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Monday, July 30, 2012

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 32 Back in Albany New York


Annie Get Your Gun opened and the reviewers hated it. They ripped everything apart. Mimi was a little long in the tooth to play Annie. 


It was pointed out that Annie in real life starts the story at age 16; Mimi added 40 years to that number.

Anything that could go wrong during the opening week went wrong. People dropped lines, forgot cues and had dance steps blow out their ears. 

Someone in the lobby was overhead to say “My dog would have howled all the way through that show.” Mimi was repeatedly compared to Lucille Ball in Wildcat.

I was having a blast and so was the rest of the cast. Who cared if the leads would go up on their lines and speak directly to the audience? Or forget their lyrics, look at each other and burst into laughter? The audiences for the most part loved it, loved us and loved when something went wrong. There were so many times Mimi would ad-lib and I would have to bite the insides of my mouth to keep from laughing. She was hysterical and had great comic timing. So she veered from the book a little bit.

After the first night the cast party was held at Mimi and Barry’s house in Albany. The house was a huge mansion with several bedrooms, bathrooms, a baby grand piano and a swimming pool. We all brought or suits and if you didn’t you got thrown in anyways. Everyone was in the pool at least once that night.

Barry and Mimi were lovely and warm and made everyone feel so welcome in their home. Barry would pull me aside periodically at the party and check if everything was alright. I told him that “Everything was fine” I assured him. “Let me know if that changes,” he said with a wink.

The bar was stocked and there was food everywhere. The music was pumping and local celebrities were flooding through the door. I noticed the Walrus leaning on the baby grand surrounded by smiling faces. Everyone was singing and every now and then he would get his arm jostled and his drink would jump I saw him several times trying to catch the liquid with his mouth as it spilled to the floor. He would snarl, grumble and lean down to put his lips to the glass and someone would hit his arm again.

He would also reach out and swat the air with one hand as if he was hitting someone. It was quite comical. I stayed my distance and was at least 20 feet away from him for most of the night. It wasn’t until I let down my guard that he caught me by the elbow and pulled me to sit down next to him on the couch in the living room.
“You miserable little faggot, “he snarled an inch away from my face. “Who the fuck are you to tell Mimi and Barry what I said to you?” “Don’t you know who I am?” “Don’t you know how many shows I have directed?” “I will ruin your career, you mincing little faggot!”

His voice got louder and louder until everyone was listening to him. There was no music, nothing but the sound of his voice and the sound of his drink hitting the floor.

“You know who I am?” he asked again and he took his finger and poked me in the chest. “You are a little shit and I am highly regarded in this town!” He poked me again. Barry rushed across the room, grabbed his arm and helped him to standing. “Hey, why don’t you come with me?” Barry asked him and pulled him towards the doorway in the living room, his drink slopped all the way out and onto the floor.

“All of you, all of you!” he shouted, pointing around the crowd as Barry removed him from the room.
The music started up again as if nothing happened. “Sorry Honey, he’s bombed and got a problem.” Mimi said while hustling me to the bar. The party went late into the night.

That night I got home and the house was eerily quiet. There was no music and no sounds as I climbed the stairs. I couldn’t hear the familiar sounds of Jonathan snoring. I walked into the bedroom and could make out Jonathans bed in the light from the window, he was not home.

I dropped my bag and turned on the overhead light. I sat on the bed and looked at Crawford’s cage. Crawford lay on her side; her fur was matted and soaked with blood. Her little mouth was gasping for air as her paws grasped at the air. She had several puncture marks covering her body. 

Lying on the floor was a pair of blood covered scissors.

To be continued……


Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent. 


Monday, July 23, 2012

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 31 Back in Albany New York


Annie Get your Gun was close to opening, so every night I was at rehearsal. 


The stage was a series of platforms attached to each other and stood about 3 feet off the floor. 


During the dance of “Sun in the Morning, Moon at Night,” the stampeding of the herds was amplified to a deafening thud. It was clear that we were all tapping our own version of the show.

