A Code of Ethics.

As some of you may know, I have a pretty long history with the show The Full Monty. After my ex-wife was in the original cast on Broadway I was a huge fan. I finally had a chance to play the show last summer in Aspen. And while I was researching the cast, this came up. I respected this woman before - I love and respect her now. Enjoy.

Kathleen Freeman, the original Jeanette in the musical version of The Full Monty.

Kathleen Freeman, the original Jeanette in the musical version of The Full Monty.

While appearing on Broadway in her Tony-nominated role of Jeanette in The Full Monty in August, 2001, Equity member Kathleen Freeman died of lung cancer. Equity Councillor Jane A. Johnston, a longtime friend and executrix for Ms. Freeman’s estate, later discovered among Ms. Freeman’s papers a document containing A Code of Ethics for Theatre Workers. Ms. Freeman was a daughter of a small time vaudevillian team. Her childhood experience of touring with her parents inspired this Code of Ethics, Ms. Johnston writes. She also notes: “What is particularly interesting about this list of dos and don’ts for the theatre is that it was written in 1945 when Kathleen was establishing one of the first small theatres in Los Angeles and she was 24 years old. I wish I had been told some of ‘the rules’ when I was a young actress instead of having to pick them up as I went along.”

The El Centro Theatre, home to the Circle Players.

The El Centro Theatre, home to the Circle Players.


The theatre was the Circle Players (with Charlie Chaplin among its backers), which later evolved into the Players’ Ring. Although there is no record that either company used an Equity contract (they certainly pre-dated the 99-Seat Code in Los Angeles), Ms. Johnston confirms that all the participants were professionals.

Foreword to the Code
“A part of the great tradition of the theatre is the code of ethics which belong to every worker in the theatre. This code is not a superstition, nor a dogma, nor a ritual which is enforced by tribunals; it is an attitude toward your vocation, your fellow workers, your audiences and yourself. It is a kind of self-discipline which does not rob you of your invaluable individualism.
“Those of you who have been in show business know the full connotation of these precepts. Those of you who are new to show business will soon learn. The Circle Players, since its founding in 1945, has always striven to stand for the finest in theatre, and it will continue to do so. Therefore, it is with the sincere purpose of continued dedication to the great traditions of the theatre that these items are here presented.”

The “rules” follow:

1. I shall never miss a performance.
2. I shall play every performance with energy, enthusiasm and to the best of my ability regardless of size of audience, personal illness, bad weather, accident, or even death in my family.
3. I shall forego all social activities which interfere with rehearsals or any other scheduled work at the theatre, and I shall always be on time.
4. I shall never make a curtain late by my failure to be ready on time.
5. I shall never miss an entrance.
6. I shall never leave the theatre building or the stage area until I have completed my performance, unless I am specifically excused by the stage manager; curtain calls are a part of the show.
7. I shall not let the comments of friends, relatives or critics change any phase of my work without proper consultation; I shall not change lines, business, lights, properties, settings or costumes or any phase of the production without consultation with and permission of my director or producer or their agents, and I shall inform all people concerned.
8. I shall forego the gratification of my ego for the demands of the play.
9. I shall remember my business is to create illusion; therefore, I shall not break the illusion by appearing in costume and makeup off-stage or outside the theatre.
10. I shall accept my director’s and producer’s advice and counsel in the spirit in which it is given, for they can see the production as a whole and my work from the front.
11. I shall never “put on an act” while viewing other artists’ work as a member of an audience, nor shall I make caustic criticism from jealousy or for the sake of being smart.
12. I shall respect the play and the playwright and, remembering that “a work of art is not a work of art until it is finished,” I shall not condemn a play while it is in rehearsal.
13. I shall not spread rumor or gossip which is malicious and tends to reflect discredit on my show, the theatre, or any personnel connected with them-either to people inside or outside the group.
14. Since I respect the theatre in which I work, I shall do my best to keep it looking clean, orderly and attractive regardless of whether I am specifically assigned to such work or not.
15. I shall handle stage properties and costumes with care for I know they are part of the tools of my trade and are a vital part of the physical production.
16. I shall follow rules of courtesy, deportment and common decency applicable in all walks of life (and especially in a business in close contact with the public) when I am in the theatre, and I shall observe the rules and regulations of any specific theatre where I work.
17. I shall never lose my enthusiasm for theatre because of disappointments.

