one leaves for another show."
"You make good friends because you not only dress and eat together, you live together in the same hotels along the way," Caballero observed. "It is so sad when a friend leaves though you know at some point they have too. Texting or phoning is not the same as arriving each night to your dressing room and expecting to see your friend sitting there waiting for you." Caballero is making a second swing through "gypsydom" having spent some early years in top hit shows like "Jerome Robbins Broadway" and "Beauty and the Beast" before leaving to live in Europe.
Caballero's strong interest in fashion pulled him away from Broadway to Paris. He is part French, speaks the language fluently, and is an admitted Francophile. Also he was fast approaching an age when dancing begins to take its physical toll, and as most dancers do, began to think of transitioning to another field. But he soon became disenchanted with the French fashion scene, and was lured into a production of "La Cage Aux Folles." After appearing in the Paris company of "Chicago" he returned to New York for a visit and dropped off a resume with the casting director of "Chicago." As he had understudied the role in Paris he thought he had the requisite falsetto voice needed for the role of Mary Sunshine, the softhearted reporter that covers Roxie's case. To his delight he was asked to join the touring company as a dancer with an understudy stipulation in his contract, and has since gone on for "Mary" numerous times. "Not sure where I'll go from here," he mused. "Some guys count the days until a tour is over, but I like touring. I'm not giving it up again, though I am keeping my apartment in Paris."
Coming back to the gypsy camp after a long hiatus Caballero traveled to Taiwan with the company, the first stretch of the tour. 'I felt like I was welcomed into an honor society," he recalled. "But don't think there isn't dissension here. We are not in heaven; almost everyone dislikes one person in the dressing room at one time or another. But unless it is a major offense like stealing, we live with it and support each other." Unlike the atmosphere in a ballet company, Broadway gypsies tend to watch out for each other, advise each other, bond together in sickness, health, and in job hunting. Because on Broadway you are hired for the job, the dreaded aura of competition that surrounds ballet is not usually noticeable. The job is usually yours for the run.
Caballero has never felt happier than he is now as a member of the "Chicago" family. He lives out of the proverbial trunk but realizes that dancers are respected in the U.S. and do not wear a tee shirt that reads, "I can only dance." There is an opportunity for him to advance. "At my age I don't want to do extremely difficult dancing anymore. I want to continue to develop my singing voice and be given more chances to sing. In 'Chicago' I am getting that chance."
PAULA LEGGET CHASE -
"The Pajama Game"
"I was twenty-six when I started to dance, but I was determined to catch up."
And indeed, Chase has caught up and passed many by achieving her goal to be a Broadway dancer. "I didn't come from a family with a dance background," she said. "I was constantly told I was too tall to be a dancer, so I went the gymnastics route. There too, I couldn't go to the all-state competitions because the bars were not wide enough for me." But Chase could sing well enough to attend a top conservatory and begin her show business career with singing and a few time steps. "Sort of skim across the stage singing 'Memories,'" she recalled, laughing. Her chance association with Charles Goddertz, a well-known tap teacher in New York, was a turning point for her. "He suggested I spend a summer in New York just taking classes, ballet, everything. I received a scholarship at Steps and literally danced 24 hours a day. Though I had long legs, I had no technique to speak, but never mind, I was musical, energetic, ambitious, and I loved it."
Professional work began with cruise ships, dinner theater, and her first audition for "Cabaret." "I didn't know they were looking for an older actress to cover Frau Schneider, which left me out," she said. Back to classes and more bleeding feet but she was determined. And then she hit her first Broadway show "Crazy For You," tapping on toe. Others followed, but now she was married, with her first baby and 33 years old. Regional theater seemed the way to go, and she was busy and happy with many projects. When her second son arrived Chase felt it was a good time to relax and be a mom. Then "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" phoned to ask her to come in for a six-week replacement stint (which turned into six months), and she was quite ready to leave the park bench and limber up her long legs. "There are lots of lovely moms, but I needed to be with cats with the same stripes," she recalled, meaning-- get me back to dancers. "And my sons told me, 'when you are happy mom, we are too.' That clinched it!"
