My Uncle's Shoes

Superstar

Tom Froehlich

You never know if what you say or what is said to you in the moment is going to stick. Going to make a difference. If years later it is still going to resonate with the recipient. Yet every once in a while, exactly the right thing, said at exactly the right time, can make all the difference.

When the phone rang I looked at the caller I.D. and smiled. It had been over a year since I had spoken with Tyler. Tyler and I met twenty years ago when he was the musical director of a production of “Jesus Christ Superstar” I performed in.

It all happened through well…serendipity I guess. A friend of mine and I were taking acting classes just for something to do other than go out to a bar on Thursday nights. It was fun, but I think we both took it a bit more seriously than either of us were willing to admit. We had both just turned thirty years old. An age when you still so easily believe in the possibilities. But as I said, it was mostly just for fun and to keep us sober one night a week. I had hair down to my shoulders and a beard at the time and my buddy said, “You know, if anyone ever does ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’ you have to audition. You look just like Jesus Christ! We both laughed and thought about it no further.

Three months later, I awakened one morning and for some reason what my friend suggested months earlier came to mind. As I rolled over to turn off my alarm I saw the Shepherd Express, a local newspaper, lying next to bed open to the “auditions” section. It’s not as if the section was large. I mean it was Milwaukee, Wisconsin for Christ sake. (That was intentional!) In fact, it may have been the only advertisement for auditions, but there it was in black and white. “AUDITION: JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR-ALL ROLES.

I’m not sure what happened next exactly. If it was me being amazed at the insane coincidence that I had just been think about this very thing and the call for auditions being laid before my very eyes or my ego being torn between auditioning for the role of Jesus or Judas. I mean, keep in mind my sum total of musical theater experience amounted to being the chorus of “Guys & Dolls” my junior year of high school and the role of Nana in “Peter Pan” the following year. And yes, you are correct. Nana was the dog. And no, there were no musical solos for Nana and, in fact, no speaking lines either. Although at curtain call I did receive a standing ovation. I guess I did a hell of a whimper, growl and bark. Anyway, the point is, at that point in my life, as much as I felt the limelight craved my presence, I was actually sort of embarrassed to sing along to the car radio. So where this delusional idea was coming from that I would get a major role in “Jesus Christ Superstar” is beyond me. In retrospect, I guess I was at one of those “reinventing” periods in my life and when that hits I somehow believe I can do anything. So off I rushed to the library to check out the “Jesus Christ Superstar” album. Yes, in those days they still had albums.

After a couple days of rehearsing, I thought I needed an unbiased critic so I gave my cousin Herb a call. He was the kind of guy who would be honest yet kind and even if he wasn’t kind, there would be some humor in the delivery to soften his brutal critique. I still remember facing out my living room windows onto Prospect Avenue because I was too nervous to face him. This did not bode well for my forthcoming audition and certainly not an opening night facing a theater full of people mentally waving palm fronds chanting, “Hosanna Heysanna Sanna Sanna Ho!”

When my number came to a close I faced Herb and said, “Well?”

He looked at me with a smile and said, “Well, I gotta tell ya Cousin Tom, I was more than a little nervous when you asked me to come over and give you my opinion. I was afraid I would come over here and listen to you make a jackass of yourself and just laugh out loud. (This is the kind of compassionate and supportive family I hail from).”

“So let me get this straight. You were really here just to watch me humiliate myself and have a good laugh?”

“Yeah, pretty much. But you were actually pretty good. No need to be embarrassed at all. In fact, I was mildly impressed.”

Somewhere in there I was able to ferret out the compliment I needed, giving me the courage to go to the audition two days later.

Tyler was sitting at the piano, crazy blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail with the band from an old dress sock, when I arrived. After we got to know one another he told me, “Hey dude, when you are poor you need to know how to reinvent your wardrobe.” Hence the dress sock/ponytail deal. He asked what song I wanted to sing and I told him, “Heaven on Their Minds”.  After I sang the first few lines he stopped playing, turned to look at me and said, “Wow! You can hit low “E”! You’re in!!”

