Forever the Fat Kid: How I Survived Dysfunction, Depression and Life in the Theater (23 page)

There are three production positions in The Creative Entertainment Division: Producer, Writer/Director, and Stage Manager. At the time of my employment, there was one person of color employed in each position. In January, a meeting was held in which these three employees (one of whom, of course, was me) were asked to participate. It was to discuss Disney’s planned entertainment for Black History Month. As it turned out, this wasn’t a meeting to discuss the planned entertainment, but rather a meeting to present what had already been decided upon. The only reason that I could see for this meeting was to have us applaud the fact that they were even doing this, and to have us give our stamp of approval for the intended events. Then, surely, they would thank us for our time, send us on our way, and place these events into the hands of the white staff members of the Division.

Their plans included performances by Alvin Ailey’s junior dance company, a local gospel choir, and an appearance by a somewhat well-known African-American vocalist. When the presentation was concluded, they looked at us with broad smiles on their faces and asked, “So, what do you think?” It was clear that all they wanted was a congratulatory pat on the back for taking this monumental step towards diversity and our affirmation that this was indeed good Negro entertainment. They got only silence.

Finally someone spoke up, saying something to the effect of, “Yes, that’s appropriate.” When the realization hit that we weren’t exactly ecstatic about what they had planned, the person running the meeting asked, “Well, are there any comments? Or suggestions?” They seemed to be getting the message that what they had in mind was, in the eyes of their token African-Americans–a bit lame. Since I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my Disney experience thus far, and was already mentally preparing for my imminent departure from the organization, I raised my hand.

“Michael?”

“Obviously this is a personal opinion, but to be honest, I don’t think that black visitors to the park will be falling over themselves while rushing to see any of what you have planned.”

“Why not?”

“Well, as good as Alvin Ailey’s company is, younger people today–and that is who comes to the park–would prefer to see something more contemporary and cutting edge. The same goes for gospel. No matter how good it may be, a traditional gospel performance isn’t likely to hold the attention of people out for a day of fun. It’s also not universally appealing; traditional gospel has a limited demographic, even among blacks. Finally, not to disrespect the singer that you’re suggesting, she’s very talented but she doesn’t employ the vocal acrobatics that people today are accustomed to hearing. After all, she’s going to be performing outside and competing with a lot of distractions. She really needs to be listened to in an environment where you can concentrate and focus, where you can allow yourself to listen to the subtleties in her voice and to the lyrics.” I could “feel the love” coming at me from my colleagues.

His reply had just the slightest bit of sarcasm. “So what would you suggest?”

“Well, if you want to bring in a dance company that will really excite a crowd, why don’t you get Jam on the Groove? They’re an exciting, young, hip-hop dance company that just finished a successful off-Broadway engagement. As for gospel, Kirk Franklin is probably the hottest thing out right now. It’s not likely you’ll be able to get him, though, but you should think of someone in that vein. And as for singers, I could open my phone book and give you the phone numbers of four or five who would be far better choices.”

Long story short, Jam on the Groove was contacted and hired, and Tony-winning R&B recording artist, Melba Moore–whom I contacted through a mutual friend–was chosen as headliner. The gospel choir was dropped. That percentage of the budget would now be used to pay for the quality entertainment they were being forced to spring for. But the most shocking part of all wasn’t that they took my suggestions, but that I was put in charge of the entire event! They had finally given my butt some work on property.

THE RAINBOW CONNECTION

Having experienced my first on property project, and beginning to feel that the potential for a meeting of the minds between Disney and me may be possible after all, I started to think of other projects that might prove to be mutually beneficial. I figured that if I was a little proactive, asserted myself a little more, I could end up like some of the other show writer/directors who seemed to have more work than they could handle. That was when I remembered Disney’s Gay Day.

The first Gay Day at Disney was in 1991 when the gay and lesbian community of Orlando decided to turn out en masse at The Magic Kingdom as part of Gay Pride Month. The plan was to show up at Disney’s Magic Kingdom theme park wearing bright red clothing. There was no advertising; it was strictly a grassroots, word-of-mouth event, and it was a huge success. So successful was this initial outing that it has since grown into one of the country’s largest national gay and lesbian events. It’s since spread to the other theme parks in Orlando as well, and expanded into a weeklong celebration attracting people from all over the world.

This had my name written all over it! I was an openly gay employee and I had already proven that I could handle an on property umbrella event. I came up with a proposal for a celebration of gay pride that would fit in with the “family themed” entertainment that is Disney’s trademark. I proposed a series of concerts featuring music of, by, and associated with openly gay singers and composers. Of course, there would be nothing blatant about it. It would be something that families passing by could stop and enjoy because they would certainly recognize much of the music, yet there would be nothing that they would have to protect their children from. In fact, the “gayness” of it would probably go right over their heads. On the other hand, the gay audiences would love it, and would be extremely appreciative of the fact that entertainment had been specifically geared toward them and the event. It seemed to me a win-win situation. A celebration of artistic contributions from another marginalized section of society, not much different than what was done for Black History Month. And like the Black History Month entertainment, I proposed that these concerts only be presented at Epcot–the most “adult” of the three parks (now four with the subsequent addition of The Animal Kingdom) that made up Disneyworld.