After "Scoundrels" came the role of Brenda, in "Pajama Game" complete with long cigarette holder, glasses, dashing red and white costumes, and some high kicking choreography. Chase and her husband (the musical director) are working together and the show is enjoying a successful revival on Broadway. "I feel like I am playing a woman who was a friend of my Grandmother," Chase reminisced. "I took her mannerisms to form my character, because I loved her so much."
"After two pregnancies and major foot surgery I am grateful to be in any dressing room much less one of a hit show," Chase declared. "It's true. Some rooms are truly exhausting especially until the younger ones in there realize I have no desire to encroach on them. 'I have ten years on you, for God's sake,' I say under my breath. We have a cast of characters there. One girl who can't be spoken too, and one who falls into my arms in tears, it seems I am receiving both." Chase wonders if it isn't necessary to bring her parenting skills along with her to her night job.
LISA GAJDA -
"Spamalot"
"As a dancer you spend so many years not having money in your pocket. Then you get a job, and you see some handsome boots in the window and think -hey, I can afford them now."
Lisa Gajda is aware that dancing is a finite time in her life, but for now she is going to enjoy herself. She is exactly where she wants to be - in a hit show, able to support herself reasonably well, able to enjoy things she could not before. "I have been very happy," she declared. "I want to dance as long as I can. If 'Spamalot' lasts another 20 years I would do it. That is if my body lets me, and the choreographer lets me."
Gajda watches the principals in her show and has come to realize that she has no desire to take on one bit more than she is doing right now. "That is my personality," she admitted. "The amount of pressure put on me as a gypsy is enough." "Movin' Out," one of her past shows was hard....very hard. There was Twyla Tharp choreography, never simple, and an intense story. She enjoys "Spamalot" because it is a comfortable place, and working for Casey Nicholaw, who was a chorus gypsy himself, was extremely satisfying. "He treats us with that special understanding that exists between gypsies."
In "Spamolot" Gadja was encouraged to use her imagination to embellish the choreography as she saw fit, a process she greatly appreciated. "Today producers cannot afford to pay separate performers to do bits, the chorus dancers do them, and have an opportunity to stretch their abilities," she said. "Also I am grateful that dancers have to sing well these days to get a job. If I were competing with just a bunch of dancers, I might not get it."
Being thrust into a dressing room with some aggressive personalities who foster competition and create a fuss is not entirely comfortable for Gadja, a soft-spoken, content young woman who has been there (on Broadway) and done that (danced) for a long time. "In a dressing room, the more accomplished you are, the less you need to make a scene," Gadja explained. "I remember one instance when one of the younger girls returned from a callback audition for the upcoming revival of 'A Chorus Line.' She came into the dressing room screaming how disappointed she was that it was for an understudy role. We all would have loved having a callback for 'A Chorus Line.' Just one person like that in the 'room' can stir the pot and ignite bad feelings. However, they don't realize that other choreographers learn about this type of behavior. It gets around."
Gadja talked about pain -- a dancer's nemesis. Injuries are an issue a dancer can hardly escape in a career so relentless on the body. "Icing after a performance makes me feel I have won out over pain," Gadja affirmed. "I did the performance, and there is a part of me that is almost self-congratulatory. I have beaten the pain, and I have beaten the nonsense in the dressing room. Hey, I am having a good time."
PETER GREGUS -
"Jersey Boys"
"It's making that decision every night, no matter how tired or how sore, to go out and do that show. And when you are on stage - funny, you don't feel the pain at all."
Peter Gregus is less tired these days and much less sore because he has left the gypsy world for the next step up - a speaking role in the hit musical, "Jersey Boys." "Funny, in a way I miss being so physically exhausted at the end of a show," he reflected, "and realizing that you have used even the muscles in your pinkie toe. I miss that!" It was not the fact that he had skidded into his forties and was still dancing eight shows a week, it was the pain. His giddy admission that he used to stand in the shower on Saturday night after the last show and cry realizing that all his muscles were pulsating and going to hurt on Monday. But he had done his best. "I met the challenge," he said. "I got through one more week."
