After the afternoon’s rehearsal, the director pulled all of the interns into his office. They took places on the couch or on the floor while he pulled out a laminated sheet of paper from his desk drawer. Admitting that some people may find this corny, it is something from which, when he was younger like his present audience, he drew inspiration. He went on to read a letter dated from some time at the beginning of the last century from an unnamed actor to his sister imploring Teddy, a nephew or cousin or some such younger relation, not to become an actor. It also carried a warning, should his advice not be followed, of everything that must be sacrificed in Teddy’s pursuit of the actor’s life.
Teddy would have to miss birthdays, weddings and funerals. He would not see his younger brother grow into manhood, nor witness the births of his nieces and nephews. Teddy’s meager possessions had better include a few photos of friends from the neighborhood he would never be able to visit again. But he shouldn’t have too many because Teddy will have to live out of a suitcase for the next thirty years. He should be prepared to eat only one meal every three days, and to never make new friends, for he would have neither the time nor the money.
However, there was a silver lining: if Teddy could go without being with Mummsy in her final hours, if Teddy could forgo the trivialities of any type of family or home life, if Teddy could renounce his worldly possessions in order to blow wherever the winds of Theatre might take him, then what sublime rewards await Teddy on the stage and in the knowledge that he was a true actor.
Putting down the letter, the director looked at the interns as if he had just delivered a St. Crispin Day speech, expecting a rousing reply of “Theatre, our Director, and St. Genesius!”
What malarkey.
The irony behind it all was that this director ran a resident theatre company in a small city. The company had a 65-seat theatre, rehearsal space, office space, costume and design shops, a resident company of 13 actors, 5 interns, resident stage manager and office staff. The man reading this letter exalting the values of sacrificing everything that is not of the theatre for a career in the performing arts was married to one of the company members, with whom he owned a house not half an hour away from the theatre. Both of their families were at most an hour or two away. This, all out in ‘the provinces.’
When Teddy received all of this well-intentioned advice from his actor uncle, yes, Teddy would have had to put a few hundred miles of train track between himself and his family to make a career in New York City. While New York is still the center of Show Business in America, it is no longer necessary to make the sacrifice of one’s roots to have a meaningful career in Theatre. For those who feel the need to be in New York City, New York City will always be there.
The man reading this letter, unbeknownst to himself, was the example of what modern theatre artists should strive for. There will always be some travel involved. Some actors will continue to be journeymen throughout their lives. There will be missed events, but no more than college administrators, pilots, CEOs or veterinarians will miss. This does not mean that actors must renounce families, friends and communities. As demonstrated by this director, it is quite possible to have a home life, some stability and a rewarding career in Theatre. There are plenty of successful actors who live where they want to live, and work where they want to work without much compromise. These people should be the example, not Teddy’s uncle. We should be glad that we no longer have to follow his advice.
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