I had been in the city for three months when I went to my first voice teacher – ever.
And after the lesson he said, “Listen, you're tall and you're from Texas, you should drop your pic and resume off at The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.” (Notice he didn't say: You're a fabulous singer, you should drop your pic, etc.). Anyway, I went to the stage door at the 46th Street Theatre [now the Richard Rodgers Theatre], knocked, and the guy working the door said, “Oh, they're all on stage, go on in.” So I did.
I sat in the corner on the set, while about 40 other guys, dressed in dance clothes, were doing like quadruple pirouettes warming up. The stage manager came over, thumbed through his pictures and asked me, “Did I call you?” And I was as backwoods hick as I could possibly be: “Naw, but I'd sure like to stay!” And he let me. (Never had a dance class in my life and a total of one voice class). So, they sang, cut, danced, cut and somehow I kept making it. Whenever I got in trouble and lost my place in the combination, I would stomp, clap and whistle in time. I'm a really good whistler. To make a long story short, toward the end of the afternoon, a 10-foot-tall man in a raccoon coat came in and everyone got tense. Tommy Tune. I had no idea who he was, which was a good thing. I hung out for a short break with a guy in the green room — I thought he was the janitor; he looked like he might be the janitor. Actually, he was Peter Masterson, the director. You catch the pattern? Some things are meant to be. More singing, more dancing (Tommy was great to me: very patient, very funny) and then I stood in my first chorus line. I didn't know what was happening. "Beau Gravitte, you can stay. Everyone else, thank you very much." I was in a Broadway show. They came down to me with the contract and I told them my agent had to see it before I signed it. (I had no agent.) They said there is no commission on a chorus contract, but I insisted. I took the contract in my hot little hand, went down the street and joined Equity. For so long I thought I had them fooled — the non-Equity hayseed from Texas, who had all the right moves. Sly. Of course, they knew all along.
By the way, I still have dear friends from that show. Pete, Tommy, so many good people. I was so lucky to have been a part of that group.
