Second Chances

As always, this story is based on a couple of little things that happened along the way, the rest is total fictions that has been self edited... you've been warned.

Second Chances

By NYSwede

Back when I was in school, they didn't know, worry, or seem to care about someone being dyslexic. We were branded as lazy, dumb or worse. It sure made going to school hard for me... I was laughed at for misspelling simple words, called names by other students and even a teacher. As you can imagine, I hated everything about school.

Over time, I compensated by being the class clown. While that helped with the kids, the teachers?... not so much. I can't even remember how many times I was told something was going to go on my permanent record.

It hurt my eyes, so I didn't read well. The problem? Imagine trying to read something when every letter and word, is out of place. I often just guessed at what the word might be. The artist in me gave me good hand eye coordination, but I would still write letters, and the occasional word, backwards.

I had headaches all the time... I blamed it on school and couldn't wait for it all to stop.

Then something changed.

One day in high school, while sitting in the back of the auditorium for detention, I watched five people, on stage, as they tried to paint a house on a flat screen. I would later learn that type of screen is called a backdrop. It was clear no one was in charge and none of them had a clue what to do.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel for them, what they were doing was terrible, really, it totally sucked. I sat and watched for as long as I could... but when I had enough, I got up and walked to the stage while the teacher in charge of detention said, maybe ten times,

"Mr. Roberts please take your seat."

"Just a minute, these guys need a little help..."

I was pointing to the stage as walked past her and I hopped up.

Most of the teachers knew me, they knew I didn't want to be there. I'm guessing, but seeing me actually getting involved, in anything, caused her to stop yelling and watch to see what I was going to do.

I spoke to the painters,

"Guys, guys, step back for a minute, seriously, come here and look at what you're painting."

Surprisingly they listened, so I guess they were either frustrated, or in over their heads. In any case, they were happy someone offered to help.

"First, I'm guessing that is supposed to be a house? From here, what does it look like to you?"

They didn't answer, looking at it from a distance showed a poorly painted square box with a triangle for a roof. There was no dimension or depth to it. The "structure", when compared to the trees, also looked to be the size of a dog house.

One of them tried to defend their effort,

"It's in the distance, so it's suppose to be smaller."

"Okay, I understand that, but doesn't everything look smaller at a distance? So shouldn't some the trees be smaller too?"

"No, those trees are closer."

"Okay, let me make sure I understand what you're trying to paint here... There's a house in the distance and we can see it through the trees, right?"

"Yes, just like that." He actually pointed to the backdrop.

"Hmm, does that really look like that to you?"

"Well, ah, actually, ahh... no, not really."

"Okay, so it needs a little help, but in order to do that, maybe we should start over."

For some reason I can't explain, I cared what that stupid little house on the ridiculous backdrop was going to look like, and took charge.

"Please trust me... When what you've done so far dries, paint over all of it with two coats of your flat white paint.

Once that dries, I'll sketch what I'm thinking to give you something planned out and visible to paint. We'll do a little at a time, layers, starting with the sky, then clouds, and mountains, then hills and trees. We'll be adding details as we visually come forward."

When what they had done was dry, they painted over it. While the white paint dried, we talked about the play...

"It's a musical, 'Annie Get Your Gun'... here are the sketches I got from the director."

"Okay, who are you?"

"I'm the scenic designer, these are my friends, they volunteered to help."

"I'm guessing none of you have any experience painting something this large, right?"

They all nodded...

"Okay not a problem, I've never painted scenery, but I have painted a few murals and it seems to me the concept is basically the same... so I'm going to sketch and you're going to paint... okay? Oaky."

I hadn't noticed... my detention period had ended and the school day was over, but

I stayed and worked, so did they.

I started as I would with any painting, just as I said... sky first, then clouds then anything else in the distance, adding details as objects got "closer". I sketched, they painted. I touched things up and I helped them if they got stuck with a detail.

Over the next few weeks... I was at school twelve to fourteen hours a day, In addition to the backdrop, there were flats and other scenic components that needed to be built and painted, or to be honest, repainted. Somewhere through the process I lost myself. I went to class and tried to do the work, something I hadn't done for years. I asked people in my classes to help me catch up. I don't know why, but some did.

