Missing the Barn

ALL:

There's no business like show business

Like no business I know

MEN'S CHORUS:

Everything about it is appealing

WOMEN'S CHORUS:

Everything the traffic will allow

MEN'S CHORUS:

No where could you have that happy feeling

ALL:

When you aren't stealing that extra bow

There's no people like show people

They smile when they are low

MEN'S CHORUS:

Yesterday they told you you would not go far

WOMEN'S CHORUS:

That night you opened and there you are

MEN'S CHORUS:

Next day on your dressing room they've hung a star

ALL:

Let's go on with the show

“There’s No Business Like Show Business” from Annie Get Your Gun

Last night, Linda and I took in “Mame” at the Red Barn Theater east of Rice Lake. We were treated to an evening laced with some wonderful performances and a show that left you humming some of its songs on the drive home. I never tire of getting wowed by what some creative people can do with paint and plywood in creating sets that are believable and (from a community theater’s point-of-view, cost effective). Having been fortunate to perform in other venues around the county there is something unique about the atmosphere of the Barn, the sense of intimacy the audience feels with the performers and the performers with their audience. It is a very special place.

When we knew we would be going on sabbatical leave this summer we made a conscious decision not to audition for any of the shows this season. To commit to a show, you commit pretty much a month to five weeks of your evenings to it so if any of us would have said yes to a show that would have meant a third of our summer. It was the right choice to make for this summer. But sitting out in the audience last night I also was aware that I was missing being up there as well as missing our friends many of whom were dancing and singing upon the stage.

We’ve been attending performances at the Barn since the mid-1990s when many of the kids in our youth group – one of whom was also in the audience last night – were cast in various shows: “Sound of Music”, “Camelot”, and “You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown” are three that come to mind. I always said to myself if I was ever offered an opportunity to perform I would give it a whirl but January auditions would come and go and I’d either forget about the date or chicken out. And then in the summer of 2003 Barn veteran Chris Fritz called me up and wondered if I would be interested in a part in the upcoming production of “Minnie’s Boys,” a Broadway musical I had never heard of about the Marx Brothers. The guy they had cast as Harpo had pulled out and they were in dire need of a replacement. I spoke with the director (Nancy Erickson Dutmer – who, by the way, was Mame last night) and with a little rearranging of my schedule said, “Sure.” The rest is (for us) history. I enjoyed myself capitally and, to my surprise, grabbed a “Barney” nomination for “Best Male New Comer”. Someone else won that year but I had been bitten by the bug and with the exception of 2004 and this year, members of our family have been performing upon the stage at the Barn every season since. Ed and Emma joined me in 2007 with “The King and I” and even Charlie got in on the act with “Alladin and the Wonderful Lamp” last year.

While watching the show last night, I found myself empathizing with all the performers having to wear winter coats or sweaters during their dance routines. I’ve been there before. I don’t know if I ever was so hot as those nights I played Fagin in “Oliver!” wearing heavy wool coat, full beard and long hair and capering about the stage in my best impression of Ron Moody. But what joy it was each night to throw all that garb on just for the moment I could step into the audience to sing “Reviewing the Situation.” In the opening scene of “Mame”, there was Ross wearing the Aladdin's turban from last year’s show and later, he reappeared as a different character with that same damn trench coat I wore as Harpo, Sydney Lipton in “God’s Favorite” and Oscar Lundquist in “Sweet Charity”. What memories were made in all those shows as I sweated my way through each song and dance routine. There to stage right was the proscenium “window” where by virtue of climbing up a ladder and then standing precariously upon a chair, I sang “Sweet Chairty” to Tzeitel Dutmer while literally the sweat poured off my head upon her face looking up lovingly at me. Now that’s acting!

All this aside, for me the real icing on the cake is to be able to hang out with some truly wonderful and talented people, many of whom have become very dear to us. As we exited the Barn last night and made our slow walk down the hill shaking (and in many cases) embracing friends who had wowed us with their performances I knew that as soon as the parking lot was empty they’d be walking back to their various dressing rooms which would be pretty rank with sweat and body odor, change out of their wet clothes and head over to Adventures to celebrate a standing o and cool off after a hot night’s work. I miss that, too, the fellowship of the Barn and the shared joy of making some people laugh and enjoy themselves for a few hours of their night. So, here’s to the Barn now in her 49th year. Hopefully there’ll be a part for me next season even if it means putting on that trench coat yet one more time.