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TRY NOT TO ANNOY THE KANGAROO Another Flashback to My Life as a Dancer


INSERT – The Straight Peg in a Gay, ahem, Hole


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     One of the other world-renown choreographers in the 70s, in addition to Bob Fosse, was Michael Bennett, creator of the iconic musical, A Chorus Line.

     In 1980, A Chorus Line continued its Broadway run, but had also spawned a couple national tours, and a bus & truck excursion. The show became one of the most popular and produced musicals of all time.

     Which, of course, hooked me to audition.

     And I did.

     Several times.

     Unlike Bob Fosse, Bennett ALWAYS cut me right away.

     The audition, a very straightforward affair, consisted of showing Bennett a double pirhouette to both left and right, and then a triple to “your best side.” That is followed by a time step (A tap drill).

     “Thank you. Next.”

     A buncha times.

     One audition (replacements for the Broadway show and tour) came up. I went.

     In the interest of full disclosure, I am NOT a great turner. I’m also not a great tapper. Like most skills in my performance repertoire, I am good at many things, just not a virtuoso. Bennett made the right call most of the time.

     Except this day.

     Nailed the double to the right. Nailed the double to the left. Nailed the triple to the right so well, I did a quadruple and stuck the landing.

     Then executed the best (Not kidding) time step of the career. Waited to be told to join the rest of those being sent through to continue.

     Nope.

     “Thank you. Next.”

     This would not bother me, but this same day, a male dancer with whom I took ballet class also auditioned. He fell out of one of his pirhouettes. Hit the stage with a noticeable thud. He was asked to stay.

     Mentioned this to another dancer a few days later.

     “Yes, Wally got the gig. He’s joining the tour.”

     Coulda heard a toe shoe drop.

     “You must be kidding?”

     “Nope.”

     “Geez. The guy fell out of one of his pirhouettes,” I said. “If memory serves, there are a fair number of turns in A Chorus Line.”

     My dance friend took in my last statement.

     “Are you dating the production manager?”

     “Uh, no.”

     “Why not?”

     “That’s a loaded question. I’ll assume the production manager, like Wally, is gay.”

     “Bingo.”

     I exhaled a frustrating breath.

     “Gotta rethink those sexual preferences.”

     “Sure. That’ll work.”

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