Places, Please!: Becoming a Jersey Boy (26 page)

I tingle with the excitement of being able to play the closing performance, and quickly feel guilty for feeling this excitement. While it will be an honor to end my own journey with the show in such a powerful way, it is not the way I would choose.

430th Show

At the theatre, the entire cast seems drawn to the irony of me giving my notice and then discovering that the show will close two weeks before I was to leave. I joke that the show just could not go on without me. One friend tells me that his first thought on hearing the closing announcement was that he is glad I will be the one closing the show with the company. It is a plot twist in the final act that surprises us all.

And I thought it would be the last such twist.

In my career as an actor, I miss countless weddings, funerals, graduations, and birthdays. Every time an important event is announced, I quickly try to figure out if there is any way I can participate, but usually the answer is that I cannot. I am entitled to some days off, but with very limiting conditions. Today, my wife and I wake up at dawn to watch a live, streaming broadcast of the Emmy Award nominations. Today, having moved up the ranks in the
Saturday Night Live
hair department enough to be included, Cara is nominated for an award. A real Emmy Award. The red carpet, a limousine, the Nokia Theatre, a formal ball, and, quite possibly, a statuette with her name on it, will all be part of her life on August 21st, the day before
Jersey Boys
closes in Toronto. A day on which no one from the show is permitted to take off.

431st Show

I need to find a way to be at the Emmys. Our producers already made it clear that no one will be granted any time off in the days before closing. There will be a lot of press, a lot of very full houses, and a lot of actors with similar unused personal days desiring time off before their struggle for the next gig begins. I have two options: I can beg to be granted an exception to their rule, or I can be dishonest and call in “sick” while at the Emmy Awards (hoping that I am not seen on television).

The
Jersey Boys
producers all along have treated me extremely well and very fairly, so I am not at all comfortable with the dishonest option. On the other hand, I have been very loyal and supportive to my wife all along too, and I am not at all comfortable with not being in Los Angeles to see her (possibly) win her first major award.

Cara and I talk it out. I present her with the argument I could make to the producers, and she believes it is strong enough to warrant an exception to the rules. Hesitantly, I agree. I take the gamble, and present a request for two days off so that I can get to California for the awards and back to Toronto in time for our last day of shows. I include a note that reads as follows:

Please know that I realize I am asking for a very big favor
.
This morning
,
my wife was nominated for an Emmy Award for her work on
Saturday Night Live.
It is her first nomination
,
and the ceremony is the afternoon of August 21st
.
I will just die if I’m not there
!

In retrospect, saying “I will just die if I am not there” puts my vernacular back at grade-school level. I think I was trying to be cute. (I’m pretty sure I failed.) The note continues:

Since I began rehearsals in April of 2009
,
I have not had a single sick day
.
I think I am the only cast member to go fifteen months without missing a show due to illness
.
With all my flights to and from New York
,
I have never missed a show or even been late for a call
.
I have flown back to Toronto very early every Tuesday to make sure I would be safely at the theatre in time
.
I had a cyst removed from my tonsil in May
,
but chose to do it during my vacation week so I would not have to call in sick
.
My vacation was spent recovering
.

If you let me
,
I will fly back to Toronto on August 21st after the award ceremony
,
leaving me plenty of time to be here for both of our final shows on August 22nd
.

Thank you
!

Did you catch the part about the cyst on my tonsil? Did you catch the fact that this cyst was not mentioned when I wrote about my vacation days earlier? I was, and remain, embarrassed by this unusual thing that developed on my left tonsil and began affecting my singing and eating. I knew I had to get it taken care of, but I didn’t want to miss any shows or draw attention to my already insecure singing voice. So I scheduled laser surgery for the first day of my vacation, then flew to New York to recover. I couldn’t eat solid food. Cara and I went out to a Mexican restaurant and I sucked soft guacamole off the chips. It was a bit gross. I went to the
Saturday Night Live
wrap party and couldn’t say anything to Lorne Michaels, not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because it hurt to talk. But by the time I was back in Toronto, I was feeling better than ever.

And now I hope this personal revelation will work in my favor with the producers.

440th Show

A text message from my production stage manager arrives:
Dan
,
your days off have been approved for August 20th and 21st
. Honesty worked! I’m going to the Emmys with Cara. The Canadian producers and Richard Hester, the production supervisor who coached me well for my final audition oh so long ago, have given me one incredibly generous last gift. I will travel to California on the 20th, attend the Emmys, then travel through the night to arrive in time for our final two performances of
Jersey Boys
on the 22nd. What a weekend that will be.

443rd Show

As the end of our show draws closer, the newspapers and blogs alight with the news. The Toronto Star calls us an “incredible success” and remarks that the show has made Toronto-Based Actor Jeff Madden a star.
Jersey Boys
fans from around the world begin making plans to attend our final show. Many of these fans attended the closing performance of the Chicago Company of
Jersey Boys
and recall that there were four standing ovations during the show. A final press release goes out, and full-color photographs of the four of us Seasons begin appearing in all the publications around the city. Friends and family that have not seen the show yet begin clamoring for reservations. And all I can do is talk about how excited I am about Cara’s Emmy nomination.

