Post 610 - May 17, 2024

Going backstage at a Broadway show is always exciting. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve done it my heart always skips a beat or two when I walk through a stage door.

The thing that I think most people find surprising is how unfinished it all looks when you are behind the scenes in a theatre. What looks like a magical world of make-believe from the front of the house, is nothing of the sort from the perspective of the people backstage.

Nothing is finished. Rarely is anything painted. It’s all girders and supports and jagged edges. Everything has been built and designed for the audience, not for the people working on the show. From the front, we can make you believe you are anywhere in your imagination. From the back, you are only ever in a theatre.

When I am watching a show as an audience member, I find it almost impossible to not see the seams. Anything that gets moved onstage is spiked, meaning that there are marks on the floor with colored pieces of tape so that the actors or crew know exactly where to place them. I can’t help but look at the stage floor before the show starts and wonder what is going to end up on various marks. When a character pours another character a cup of tea, I wonder what the liquid is and how much discussion went into deciding what it would be. If there is no liquid and the actors are just pretending there is, I get pulled out of the play for a second because all I can think about is that the crew must be happy that there’s less cleanup afterward.

Some backstages are crammed to the gills with set pieces and props. Some are relatively empty and open. Some backstages are happy places and some, not so much. Some backstages you want to hang out in for a while, some you want to get out of as soon as you can.

I am in Washington D.C. with Patti, and we are scheduled to do a concert at the Kennedy Center tonight. Yesterday, we were invited to the White House for a private tour. The experience of being backstage in that house has changed how I look at our government.

The only President who did not live in the White House was George Washington. He oversaw its construction. Building began in 1792 and was completed by 1800. There’s nothing much left now of the original. The British sacked it and set it on fire during the War of 1812. James Madison had to have the interior completely redone. After World War II, it was discovered that the woodwork was rotting away, and the load-bearing walls were in danger of collapsing. Harry Truman had to dismantle the interior rooms and add a new internal steel structure to the entire place. He also added the famous balcony to the exterior.

While the house is a residence, it is also a workplace. It’s not nearly as big as you might think it is. In 1901, Teddy Roosevelt added the West Wing to create more office space. Even those newer rooms aren’t very big. In 1909, William Howard Taft added the East Wing to use as a reception area for social events. Additional offices were also created there. He made the first Oval Office. There’s even a small 50-seat movie theatre in the East wing.

I somehow thought that the two wings were just different sides of the mansion, itself. I didn’t realize that they were separate buildings connected by that famous colonnaded walkway.

While we didn’t meet the President, he was in the residence, so we had to keep our voices down as we were being shown around. Take that in for a moment. We had to whisper so as not to disturb The President of the United States of America. In the entranceway, we were warned that he could hear everything through the wall.

Because he was there and not working, we were allowed a brief visit to the Oval Office. We sat on those same two long sofas that every single important political or historical figure in recent times has sat on at some time, or other, and took in the room.

I’ve been in recreations of the Oval but never in the room, itself. Few people have. It’s off-limits to tour groups and rightfully so. It is a workspace for the President of the United States of America. Talk about the room where it happens.

Yesterday, the Resolute Desk was cleared of any files except in one of the inboxes was a single sheet of white paper face-down. That none of us turned it over or tried to turn it over is nothing short of a miracle. Wow, did we want to.

The room, itself, is designed symbolically. Everything in it harkens to historical events that have shaped our country. For example, there is a portrait of FDR over the fireplace who oversaw the restoration of the United States economy after the disastrous stock market crash in 1929. The rug on the floor with the great seal was the one that William Clinton used during his term in office. Under Clinton’s administration, we had our largest job growth, a decrease in the deficit, and a balanced budget. Four years later, under his successor, that was all but wiped out.

Every incoming President can change what they like in the house if they do it with their own money. You want new drapes, great – pay for them yourself. You want a new carpet? Go buy one. They pay for everything themselves including their food. They even pay for their own firewood. Nothing is put on the taxpayer.