Surprisingly, actually talking to my classmates, helping them and getting help, led to friendships. With the help they gave, I studied for tests, even though I hadn't, mentally, been in class before, I started paying attention and somehow started to get passing grades.

All my teachers, no, actually everyone, noticed... It was as if there was a giant shift in the universe. I suddenly cared about school. Not only the things going on, but the people I met too. With the help of a few girls, I studied while I painted, and they reminded me to show up for tests. Of course I didn't become an A student, but from where I started becoming a C student was a huge step forward.

Whether or not they met and decided, or simply showed amazing collective patience, the entire staff, including the janitors, basically, let me do whatever I wanted during the design, build and painting of the sets, screens and props.

It's funny, it was as if no one... not the students, teachers, counselors, deans or even the Principal wanted to jinx what had happened, they simply accepted the new normal. I had somehow become the emotional regulator of the school. No kidding.. when I was happy, everyone seemed happy, if I was upset or down, the school was quiet and subdued.

Nearly all the painting was done on stage. Most of the time the curtains were closed, so I could focus, and not to distract from whatever might be going on in the auditorium. One day, while I worked, a music teacher heard me singing one of the songs from the show. He stopped me in the hall later that day and told me he thought I had a good voice and I should audition for the lead role.

Ha, some things hadn't changed... the new person they saw on the outside was a confident leader, but inside I was still shy, uncertain, and not at all secure enough to sing in front of an audience.

Besides I had the entire show to think about, not just one character or role.

I did research on the period costumes and had them changed, I reconfigured the lighting, and borrowed a couple of spotlights from the local movie theater... while only touch ups, I even helped get the make-up to look more natural.

In the end, the show was an overwhelming success.

I finished my 'first' senior year with a C average, but not enough credit to graduate. I didn't care, we were already talking about which show we were going to do the next year... the school had decided on Oliver.

That summer I worked just outside Shea stadium selling souvenirs at a concession stand. I lived near by so I didn't need a ride. It didn't pay much, and I gave what I made to my parents, but the meals and drinks were free, so it worked out great. I even met a girl from school. Danielle and we got close and hung out until her folks took her to meet family on the west coast.

When school started in the fall, I was this new, socially friendly guy who seemed to know everyone... or at least they knew me. The energy of the entire school had shifted, not just mine.

While still a few months away, I had an ambitious scenic plan for Oliver and wanted to get started early. The janitors cleaned out a room backstage so I could work there while keeping materials and finished components safe and out of sight.

My senior year became what most people hope their school experience will be. I was involved, I knew everyone and basically could do whatever I wanted to make sure the show was a success... but Danielle was acting strange. I didn't have time to figure it out.

I was told that "Annie Get You Gun" had been the first profitable show any of the staff could remember. "Oliver" was on track to do even better. The school had to add a couple of performances to meet the demand for tickets.

The music teacher reminded me, in front of the director, that I had a great voice and that with all the excitement around the show, me having a signing roll would really kick it up a notch.

I replied,

"I'm happy with my little night watchman part, besides, I really don't have time for a larger role."

Of course people tried to convince me, but there was still no way I was going to stand on stage and be anything but silly.

When it was over, Oliver was a huge success.

Without the show, I have to admit, I lost interest in school. Well that's not completely true. I had been feeling low because of what was, or wasn't, going on with Danielle. She hadn't spoken to me since school started and even acted as if she didn't know me.

I didn't know how to play the game she was playing, so my emotions got the better of me. I did what I do, I left. This time, not just mentally... After something happened and another student got hurt. I decided to graduate early, with a GED, and move up my delayed entry date as to when I needed to report for duty.

My dad got up early to drive me to Fort Hamilton the morning I was to report for duty. Danielle's father called as we were walking toward the door, I liked him, I was polite, spoke to him for less than a minute and said good bye. The phone was ringing again as we closed the door.

After bootcamp, I stayed in Great Lakes for a couple of advanced electronics schools. While there, I sang with the choir at church... surprisingly I found I was okay hiding in a group while singing. The choir director asked me to do a solo or two, but I wasn't going to do that.