477th Show

After completing a week of packing and shipping things back to New York (including a huge box of
Jersey Boys
memorabilia), Cara and I fly to Los Angeles for the 62nd Primetime Emmy® Awards. We leave Toronto at 4:30 a.m., squeeze in as much sleep as we can on the plane, grab a taxi, and begin our quick trip through sandy palm trees on our way to the Ritz Carlton at Marina Del Ray. The trip is paid for by NBC, and I am feeling really, really proud of this girl by my side. The sun is shining, a steady breeze is blowing, and we are ready to take on the world.

Then our cab slams into a Toyota Camry and we have to stand on the dusty side of the road with two giant pieces of luggage and a
Jersey Boys
hat.

After making it to the hotel alive and humbled (in a new cab), we walk the beach and have dinner. We set the morning’s alarm for an hour that leaves us both time to load our hair with thirty-three of the most perfect hair products on the planet, all of which have traveled with us today. (Being an Emmy-nominated hairdresser means Cara will need to focus on her hair as art, and I shall do the same. This takes time. And bottles upon bottles of hair product.)

The morning of the awards begins with very pricey room-service coffee and two bowls of oatmeal. (Oatmeal is the cheapest thing on the menu.) By the time we’re done, Cara looks stunning in green silk and a controlled explosion of perfectly highlighted blond hair, and I look pretty regular in a suit that I got for free at a
Jersey Boys
promotional event. My hair is slicked back just like I wear it in the show, but with much more expensive products this time.

Ready to ride to the Emmy Awards in style!

©Daniel Robert Sullivan

We jump in the NBC limousine that is waiting to take us downtown for the ceremony. The limo is stocked full of drinks, but I suggest we hold back for fear of spillage. Cara squeezes my hand in thanks for this suggestion when, not five minutes later, a drink spills all over one of the women at the other end of the car.

The ride takes about twenty minutes, and Cara is nervous. It’s kind of fun to see her nervous for something. Usually it is me with trembling hands, now it is her turn. I tell her how unbelievable it feels to be here with her. And so early in her career! If we are at the Emmy Awards now, who knows where we could be in ten years? It doesn’t matter if she wins. It is an absolute honor and privilege to be here.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m going to be really pissed if she doesn’t win.

The limo approaches the Nokia Theatre and I can see the red carpet. Our driver inches closer. A pause. He inches even closer. Another pause. There are a lot of limos and they all inch along. The line of limos must be a hundred yards long. We inch some more.

Finally, we pull around a corner and can see the beginning of the red carpet on the other side of the road. But the limo stops. An attendant approaches and opens our door, but we’re not sure if we should get out here. After all, the road is busy and the red carpet is on the other side of it.

“Ok, come on out!” The attendant shouts inside to us.

“But…”

“That’s it, come on! Right over there!” And she points to the red carpet on the other side of the busy road.

Have you ever played Frogger?

Can you imagine playing Frogger in real life, in formal outfits and on your way to the red carpet?

We dodge luxury cars and limousines as we cross the street, darting left, right, and forward to make it through each lane safely. Cara is a bit slower than I, excusable only because of her heels. Reaching the other side, we encounter…what’s this? A line? No, more of a mob. A mob of people trying to get down the red carpet and into the awards ceremony; all of them crammed together in dark suits and long dresses in the hundred degree Los Angeles sun.

This is not quite as glamorous as I imagined.

Sweating profusely, we are finally pushed and shoved to the front. The reason for the mob scene is that only a handful of people are allowed on the red carpet at a time, an effort to make the event seem calm and unrushed. But the reality is that, just off to the left, Neil Patrick Harris’ brow is dripping while he waits for his turn.

When our turn arrives, we try to seem dignified. Cara succeeds. I decide that dignity is not worth the effort and begin obnoxiously snapping photos of the paparazzi, of Cara, and of the miniscule Kristin Chenoweth walking in front of me. I also find it fun to try to stick my head in as many real celebrity photos as I can. (I succeed, and there are many photos for sale on Getty Images that have me in the background.)

The inside of the Nokia Theatre is gargantuan. It could fit the entire
Jersey Boys
set in its Row F. When we walk in, there is a director onstage asking the audience to laugh and clap with varying degrees of enthusiasm. This is a camera trick. Producers will splice in this footage later when they want a reaction on the broadcast to appear bigger than it actually was. The
Saturday Night Live
nominees are all seated next to each other, and we sit down as the production begins.

Best Editing for a Live Show or Special. Best Directing for a Single Camera Series. Best Sound Engineering for a Show with Betty White in it. The awards keep coming, but I can hardly pay attention once the category is named. I’m waiting. Both of our hands are sweaty.

A camera crew walks the aisles and films people as their names are called to receive an award. It’s funny, the crew always seems to be standing in the correct place to capture the first moments of a winner’s reaction. Hmm.

Finally, we hear it. “The nominees for Best Hairstyling for A Multi-Camera Series or Special are…” We know who the nominees are. We’ve been studying them for weeks. We know that the big competition is
Dancing with the Stars
, and I am checking them all out on the far side of the auditorium.

A moment of suspense as the list of nominees comes to a close.

The camera crew comes alert.

The camera crew moves to the far aisle.

The far aisle is where
Dancing with the Stars
is sitting.

“And the Emmy Award goes to…
Dancing with the Stars
!” I squeeze Cara’s hand. Maybe it was coming too easy, right? Maybe. But it still would have been cool to stare at that Emmy on my kitchen counter while eating waffles in the morning.