Confessions of a Transylvanian (24 page)

We badgered him to give up his source. “Come
on
,” we begged. “Where the hell did you
find
those?”

But Russ was enigmatic. “Do
n’
t ask. Enjoy.” And that was all we would ever learn about the mysterious provenance of the Curry films.

After Russ took over, extra-curricular cast activities multiplied exponentially. And almost everything we did had our cast manage
r’
s fingerprints all over it. Parties, road trips, fundraisers, poker games, cookouts, beach bashes, you name it, there was Russ, toiling away in the shadows.

Gaining the respect of the Rocky cast, which Russ made look effortless, was no easy task. First, we were predisposed not to respect
anybody
. Most of us had joined the cast in a spirit of rebellion, as a rejection of the oppressive real-life world. To then discover ourselves in an actual organization governed by
rules
seemed ironic at best and absurd at worst. But, we discovered, anarchy was
n’
t going to get the job done. We needed firm guidance, not chaos. Or at least a workable hybrid of the two. Call it “guided chaos.” And tha
t’
s what we got with Russ.

The transition from Donny to Russ (with the brief Tony detour in between) was otherwise as smooth as could be. Russ ran the nightly cast meetings with a blinding efficiency, zipping through the agenda items with a minimum of muss and fuss. Sometimes, as Tony had demonstrated, these meetings could become raucous affairs (especially when someon
e’
s feathers got ruffled; not an uncommon occurrence in a cast full of divas like ours).

But Russ would smooth the raised hackles, collect the dues, re-assign roles as needed, plan our events, direct and oversee the building of new props and costumes (or repair the busted ones), and carefully establish new rules and procedures as necessary. On rare occasions, Russ would find himself in the position of having to fire a cast member for some unforgivable offense or other, but this was done in private, to spare them the humiliation of being shown the door in front of everyone.

We took to calling him “Daddy Russ” and he earned the paternal moniker. He was only a couple of years older than most of us, but he was the first guy you went to if you had a problem. Any problem. Or if you needed a place to stay. Or if you just needed someone other than your parents to bail you out of jail. It turned out that when you got in a jam, Russ was the guy yo
u’
d reach out to for help.

It was
n’
t always smooth sailing, running a band of misfits like ours. But Russ was our captain and he guided the show like a pro.

The next week, I performed my first show as Dr. Scott.

Was I nervous? Was I intimidated?

Puh-leeze.

By the time I finally played the role, I had already seen the Rocky show about twenty-two times. Depending on whether you have any familiarity with the Rocky world, that will either seem like a lot or a pitifully insignificant amount. Some Rocky cast members, those who stay with the show for years, will see the show 200, 300, even upwards of 500 times. And if you stop to think that they only went twice a week...well, you do the math. Tha
t’
s a hell of a commitment.

Anyway, when Donny asked me to do it, I was
n’
t all that worried about
knowing
the part. By then, I knew the lines, the song and the general blocking pretty well. But acting it...that would be something else.

I had some distinct advantages, though. Chief among them was that I was performing a character who is pushed around in his wheelchair most of the night. I did
n’
t really have to decide where to go or when to be there. That was someone els
e’
s job. So, blocking-wise, I just had to sit back and (literally) enjoy the ride.

Another plus: Dr. Scott appears late in the film, so I was only on stage for about a half an hour or so. (Not that I wanted to be on stage for this short amount of time. I wanted just the opposite, in fact. But for my first foray into Main Character Land, I needed the least amount of pressure possible.)

In addition, the costuming demands for playing him were minimal. Jacket, shirt and tie, mustache, glasses, fishnet stocking for the end. Nothing to it.

Here is the Dr. Scott track, in a nutshell:

His first appearance comes when Frank, Riff and Brad spot him on the castl
e’
s security monitor, hanging out by the castle gate. As they chat about him, wondering how he got there and why, the good Doctor somehow makes his way indoors and is discovered suspiciously eying the remnants of a strange-looking cigarette butt in the “Zen room.” Shortly thereafter, he finds himself hurtling through the house, a victim of the super-powerful Triple Contact Electro Magnet, which Frank has activated to summon him forth.

Dr. Scott then meets Frank, is reunited with Brad and almost immediately shares in the stunning discovery of young Janet and Rocky,
in flagrante delicto
in the birth tank.

Magenta breaks the tension with her dinner gong and then i
t’
s off to supper. The assembled guests chat a bit more, Dr. Scott sings his little song, Frank does the “big reveal” and the chase is on. Frank pursues Janet out of the room and through the castle, Brad pushes Dr. Scott around the stage for a bit until everyone is frozen to the ground by Fran
k’
s activation of the Transducer.