In addition, the document continued:
“I understand that membership in the Circle Theatre entitles me to the privilege of working, when I am so assigned, in any of the phases of a production, including: props, lights, sound, construction, house management, box office, publicity and stage managing-as well as acting. I realize it is possible I may not be cast in a part for many months, but I will not allow this to dampen my enthusiasm or desire to work, since I realize without my willingness to do all other phases of theatre work, there would be no theatre for me to act in.”
All members of the Circle Theatre were required to sign this document. And they must have-because the theatre, and the group into which it evolved, was successful for many years.

Much of the time Professional Actors lose track of the idea of CRAFT in their work. Being a Craftsperson is in many ways sacred, and when I forget that... I'll be re-reading this.  Thanks Kathleen, and thanks to the Circle Theatre.

Revelation in a $43 cup of Starbucks.

I just had a major revelation rise out of a $43 cup of Starbucks. Story:

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I'm in Vegas this week, doing an Industrial show (or what we like to call Business Theater) for just a couple of days. We've been staying at the MGM Grand, and our show, for Country Financial, was an interesting little presentation on a huge conference center stage, woven through some long speeches being given by the top brass of this company. The greatest piece of Art? Absolutely not. But it's been a terrific gig. We've been paid well, got housed in a beautiful hotel in a fairly warm climate (while the East Coast was getting pounded by a huge snowstorm), got fed like Kings and Queens, and I even got to the gaming tables - and it looks like I'm actually going to leave Vegas 'up' about 100 bucks. Happy days!

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So yesterday morning just before I checked out, I went downstairs for a $43 cup of Starbucks. Well the Starbucks cost $8 - (8 dollars for a cup of Starbucks drip and a scone! YIKES!), so where the other $35 come from? As I was stirring in some milk, I noticed that on the gaming floor not 10 steps away there was a five dollar Blackjack table with a nice, welcoming looking dealer standing behind it.   I sat, and I was the only one at the table – you can do this when it's 7 AM on a Wednesday, even in Vegas.

When you play Blackjack and it's just you and the dealer, it can be really fun. You can really play the game, and if your dealer is personable, you can strike up a conversation that can ramble nearly anywhere. My dealer's name was Audrey. And as she was casually hammering me with a very unfriendly shoe, the questions began: "What do you do for a living?" "I'm an Actor.". Usually, Actor gets some kind of reaction, but she barely blinked. Because this is Vegas, and she gets every kind of everything at her table. For a moment, I mused that in a certain way, she's a priest, and this is her confessional - but then I thought, no that's not right; she's a zookeeper, slinging cards and jokes at whatever kind of animal runs, flies or crawls by. "Could you break this for me please? " "Well I'm not strong enough to break it, but I'll definitely give you change." Bah-DUM-bum. 

She dealt me a 20 and then proceeded to deal herself 21 the hard way, and as my head sagged and she reached for my chips, another casual question: "What's your favorite thing you've ever done?"

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Now as a person who makes their living as a Professional Actor I've easily been asked this question a thousand times. I usually have some kind of stock answer for it, and so I began my usual "Well, that's a really hard question, but..."

Revelation. BOOM.

And I realized that in that silly little industrial show, I had just as much fun in the moment, in the doing of it, in the performing of it, as I've ever had in any show I've ever done. Anywhere.

So who cares? Why does this matter? PROCESS. That's why. It is all about the doing of a thing, not where you are doing it. (As long as you're getting paid, of course - I mean I am a professional and all.) I've been on Broadway, on television, in film, I run my own series, and even in a conference venue at 7AM, I was having a fantastic time with fantastic people.

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Perhaps getting hammered at Blackjack is a method for making that clear. (This is not a method that I would advise participating in frequently - but it is quite effective.) Thus: Are you enjoying what you're doing at the moment? If not, then you should probably find something else to do. Me, im going to keep finding every opportunity I can...  just to be in the show. Wherever it is. As long as it's paying.

