  The audience consisted of a handful of actors and actresses, and Randy Brewster and Mallory Seton. The stage lighting was a cold splash produced by two floodlights without color gels to soften them. The scenery was the brick back wall of the stage, two ladders, a table and two straight-backed chairs. Only the front row of house lights was on, and the back of the theater was dark, empty and gloomy, a shadowy wasteland of empty rows of seats like tombstones. On the stage, a “businessman type” was reading his lines. Peggy knew, after the first few words, that he would not do. He had somehow completely missed the character of the man he was portraying, and was heavily overplaying. Mal, being perhaps more patient than Peggy, listened and watched with great care. Amy, who was acting as Mal’s assistant for the production, sat in a chair by the proscenium, reading her script by the light of a small lamp and feeding the actor cue lines. Mal followed the whole sequence with no visible sign of impatience and, when the actor was through, said, “Thank you. We’ll let you know our decision in a day or two.” The next “businessman type” was better, but still not quite on target, Peggy thought. He seemed to be playing the part for laughs, and although there were some comic values to be extracted from the role, it was really far more a straight dramatic character. Still, he was clearly a better actor than the first, and with direction might do well. Following his reading, Mal again repeated his polite, invariable formula, “Thank you. We’ll let you know our decision in a day or two,” and called for the next reading. Peggy watched the remaining actors try for the role, and made mental notes of which ones were possible, which probable, and which stood no chance at all. The same process was then followed for the leading men, and the same wide range of talent and understanding of the part was displayed. Some seemed to have no idea at all about the play or its meaning, and Peggy was sure that these men had read only the parts marked for them. Others had a clear understanding of the kind of character they were playing, and tried to create him in the brief time they had on stage. Others still were actors who had one rather inflexible way of playing, and used it for all kinds of parts. Their performances were uniform imitations of each other, and all were imitations of the early acting style of Marlon Brando. They seemed to forget, Peggy thought, that Brando’s style developed from the roles he had to play, and that as he got other roles, he showed other facets of a rounded talent. It made her angry that some actors thought they could get ahead in a creative field by being imitative. Each actor, no matter how good or how bad, was treated with impersonal courtesy by Mal, and each left looking sure that the part was his. Peggy was glad that she would not have to see their faces when they learned that they had not been selected. “The pity of it,” she whispered to Randy, “isn’t that there are so many bad ones, but that there are so many good ones, and that only one can be selected for each role. I wish there were some way of telling the good ones you can’t take that they were really good, but that you just couldn’t take everyone!” “You can’t let yourself worry about that,” Randy replied. “The good ones know they’re good, and they’re not going to be discouraged by the loss of a role. And the bad ones think they’re good, too, and most of them have tremendous egos to protect them from ever finding out—or even thinking—otherwise!” The door at the back of the theater opened quietly, and Peggy, turning around in her seat, saw a few of the actresses entering. They quietly found seats in the rear and settled down to await their turn. “I think I’ll go back there with the girls,” Peggy whispered. “I’m looking for a girl I met at the casting call, and I’d like to chat with her for a few minutes when she comes. Do you mind if I don’t look at all this?” Randy grinned. “Go ahead. I’d get out of here, too, if I could without getting Mal mad at me. This kind of thing always breaks my heart, too!” As she went up the aisle as unobtrusively as possible, Peggy glanced at the actresses who had just come in. She recognized a few of their faces from the casting call of three days ago, but did not see her new friend among them. She decided to go out to the lobby to wait for her there. A new group of girls entered the theater as Peggy was leaving and, as she passed, one reached out and grabbed her arm. Peggy turned in surprise to find herself greeted with a broad grin and a quick companionable kiss. “Greta!” she cried. “What are you doing here?” “Come on out to the lobby, and I’ll tell you,” Greta Larsen said, with a toss of her head that made her thick blond braid spin around and settle over her shoulder. “But I thought you were in New Haven, getting ready to open Over the Hill,” Peggy said, when they had reached the lobby. “What on earth are you doing here?” “I’m afraid you don’t read your Variety very carefully,” Greta said. “Over the Hill opened in New Haven to such bad notices that the producer decided to close out of town. At first we thought he’d call in a play doctor to try to fix things up, but he finally decided, and very sensibly, that it would be easier to just throw the whole thing out. I’m afraid he lost a lot of money, and he didn’t have any more left.” “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Peggy said. “And it was a real chance for you, wasn’t it?” “Not really,” Greta said. “The part wasn’t too good, and I’d just as soon not be in a disaster. Anyway, it gave me a chance to work for a few weeks, and an agent saw me and said he thought I was good, so maybe I’m not any the worse for the experience.” At that moment, Peggy saw Paula Andrews enter the lobby, and she motioned to her to join them. “Greta, this is Paula Andrews. She’s reading for the lead today, and I hope she gets it. Paula, I want you to meet Greta Larsen, one of my housemates.” “Housemates?” Paula questioned, a little puzzled. “Yes. There are about a dozen of us, more or less. We live in a place called the Gramercy Arms—a wonderful place—and we live like one big noisy family. The Arms is run just for young actresses, so we all have a lot in common. I haven’t seen Greta for weeks—she’s been out of town with a play—and I’m just getting over being stunned at seeing her now.” “Peggy tactfully neglected to mention