After the Navy, I attended classes at the local community college. The GI Bill made it, not only affordable, but profitable. Even though I was taking pre-engineering and management courses, I still needed some credits in, what I believe they called the humanities. In any case I needed the credits, so I took a drama class.

For my final, I sang, yes in front of the small class, King Arthur's song "Camelot" from the musical by the same name. My professor told me, that if she ever directed a revival of Camelot, she'd want me to play King Arthur. I was flattered but thought...

"No way I'd do that"!

Then, I did what people that age do... Got a job, met someone, had one, then two, and, finally stopped at three, children. We moved from Bayside in Queens out to the suburbs and after just about thirty years, got divorced when my wife found the first of, several, "one true loves".

After the divorce, I moved to Manhattan, got a small apartment in the East Village and started over. After living in the city for a while, I found a place to hang out. It was in the Meat Packing District, right where 14th Street meets 9th Ave and Hudson.

I sat at the bar with friends and made new ones... One of them was Abby, a professional scenic designer who designed scenery for plays and musicals. I told her of my design work in high school, she pretended to be impressed. We continued to talk and get to know each other, and over time, became good friends.

After living in the city for a few of years, I met someone. It quickly became serious and after a year of living together, we got married. She worked for a company that specialized in high end, custom wood flooring. She travelled a lot for work and made a good living. Between the two of us, we were able to buy a two bedroom condo, in a sandstone, in the West Village. It was a good compromise because she was a Greenwich Village kind of girl, and I had my history with the East Village. While neither of us thought we'd like the West Village, we liked the condo and it actually worked out well. When she had to travel, I'd walk up to the Meat Packing district and hang out with the old crowd.

Of course, Abby and I ran into each other quite a bit, and found that in addition to my 'famous' high school design work, we actually had a lot in common. My wife and I invited her to dinner and she was surprised to see some of my artwork on our walls. After seeing my work, and pictures of a couple of murals I had done, she hired me to help out, now and then, painting a detail, or sometimes a little more, on a set she had designed.

Those shows were small off-Broadway productions and I only did little things, maybe a detail for a map, or a village at night in the distance. Never the whole backdrop, just something to kick it up a notch.

My work with her got noticed and I was offered a full-time job painting for a set building company just north of the city, in Haverstraw. I did all my work in their warehouse studio. At first I drove, but when I found the Metro North Hudson Line stopped in Ossining, I started using it and enjoyed the last leg, which was a ferry ride across the Hudson to a dock that was a ten minute walk from the shop. Not perfect in the dead of winter, but one of the guys would pick me up at the dock when it was, raining, too cold, or snowing.

On one set, already approved and installed, there were some little things the director wanted changed, and some additions he just had to have. The owner of our company, my boss, wouldn't let anyone else touch our work, but the producers felt that it was too expensive to take it down and bring it back to our shop to finish... The obvious solution was to do work in the theater.

That's when the union got involved...

After a heated battle with the shows producers and a representative of Local USA 829, the United Scenic Artists Union, they decided I had done enough good work to qualify to apply to the union. My application was quickly approved, my boss paid the dues, and just like that, I was in the union. I become a union member without a waiting period and was allowed to paint on set from the first day, crisis averted.

Being an 829 member allowed me to paint on stage, in pretty much any theater in the country, but I stayed in NY. I still commuted to work in the shop during the day and, when needed, painted on stage at night.

I'm not positive of the theater, I'm going to say The Gershwin Theatre, but I'm really not sure, was getting ready to stage a revival of Camelot. (I love the music from that show).

Abby was the scenic designer and said something like...

"I wish I could use you and the company you work for, but I have to use a union shop and an 829 painter."

"We're not a union shop, but I'm in the 829."

"What, when, why didn't you say something?"

"I don't know, it never came up, but it's just me, not the shop... wait, didn't the union get you all the painters you needed?"

"Yes they did, but the union painters won't listen to me..."

That got me mad, some of these older guys thought it's my way or nothing... so I said,

"Call the union and tell them you have your own union painter, give them my name and membership number and tell them I'll do the work for you..."

I handed her my membership card,

"Take a picture of this in case you need to send it to them. Tell them I'll do the work..."

I smiled and added...

"... for a reasonable fee" then laughed.