As the Black History month entertainment continued pleasing audiences–especially Jam on the Groove who have since been invited back a number of times–I presented my idea for Gay Day entertainment to the powers that be. Although I encountered no outright opposition, it soon became clear that nobody wanted anything to do with this. Everyone that I spoke with was reservedly supportive, but they all managed to remind me that Gay Day was not an officially sanctioned Disney event, which would make it hard to get my idea approved. This was all bullshit, of course. The bottom line was that nobody in a position to green light this project–and more than a few of them were, in fact, gay–had the courage to do so. Here was an institution that had achieved much of its success largely due to the blood, sweat, tears, love, devotion, and support of gay people, but that wasn’t willing to offer up even a modicum of recognition of that fact. Okay, so you extend coverage to domestic partners of your employees (in those positions that actually qualify for benefits), yet you turn your back on a real opportunity to show your support of, and to thank, a group of people who have contributed mightily to your success over the years. This was simply unacceptable to me. In hindsight, what the hell was I thinking? It wasn’t until 1997 that this ultra-conservative institution decided to officially recognize the Negro. I must have been crazy to think that they were ready to consider giving legitimate recognition to homosexuals.

My brief surge in pride for my world famous employer, once again, headed south. It was then that I decided to stop banging my head against the walls of Cinderella’s castle and get the hell out of there! It was obvious there was never going to be a place for me in this Magic (Tragic) Kingdom. No spoonful of sugar was going to make this medicine go down! I no longer intended to be the odd man out, the Eighth Dwarf, the 102nd Dalmatian. It was time to return to the land on the other side of the rainbow: New York City. If there had to be a poison apple in my life, let it be the Big One! Let me get back to the place where the queens are real, baby! And not family fare! Back to a place where people live out their fantasies in far more soul-satisfying ways! Where characters abound and, although often animated, they are certainly not cartoons! A place where an artist can create without having to stay within the bounds of decency–which, itself, is completely indefinable anyway! With much pleasure, I informed management that when the final curtain came down on Black History month, it would also be coming down on my brief stint at the Mouse House. I’m sure that this was good news to more than a few people.

WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR

My hope was that I would walk away from Disney and into a situation that would both make me forget the past nine months, and show the Disney hierarchy what they were losing with my departure. That wish was pretty much granted. Ultimately, my time at Disneyworld had been for a reason. Fate has its hand in everything. What was the purpose of the nine long months I endured at Disney? That would be Melba Moore. I had been a fan of Melba’s for years. During the time spent working together at Disney, we clicked, both professionally and personally. At the time, Melba was at work on a one-woman show about her life. She asked me to look at the early drafts of the script and offer my opinions and/or suggestions. We spent a lot of time discussing the show, talking concepts, and throwing around ideas in the free time between the four shows a day that she did at Epcot. The last week of her stint, she made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse: she asked me to collaborate with her (as director and co-writer) on her project. She didn’t have to ask twice.

Each night I would hang around the park after Melba’s last show, after everyone involved with the production had packed up and gone. I’d sit on the railing surrounding the huge lake at the center of Epcot and watch the nightly fireworks. It was my quiet time, my time for meditation and reflection. I thought a lot about the road that had led me here, and I fantasized about all that the future held. I remember feeling that despite everything, I was finally headed in the right direction in both my personal and professional life.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Although it started out slowly, 1997 turned out to be one of the standout years of my life. It began with my departure from Disney. Yes, again I began utilizing my computer skills and taking short-term work assignments, but this time I knew that it would actually be a “temporary” situation because Melba and I were hard at work on her one-woman show. We met constantly to discuss and put down on paper what we hoped would eventually become an artistic triumph for both of us. I was living in Queens, NY, and Melba lived across the river in New Jersey, but we made time together for what we knew was a potential powerhouse of a theater piece.

Shortly after leaving Disney, Melba appeared on NBC’s The Today Show. During her interview with Matt Lauer, she spoke of the pleasant experience she’d had during Black History Month at Disneyworld and mentioned her “wonderful director,” Michael Boyd–by name! Of course, I missed it. Where was I? Sitting in the word processing center of a midtown law firm churning out legal documents so that I would have the necessary funds for food and shelter. I came home that night to twenty or thirty phone messages, and at least as many e-mails. It was just days after that television appearance that Melba called to tell me that we had our first booking.

THE FINAL DISNEY “DIS”

During my exit interview at Disney, I was asked to consider remaining an active consultant for Disney in the New York area. Often projects will come up in various parts of the country and, instead of sending someone from Orlando, a local Disney employee would be assigned to the job. Looking to leave the door at least slightly ajar, I agreed to make myself available for such work if it happened, but I certainly wasn’t going to hold my breath waiting for the phone to ring. I was also asked if I had any desire to interview with Disney Theatricals in New York that, at the time, was in pre-production for the upcoming Broadway musical The Lion King. I quickly agreed, thinking that, perhaps, a return to working on Broadway would be my reward for having gone though all of the crap in Orlando.

A meeting was arranged and, once again, I found myself going through the never-ending interview process. I met with, gave all the right answers to, and basically kissed the butt of the important people at Disney Theatricals. I walked away feeling as if maybe this would be the place where I would find an agreeable fit with the empire left behind by Uncle Walt. Well, shortly after the end of the interview process, I received a telephone call from Disney Theatricals. When I recognized the voice on the other end of the line, my heart began to beat a little faster and what Delores Hall had said to me years earlier when I was cast in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas ran through my head: “…they do not call you to say NO.” And, in fact, they weren’t calling to say no. I was being offered a chance to become a part of what would soon be a major Broadway hit. Apparently, a production of the magnitude of The Lion King needed a number of assistant directors to keep it running smoothly and I was being offered one of those positions. Perhaps the trials and tribulations of the nine months spent in Orlando hadn’t been in vain.