A rumor ran through the cast. It had Mimi and the actor playing Frank Butler romantically linked. The actor playing Frank would wink anytime anyone in the chorus would ask him about the affair. 


There was a lot of grumbling about it from many in the cast, because Mimi’s husband was the Producer. I figured it was none of my business and I stayed clear. I had the Walrus up my ass at every turn.

I adored Mimi and her husband Barry. They would go out of their way to ask if I needed anything and if everything was ok. When the Walrus would get to be too much I would excuse myself and go to the bathroom. 

In the stall next to me I could hear the man playing Charlie putting away the booze. He would sneak in there as often as I did but to drink.  If you were near him on stage you were forced to hold your breath because if you didn’t, the fumes would kill you.

I had to get back on stage. We were working out all the problems in our Indian number. One of the classic numbers in this show is a racist little ditty sung by Sitting Bull. It’s called “I’m an Indian too.” In the number Annie was being made an Indian by Sitting Bull. Mimi and sitting bull would dance around each other while the chorus donned “Orange Face” and joined in.

Sitting Bull was 250 pounds, curly blonde hair and had a heavy Brooklyn accent. The color of his skin was nightly changed to a deep brownish orange, he was dressed in a tunic and a giant headdress topped off his look. 

The actor playing Sitting Bull was blind as a bat. He didn’t have contacts and was forced to not wear his glasses on stage. As a solution; the cast would walk him in the right direction for the whole show and his number. When it came time for his big dance break, he would stand center while Mimi danced around him.

“I’m and Indian too, a Sioux oh oh, a Sioux” Mimi would squawk in her nasally New Yawk accent.

The Walrus called me over and leaned in close to me I could smell stale booze and cigarettes. I stared into his bloodshot eyes. “I’m sure that no one in the Sioux nation minced around like you do,” he hissed at me. Shocked, I just smiled and walked away. We were 4 days from the official opening and I wanted to scream “Fuck you,” and quit. Instead I headed back to the bathroom.

The actor playing Charlie was in there again. He finished hiking up his pants and headed over to the sink to wash his hands “Jesus kid,” he slurred “You’re in here more than I am.” I nodded and briskly slid into a stall.

When I came out of the stall, Barry was standing there. “Is everything alright?” he asked me placing a hand on my shoulder. I was trying to just keep it together at the moment when I burst into sobbing. I blurted the whole story out about how the Walrus would say the nastiest things to me. Barry was shocked to say the least. He handed me a Kleenex and promised me that something would be done. An hour later Mimi pulled me to the side and had me repeat the entire story I had told Barry.

“Don’t worry honey,” Mimi said to me. “It will all be alright.” She patted my hand and went right back to rehearsal.

That night when I got home, Jonathan had a million questions for me. “What was Liz wearing?” “Did she look pretty tonight?” “Did she ask about me?” He literally was in my way every step I walked. “Did she have fun at dinner?” “Does she want to come back?” He was jumping out of his skin.

“Jonathan, give me a moment,” I said as I pushed past him, dropping my bags and heading into the bathroom. He continued to ask me questions through the closed bathroom door. I turned on the water to drown him out.

To be continued…….

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent. 

Monday, July 16, 2012

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 30 Back in Albany New York


My Mother would tell stories of how her Mother was rich for awhile as a little girl. Mom would drag out pictures of her Mother standing next to her, my Great Grandmother. 


In every photo she would look beautiful, her hair done up and a fur coat was draped over her shoulders. I never saw a picture of her Father. When I asked my Mom about this, she would roll her eyes and say, “Who do you think is taking the picture?”

My Grandmother would see these pictures of her childhood and mist up. We all knew that her Father died in the great influenza epidemic of 1918, leaving her and her Mother penniless. If her Father was mentioned, my Grandmother would drift off into her own world, cover her mouth with the back of her hand and a girlish giggle would leave her mouth. She was always seven years old in her mind.

