Robert DuSold

In the late 80’s, I was sitting in the back row with the house lights on during a rehearsal for “Les Mis” at the Forrest Theater in Philadelphia when the unmistakable, sinking realization washed over me that someone was gonna kill themselves.

True story.

After the ecstasy of being cast as an original member of the First National Tour of “Les Mis” wore off, I was getting used to making decent money for the first time in my life… I’d come a long way from taking my “sesame noodles” to the first week of rehearsal at 890 Broadway. I took a little Tupperware container with the last box of spaghetti and peanut butter I had and ate it every day because…

As I was getting used to making money, I was also getting used to being a part of a behemoth hit commercial show. I was riding the beginning rumbles on the wave of a worldwide phenomenon. The beginning of a new generation of Broadway musicals… the show was the star of the show. The logo was the star of the show… the barricade was the star of the show. The tire was the star. The chandelier was the star …the helicopter was too. I wasn’t… I was part of a crew of interchangeable actors that could easily be replaced and the “show would go on” as it were. I’ve always wrestled with that when I think of my contributions to decades of many hit shows. By the way, “the show must go on” has always made me crabby. I never really bought it.

I began to see little dribs of who got the short end of the stick in rehearsals… it was pretty apparent who the director favored. And didn’t. Even in blocking the show. There was a very competitive vibe that was fostered by the creative team and management. Was it to get the actors to work harder? I don’t know. But it was there. We were in the biggest show in the world and most of us knew our careers depended on it, not to mention our newfound lifestyle. Who was gonna move on from this? What understudy would take over a role? Who would maybe get a TV or film gig? The majority of us were on run of play contracts so at least we knew we had a job for the foreseeable future.

Or did we? After the show was running for several months, the creatives and supervisors and assistants would swoop in, sometimes unannounced, and we’d have a rehearsal. I began to see, slowly at first, who was gonna be “it”. Somebody was tagged “it”. Often they were vulnerable, or less experienced. They were barraged with notes, sometimes mocked in front of the cast. The butt of the joke. At times yelled at. It was a power play that had a purpose: No one is safe. A narrative was formed. Don’t be that actor. You could be next. Every actor who attended those rehearsals left with their stomach in knots. The ones who were mercifully spared thought one thing.

Thank God it wasn’t me.

Some of the stage managers picked up on it too. At that point, it was part of your daily routine. In the air when you walked in the theater. It became a folly. “How clever can I be in putting an actor in their place?” Sometimes it was in a private note session, and sometimes it wasn’t. It was in front of your colleagues. It was sorta The Hunger Games meets Lord of the Flies.

Some actors stormed off the set. Some began to cry. All were emotionally devastated. When it was my turn, I began to question my talent, my voice and my existence on this planet at my worst points. I didn’t want to be erased. I didn’t want to leave the show. I didn’t want to be forced out. I couldn’t. Sometimes, the method to that madness was to force actors out of the show. Sometimes it worked. Maybe it was fun? Who knows? We were all a part of “it” though. We were puppets at the same time we were mean girls. And boys. It was clear to me we were following an agenda that was set from the top, at the very least we were part of the tone.

During that rehearsal in Philly, I saw an actress breaking in front of me. I saw her self esteem vanish at the hands of the machine of commercial theater. Like her soul had left her. In real time. Like the Rapture. And I knew then that somebody, some day was gonna kill themselves. I guess I saw part of myself in that moment too.

I’ve carried that with me for decades. Decades of more stuff in more hit shows, lots and lots of more stuff like a production supervisor announcing over the “tannoy” in her Scottish brogue to the entire cast “ Your performance was shit tonight and ya knoooow et.” She was at every performance and the only way to exit the stage was to run the gauntlet past her while she told you what she thought of your performance. Every night. I was thinking of digging a tunnel to the outside from backstage, but I was too exhausted at that point. Every show you are in becomes your own little world. In another hit comedy I was asked by the conductor while I was rehearsing a scene if “I was gonna do it like that”… I’ve been told my voice was ruined and I couldn’t sing anymore. I’ve been mocked and seen so many others get “it” a lot worse than I did.

It became easier for me to survive by speaking up for myself… oh, that was years of summoning the courage. But I did gradually. I also spoke up for others who were in the same boat. I was a keen observer and learned a lot from people who had survived careers in theater and thrived. I learned so very much from Laurie Beechman. I think of her often. She helped me learn to be OK.

2 years ago an actor in the Broadway company of “Chicago” took his own life. Jeff Loeffelholz was “it”. That horrible feeling I had buried so deep, and yet was always there, became reality.

I have that horrible feeling again.

In a perverse twist that can only be real because we are living through a pandemic, a senile crackpot wanna be dictator squatting in the Oval Office and murder hornets, this time we’re paying to be harassed. We’re not toughing it out for a paycheck, we’re writing the check. The abuse is the same. The agenda is similar. Most definitely, the “it” is the same. The damage is the same. The emotional devastation, and the feeling that you’re alone in the world is the same.

Now, it’s not producers or the machine of commercial theater pulling the strings, it’s an organization that exists only to serve and protect actors. To protect the jobs and safety of actors. Our health and welfare.

Actors Equity.

For purposes of reality, I will refer to Actors Equity owning this because the puppet masters are the highest sitting officers and councilors in the union. There’s no one left. We’ve reached the top. These are the people who set policy and negotiate and represent the union.

This isn’t a new story, nor is it an isolated incident… it’s an ongoing, crazy, hard to believe saga that needs as many curtains pulled back as the opening of “Phantom of the Opera”.

Cue music.

