Starry-Eyed (5 page)

I finish playing and the silence that follows is a respite, a moment of grace. It hovers over the room and its inhabitants like a slow breath after a long cry.

I look up.

The whole cast is crowded around the piano, their parents behind them. I scan their faces—Chloe, Ben, Davis Lee, Jenny Jackson, Mr. Sandburg—looking for envy or greed or weirded out, but I don't find anything remotely like that. Instead, Henry catches my eye and tilts his head to the side, conveying an unspoken message that I can feel as clearly as if he had whispered the words directly into my ear.

I scan my soul and it's whole.

ANECDOTE: JESSE TYLER FERGUSON

I have been charmed with a few things in life. My hair is the hue of crimson that can never be achieved from a bottle; I have a fairly healthy if somewhat slowing metabolism; and I have always known what I wanted to “be” when I grew up.

I have gone back in my mind to try and pin down the exact moment I knew I wanted to be an actor. I always seem to end up back at the uterus. I am using the word
uterus
literally here. It isn't the name of a downtown improv group I started at. Also, if I ever start a downtown improv group it WILL be called the Uterus so . . . consider it trademarked.

I know I nagged my parents about letting me join the local Albuquerque's Children Theater after seeing one of the plays they produced, but I can't even remember what play it was. I have told interviewers and talk show hosts that it was
Alice in Wonderland
. I have no idea if that is true but it is on my Wikipedia page now so it is basically written in stone. I guess I really WAS one of those kids who came into the world with jazz hands and great extension. (I curse myself for not stretching daily to maintain my flexible newborn muscles.)

Now, there is a HUGE difference between knowing you want to
be
a professional actor and knowing that you
like
acting.

Someone who knows they
like
acting might be comfortable spending their entire stage career in Middletown, USA, building a résumé of roles ranging from Harold Hill to the first Caucasian Coalhouse Walker Jr.

The crossover to wanting to
be
a professional actor comes with the reality that you WILL be a small fish in a big pond. People use this metaphor a lot. They always fail to add that the small fish species is a guppy and the big pond is actually a piranha river. Wanting to be a professional
actor is accepting that you will be unemployed more often than not. It means you are ready to leave the comfort of suburbia to barely afford rent in a studio smaller than the size of your childhood bedroom.

I had to really sit down and think: What in the world could possibly have had the magnetism to allure me into this insane world of acting?

It can only be one thing. The Tony Awards.

It really was my only consistent outlet when I was growing up in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Sure, every once in a while a non-union production of
Cats
or
Something's Afoot
would roll through town but it was the Tony Awards that really captured my attention.

As much as I still enjoy this Awards Show, I will always have a soft spot in my heart for the Tony Awards of the eighties and early nineties. Every category came with an amazing montage of clips from the musicals and plays nominated that year. This was before the age of YouTube and DVR so I would sit close to the TV . . . trying to absorb every moment.

Side note: A few years ago, at the age of thirty-four I found myself back in Albuquerque on the night of the Tony Awards. We already had plans to have dinner at my aunt and uncle's house, but they assured me dinner would be over before the telecast started. A game was also on that night so I was demoted to the tiny TV that sat on the kitchen counter. You would have thought it was still 1989. Here I was crouched in front of a twelve-inch screen begging my family to “keep it down, I'm trying to watch the Tony Awards!”

But I digress. The show that really captured my attention when I was a kid was a bizarre little musical called
Falsettos
. It was written by some guy named William Finn and directed by James Lapine. Research told me this was the same guy that directed and wrote my CURRENT favorite show,
Sunday in the Park with George
. I don't know what it was about
Falsettos
that entranced me. The actors were rolling around on bleachers and singing about baseball, lesbians, and Jews. It was bizarre . . . and I loved it! I remember thinking at that moment: if I ever get to work with someone like William Finn and James Lapine my life will be complete.

I made my first trip to NYC with my local community theater when I was sixteen. It was one of those whirlwind tour groups that packed six shows and a tour of Radio City Music Hall into a long weekend. I separated from the group on my first night, went to TKTS, and bought a ticket to see
Falsettos
, making it the first Broadway show I ever saw. It was late into its run. The house was half-full, and many of the cast members I remembered from the Tony Awards were different. I do remember Barbara Walsh was still in the show, and I looked upon her with the same awe that a modern-day Jesse would look upon Lady Gaga, Cher, or Jennifer Aniston. It was a truly an amazing night, one that I have NEVER forgotten.

Those who are as obsessed with theater history as I am may know where this story is ending up.

At the ripe age of twenty-nine, I was asked to workshop the role of a twelve-year-old kid in a bizarre new musical about a spelling bee. It was written by some guy named William Finn and directed by that guy James Lapine, who directed
Sunday in the Park with George
. To say I was having a full-circle moment would be an understatement. We even had rolling bleachers in the production!

