"Troy on TV? Well, almost... (Part 2)" by Troy H. Cheek on Mar 01, 2005

"Hello, I'm Troy H. Cheek. You may remember me from my best-selling book series SFSTORY, my award-winning weekly newspaper column View from the Corner, or my appearance in the TV Movie O' The Week Sibling for Sibling..."

As you may remember from last time, I was talking about the "pocket" theater at the college known as "Tech" was in disrepair because of a lack of funding. Some funds had been raised the year before, but because the money for the fundraising ventures had been taken out of Tech's "general fund" all proceeds went back into the same fund, where they were promptly spent on sports programs. Sports programs which, incidentally, had a plan to turn the theater into a storage room.

This year (well, that year), they decided to do something different. They were going to put on the play Sibling for Sibling, based on true historical events in the area, at an off-campus site, using money contributed directly by local businesses, individual fans of the theater and history buffs. Absolutely no money would be coming from the general fund. The proceeds of the play could then be applied directly to the renovation costs without any of it going to the football team's new shoulder pads.

My friend dragged (drug?) me along because he said I knew electricity and could probably work the stagelights properly. Rumor had it that some of the damage that needed repaired was due to someone catching the stage on fire by making some non-code-approved changes to the wiring. He said he knew I could do wiring after seeing me install that illegal phone extension in his dorm room. He also said was good at talking to people and getting them to donate money just to get me to shut up.

I'm pretty sure he meant that as a compliment.

I went with him to the auditions just to keep him company, and while I was there I figured I'd see if they needed me as a grip or gaffer or whatever you call someone who knows how to plug in an extension cord. I was surrounded by people who were practicing their lines, checking their makeup, etc. Fully half of them were reading from what appeared to be identical photcopies. It turned out that this was their latest assignment in the acting class most of them were taking. By the time my friend got up to audition, I'd completely memorized their assignment, even though I had my nose buried in whatever book or magazine I had brought along and was trying my best to completely ignore them.

My friend told them of his previous experience, rattled off a couple of lines from some Bard play or another, told a couple of jokes, and sang the chorus of a musical he'd starred in over the Summer at Opryland theme park, back when it actually was a theme park and not just a hotel. I hummed along because I knew the words. It was a snappy tune that stuck in one's head. I remember singing it along with him as we were walking out of the park one afternoon. A couple of guys stopped us and complimented us on our singing voices, saying that they planned to check out that musical if it was still playing the next time they were in town. I thanked them and might have let my vanity prevent me from mentioning that I wasn't actually in the show. After they walked off, my friend recovered his voice.

"Do you know who that was? That was two of the Oak Ridge Boys!"

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was! We were just complimented on our singing by the Oak Ridge Boys!"

"No, we weren't."

Regardless, my friend was in good form that day and wowed everyone. A few more people read the same assignment from acting class, and then I realized that someone was pointing at me and telling me I was next. I had no intention of auditioning and opened my mouth to say so.

"Sure thing!" my mouth said.

"WTF?" my brain said.

I walked to center stage (in reality, center of the meeting room), picking up a folder and small block of wood along the way. I faced the people behind the table and opened my mouth, wondering what I was about to say.

"It is 3,000 light years to Earth," I began, gritting my teeth and lowering my voice in a way that Kevin Conroy would make famous when he re-invented it for the animated Batman TV series a few years later. I realized that the half a dozen times I had read the same science fiction short story trying to drown out the auditions had allowed me to memorize it well enough to do a passable recitation of the highlights. The story, as best as I remember now, was the log of the commander of an expedition who finds, in the year 3000 or so, the remains of a civilization destroyed when its star went nova some 3,000 years before. If their calculations were correct, the light would be visible as a bright star in the eastern sky as viewed from, say, the ancient city of Bethlehem.

If you didn't get that, read it again a few times. Scary stuff.

I spent most of the time looking at my "props" or playing to my friend who was standing off to one side. I didn't even look at the director, writer, and producer sitting at their little table until I was rumbling out the last line. That's when I noticed the writer was positively glowing and had her hands raised in front of her. I echoes from my last word (half-screamed as if in anguish) hadn't died before she started clapping.