that the play flopped,” Greta laughed, “and now I’m back in town without a job. In fact, that’s why I’m here.” “You mean you’re going to read for Mal?” Peggy asked excitedly. “Uh-huh. I met him on the street an hour or so ago, and he told me he had a part he thought I should try out for, and that he was thinking of me for it all along, but assumed that I wouldn’t be available. Well, you can’t be more available than I am, so here I am!” “Have you read the play?” Paula asked. “I’m lucky there,” Greta replied. “I’ve seen it in three different drafts since it started. Peggy’s friendly with Randy Brewster, the boy who wrote it, and each time she brought a draft home, I got to read it. So I’m not at a disadvantage.” “What do you think of Come Closer, Paula?” asked Peggy. “I think it’s wonderful! I hope more than ever that I get the part! Do you really think I have a chance?” Greta nodded decisively. “If you can act, you’re made for it,” she said. “That’s just what Peggy said!” Peggy stole a glance through the doors to the theater. “I think we’re about ready to find out whether or not you can act,” she said. “They seem to be about through with the actors, and that means you’re on next!” Wishing each other good luck, they entered the darkened part of the house and prepared for what Peggy could only think of as their ordeal. Afterward, as Peggy, Amy, Paula, and Greta sat at a table in a nearby coffeehouse waiting for Mal and Randy to join them, each was sure that she had been terrible. “Oh, no!” Peggy said. “You two were just marvelous! But I couldn’t have been worse. I know I read the part wrong. I thought I had the character clear in my mind, but I’m sure that the way it came out was a mile off!” “You have a lot more talent than judgment,” Greta said mournfully. “You were perfect. And so was Paula. As for me....” Her voice trailed off in despair. “I don’t know how you can say that, Greta,” Paula put in. “I know you were the best in your part, and nobody even came close to Peggy. But I’ve never felt so off in my life as I did reading that part. It’s a wonder any of you even want to be seen with me!” Only when Amy started to laugh did the three others realize how much alike they had sounded. Then they joined in the laughter and couldn’t seem to stop. When they seemed at the point of dissolving helplessly into a permanent attack of the giggles, Randy and Mal joined them. “If you’re laughing at the play,” Randy said gloomily, “I can hardly blame you. You never know just how badly you’ve written until someone gets up and starts to read your lines.” All at the same time, the girls started to reassure him and tell him how good the play was, and how badly the actors, including themselves, had handled the lines, but this was so much like their last exchange of conversation that once more they broke up in helpless laughter. When they got their breath back, and when coffee and pastry had been ordered, they tried to explain the cause of their hilarity to the boys. “... so, you see,” Peggy concluded, “we were each explaining how good the others were and how bad we were, and when Randy started telling us how bad he had been as a writer, we just couldn’t stand it!” It was Mal who got them back to sane ground. With his tough face, like a movie gangster’s or private detective’s, and his gentle, cultured English voice and assured manner, he calmly gave his opinion of the afternoon’s auditions. “First of all, I think the dialogue plays remarkably well, Randy. It’s a good play, and I don’t think there’ll be too many changes to worry about. Secondly, you’re all right and you’re all wrong. I might as well tell you now that you each have the part you tried out for. I’m very pleased with you, and proud to have you in the cast.” Peggy and Greta excitedly embraced each other, and when they turned to do the same to Paula, were dismayed to see that she was crying. “What’s wrong?” Peggy asked. “Is anything the matter?” “Oh, no,” Paula wailed, trying to smile through her tears. “It’s just that I wanted this so much, and I’m so happy, and I started to laugh and it came out tears....” She rummaged for her pack of tissues, dabbed her eyes, and emerged with a radiant smile. “There, that’s better,” Randy said. “The tears were all right too,” Mal said. “I feel like doing the same thing when I’m really happy, but it wouldn’t go with my face. It looks great on yours!” By the time the coffee and pastry arrived, Paula’s emotional storm had so far been put behind her that she fell on the cakes with the appetite of a lumberjack. “A little restraint, please, madam,” Mal said, “or you’ll lose your part. We want a nice, slim leading lady, not a butterball! You’re in training now!” “Let me take them,” Greta said. “I have a fat, round face to begin with, and you wouldn’t have picked me if you wanted a sylph for the part. You’ll never notice a few ounces more!” “I’m sorry to tell you that we not only would notice it, but we’d mind it very much,” Mal said, “but nobody minds a fat director. So....” He reached for the cause of the debate. “What I can’t understand,” Greta said, “is how you picked me for the part. Why did you want me to try for a thirtyish career girl role? I’m not really the physical type, and those other girls were. Will you tell me?” “Just a hunch,” Mal said. “You’ll be the type with your hair out of that braid and put up, and with a little make-up to age you a few years. I felt that you had the kind of crisp delivery we wanted, and it looks as though I was right. As for Peggy, it’s as if the part were written for her.” This last he said with a sly side look at Randy, who reddened slightly. “And as for Paula, well....” He broke off and looked at her intently. “I don’t know what it is, but the minute I saw you in cast call, I knew you were our girl. And when I heard you read, I knew that I hadn’t made a mistake. There’s something about you ... some quality that I seem to recognize ... I suppose it’s talent. But that’s enough of compliments. If we don’t get out of here, we’ll soon be writing long epic poems to each other’s genius.” So, finishing their coffee with a toast to the success of Come Closer, they said their good nights and parted outside the coffeehouse. “Don’t forget,” Mal called after them, “rehearsal Monday night. See you then!” He walked off with Paula, and Randy escorted Peggy, Amy, and Greta back to the Gramercy Arms. |
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