My Mothers Father was my Grandmothers second wife. The first wife was never mentioned. It was a scandal to be the second wife of a divorced man in those days. We were told to never ask my Grandparents about that story, ever, period. Even if it looked as if you were approaching a similar story in the presence of my Grandparents, my Mother would shoot you down with a look.

My Grandfather was a very handsome and strong man. He had raised his family in Syracuse New York. They had survived the depression, so everything in their house was reused. Use a paper towel, hang it out to dry. Want a chip? Then unwrap the rubber bands from the bag! Found mold in the cheese? Cut it out!

It was a fascinating house of rules and secrets. If you travelled too far with your questions though, you might get a pinch that twists skin and leaves a bruise from Mom or Grandma.

My Mother was very close and saw her parents a lot. Christmas wasn’t Christmas if we didn’t wait at the top of the stairs for Grandpa to come out of the bathroom. Hours would pass after he went in. We would try to push each other in there after he would emerge.

Mom was always being put down by my Grandmother, either over the phone or in person. Nothing she did could ever rise to her level if it was done by my Mother. When my Grandparents would return home from visiting us, my Mother would slide into a funk. She would take daily naps for hours opening her door to scream at us. She would have her pre-cocktail in the middle of the afternoon and more at 5pm.

The biggest threat to me was always “Wait until your Father Gets home.” If she was really mad at me, she would call him at work. Mom tended to embellish stories, so when Dad would arrive home he was furious as hell and ready to kill. I remember beatings so bad with a belt that I would black out.

I also learned at a very early age to feel nothing. I would shut down and not feel pain, not feel emotions, just not feel anything. This would make them crazy and my Mom would stand at the door and egg my Father on to beat me again.

Sometimes I would enter a black hole where I would come out of it and not remember much of anything that had just happened. My Mom’s rules were just that, her rules. She was a completely different person when my Father wasn’t home and when he would arrive she would play the victim in the house.

Once, my Mother had so embellished a story to my Grandfather, that he grabbed me around the throat and began to strangle me. He was so angry he didn’t realize that I couldn’t breathe as he repeatedly banged my head on the wall.

When he let me slide to the floor, I could see my Mom standing in the hall with a smirk on her face. Then she reached over and shut my bedroom door.

To be continued…..

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.  

Monday, July 9, 2012

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 29 Back in Albany New York


The immediate answer in my mind to Jonathans question was “No way in hell.” That’s at least what my first thought was, I never said it out loud.

“Maybe someday we can, but for right now why don’t you go to sleep?” I said to him as I slid into bed.

“She sure is pretty,” Jonathan sighs again. I can hear him roll onto his side. “Goodnight,” he says and immediately starts snoring.

“I hate him.” “I hate him so much.” ” Jonathan is stupid and disgusting.” He follows me around like a sick puppy, needing constant attention. He’s dirty and sloppy and has a weird constant smell.

I get angrier thinking about everything that has happened since I got here. I should have stopped Leo from beating Jonathan and tying him to a tree, but something in me is happy to hear the stories from Leo about pounding Jonathan. I am no better than any of the bullies that I encountered in my life but somehow, I take a perverse glee in Jonathan’s suffering. Is it because it’s not me?

I feel protected by Leo. I feel that he has protected me from Jonathan and from this world I’m living in. It’s true that deep inside he is a wild animal who strikes and someday could turn on me.

I let my rage start to grow as I think about how I got here. I try to think about my rage and how it bubbles to the top and spills over. I certainly am no saint. Lying in the dark I begin to reflect.

My thoughts turn to my Mother. God I hate her. I hate her so much. The rage feel towards her is all consuming. Things according to the family picture album started out good enough. It was at about age 7, that there was a change. Mom was always nervous and edgy. She lived by a set of rules that made little sense. If you questioned her rules you would find yourself punished. If you questioned anything that was said to you, you would find yourself punished.