I had by some bizarre twist of fate picked her very favorite short story by her very favorite author in the whole wide world.

And, if I may be forgiven for tooting my own horn, I did a damned fine job of reading it, too.

After auditions were finished, which part I got came down to whether or not I was willing to shave off my beard. I told them that I wouldn't shave it off, but before I left I allowed that I might be talked into it, seeing as it was for a good cause and all.

The official announcement of who got what part came out a few days later. I heard about my part unofficially a few hours early. My friend had ended up sleeping with the writer. He got a part because of it, of course, and had also put in a good word for me so that I got a part where I got to keep my beard.

We chosen actors started raising money, building sets, rehearsing, and spending a lot of time with each other both on and off the set, which the director insisted was necessary as most of the characters in the play had known each other all their lives. Familiarity with our fellow actors was necessary so that we would appear at ease with each other on the stage.

"Method acting," I mumbled to myself when nobody was listening.

"What's wrong with method acting?" thundered the director, who apparently was listening after all.

"Nothing," I answered. "As long as that's not the only way you know how to act."

This was apparently the right thing to say, as he stopped yelling at me. He stopped having a lot to do with me at all, now that I think back on it. Which was good because I did my best set building when he wasn't around. I'll never be a finished cabinet maker, as RAH's Friday might similarly opine, but I'm a wheeee! of a rough carpenter.

The play was a financial success in that it made more money that it took to present it, playing to mostly sold-out audiences with a couple of extra showings tacked on to the end of the two-week run. People came from as far as California to see it.

It was also a success with the critics for the most part, although some reviewers thought it was not as historically accurate as promised. Most of the newspaper articles stressed this point. The writer told me that some of the people complaining about the accuracy were the same people who had refused her interview requests back when she was researching the historical events on which the play was based.

Me, I think I did a pretty good job, aside from a minor problem with the props during one show and the fact that I had to convincingly lose a struggle with someone half my size. Oh, and I died gruesomely at the end of the first act. However, due to a shortage of actors with the appropriate body type, I got to change my clothes and appear in the background of a later scene where my killer gets brought to justice. (Or was it my killer? That was one of the historical accuracy complaints.)

During the wrap party, the writer came around to make sure she had our home addresses and phone numbers. Why? Well, it seems that a video tape was made of one of the first performances (which was unfortunately the one with my prop difficulties) and had already been shipped to a big-name television network executive who was considering it for a TV Movie O' The Week. He was willing to let the original writer take first crack at the screenplay. He was also willing to give all the primary actors speaking rolls in the production.

So, the play raised money, the pocket theater was restored, we got our 15 minutes of fame on a network TV show, and we all lived happily ever after, right?

Wrong.

The play raised money, but Tech raised the threat of a lawsuit. Putting on a play using Tech students (most of us actors) and Tech instructors (our director and producer) and a Tech grad student (our writer) for renovating a Tech building (the little "pocket" theater) in their minds meant the money raised in the endeavor was theirs to spend as they saw fit. Fighting the lawsuit would cost at least as much money as had been raised, so the producer caved and the money went into the general fund.

The theater was closed and ended up as a storage area after all.

The director spoke out loudly against Tech's actions and was given the opportunity to explore other teaching opportunities at other universities.

The writer spoke out loudly against Tech's actions and was given the opportunity to explore other graduate programs at other universities.

Several actors spoke out loudly against Tech's actions and were given the opportunity to continue their educations at other universities.

I didn't speak out, but my participation was noted and did play a part when I was eventually given the opportunity to continue my education at other universities.

TV Movie O' The Week never got made. There was talk of making it a theatrical release, then of making it a series (though how you could with most of the major characters dying by the last act is beyond me), then back to making it a TV Movie O' The Week. But talk was all it was, and it never made it past pre-production meetings as far as I was told. I got occasional updates for the next few years, then nothing.

Oh, and don't bother Googling for the movie. I didn't give the right name, and even if I did, the only movie that was ever released under the real name was a 1914 silent black and white comedy short. I supposed I could hack into the Internet Movie Database and add my name to that entry, but somehow it just doesn't seem worth it.

Copyright 2005 by Troy H. Cheek. Reprint with prior written permission only. Comments and questions to