"When I finished 'Contact' I had double knee surgery, a broken hand, and bad back problems," he said. "I couldn't walk up stairs unless I walked backwards. But I loved that show, and I wanted to finish the run. Hey, if I never have to lift another female dancer, well, that will be just fine!"
"And another thing I miss," Gregus hurriedly added. "I miss the room, the big dressing room with everyone in it. Now I just sit with two others. I get there first, and I try to live in peace with them. I put on my headphones, which is a signal -don't bother me. We are grown-ups now. We don't have to have our hair on fire all the time."
The romantic ideal of the Broadway gypsy is not exactly what it used to be. Gregus believes that every dancer out there is talented. But he also believes that getting on that intimidating A-list is important. "Certain choreographers have certain images in their head," he said. "When you go to an audition you use everything you have, but sometimes it doesn't register with the choreographer. I always wanted to be just a dancer on Broadway. Then I began to notice other things. I had been taking acting classes for ten years. You get to a certain point where you believe dancing is really only a stepping-stone in your career, not the end result. What now? The prospect of going on calls is not fun. But, for me, it was time to look around."
Gregus is the "handy man" of "Jersey Boys." Aside from landing the prom-inent comedy role of Bob Crewe, the record producer, lyricist and composer for Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, he does "bits," small cameos like a police officer, an irate accountant, and a second-rate hit man among others. He knows none will earn him a Tony, but it is a lot of costume changes, a few lines here and there, and a lot of fun for him. "I'm told I got this part because I was a dancer and had rhythm," he said. "If you do comedy, you need rhythm. If the joke falls flat it's as bad as falling out of a double pirouette."
For Gregus, the step forward came from the wild audition he did for "The Producers." "The casting director called me in for an acting role. This was my one shot to step up to a principal, and I was not about to get thrown aside. I concocted an insane presentation, pulled out all the stops." He surprised himself with his craziness, but he did not get the job. "It was not for lack of trying," Gregus exclaimed. "Never mind, the casting agent sent me the 'Jersey Boys' script. She knew from that crazy audition that I could do this role. In the end all the preparation. the nuttiness, and a little courage had paid off."
AMY HIGGINS -
"Dirty Rotten Scoundrels"
"I wasn't supposed to be a gypsy!"
But twelve shows later Higgins has become a sought-after veteran of the gypsy family. She admits she has been blessed. Her first career choice, concert dance, was fulfilled right after college graduation. She auditioned for Hubbard Street and spent two years in that company, but her ultimate dream was to be a member of the Alvin Ailey Company. She was more than disappointed when they did not take her. Having resigned from Hubbard Street and come to New York with high hopes of joining Ailey, she was at a loss. She was in the big city without a job.
"I had no idea how one gets into musical theater," Higgins recalled. "This is where friends come in, at the least expected moments. Angie Schworer, a friend from a brief gig I did with Disney, phoned to tell me about a replacement audition for the national tour of 'Will Rogers Follies.' Maybe all the planets were lined up correctly for me, " Higgins mused. "I got the job."
If the first job was luck, the next dozen or so came from building her reputation as a hard-working, dependable company member. Word gets around in the tight gypsy community, and Amy's resume continued to grow impressively "When I went into 'Cats' I really had to rely on my classical technique. Concert dancers work hard, but this show was harder. From there, it was fairly easy to add to my resume." "Victor Victoria," with choreographer Rob Marshall, and "Thoroughly Modern Millie," working with Rob Ashford were among the many shows that followed.
Gypsies spend a lot of time in the dressing room - their annex, and they get to know each other well. "Amy is a goddess," Paula Legget Chase, a former member of the cast of "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, said of her friend. "Yes, you don't mess with her." Higgins could not hold back a smile. "I have been around for a while and privacy in the gypsy camp can be a matter of longevity. I think I have earned a certain amount of respect and the right to say 'Let me be.'"
In the room Higgins likes to sit in the back. She comes in earlier than half-hour to apply her make-up, warm up her body, and get a mindset for the performance. "Too much 'busy-ness' in the middle of the dressing room," she said laughing. "I prefer to walk past everyone and get into my private space shared with my pal Roxanne Barlow." Higgins is a quiet person, stunningly beautiful, and yes, with an air of elusiveness. "In the room, on stage, in rehearsals, the ensemble members are a family," she said. "But after hours, I need my space and my life."
