Seventy-one years ago this summer, I was an apprentice actor at the Newport Casino Theatre in Rhode Island. It was an Equity stock company with a solid reputation, and I was thrilled to be invited to play bits, to understudy and to play the occasional supporting role—in other words, to be used as an apprentice, “as cast.” The Equity rule in those days allowed an actor to appear in three productions at no salary before he was required to join the union as a full fledged member. I was to be in residence in Newport for eight weeks that summer of 1946.
I had thought of myself as a stage actor long before this break came my way. I had worked the summer of my 16th year for $10/weekend at a small theater in Cedarhurst, Long Island, and I’d been appearing as Horace in The Little Foxes as a student at New York University when by sheer chance a Warner Brothers talent scout (Arnold Hosquith) saw the play and decided I should meet his boss, Zelma Brokov. She looked me over and said that she could offer me a term contract at Warner’s starting at $75/week, but that I’d be better off getting a little “seasoning” because there wasn’t much her studio could do with a 17-year-old city kid. She made a phone call to the manager of the Casino Theatre; I had an interview and bingo, I was off to Rhode Island on July 1st.
When my three plays were up, I was summoned to the boss’ office, and together we took a walk around the property. She told me how much she liked me, and she went on to say there were several plum roles coming up that I could be right for. I could have them if I agreed, and she would pay me Equity minimum (it was $46 at the time) for the next five weeks. But I would return the money to her, as she couldn’t pay me what she’d have to pay a seasoned actor when I was just a beginner. I was shocked, delighted, miffed, upset, perplexed, and I told her I’d think about it. I was so green I didn’t even realize there was an Equity Deputy in the resident company. I did not want to join the union and then immediately break one of its basic rules. So I called Equity in New York and spilled the beans, asking what I should do. The next thing I knew I was back in the manager’s office. “I don’t know how you did it,” said the boss, “but I am informed by the union that I must pay you, and I’ll do it, for I certainly don’t intend to job in actors to play five small roles. Congratulations, and welcome to the professional theatre!”
The biggest plum of all came when one of the roles offered was “George Bigelow,” the other juvenile in What A Life, which is the first play I ever saw on Broadway. I still have that first contract, the one where I am to play “as cast,” which meant the world to me. Equity was there from the start, and I am grateful to this day to it for starting my theatrical life off on the right foot.
Originally published in Equity News, Spring 2017.
