Dramatis Personae

There are stories and then there are stories; but some are true, even though they don't seem that way.

When people ask me what my first get-your-feet-wet days in New York City were like, here is what I tell them:

I came to New York two years after graduating college. It was crowded, dirty, cold and LOUD. It was winter, and I had no job and was living with my parents. Somehow or other I found a roommate and a part-time job in a bookstore in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

I also got myself into a production of Marat/Sade in the chorus/ensemble. In rehearsal, I figured out we were in a drag bar and the name of the troupe was Dramatis Personae. The director's name was George but I can't remember his last name.

George was mostly a good director, but he also had a temper and played one of the nurses in the show. I recall watching him beat an actor one evening and it looked real enough to make me cry. I didn't really want to continue being in the play, but the actor assured me he was fine, so I stayed.

George had a tarantula that would crawl around the piano on days we'd be at his place to rehearse. The bar was dark and full of plush furniture, whips and chains. There was a "whipping boy" actor who pleaded with guests to whip him. He was really a sweet guy and I always thought he had a lot more talent than he was sharing. In fact all the performers were talented, and most could really sing.

What struck me about the performers was they were extremely dedicated to their work as singers and actors. Because most people perceived them as "different" they weren't given the respect they should have had for their talent and commitment. So they were almost confined into this specific world and yet watching their acts, you wanted the world to see what they could do and support them.

Meanwhile, I met some interesting people in the Marat/Sade cast, and one became a dear friend who I'd still know today if he hadn't got ill and died. His name was John Zaleski and he was a musician in the play. I would talk with him every now and again and one day he came into the theater and handed me a longish bag. "Tell no one," he said. 

I opened the bag and inside it was a rose. Some months later, I started writing songs with a guy I later married (for a time). John became the drummer in our band. He had a dark-chocolate voice and eyes and loved Houdini, which rubbed off on me so that now I love Houdini too. But that's another story.

The bar was owned by a guy named Amy, who used to fascinate me because they had such luxurious blonde waves and red lipstick, and came in every night at ten or so after the show. They never looked at the actors, which I didn't understand, but Amy and George seemed to get on very well.

The most professional thing to come out of the play was a showcase I did with two other cast mates, Taylor and Kristi. I loved having a speaking part and feeling like I was doing more than just singing in the chorus, so. If you are ever cast in an ensemble, just recognize it can lead to something else so can be worth the time you spend on it.

All of these things happened some time between January and June in my first year of being in New York. I'm telling you this because I tend to have the type of look that makes people think I work in a health food store--or so they tell me. *Wholesome* (ugh)

What I mainly want you to know is that everyone has a story, right? And the cool part of that is, you can never tell what a person's gone through by their looks--unless you ask.

Drag stars: Les Chatfield