Higgins is reflective about her future. "I have had a wonderful ride, and it could be ending," she said. "I want to leave while I am still good, and I certainly don't want to turn forty and be aud-itioning for a spot in the chorus of the next Broadway show." Because she enjoys and wants to continue being active, she has learned the Pilates technique and has secured her certification. Also. Higgins is a landlord now, having purchased a brownstone in Harlem. She has a whole other set of responsibilities. "I have my retirement now," she said. "It's a great feeling."
MARY ANN LAMB -
"Chicago"
"I feel it is an honor to be called a gypsy!"
To be numbered along gypsies with Gwen Verdon, Chita Rivera, and Ann Reinking, makes Mary Ann Lamb enormously proud. Her gypsy years have been many and productive. She does not regret one moment. Lamb juggles her three children by day (her stepson is 18, her son is 11, and her daughter is almost 3) and at night dances in the long-running Broadway production of "Chicago." She swears it is a lot of coffee that keeps her "lit" and ready to go.
"Everyone approaches show time in a different way," Lamb said, with a slight giggle in her voice. "For me, after a day with the kids, I can't wait to get to the theater and talk to adults. I warm-up usually with my pal Matt Rische, and I am a notorious 'wing stander.' I watch almost every performance from the wings."
Lamb believes it is usually the first show that establishes you in the business. "Mine was 'Song and Dance'. I made my best friends there. Yes, I lost friends to AIDS, which made the bonding issue for us in the dressing room most important. I learned a lot about life as a gypsy during those bad times."
The gamine-looking Lamb's dark eyes say it all. Her honesty about her work, her genuine love for the theater, her willingness to do anything and do it well, and her thrill as nightly she transforms herself from a suburban mom by day to a "Merry Murderess" by night. She opened the show in the role of June ("he just ran into my knife") in 1996, and since then has performed in ten Broadway shows, eight Encores productions at City Center, touring companies, and regional theater. "Sure, some nights you arrive at the theater and you don't want to do it for any number of reasons, fatigue being a biggie. Especially when I was in 'Fosse,' she recalled. "The dancing was so physical. From the minute you got up in the morning you focused on hearing the overture that night."
"Chicago," is in its ninth year. The dancers often leave and are welcomed back. Lamb is one of those. She has been in and out many times, and she has seen the gypsy family change. "And we are a family," she emphasized. "We experience so many emotional highs and lows together. From divorce, new loves, untimely deaths, and complete happiness -- we are with each other and try to be so supportive. In a long run like 'Chicago' we tend to forget how lucky we are. It takes so much blood, sweat, and tears to get into a show. We get rejected so much. Sometimes we forget how hard it is to get a job and start to complain."
Lamb is deeply interested in teaching children, not just to dance, but also to be in the theater. She is also aware that her skills and experience are a big plus as she begins to outline plans in conjunction with other dancers, Elizabeth Parkinson, Mary McCloud, and Scott Wise, to form Fineline Theatre Arts Studio, a school of dance and theater set to open in September. Clearly, Lamb's complete dedication and her zest for whatever she does will carry her with good intent to her next adventure.
MATT RISCH -
"Chicago"
"I've only been here for one year. I truly am shocked at how nice everyone has been to me."
It was Voltaire who wrote (tongue in cheek,) "This is the best of all possible worlds." Leonard Bernstein put music to it, and it became a smash Broadway hit musical in 1956. Today 24-year old Matt Risch is living in his "best of all possible worlds," his first Broadway show "Chicago." On being asked how it feels to be up on the Broadway stage at the Ambassador Theater, a far cry from his days as a student at the Cincinnati Conservatory Program for Musical Theater, he responds with a winning grin "Incredibly lucky!"
"I had heard stories," he sheepishly admitted, "that the atmosphere back stage was as tough as the scenario of this show. I was scared." Risch believes the casting agents for "Chicago" wanted to hire a tougher-looking crowd, perhaps a bit older as well. Risch knew he was inexperienced, and was wise enough to make close friends with Sean Amyot and Mary Ann Lamb, two ensemble dancers who have been mentoring him through his challenging freshman days as a gypsy.