I was happy to go by the theater at the end of my day, especially when my wife was out of town, and use Abby's sketches and notes, to paint or touch up details as needed.

With me leaving early and often working nights, and my wife traveling so much, we fell into more of a roommate type of relationship. Neither of us liked it, but we loved each other, and tried to make the most of it.

Honestly I think she liked the idea of me sitting at home waiting for her, but never said anything.

One day, Abby stopped by while I was painting,

"Looking pretty scruffy there..."

"Ha, who has time to shave? I get up at 5:30, take a train and ferry to and from work, everyday, and slave away for you at night."

She laughed,

"I'm sorry, is all too much for you?"

"No, I always loved painting murals, this is the same thing, only better, and people will actually get to see my work..."

"Oh good".

She turned to leave and called back over her shoulder...

"The beard looks great, you should keep it."

*****

A lot of people talk, hum or even sing to themselves while they work. I'm no different. While I worked on the set, I especially enjoyed singing the songs from this show, Camelot. I'd try to imagine what it would be like to perform.

As far as the male leads go, Lancelot has some great songs, but I prefer the emotion in King Arthur's songs. They're fun and sad, silly and thoughtful. So There I was, minding my own business painting and singing to myself... or so I thought.

*****

The producers cast Ewan McGregor as King Arthur, Isabel Leonard, an opera star from the Met, as Guinevere and Jordan Donica as Lancelot. They are all great performers with excellent voices.

Their understudies are known in the theater world for their talent, but hadn't caught the public's eye yet. They didn't hope the leads couldn't perform, but wouldn't be sad if they needed to fill in.

So, there I am, working late and singing away when Ms Leonard's second understudy (the understudy's understudy) comes on stage.

"Wow, this is looking so much better."

I had my face only a few inches from the surface I was painting, so I didn't look up,

"Thank you, I'm glad you like it... Can I help you with something?"

"Oh, no. Sorry to interrupt, I'm Helen and thought coming out here would help me to to be, at least, a little prepared in case I'm called on for Guinevere. The other understudies don't seem to be available to work with me, and I don't have anyone to practice my lines, or songs, with. So I came out here to see if I could get a better feeling of the show, you know, get inspired."

"I'd be happy to help, but I don't know any dialogue, although I could pretend to know and just say anything... haha."

"I have an extra script, would you mind, maybe, you know, when you take a break... read some lines with me?"

"Give me a few minutes, I was just about to have dinner."

*****

That's the way it started. Every night at around 8, Helen would show up and I'd eat dinner and read lines with her. It wasn't long before, I started looking at the script less and remembering more of "my part".

Maybe two weeks later, she said,

"I've heard you singing while you work, you have such a great voice. I love your accent when you become Arthur, it sounds, I don't know... Kingly."

"Ha, thank you, that's a very sweet lie... I'm not a singer, other than the shower, and here, while I paint... haha."

"Whether or not you call yourself a singer, you have a really nice voice and I'd love to practice a couple of the songs with you."

"Hmm, I don't know... do they ever sing together?"

"Well, sort of... After Arthur sings "Camelot" to her in the woods, they sing together, a little, at the end. Then there's "The Joust" scene... and of course, 'What do the simple folk do?'... please, please, please."

She was so young, cute and enthusiastic, I found myself agreeing even thought my brain was yelling 'What are you thinking?'.

The show was in rehearsals and not scheduled to open for a couple of weeks. Even with additions and slight changes to allow for sight lines, I was done in plenty of time.

Abby and the producers were very pleased and I have to admit, I felt it came out pretty good and worked nicely with the physical scenic elements Abby had designed.

Through the process, Helen got very comfortable with the role and was ready if they needed her. When Ms Leonard, or her understudy were on stage, Helen was in the ensemble, or chorus of people singing and filling in the background.

The show was scheduled to open at 8:00PM on a Saturday in September.

I got a call from Abby, just before dinner, at around five o'clock on opening night...

"Wes, darling, I have Helen and the executive producer on the line with us..."

"Hello... Ahh, why do I get the feeling I'm being ganged up on?..."

Abby continued...

"Well maybe you are, just a little... but it's for a good reason... we're at the theater, and something has happened..."

