Lines Left To Say
30 Years Since My First Professional Acting Job
By Nikki Jacobs
Thirty years ago this past summer, I earned a paycheck for the first time as a professional actor. As the saying goes in show business, “you’re only as good as your last job.” Well, maybe that’s the reality that lies in the minds of hard nose industry executives, but any actor worth their salt knows that is a shortsightedness far removed from the blood, sweat, and tears that go into surviving in the everyday wilds of this rigorous profession. You’re the sum total of every job you’ve ever worked no matter how far off in the distance or recent it is. I’ve had my hits and misses, winning the role sometimes and losing out most of the time. Aside from celebrating that I have stayed in the game this long, I thought it worth revisiting the experience of my first professional acting job. Undoubtedly, there is some deeper understanding to be found of who I was then compared to now. Hopefully, even a nugget or two of anecdotal wisdom will prove beneficial to my fellow actors out there — or anyone with an undying passion.
I started acting in community plays when I was five, progressed to high school theatre, later college theatre, and eventually earned degrees in Speech-Theater and History from St. Olaf College in Minnesota. I was extremely proud of receiving my degrees, yet nothing felt better to me than the knowledge there was an acting job waiting for me once I left college. I was so relieved there was a place in the world for me to act while earning money doing it. The job was at a summer stock theatre called Horsefeathers and Applesauce Summer Dinner Theatre located on the campus of Southwestern College in Winfield, Kansas. “Horsefeathers” is slang for “nonsense”. Where they got the applesauce part, I have no idea — never asked. I was too giddy about the fact that I had an honest to goodness, paying acting job. Fresh-faced and nearing twenty-two, I only saw forward. An added bonus was the quaintness of Winfield itself. It was a welcoming town of around 11,000 that seemed to operate with an uncomplicated and steady life rhythm. No one was in a big hurry, yet everything got done when it needed to be. The most striking aspect was the massive blue horizon that surrounded the town from every direction. I’d never encountered a sky that big. Toto, we were definitely in Kansas.
Summer Stock Lovin’
The couple who ran the theatre possessed an appealing blend of Midwest warmth, charm, and intelligence. They were highly professional, talented directors, fully devoted to producing excellent theatre. Not to mention, the themed meals we served our audiences prior to each performance matched a fine-dining experience. For instance, our first show was “The Sound of Music” so a restaurant-level meal centered around Austrian and German food was prepared by cooks in the college cafeteria. We actors doubled as servers of the food. I dreaded having to do this. I had been a server in the past and hated it. Plus, I wanted ample time to collect myself before a show. Much to my relief, my bosses did a terrific job of scheduling the dinners enough in advance to curtain so that we actors had plenty of time to prepare for our performances.
The meals were pre-planned so no orders had to be taken with the exception of maybe a drink order. We basically had to just get the food out to the audience members in a timely manner. So we actors pushed that soup, German potato salad, and wiener schnitzel out to the crowd with urgency and gusto. We served the food in costume. I have no memory that we were directed to engage the audience in character during the dinner portion of events. From my best recollection, it was mainly a sneak preview of what to expect in terms of who was in the show. We actors were also getting a sneak preview as well of who would be out in the audience. Did it alleviate the nerves for me before the show? No. The same adrenaline rush was there before every performance like always. Once we fed the audience and they piled into their seats in the theatre, that fourth wall was back up and so was the pressure to suspend their disbelief that we were in 1930’s Austria — German potato salad or not.
I was hired for this job via combined auditions. While I was in college, my father researched and discovered this type of audition before I even graduated. At them, I performed a monologue and/or a song for several professional theatre representatives at the same time, many of whom stemmed from summer stock theatres in the Midwest region — where I was born and raised. At the time, I was non-union so I could only work at non-union theatres. In the case of Horsefeathers, a small weekly wage was paid with housing provided. Horsefeathers was connected to Southwestern College where the couple worked during the regular school year as theatre professors. Since it was summer, the dorms were empty and we actors were given a room to be shared with another member of the theatre company.
I lucked out. My roommate was an incredibly witty, Winfield local who had not yet graduated from Southwestern College and had been cast in the summer company. She gave me the inside info on the town, the best place to buy my groceries, and welcomed me as if we had never been strangers. Over the course of the summer, we bonded on many levels. Like me, she had an irrepressible, sharp sense of humor, which made her perfect for her role as the unforgiving, stern Sister Berthe whose utter disdain for Maria’s foibles make her ridiculous. With her terrific ear, singing the difficult trio “How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?” was a breeze for her. We joked about Sister Berthe’s unreasonable grudge against Maria a lot. We had so much fun improvising lines beyond the scope of the play for these two characters, which led to my roommate landing on a fitting, resting scowl for grouchy ol’ Sister Berthe. A lot of actors’ best ideas happen outside of rehearsal when they are not taking the development of their interpretations too seriously. It can be a safe space to let the script carry them to delicious discoveries. It certainly did for my roommate and me — and what tremendous fun it was!
