ARE YOU ANYBODY?

Before I became a freelance writer, I worked in the theater. First as a singer/actress,later as a stage manager. During rehearsals, the elevator door to the studios would open and often out would come a man who would stop anyone on a break and ask, "Are you anybody?" My answer was ,"Everybody is somebody." I learned he sold ice cream from a cart to make his living and it was rumored that if he managed to obtain an autograph from a star or featured player, he sold it. After I became a stage manager, one of my jobs was to get rid of the man. One director would get uptight whenever he saw him and one day the "ice cream man" stepped out of the elevator just as our director approached. I saw the look on the director's face and quickly somehow managed to get the man back on the elevator and push the down button. Not quite sure how I managed as I'm 5'4" if I stretch and the "ice cream man," was a foot taller. Often after a show finished for the evening and the cast was leaving, we would see him along with other fans who collected autographs waiting at the stage door. Today, requests are accomplished via email. When I was just beginning in the show business, I worked children's theater in North Carolina playing elementary schools. the kids would come up and ask for our autographs making us feel like stars until one day one little boy shouted, "I've got them all, now what do I get for them?" A major blow to our egos. Bests, Elise

ARE YOU ANYBODY?

An article in The NewYork times this past week about people who collected the autographs of celebrities made me think of The Ice Cream Man. When I was auditioning for the chorus in Broadway shows, we all  ran into him. He drove a truck and sold ice cream when he wasn't chasing a famous actress or actor. He showed up everywhere--the stage door of Broadway Theatres, rehearsal studios, restaurants where performers grabbed a snack during a break or Sardi's on opening nights. If he wasn't sure of who you were or how you ranked in the theatrical firmament, he would ask. His question? "Are you anybody?"

My answer was, "Everybody is somebody." After reading the piece in The Times, I began to think about what turns a person into a somebody. Is it having the confidence to try to work at something you love? Finding contentment in work or family or using the gifts that were bestowed upon you by chance or birth or hard labor? Is it sharing those gifts? I began as a singer, became a stage manager and then a writer. As a singer I found excitement and a connection to the audience. As a stage manager, I enjoyed seeing the pieces of a show come together and as a writer I find fufillment in my words and characters. How do you define being a somebody? And do you ever redefine yourself?

Bests,

Elise