Thank you Audrey. You took my money... but in the end, I owe you. 

On fear, re-Mind-ing, and 'Life Stuff'. Do we ever learn the lesson?

photo by T. Charles Erickson

photo by T. Charles Erickson

2 years ago I received a possible death sentence. Story:

I was doing a show very near and dear to my heart - A Christmas Carol at the McCarter Theatre in Princeton, NJ. I'll admit it; I'm a SUCKER for this show - especially McCarter's production. Direction by Michael Unger, adaptation by David 'Tommy' Thompson, sets by Ming Cho Lee, choreography by Rob Ashford original music by Michael Starobin, the brilliance of this show is wide and deep. And every time Tiny Tim hugs Scrooge in the show's final moments, my heart fills, breaks, and fills again.

I've done this show for a few years now, and it's a wonderful journey every time. However, in 2012 I got an additional journey - one I wasn't counting on.

Halfway through our performance run in December, on the 19th in fact, the day began with a slowly evolving sour stomach that, after our evening show, had turned into a semi that somehow parked itself on my midsection. It felt like I was wearing a vice. A sleepless night ensued; and we had a student matinee the following morning. But I felt slightly better as the sun rose, so off to the gym to try and sweat out this bug, then on to the theatre. Somewhere during the second act, the diffused pain re-formed itself and landed squarely and sharply in my right lower quadrant - (can you tell I'm a doctor's kid?) - focused around a place that sounds more like a geographical location than a body part - "McBurney's Point". 

Ah, McBurney's. Not much of a vacation spot.

Ah, McBurney's. Not much of a vacation spot.

Diagnosis, medical types? You guessed it. Appendicitis.

I finished the matinee and limped to the company van for a trip to the E.R. - after the usual preliminary tests, my white cell count being not that alarming, I sat on my butt while they scheduled a CT scan. For those of you who've not undergone this fabulous process, it includes swallowing what seems like a gallon of a mildly radioactive substance, a longish wait for it to work its way through your G.I. tract, and then a date with the scanner.  

Dr. Elliot Sambol happened to be on call, lucky for me to have a badass thoracic surgeon handling my simple 'appy'.  After the scan, he came into my room immediately

"We're scheduling you for surgery." he said.

"Soon?" I asked. I really wasn't in that much discomfort.

"Now." he returned. "We found something besides the inflamed appendix. We won't be sure what it is until we can remove it and send it to pathology. But my preference is to take it out as soon as possible."

Princeton Hospital Operating Room. Beam me up.

Princeton Hospital Operating Room. Beam me up.

Something? There was little time to ask for details while I got a chest x-ray, signed many forms, and was dashed into a surgery suite that looked like something out of the 22nd century. No counting backwards for me; the anesthesiologist said something like, "You're going to feel a slight burning sensation in your arm-" and I was out.

I woke up briefly in recovery, then again in my hospital room, with my dearest wife (then girlfriend) KB, sleeping beside me on a piece of furniture that was pretending to be a fold-out couch. The next morning, as I struggled to walk and accomplish the suddenly monumental task of taking a pee, Dr. Sambol came in on rounds.

"We removed a growth just above your appendix," he said. "No idea what it is yet - it could be benign, just some kind of genetic malformation, or it could be... well, I have to give you every possibility because that's my job. It could be cancer. The chances are pretty low that that is the case, but there is still a percentage..."

Dawn? Or sunset?

Dawn? Or sunset?

His voice faded into a dull roar, like I had somehow dunked my head into an angry surf. His mouth continued to move, and I kept nodding, but inside my head, above the noise, I heard, "Cancer? Seriously?!?" My health was good. A month before I had run my fifth marathon. It was December 20th, Christmas was hours away...how could something like this happen...now? How was this possible? 

I spent the next several days trying not to think about lab results. But over and over, echoing in my head:

"I could be dead in a year. I could be dead in 6 months."