I have learned over the years that the best performances arise from actors who can laugh at themselves, who see mistakes as opportunities, and who truly want to collaborate. My roommate was this kind of actor. I have always been very grateful for both our work relationship and friendship and have often regretted that we drifted apart. Summers end and so do shows. While you grow close to some of the people with whom you create those shows, over time, I sadly realized that the nomadic nature of being an actor usually does not cater to working on long-distance friendships.
When I arrived at Horsefeathers, we did not have much time before auditions began for “The Sound of Music.” There was only one actress who gave me a run for my money to nab the lead role of Maria. She had a powerful, lilting operatic voice. I have a pretty, belting, musical theatre kind of voice. Maria is a down-to-earth, spunky, free-spirited postulant who literally runs around in the hills. It was clear at the audition that the director did not feel Maria’s characteristics translated into an operatic vocal style. This actress did not adapt her classical training to Maria’s more rough-around-the-edges character and everyday struggles. I just paid attention to the words in the song, where the melody was taking me, making Maria’s story my own. It won me the lead role.
The other actress ended up being cast as Mother Superior and settled comfortably into that role. In fact, she was a generous and creative scene partner, generating a lot of shared humor with me in our duet “My Favorite Things.” In addition, she developed an on-point interpretation of a wise woman who sees Maria’s problematic path toward becoming a nun as a sign that her talents might be better served elsewhere. Happily, her gorgeous, operatic voice found its home in “Climb Ev’ry Mountain,” pulling on audience heartstrings with each performance.
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We had ten days to rehearse the show before we opened. Mind you, we had ALL day for those ten days to do it. Still, it meant stuffing a lot into each day. Most of my time was in rehearsal or helping out in the scene or costume shop. That’s another little tidbit about summer stock. You’re not just acting. They need you to work in a tech capacity backstage too. Because I was Maria, though, I spent most of my time in acting and singing rehearsals. Despite the long hours, I was never tired or felt that I was not given the proper number of breaks. Don’t count on that everywhere you go to do theatre. Joining actors’ unions is imperative for guaranteed wages and workplace protections as a working actor. I was very fortunate that the couple running this theatre were highly decent people who did not exploit my non-union status and overwork me or others in the company.
The Play’s The Thing, But You’ve Gotta Have Character
Now, let’s dive into how I became Maria. The director of our production clearly defined her expectations for me right away. She sat down with me and showed me a book about the real-life Maria von Trapp and the von Trapp Family. She informed me that Maria and Herr von Trapp had a 25 year age difference between them. News to me! It was not cast like that at all in the 1965 classic film! Gives one a totally different perspective on how that might have affected their relationship. Also, she felt that Julie Andrews did not capture enough of the pluckiness of the real-life Maria she read about in this book. I disagreed with her assessment of Andrews’ performance . Thought it a brilliantly effective Julie Andrews-version of plucky, but it was highly apparent the director wanted me to distinguish myself from that version. Naturally, she wanted me to think for myself. Little did she know thinking for myself was never a problem for me. Yet, the advice was smart. So many of us grew up watching Julie mesmerizingly inhabit that role. Without that reminder, Julie might have still crept into some of my work. Love ya, Julie, but a new Maria’s in town!
Back to plucky. Hey, that’s me! I’m plucky. Being a 5-foot tall woman with big dreams, plucky’s always been a close ally! However, I also looked inward for what was DIFFERENT between Maria and me. I would never pursue being a nun for starters, which got me thinking why she wants to be a nun. The script clearly indicates one of her biggest fears: disappointing God by not having the wherewithal to follow through on being a nun. Evidenced by her need to run unhampered through the hills, I think that fear is in her before she even meets the von Trapp Family or becomes attracted to the Captain. Convent walls are not for a woman like Maria. She is so vibrant. She has too much to offer the world. She cannot be contained. Throughout the play, she moves toward containment for certainty, but accepts life is not certain and the world, this family, and yes, that sexy Captain need that vibrancy.
My interpretation of Maria really skyrocketed when the show’s musical director insisted I fearlessly catapult myself into Maria’s world. Not only was he a fabulous vocal coach, he challenged me to dig for clues about Maria within the songs. He did what every musical director should do. In rehearsal, we would work on the messages about Maria’s circumstances in the songs, how I could best sell those messages , then he would react to my acting choices with his own choices in how he played the accompaniment. He became another scene partner. During the performances, he conducted his tiny orchestra by intuitively sailing up and down his piano in direct, moment-to-moment responses to the action onstage. This many years later, I realize that in order to break Maria free from the convent, I had to break down a lot of walls in myself to get to her. As an actor prepares, the actor and the character start to behave in symbiosis. But, this wonderful musical director initiated this process, asking me all the right questions, stirring me to peel away more and more of Maria’s layers. That’s what great directors care enough to do. I am forever indebted to him for that.