Bad words would get your mouth washed out with soap. You could be made to sit with a bar of soap in your mouth for as long as 30 minutes. Finally, when you were drooling foam that burned your throat, she would then remove the bar. I came to loath Irish Spring.
My mother is mentally ill. There is nothing more to this thought. She medicates it with alcohol as most people did back then. My father was always absent; he used to travel a lot for work. Whenever he was out of town my mother would strike and it would always be worse than when he was there.

It was a pattern that would repeat itself for years. It would start in the morning as I sat at the breakfast table. Mom would wander into the room, cigarette dangling out of her lips, Kleenex poking out of a sleeve in her bathrobe. Hung-over, she was always looking to pick a fight. Alcoholics still scare me to this day. There is no reasoning to anything that they do.

My parents had spoken of divorce on several occasions. We kids, always thought that they were going to split. We were sat down and they asked us who we would like to live with in the future. We chose our Father which made my mother ballistic. She announced that the question was nothing more than a popularity contest and stormed out of the room.

That was my mother’s usual cry.

The problem was that my father took his vows seriously. I remember a fight so bad one time between the two of them. Mom was screaming, Dad was leaving and we kids were crying. My father made it as far as the front steps with my younger sister hanging on his leg. There he sat thinking about what a hell he was living in and decided that he had promised for better and worse. It was at this moment that his world changed. He placed the blinders on his eyes and never looked back.

My mother’s mother was mentally ill and I wondered when did we first notice as kids that something was off with her? Was it the time that my sister had to sit a doll at the thanksgiving table so there wouldn’t be thirteen people sitting there? Was it the piles and piles of articles, clipping and cartoons that she cut out of newspapers and slid between the pages of scrapbooks placed in the bathroom in stacks? 

Was it her love above all others of her cat applies named Miss Cat? Could it have been her constantly putting my mother down while praising my uncle? Was it her taking to darkened rooms when she didn’t feel well or the multiple pictures of Jesus Christ she placed around the house? My favorite thing she did was to ignore us and my mother, pretending we weren’t there. She would hold the cat close and talk about how much she loved her.

to be continued.......


Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.    

Monday, July 2, 2012

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 28 Back in Albany New York


The dinner with Liz slowly slid into the crapper after that. Jonathan tried his hardest to impress her but failed at every corner. Jonathan had never really been in the presence of a woman before and not one so beautiful.  


Liz was lovely, gracious and would never make anyone feel uncomfortable. At one point Jonathan sent the pitcher of water to floor but not before it soaked the entire table.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” said Liz as she hugged me on her way out the door. Jonathan with a large grin stood mid way up the stairs and waved at Liz, she waved back and smiled. It was clear that Jonathan was smitten by. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek.

I closed the door and Jonathan began to giggle again. “Wow, she’s beautiful.” Jonathan blurts. “You’re too old for her,” I respond not really knowing how old he is but hope to nip this in the bud.

He sighed and I could see the stars in his eyes. I knew that Liz would let him down gently if he ever approached the topic. Jonathan with a new bounce in his step walks over to the stereo and puts Saturday Night Fever on the turntable. I’m wiped and still have to hand scrub the pots and pans that I used to prepare dinner.

“Maybe Crawford would like macaroni and cheese,” Jonathan says thinking out loud. He is dancing to The Bee Gee’s his hands high in the air. He looks like he is being force to dance at gunpoint but loving every minute of it.

“Crawford is not going to eat macaroni and cheese,” I tell him. “Oh yeah,” he responds, “Crawford doesn’t like any food I give her. I don’t give the comment much thought at that moment, but I do wonder what he has tried to feed her that she doesn’t like.

“Night on Disco Mountain” begins playing and Jonathan is swaying back and forth to the music. This has become a plot out of a crazy horror movie. I wonder what penance I need to pay for in this life. This is just getting weird.

I finish the dishes, kick off my shoes and fall asleep on the bed.
Hours later it’s now dark; I stand and begin to strip out of my clothes. Crawford is wiggling her nose and pushing her newspaper towards me. I slide my t-shirt over my head and step into my pajama bottoms.

“Do you think we can ever be friends again?” Jonathan asks me from the darkened room.

To be continued…….

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.   

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