Is it luxurious? Well, sort of. It’s a working office. There are people everywhere, including people like us with no connection to the place at all. When we were sitting in the Oval, I couldn’t help noticing that the wooden bases of the two lamps on the side tables next to the sofas were scratched and worn. It’s not a museum. It’s the place from where they are running the country and they have more to do than worry about dings and dents.

Theatre seems glamorous and elegant from the outside. It is more often than not anything but. It’s a job. It’s what we do. That many of us feel called upon to do it, is a bit beside the point. It can be very hard and stressful work. We don’t need backstage to be pretty and pristine because it’s the last thing any of us are thinking about. We’ve got a show to do.

Walking through the White House and meeting some of the people who work there made me realize that governance is the same thing. It’s a job. Some people may feel called upon to do it, but at the end of the day there are tasks ahead of you that need finishing, and you need to finish them.

One of the worst things that can happen when things go horribly wrong backstage on Broadway is that we need to cancel a show. We do everything humanly possible to avoid ever having to do that. At the White House, if things go pear-shaped there could be a nuclear war. So, the two work environments, while similar, are not quite the same.

The White House Press Secretary, Karine Jean-Pierre, as it turns out, is a fan of Patti’s. Our little group ran into her in a hallway, and she very graciously showed us her office and the Press Room. I still can’t quite believe that we all were given this opportunity.

On the wall of her nice but slightly cramped office are four monitors which are on all the time – CNN, MSNBC, ABC, and Fox News. We couldn’t quite believe that Fox was on one of them, but, obviously, the Press Office needs to know what is going on everywhere. Nothing is taken to heart. If something terrible is said. It is dealt with in some way – either through confrontation or avoidance. It’s just work. Plain and simple. Nothing personal, it’s the job.

Everybody we met in that house, seems to love their jobs. Leah Katz-Hernandez sits at the desk by the front door to the West Wing. She has an official title – ROTUS. She is the Receptionist of the United States. She couldn’t have been nicer and happier to see how excited we all were to be there. From what we were told by everyone yesterday, nobody loves their job more than the President, himself.

The people in the White House aren’t looking at unfolding events the same way we are. On Broadway, when somebody is sick, we put an understudy on and don’t give it a second thought. We know they are prepared and can do the job. People in the audience might not have the same reaction. They may be disappointed or angry. Their response is emotional, for people backstage, our response is practical.

I find it hard not to feel a sense of existential dread in anticipation of the election in November. The people in the White House are gearing up for the hard part of their jobs – campaigning. While I am sure they may have some dread, too, I don’t think it’s the same thing. They know what they need to do to get their guy back into office. It’s what they do. It’s what they signed up for.

They will either win or lose the election. Like the theatre, all that attention to detail will either pay off or the show will get bad reviews and close. Decisions get made that people on the outside might think are idiotic but there were reasons for them at the time. Looking back, I might be able to see where we went wrong, but that’s extremely difficult to do in the moment.

I feel better about everything having had that visit yesterday. We might not agree with some of the things they are doing, but the people working in the White House are doing their jobs. I don’t always agree with decisions theatre Producers make, but it’s my job to carry them out. In the past, when I couldn’t, in good conscience, carry out the wishes of those above me, I quit. I don’t do that very often. Nobody’s perfect.

We are never going to be led, either in our jobs or in our nation, by people we agree with a hundred percent of the time. The trick, I think, is to work for people you agree with most of the time.

At the end of the day, ruling the nation is just a job. If you’re the one doing it, one of the perks is that you can order a sandwich anytime you want one and someone will bring it to you. On the other hand, there will always be a steady stream of idiots roaming through your house at all hours of the day and night, cramming themselves into tiny side rooms trying to decide the fate of the known world.

I’m glad they all enjoy their jobs because I’m not so sure I could do it. I have my own job to do. We have a sold-out show tonight at the Kennedy Center, so I need to get ready to go over to try and make it unfold smoothly. Something will go wrong, it always does, but hopefully, nobody but me will notice.