She didn't wait for me to ask...

"... You didn't come, but do you remember you were invited to the luncheon today, celebrating our opening night?"

"Yes, it was for the celebrities, and the producers, right?"

"Yes, the understudies were invited too. The ensemble and crew had their own party last night."

"I thought about stopping by for that, but wanted to go over the painted elements, one last time. As for today, while I had met the producers that one time, and do say 'Hi' to some of the cast, now and then. I really only "know" you and Helen... It just didn't seem like something meant for me, not to mention that it's not my kind of thing in any case."

"Honestly I didn't think you'd come... and knowing what I know now, we're really glad you didn't."

"Why, are you okay?"

"We're fine, we're among the lucky ones... the ones who don't care for shell fish..."

"Oh too bad, I do like an oyster now and then... I told you the story of how my dad would take me to Lundy's in Brooklyn, for clams, right?"

"Yes, I love that story... anyway. Since the ensemble had their own party, Pretty much the entire starting cast, and their understudies, got food poisoning, the only thing they had in common was the shellfish... so you're, no, we're all lucky you didn't come."

"Makes sense. I'm glad you're both okay."

"Wes? You know that old saying, "The show must go on"?

"Yes, of course... wait, how are you going to put on the show, if the main characters and their understudies are sick?"

"We have enough people for the crowd scenes, so they will be fine... Helen is going to be Guinevere, Jordan was visiting family and missed the luncheon, so he'll still be Lancelot... and... ah... well, you... will be King Arthur.

... BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING, Helen told us that you have a great voice, and sing the role with a charming accent, and you know most of the dialog... Please don't say no, think about all the people coming from all over the world to see the grand opening, on Broadway, of Camelot, only to be sent away... Please say you'll do it."

In the background, Helen was saying, "Please, please, please."

I thought for a moment and said,

"There has to be someone else available..."

"We've checked, there isn't anyone who can be here tonight".

After what must have seemed like forever for them, I took a deep breath and said,

"The house lights will need to be off, or as far down as they can go, I don't want to see the audience. in a scene where I have to sing... I need a spotlight, in my face, not quite blinding me, but making sure I can't see past the edge of the stage, and, off course, will only do it, if Helen is playing Guinevere... If they can promise all of that, I'll try."

Abby said, "I was, we actually, all of us here want to say, 'no problem', but let me speak to the lighting team to make sure they can light the stage while still giving you what you need."

"I hope so, because it's a definite no, if I can see the audience."

My wife was home...

She hadn't really listened to the conversation, but knew I was talking to Abby, and said...

"How's your work-wife doing?"

"She'd okay, some folks got sick, so I'm going to be helping out on stage tonight."

"That sounds like fun."

"I'm really hoping it is... sorry we won't be able to sit together."

"Oh, right, that's tonight. I totally forgot and planned a zoom call with the team in LA."

"What time?"

"It's at the end of their day, so 8:00 our time."

"Can't you put the off, I really think you'd enjoy the show, and you might even get to see me making a fool of myself."

"Sorry honey, this is important, we need to plan the launch of our year end sale on the West Coast."

"Yeh, I get it... it just would be have been nice if just this once, what I do could be important to you too."

"You and your work are very important, look around, all this art is yours."

"Right, but that's passive... I was thinking more active interest, and maybe even support."

"I'm sorry, we just live in two different worlds. I cater to an elite clientele, selling a high end product. None of the people you know, or spend time with, offer me anything that advances my career."

"I guess that's true, but I was thinking about being there for me."

"I'm here for you sweetie, just not tonight."

I'd like to write a detailed description of what happened from the time I got to the theater and when I sat in my dressing room after the finally curtain call... but it's a blur.

I do recall hearing a collective murmur, maybe even a groan, when they announced...

"Due to unexpected illness, the roles of King Arthur and Guinevere, will be played by..."

Then, as if by magic, I found myself in costume, sitting in a tree as the curtain opened... cast members dressed in various period costumes, were walking along a road under the tree. The castle, I painted, was off in the distance.

I truly believe there isn't a better opening number... allowing me to ease into character than "I Wonder What the King Is Doing Tonight".