Finally, ther
e’
s the Floor Show, a nice little monologue, showing off your leg in a sexy stocking, kissing Riff Raf
f’
s ass for a few minutes, getting a pardon from Riff and his sister and...tha
t’
s it. End of show. Head to Denn
y’
s.

Piece. Of. Cake.

Okay, true confession time: In the minutes leading up to my first entrance, I was scared out of my mind. Thank God I was in a wheelchair, because my knees were too busy knocking to support me.

Donny had done his best to put me at ease. He checked in with me before the show, gave my costume pieces a thumbs-up and wished me well. But after that, it was all up to me.

I knew just where to start and where to go, but I had not taken the precaution of rehearsing my double-time wheelchair scoot across the floor for my big entrance. Before I knew it, I heard my cue and started zipping across the stage.

Thankfully, there were no blown tires, no patches of ice, and no meteors struck the ground before me. I gracefully slid into place and found myself face to-face-with Mark.

Now, I have mentioned that watching Mar
k’
s performance from the audience was a memorable thrill. I have further opined that, standing on the stage in close proximity to him while he played the role was even cooler. But
I’
m here to tell you: Getting a double-barrel of Frank-N-Furter leveled at you from just a few inches away...tha
t’
s enough to blow your hair back. I gritted my teeth, settled in and played along.

There was a point during the dinner party, sitting at the table and pretending to eat Eddi
e’
s remains, when it suddenly occurred to me that, at long last, I was finally surrounded by...
them
. The heart of the Clique itself. Ron, Iris, Andrea, Sunday, Mark, Billy, Kenny; we were sitting down for the dinner scene and, I was actually a
part
of it.

To the rest of the principals,
I’
m sure that it was probably just another day at the office. Fun, maybe, but not a big deal. But for me, it was like hitting the lottery. Not the mega-millions lotto or something. Not
that
big. After all, I was
n’
t playing Riff. Yet. But the euphoria of finally being an integral part of something I had admired for so long was an extraordinary, thrilling experience.

My song went really well, as far as I could tell. At least, no one seemed horrified by my performance. And, up until the dinner scene concluded, there were no unpleasant surprises, either.

But after my number, when Frank pulls the sheet off the dinner table to reveal Eddi
e’
s corpse, things very quickly took a strange turn.

See, this moment was the signal for the chase around the castle to commence. (Frank running after Janet, and the rest of us in hot pursuit.) So after Mark and Iris took off running, Ron—as he had done dozens of times before—grabbed the wheelchair by the handles and zipped after them.

Keep in mind, though, that up until this time, Ron had been spending this portion of the show pushing
Donny
around in the wheelchair. Donny, who was about twice my size and not all that easy to maneuver about.
That
Donny.

Ron, as he pushed me away from the table, suddenly realized that he had a much smaller passenger in the wheelchair than ever before and it struck him that he could, if he moved at supersonic speed, potentially make it
all the way around the theater
in time for the next scene. But he would really, really, really have to move.

Without bothering to tell me about this sudden inspiration, Ron rocketed off, pushing me as fast as he could. And this guy could
hustle
.

I am here to positively attest that whatever the previous land-speed record for the quarter-mile wheelchair dash was in early 1982, this record was absolutely
shattered
that Friday evening. There may have been times in my young life when I screamed louder than I did during that terrifying ride, but if I did, windows all over the state must have exploded. Patrons, Transylvanians and theater ushers dove out of the way as we barreled around the circular track and came to a screeching halt back on the stage.

We had made it in time for our cue, but my heart did
n’
t stop racing for another ten minutes.

Ron leaned over to me during the scene. “That was awesome,” he whispered. “W
e’
ll have to do that every night, huh?” I was incapable of responding. The g-forces had rendered me mute.

The rest of the night was a blur. Soon, I had been turned into a statue. The Floor Show kicked in. I did my speech after Dr. Scott is unfrozen and performed my fishnet-clad-leg reveal bang on time. I even managed to sync up pretty well with my on-screen partner for the big scene with Riff Raff at the end. (Kenny, I should mention, was pretty awesome up close as well, performing right in your face. I could hardly wait to take his job.)

And then...it was over. I had done it. For the first time, I had actually performed a main-character role on the Rocky stage. Transylvanians and principal cast members alike clapped me on the back and congratulated me for not royally fucking it up. Russ made a point of taking me off in private, shaking me warmly by the hand and letting me know he was proud of me.

But Donn
y’
s reaction, for some reason, was best of all. And all he said was: “Nice work, Jack.” He cracked his sidelong grin. “I
t’
s yours now.”

I had taken one more step up the Rocky ladder and, looking up, I saw that I had plenty more rungs ahead of me. After this night, I could
n’
t wait to keep climbing.

Ironically, I had my chance even sooner than I anticipated.