The show was called
The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee
. Since it was nominated for Best Musical that year we were invited to perform on the Tony Awards. As we were onstage that night (killing it, I might add), I couldn't help but think: somewhere there is a kid watching this on a twelve-inch screen TV, screaming at his or her parents to “keep it down, I'm watching the Tony Awards.” I imagine that kid thinking: “I want to do that someday. I want to be an actor.”

The jaded part of me wanted to say: “No, it's too hard! They don't tell you the part about the piranhas! Turn back! Save yourself!!!!!” But the part of me that knew there is nothing you can do to dim that spark said: “I understand. Buckle up. Have a good time. Oh . . . and remove ‘Caucasian Coalhouse Walker Jr.' from your resume.”

J
ESSE
T
YLER
F
ERGUSON
currently stars as Mitchell Pritchett on ABC's
Modern Family
, for which he has received three Emmy Award nominations for Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series. No stranger to television, Ferguson received rave reviews and was honored by the
Hollywood Reporter
in 2006 as one of “Ten to Watch” for his role on the sitcom
The Class
. His additional television credits include
Do Not Disturb
and
Ugly Betty
. His film credits include
Untraceable
and
Wonderful World
.

Ferguson attended the American Musical and Dramatic Academy and made his Broadway debut at twenty-one as Chip in
On the Town
. He later originated the role of Leaf Coneybear in
The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee
(Drama League “Distinguished Performance” nominee) and has worked extensively with the New York Public Theater in
The Merchant of Venice, A Winter's Tale
, and
A Midsummer Night's Dream
(Drama League “Distinguished Performance” nominee). Other theater credits include world premieres of Christopher Shinn's
Where Do We Live
and Michael John LaChiusa's
Little Fish
and Leo Bloom in
The Producers
at the Hollywood Bowl.

Ferguson is an advocate and supporter of the Human Rights Campaign and, in 2011, was honored with the HRC's Media Award for establishing a positive, increased awareness of LGBT issues in the media. Most recently, he co-founded Tie the Knot (
www.tietheknot.org
), a nonprofit organization featuring bow ties designed by Ferguson, with sales going toward organizations fighting for marriage equality.

MC WAX

Josh Berk

INT.—A VERY UNCOOL SUBARU, 11:22 P.M.

TRESTA: You know, Javon used to rap for me.

My blood suddenly turns very, very cold. There most definitely should be a law about girls mentioning their ex-boyfriends. It would be a simple law: DON'T DO IT. Especially in situations such as these.
Parked car
sorts of situations. Especially if their ex-boyfriend is Javon freaking Harris.

I don't hate Javon Harris. That's not the problem. I
love
Javon Harris. Everybody does.
That's
the problem.

I'm in a lot of plays, so I sometimes imagine life as a script. Let's take it from the top. The full conversation goes like this:

ME: Come on, Tresta, just a little kiss. . . .

TRESTA: I don't know. I'm kind of not in the mood.

ME: Well maybe there's something I can do to
get
you in the mood.

(Awkward pause. Tresta puts her finger to her lips as if deep in thought.)

TRESTA: You know, Javon used to rap for me.

Well, shit. A whole host of thoughts run through my head, but that is the first and most eloquent.
Well, shit
.

First of all, know this about me: I am white. Very white. I will get a raging sunburn just from standing near an old person's birthday cake. I have red hair and red eyebrows and a love of musical theater. I live in a
suburban home with a big green yard and two Subarus in the driveway. (My parents are both teachers. They
have
to own Subarus. I suspect it's in their contract.)

When me and Tresta are hanging out, I sometimes forget that I'm white and she is not. But when she mentions say, rap, or say her ex-boyfriend Javon freaking Harris, I become quite aware. You know Javon Harris. He is in a big horror film that comes out next month. Everyone knows he is on his way to becoming a real movie star. Probably a rap star too. Tresta dated him before he graduated and moved to California last summer.

I try to make a joke out of it. “I could sing you something from
Phantom
,” I say. I gesture widely and start to warm up my throat.
La-la-la-laaaaa
.

“Uh, no,” she says, cutting me off.

“
Into the Woods
?” I ask.

“Believe it or not,” she says. “Sondheim does not get me hot.”

“Liar!” I say. “Blasphemer!”

She laughs. She
does
like Sondheim. I know that she does. And I know that she likes that I like Sondheim. We have that theater thing going on. It's probably the only reason I've gotten this far with her.

Maybe it's not captain of the football team, but I did win a Joey award last year. Best Male Performance in a High School Musical. It's not a Tony, but it's a pretty big deal. Every school across four counties here in my corner of Pennsylvania competes. Something like twenty high schools are eligible, counting the Catholic schools, which never win. The award show is shown live on local TV. There's a red carpet and everything. So when you win, people notice.

Girls
notice.