Forbidden Broadway: Behind the Mylar Curtain (101 page)

The lights flash faster. BERNADETTE runs to the sign
and bangs on it.]

The lights stay on the sign, very bright. Finally,
BERNADETTE takes out a sticker with her own name
and pastes it up there. She sings with great satisfaction.]

IShe holds for thunderous applause. Then ETHEL
MERMAN enters, singing one long, loud note and
wearing a white gown that looks like it's about to
devour her. BERNADETTE runs off, holding her ears.
Merman begins the finale.]

"Merman Finale"

MERMAN

[REX IIARRISON,YUL BRYNNER, and MARY MARTIN
enter and join in singing.]

ALL

After four years of scouring Back Stage and attending
what seemed like hundreds of non-Equity auditions
in a string of mangy, uninviting rehearsal studios, I
had made the epic decision that I would never go to
a "cattle call" again. I was on strike. No more wailing
sixteen enthusiastic bars of "Shy" from Once Upon a
Mattress to two or three unenthusiastic faces. No more
auditions until I had an agent who would get me my
own appointment time and I would be treated with
the respect and civility to which I felt I was entitled.
DO YOU HEAR ME?!

Christine Pedi.

Great. Now what? Despite my decision, I still read
Back Stage on the sly. The very first audition notice I
saw after making this pact with myself was an open call
for a non-Equity national tour of Forbidden Broadway.
Even though I'd never done an impression in my life,
I felt compelled to break my vow and go. You see, I
used to sing at a Sunday afternoon, open-mike salon at
Palssons on the Upper West Side when FB was playing
there, and one week, I was given a thirty-minute solo
slot. I had photos of me singing in front of the famous Mylar curtain and Forbidden
Broadway logo. Maybe this audition notice was a sign? So off I went to what I swore
would be my final open call-and it was.

The audition was at Theatre East, where FB was then playing. (I later learned that
the cast called it "The Comedy Sewer," because a suspicious smell periodically seeped
through the vents.) I had on a red plaid pinafore that looked like my grammar school
uniform. I sang "Shy," and then I was asked by John Freedson and Gerard-whom I didn't recognize in his baseball cap-if I did any celebrity impressions. I scrunched
my face up in thought and said, "Well, I do my Italian grandmother, Josephine. But,
ya know, she's not really famous." They said, "Go ahead." So I did my grandmother's
broken-English, Sicilian dialect, and I guess they were at least mildly amused, because
they asked again if there were any celebrities I thought I might be able to do. It seemed
they had more faith in my ability than I did.