Now, I wasn’t sure what this low “E” thing was, Nana was allowed to bark and whimper in any key, but I assumed it was a good thing. He then added, “But all the major roles are taken. You would look awesome holding a spear though. Want to be a soldier in the chorus?”

My ego took a hold and I said, “ I was really hoping for a bigger role, but thank you for your time,” and headed for the door. But as I reached for the door handle common sense, sanity or providence took a hold and I turned around and said, “No. Actually that sounds great!”

Through the next six weeks of rehearsal I showed up and showed up on time. This apparently is not always the case in community musical theater. So when King Herod dropped out two week before opening night Tyler asked me if I wanted the part. At this point in the game I saw how talented the other leads were and realized my ego may have been just a tiny bit larger than my talent. As I hesitated, Tyler looked at me with his disarming grin and said, “Come on “T”, we really need you. You show up for rehearsals and we only have two weeks.”  So now I realize my break into this production had to do with the fact that I could hit low “E”, looked good with a spear and was actually present at rehearsals. Not really the boost my ego looking for, but an in is an in. I accepted. I know you’re shocked. However, very quickly my insecurities surfaced and the fact that opening night was only fourteen short days away suddenly became very real. I did my best not to quiver and whimper as I admitted, “Tyler, I really want to do this, but I may need extra rehearsals. I don’t really know the song.” 

He said, “ Hey “T”, whenever you’re available I’m there for you. Let’s rock this shit!” Little did that poor bastard know the passel of insecurity he was in for. Perhaps I could have been a bit clearer. Then again, he had based his choice on the fact that I could hit a low “E”, looked good with a spear and showed up for rehearsals. He was desperate. Clearly, a major portion of the onus was on him. This is the confidence I carried with me into our private rehearsals.

We rehearsed every day for a week. After a week I seemed to know the words and the melody. The delivery though? Anything but inspiring. Why? Why do you think?! Now that I finally had the opportunity to show whether or not I had what it takes, I was scared shitless. And we had one week before curtain. “Again,” Tyler sighed and began to play and again my half-hearted effort came out of my throat. Tyler stopped playing, looked at me with kindness, coupled with frustration and confusion and peppered with just enough anger and said, “Look “T”, I KNOW you can do this! Would you just stop being so fucking afraid and sing the Goddamn song!!? We open in a week for Christ sake!!” This may seem harsh to you, but trust me, after hearing me half ass the song for a week he was entitled to all of the frustration and four letter words he chose.

Somehow my fear was overcome by determination. As my momma Ginny would say, “It’s time to show them where the bear shits in the buckwheat!” I took a deep breath, exhaled and let my fear go. Tyler played the introduction for about the two-hundredth time. When I opened my mouth for the first note, I almost stopped for being amazed by a voice I had never heard before.

When I finished, Tyler gave me a grin and had an, “I told you so,” look in his eyes. And then he said it. “I told you so. That was fucking awesome dude!!”

Opening night my family was in the audience. My parents, my brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles.  After the show my younger brother told me that when I started my song, which I began on a chaise lounge so I was not completely visible to the audience, my dad heard me and said, “Wow! I don’t know who this guy is, but he’s really pretty good!”

My brother responded, “Dad, it’s Tom.” He said our dad just smiled.

There are details to the story that I could share, but it just doesn’t seem necessary. When Tyler called the other night, I brought up the rehearsal when he told me to “…just sing the God damn song!!”. It was a vague memory for him. Yet years later it still resonates with me. Funny how that works isn't it? I guess this is one of this instances when exactly the right thing was said at exactly the right time and it has made all the difference. 

Whenever I think of Tyler or hear a song from “Jesus Christ Superstar” I'm reminded of a time when someone believed in me more than I believed in myself. When I am faced with a new and perhaps daunting challenge and think maybe I don’t quite have what it takes, I think of a guy with crazy blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail with the band from an old dress sock and I hear him say, “Just stop being so fucking afraid and sing the God damn song!!”

So I do.