"The creative team that constructed this show looked for something other than making it a dance show like 'Fosse,'" he said. "We have a reason for being up there. Each of us has a storyline and a background, and that is a sustaining force." In his short time in the show, he has not had to weather any unpleasant confrontations, and everyday seems to be a rosy experience for him. And better still, he was recently chosen for the workshop cast of "Legally Blonde," working for Jerry Mitchell, the director. "I went to an invited call and was taken. We are in workshop now with rehearsals beginning in November. I have several little bit roles and a chance to flex my acting abilities, which is my first love."
Risch has many friends here and in his spare time (not much while working in two shows), he likes to pitch in and help them on various artistic projects. One friend is a director, another is a photographer, and he finds working with them a stimulating learning experience.
Dancing is not Risch's first passion. "I enjoy dancing, but I am not a technical dancer," he said. "I think I fit well with the edgy choreography in 'Chicago.'" With his dark exotic looks, sloe-eyed gaze, and seductive physicality, one must agree. "I grew up in the video age," he said. "I like that stuff -- that kind of dancing. Unfortunately, I tend to incorporate it in my own style too much. I am constantly being told, 'less Janet Jackson please.'"
Dance class, a forbidden word for some gypsies, is not an exciting force for him either. He does attend jazz classes, always does a good warm-up before the show, and is presently searching for a good acting class. Risch, a newcomer to gypsy life, isn't overly dazzled by the so-called glamour. He is grounded, focused, and popular with his cast. Breaks have come easily for him thus far, but he knows the lucky life as a gypsy can change just as quickly.
ALEX SANCHEZ -
"A Dancer's Life"
"The gypsies I work with call me 'full out' because I insist on dancing full out even in rehearsal."
Alex Sanchez has been awarded the gypsy robe twice, once for "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" and recently for "A Dancer's Life." On the night of the presentation gypsies from way back are invited to come to the theater to participate. The ritual takes place at an opening of a new musical. The robe is presented by the present wearer to a new dancer, one with the most shows on his resume. "I had decided to videotape the entire event," Sanchez recalled, never thinking he would again be the winner. "I had received the robe less than a year ago, and when my name was called I had the camera in my hand. I was shocked."
Sanchez put on the robe, circled the gypsies gathered on stage counterclockwise three times being careful to touch everyone then made his way downstairs into the dressing rooms, blessing every room, every person in the pit, and every nook and cranny of the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, where "A Dancer's Life" was to open in less than an hour.
Sanchez's life as a gypsy began when he left the Chicago City Ballet Company putting his classical dancing life behind him. "It was always alluring to me to be a part of a Broadway show," he said. "Lar Lubovitch took me for "The Red Shoes," a wonderful show that had a short life and a lot of negativity. I had to block out the negativity, a good lesson for me. Producers, who close a show right before Christmas, set up a pretty deflating backstage situation. Lar, George DeLaPena, and Margaret Illman, the leads, were never given the proper credit for their hard work, and it was a unhappy beginning for me." Still Sanchez did not want to return to the classical world. Instead he stayed in New York and became a part of the gypsy community. "It grabs hold and you are stuck," he mused. "Chita's show is my tenth."
With his blonde crew cut and muscular build, Sanchez looks more like a J. Crew model than "one of the oldest dancers on the market" as he refers to himself. "I have done everything I had wanted to do as a performer, and now I am looking to choreograph." He is breaking into his new career by assisting Peter Pucci at Paper Mill Playhouse with "Carnival."
"Broadway has inspired me to move on to choreography. I have become open to everything, reading the classics, seeing more art, listening to more music. I will be on the other end of things when I become a choreographer, and young dancers will be learning from me so I want to be prepared well."
Sanchez will now be learning how to handle the younger generation first hand with the birth of his daughter. When her parents would deposit her in the dressing room during the run of "A Dancer's Life, cast members would take turns as loving babysitters while mom and dad were on stage. Though Sanchez wants his daughter to "choose for herself" a dancer's life cannot be too far-fetched a choice.