As the summer wore on, I won the role of Mayella Ewell in “To Kill A Mockingbird” as well. It was a tremendous challenge to play the abused young woman who cowardly takes refuge in the racism of her society and falsely accuses Tom Robinson, an African American man, of rape. I predicted a casting dilemma for this production due to the entirely white demographic of our theatre company. How were they going to do this show without an African American actor to play that part? I went to the director. It was the wife of the couple I mentioned earlier. She was directing the production. To this day, she is one of the most empathetic directors I have ever had the pleasure of working with. I told her I could not take part in the production unless a black actor played that role. I am not a fan at all of color-blind casting and believe wholeheartedly that it is an actor’s right to helm the representation of their specific culture. She assured me that she had been in contact with an African American young man in Colorado who was coming to play Tom. In our modern world, you may think that casting inappropriateness for a particular race would never happen, but I always keep a watchful eye on the possibility that with the excuse “the show must go on,” respect for authenticity and opportunities for historically marginalized groups will be ignored. My worries were quickly assuaged. Once again, this couple demonstrated they were stand-up people.
There was a lot to unpack with Mayella. Her father beats on her. He is a horrible drunk and scapegoats African Americans for everything that doesn’t go right for him. Of course, Mayella sets her sights on Tom. He is kind, intelligent, and thoughtful. He is everything her father isn’t. She wants him — badly. So she attempts to seduce him. He’s married. She doesn’t care. She’s white and he’s African American in the Jim Crow South. She does not care. Then, to save herself from her racist father’s abuse for daring to seduce an African American man, she goes along with the lie that Tom raped her.
Like Maria, I also embraced Mayella’s pathology by channeling her fears. I wanted to get to the most vulnerable part of her. Mayella only appears in the play during the courtroom scene where she is cross examined by Atticus Finch. But, it’s more than enough to get a read on her. That scene contains hidden clues that she barely has a strand of self-worth. Trapped in a home with an abusive father — a young woman saddled with caring for her younger siblings, she deludes herself into thinking she is entitled to whatever possible love might come her way. She’s a woman in The Great Depression South and therefore, deemed by many as powerless. However, being white, she has power over Tom Robinson.
I steered clear of judging her racism, as easily tempting as it was. Judgment of a character’s flaws — even praise for their strengths does not get you far and is not your job. You have to target their deepest wants. Then, it’s your job to move that character straight into the hornet’s nest the writer has left waiting for them — the one that threatens their ability to get what they want. Walking into that hornet’s nest is the only way to bring a character to further discovery, redemption, or even into more trouble. Perhaps their downfall is that they do not change much or accept change. But, something has to shift in them. Mayella only changes in that she finds out she is capable of more than seduction to get the love she craves. She finds out she is fully capable of sacrificing a man to save herself from her father’s wrath. I had never played a character so consumed by her own weaknesses and powerlessness. I never have since.
My last role in the season was barely a role at all. I had no character name, but got to wear a fabulous period dress representing the early 1900’s. (Costumes can make up for getting a small role. At least for me who loves clothes!!!). The show was the musical “The Secret Garden.” I had no lines and no songs to sing. I was simply asked to place a nightstand onstage from stage right. Just a scene changer? Horsefeathers! That nightstand and I teamed up to make a splash. I had this inner story in my mind that I was the maid for the family who had been specifically told how they wanted the room set up. If I didn’t do it just right, I’d be admonished — perhaps God forbid, demoted to chimney sweep. I moved with urgency, placing the furniture with skill, efficiency, and thoroughness. I choreographed my movements carefully to display both character intention and physicality. I actually earned a compliment from the director when he gave notes to the cast during one of our rehearsals. Tell a compelling story with WHATEVER you are given to do in a show. If you are committed to that story, someone just might be paying attention to more than a nightstand.
The Lessons That Travel With Me.
Thirty years later, I can look back on this job with gratitude that not only were people paying attention to my talent, they trusted me enough to lend it to their productions. I went onto other paying theatre gigs around the Midwest and eventually landed in Chicago doing non-union, professional theatre and working for a time with a professional improv troupe there. I forged work relationships with a commercial agent and theatrical agent along the way. Again, people were paying attention to me and my work. Attention paid alone is a huge win for an actor. Nonetheless, looking back on my Horsefeathers experience, I see years and years that followed where I had to confront that even when I was lucky enough to get casting heads to turn, paying attention is often not enough.
Someone can love your work, but they do not see you in the role. Someone can love your work, but are afraid to take a chance on you so they opt to go with someone they have already worked with. Someone can love your work, but feel compelled to cast the producer’s wife in order to get the money for their project. Someone may be annoyed by your work or wants to stay away from you because you remind them too much of their ex. The scenarios go on and on in a business where subjectivity shapeshifts into countless obstacles that prevent us from employment. If you are an actor like me who has stayed in the game or you are just starting out, hold onto the times someone pays attention and follows it up by taking that chance on you. Hold onto the times someone shows you trust, kindness, and respect as an actor — the way Horsefeathers did for me. Oh…and let me remind you that you are never, never only as good as your last job. You are as good as your willingness to get better as an actor, bear your soul at every audition, and disregard anyone who says utterly unimaginative, superficial things like that. Any actor worth their salt knows it.
