Dancing and powdered wigs

I am a terrible dancer and yes, I have done enough dancing to come to that conclusion and no, it wasn’t that much.

I spent two weeks of the summer between junior and senior years of high school dressed as a member of the 1776 Continental Congress, casually rehearsing the opening dance number to “A Chorus Line” on the back rehearsal deck at the Forestburgh Playhouse. I spent the following two weeks performing in “A Chorus Line” as one of the dancers, who would get cut.

I should back up a little bit.

I used to want to be an actor. My first real job was working at the Forestburgh Playhouse, where I washed dishes in the kitchen. Forestburgh is a summer stock theater. Every year, they have a company of young actors and actresses (mostly college students) who are hired for the summer to perform in six shows.

It wasn’t a great job and I wasn’t (and still am not) a very good dishwasher. My job was to set up the company’s meals and wash their dishes. I also worked at the Cabaret after the show preparing fruit platters, soup and washing more dishes. It was a very good learning experience.

My second summer, I was cast in “1776.” “1776” is a musical about the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It was, and still is, one of my favorites.

I played Joseph Hewes, the delegate from North Carolina, complete with a powdered wig, a mediocre southern accent and white eyebrows (no, I don’t have any pictures and yes, they are probably hilarious).

I was 17, the youngest person in the show, playing a guy in his 50s. It was a small part, but fun because I was on stage for the entire play. I had seven lines and most of them were “North Caroliiiiina yields to South Caroliiiiina.”

Forestburgh is set up in two-week cycles. We rehearsed the show for two weeks. After two weeks, we would start performing it at night and rehearsing another during the day.

The second show was “A Chorus Line,” a show about the audition process. In the play, there are 14 principal actors and they are all trying out for a show. By the end, half of them are cut and the other half get cast. Along the way, they sing and dance their life stories. The show calls for other actors to be in the opening dance number and get cut immediately.

They asked me if I wanted to play one of the cut dancers. I did. I was a go-getter.

“Can you dance?” they asked.

“No,” I said.

“Good. You are supposed to be bad.”

“No problem,” I said.

We started rehearsing the day “1776” opened.

It was my first experience with dancing and I dressed in sweat pants and sneakers. My jaw dropped as the choreographer went over the dance number with us. It was just like you imagine.

“Five, six, seven, eight. Step, kick, kick, leap, kick, touch, again. Step, kick, kick, leap, kick, touch. Remember to keep your leg smooth?it should pop on eight.”

I didn’t know my leg bent like that, how to tell whether it pops or when eight was.

“Turn, turn, out, in, jump, step, step, kick, kick, leap, kick, touch.”

I realized that I didn’t speak the same language as I watched everyone else pick up the dance rather quickly. I did my best to keep up.

“Turn, turn, touch, down, back step, pivot step, walk, walk, walk. Got it?”

Not exactly.

Thank goodness, I was supposed to be bad. I was embarrassed almost nightly by forgetting a step, losing my place and just being all-around uncomfortable.

I much preferred playing the bumbling diplomat from North Carolina.

- Zachary Stuart-Pontier