Death is always a possibility. But I have noticed that in American culture, we mostly ignore it. Death is never a part of our daily conversation like it is in other cultures. Tibetan monks pray while fingering beads carved to resemble human skulls to remind them of their mortality. But when death inserts itself into our lives, we react with great surprise, even though on Planet Earth there are approximately 2 deaths every second (and, incidentally, 4 births).

Shasta lessons.

Shasta lessons.

With my surprise came the questions, constant, and on a loop: What if this was it? What if my countdown clock was much closer to zero than I had thought? What would I do differently with the time I had left? Would I tell it like it is? Would I take that trip I had always wanted to take? And as I flailed for answers, one question brought me a glimmer. A glimpse...of a mountain.

A couple years before, as I had stumbled through a transitional period (marriage breaking up, moving on from a big Broadway job & now sliding towards the poverty line) my friend Matt Fabiano had called me. 

"Hey man, my family is organizing a big trip to Mount Shasta," (his family was from Northern California), "and we think you should come along. We're looking to climb to the top. Come summit with us."

"I can't, man," I answered. "I just - it's a bad time, I don't have the cash, my marriage is falling apart..."

Matt cut me off. "-Jim," he said. "Come on. When are you ever going to have a chance to climb Mount Shasta again? This is Life Stuff."

I flew to Cali and climbed the mountain with them. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life...and also one of the coolest. To this day it's one of my favorite trips I've ever taken.

The tree on Palmer Square, Princeton.

The tree on Palmer Square, Princeton.

So from there, cut back to Princeton, and the tense period as I waited for lab results. I vowed that if 'spared', I would remember that phrase, 'This is Life Stuff', on a daily basis. Tomorrow is not promised to us, ever, I said to myself. I'll live my life differently. Better. I'll smell the roses.

The results came in on Christmas Eve day. Kristen waited while I listened to the voicemail, the tension so thick you could make tires with it. Pathology's news: Benign. Nothing to worry about. It was one of the greatest Christmas presents I've ever received.


Now I realize that this may not seem like much of a "brush with mortality" in the great scheme of things - many other people have come much, much closer to the edge than I ever did. But I assure you, it was as shudderingly real as it could possibly be to me, especially in the dark moments when the whispers would echo thru my mind. But now they faded; I was clear. It was Christmas, I was healing, and all was once again right with my world. End of story, yes?

Hm. I wonder what's wrong with the Jeep?

Hm. I wonder what's wrong with the Jeep?

Cut to the days, weeks and months later, as I promptly fell back into a world of petty fears and worries; will the next check clear? How will I pay that bill this month? When will I get my next show? All the daily BS that we all say will not ever matter again, if we're given that second chance. And yet somehow, once again, that BS ruled my life.

And I felt like I had cheated the lesson - this blessing that was given to me. How could I toss such wisdom over my shoulder so easily? I felt like I had failed. A great big Life-Fail.

But then it dawned on me: At least I was still thinking about it. I wasn't just going through the motions, not entirely. Habit happens. That's human. We move forward, we drop back into our lives, we mostly ignore the rear-view. Habit gets us through our days, our tasks, puts food on our tables, keeps us going. We evolved Habit: It's a survival mechanism. But we have these fantastic, huge squishy brains on the top of our bodies; they do more than run our habits - and they can be changed.

So here's what I've learned: Without practice, any Life Lesson will be lost in the motions of habit - thus the lesson needs to be Minded, over and over. RE-Minded. Forgetting, or getting lost in the motions of the everyday, is to be expected. It's not failure. It's life.

The challenge then, is cutting through habit, even momentarily - and ReMINDing. As in, change out your mind: Remove that 'habit brain' and re-mind yourself with the 'smell the roses' brain. Will the habit brain return? Sure it will - we're wired that way. But you can always...

re-MIND yourself.

...and bring a GoPro if possible.

...and bring a GoPro if possible.

It takes practice. It takes looking past fear. It takes getting up and doing something a tiny bit different with your day, every day.

Find a reason. Ask the question:

Will I ever have the opportunity to do this again? Is this Life Stuff?

And then; do it.