As you might have noticed, um, social media is life now. Social media has replaced the rehearsal room, the stage, Arriba Arriba and everywhere else actors do their thing. The conversation may be virtual, but the result of our little fingers typing is all too real. This drama takes place in Socialmedialand…. the land where people lose their filters and raise their thumbs in the air and shout and pontificate ..and shame and harass and bully.

And yet, we reveal ourselves at the same time. I’m not naming names. I’m not sharing screenshots. I will however allude to the positions of power they hold within the union. I will not name the souls who’ve taken their brunt.

But Daddy’s got the receipts. For everything.

Just a sample, as Cap’n Andy would say( I can’t help myself):

“…..join the union before you weigh in. Honestly no one cares. You’re a laughingstock.”

“If you get attitude it’s because you act like an asshole”

“Literally, people cant stand you but are legitimately concerned for your mental health.”

“You’re crazy and everyone knows it”

That’s on a Facebook discussion page, and that was written by a Vice President of Actors Equity. She was addressing a non union actress who had challenged her. I doubt if they really knew each other. In full disclosure, that was the auspicious beginning of her climb in the union.

This, however, is present day. Here’s her response recently to a member who I’m assuming she felt challenged by as well who has been vocal about his mental health issues because he doesn’t like the stigma that surrounds it. They’ve never met.

“Get the help you clearly need.”

That’ll be $174 dues per year please. And 2.5% of your salary.

To win a recent election for Council positions in Actors Equity, she and several others, commandeered what turned out to be an ad hoc campaign to frame other candidates and members, by unearthing and amplifying old tweets that were racially charged by a guy who had pissed one of them off… another Vice President who is sworn to uphold her fiduciary responsibility to fellow members.

He’s “it”.

Yes, your eyes are ok. To win an election and knock other people out of the race.

Without climbing down the rabbit hole of something as sensitive and meaningful and important as race, of course, everyone has a right to their opinion. Mine is I’ve never seen so much virtue signaling in my life from this crowd. What a wasted opportunity for progress. Behind the smoke and mirrors, there was just an agenda. And a weapon.

So, the outrage flies, the indignation, the self referential purity… and so does the damage. The pile-on is extreme and excessive and sometimes mean and devious. Members are painted as racists by association, because they supported the guywhopissedoffthevp on Facebook without doing a 5 year tweet check. They had no idea of his Tweetpast. He’s now graduated to white supremacist in a video shared and promoted by a high ranking officer. No one sees fit to stop it. No one. Actors Equity is pouring gasoline on the fire.

Now, he’s really “it”. And so are several others.

Then, he loses his job. Someone tells his employer. I’m not sure if ironic is the right word to describe this is a job he pays the union to protect. Another has to go to his boss and explain that he’s not a racist. Everyone loses sleep. Some are devastated. All of these people loved the union. Some have been threatened. Some agonize and find the need to explain themselves to their friends and colleagues through tears. For what? Everyone worries about the hit to their careers, and their reputations. They manage to use a guy to do their bidding by baiting him with race. The whole time it’s all you can eat 24 hour a day blasting by thumbs.

That’ll be $174 dues per year please and 2.5% of your salary.

This whole thing makes Reese Witherspoon in “Election” look like Mother Teresa.

Enter Tracy Flick. The president of the union proclaims on social media to members that thedudewhopissedoffthevp’s words are “violent” and his “rhetoric needs to be nuked”. Words attached to a man who is a member of a professional actor’s union with years of volunteer service. She instructs members to search out fellow actors social media pages to see who is “vocally supporting, vocally opposing, or who is remaining silent”. She was running too by the way. She wound up winning. I wonder how much violence she finds in “you’re crazy and everyone knows it” and “you act like an asshole”, and “get the help you clearly need”.

Actually, I don’t wonder. I know the answer. We’ve pulled the fire alarm and no one is answering. The call is coming from inside the building. Ah, catch phrases… Actors Equity is quite aware. There have been repeated attempts by several people imploring the union to address this. They are not interested. There have been formal complaints that have either been stonewalled or summarily dismissed.

There’s so much more, and this harassment by Actors Equity to the members is so widespread… and current… that I will break the interwebs if I tell you more. There’s more stuff. Lots of more stuff.

This erasure of human beings is now pretty much part of the union. Recently I saw this on a newly former union officer’s social media page… referring to the person who won his seat.

“We’ve seen what happens when our groups go on a social media mission. Maybe we found our next one.” “Can’t wait to be external agitators for change”

Then a sitting councilor posts a popcorn emoji thingy.

Well, ok. While we’re here. Another sample. The racial justice(and mental health) warrior who I first mentioned recently inserted herself into a conversation she wasn’t a part of with the nowinfamouswhitesupremacist she helped to create:

“…After all the racist things you said publicly … you really think you need to be weighing in like this? “

“….It’s pretty clear that you’ve learned nothing from this situation and our members absolutely deserve better.”

It’s interesting she’s chosen to pontificate about race. As fate would have it, her family is supported by a theatrical organization that’s heavily funded by foundations that target minorities. But, killer hornets….

I do think of Jeff. And I do know the stress that actors are under at various times in their careers. This kind of stress is so similar to what Jeff endured as his world collapsed due to bullying.

I wish I could have been his Laurie.

Oh, while we’re sitting in the back row, a bit more about “it”. Well, this “it”. He was hospitalized at a very young age as a severe epileptic and spent 6 years of his life going to school for learning disabled kids. He’s struggled his entire life to overcome the effects of his disease. I suppose I feel compelled to say that he tweeted stuff too. He’s evolved. No one really wanted a conversation with him about, well, anything. They wanted “it”.

I see Actors Equity on the brink of going under…due to this pandemic and the current out of control leadership. This is one hell of a parting gift were that to happen.

Cue house lights.