It starts as a speaking... "I know what my people are thinking tonight as home through the shadows they wonder, everyone smiling in secret delight as they stare at the castle and ponder..." it quickly becomes a fun and silly song confirming that King Arthur is scarred.

Looking at, no, focusing on Helen when I sang "Camelot" made it so much easier. I didn't take my eyes of her, and started signing...

"It's true! It's true!

The crown has made it clear.

The climate must be perfect all the year.

A law was made a distant moon ago here:

July and August cannot be too hot.

And there's a legal limit to the snow here In Camelot..."

The next thing I remember was doing something we hadn't rehearsed.

In the scene, a strong willed Guinevere, has just left. Arthur is upset, while alone he speaks to Merlin saying he hadn't taught him about "ruling a queen". In the rehearsal, I'm in my quarters, but on opening night, for some unknown reason, I left my spot, walked downstage and sat down, right on the edge with me feet hanging off.

The house lights were still down, but the reflection from the stage lights and my spotlight, lit the first few rows.

I paused, looked around and sang, for the first time, in front of and to, an audience...

"How to handle a woman?

There's a way, said the wise old man,

A way known by every woman

Since the whole rigmarole began."

When the song was done, I got up and jumped back into character... and before I knew it, we were all holding hands and bowing one last time as the curtain closed.

It had been my second chance, this time I had taken it.

*****

Surprisingly the reviews were all great, sure they expressed disappointment, just as the audience had, at first. In the end, that didn't stop them from enjoying the show.

They all raved about Abby's design and sets, in addition to the costumes and general production quality of the show.

I was shocked to see that they thought I did an excellent job of making Arthur relatable and called my sitting on the edge of the stage a delightful change that allowed the character of Arthur to speak directly to the audience.

All in all, especially considering the last minute changes, and my inexperience, the show was a huge hit.

We were wired and didn't really want the night to end. There was Abby, Helen, the producer, Jordon, and me. The producer called his favorite restaurant, at first they said they were fully booked, and then he told them it was for the leads in Camelot. The person who answered the phone said please hold and thirty seconds later said they would have a table for for us whenever we arrived.

I called my wife and told her we were going out to celebrate, and that she should join us. She balked at first, but readily agreed when I told her we had reservations at the very best place to see, and be seen, after a night at the theater... Sardi's on 44th Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

We walked over in a few minutes, she took a cab. We were stopped by strangers, and told how much they enjoyed the show, so many times, that my wife was waiting when we arrived.

It was funny, there was a line out the door, but they recognized us and ushered us in, past a huge waiting crowd, to a large round table near the center of the room. There was a buzz in the room as we walked in. When we sat we realized, people actually recognized us. We hadn't been there more than three minutes when two waiters brought a tray of flutes, a bottle of champaign and a bucket of ice.

"Compliments of Mr. and Mrs. Clooney."

We looked around and saw them at their table. After our glasses were filled we all stood and held our glasses high and waved, saying thank you. He and his wife stopped by on their way out to shake hands and say how much they enjoyed the show.

My wife, couldn't believe it. Celebrities and big wigs in the New York scene stopped by our table offering their congratulations.

My wife was in heaven, feeling so important to be with us... but then she said,

"Wes, I can't believe it... You said you were going to be on stage, but everybody recognizes, them of course, but you too.

The group laughed.

"What?"

Helen spoke up.

"He was on stage, for most of the show... Wes played Arthur,"

Needless to say, my wife was stunned. She sat there for a full minute, before she smacked my arm,

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I started to but you said your call was too important to miss."

*****

The full cast was back and healthy enough to take over the next day. They were appreciative of our efforts in making sure the show went on. I'm sure they were convinced they would do better, but didn't say anything.

Funny though, one critic wasn't so nice, and suggested the understudies be brought back. A couple of the talk shows picked up on that, but eventually it all went away. As the show went on and the celebrated cast got into their groove, we were soon forgotten...

... but I had had my chance, my second chance, and this time I took it.

It was fun, but then my five minutes of fame were up.

I went back to my life.

My wife moved to LA... without me.

Two years later, two weeks before my seventy second birthday... Abby gave birth is our son.

... but that's the start of a whole other story.