Just No Pictures
About the author:
Michael McKean, who is currently starring as Edna Turnblad in Hairspray on Broadway, is known for his work on the big screen This Is Spinal Tap, Best in Show and A Mighty Wind among many others and the small screen Laverne & Shirley Saturday Night Live, Tracey Takes On, Dream On. McKean won a Theatre World Award in 1990 for his Broadway debut in the play Accomplice. His next project is headlining Woody Allen's A Second Hand Memory opposite Dominic Chianese and Martha Plimpton at off-Broadway's Atlantic Theatre. In the aftermath of New York City hosting the Republic National Convention, McKean put down some of his thoughts on RNC VIPs President George H.W. Bush and wife Barbara attending a performance of Hairspray.
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They've all gone home now. After a week of engorgement, Manhattan has lost the spare tire and snapped back to its normal slimth. Everyone has a story about the convention. Mine is a tale of piddling courage, almost classically inconsequential, but it's all I've got.
It's a bright, glorious Labor Day outside my window. Columbus Circle is almost finished. If my blister lets me, I'll take a walk in the park. It's been an exceptionally livable summer and there's a real Ray Bradbury autumn coming, the best weather New York makes. I was born on this island. I live in Los Angeles, largely because of the cold eastern winters, but every now and then somebody pays me to work in my hometown and I'm only too happy. This year, I've been dolling up as Edna Turnblad, the gravitationally challenged "housewife of indeterminate girth" in Hairspray.
Time of my life, since you asked; it's going to hurt like hell to leave.
Sometime in late July, I began hearing the rumors: President and Mrs. Bush will be attending the show during the Republican convention; no, it's Bush the Elder and Mrs. Forty-One; nope, George W. and Laura, trust me…
Victor, the house manager gave me the final word: George H. W. Bush and his wife Barbara would be taking in the matinee on September 1. Victor asked if I'd like to say hello to the former First Couple after the gig. I said sure. Just no pictures. No, no, no, said Victor; just a quick hello.
There it sat for several weeks. The Broadway community braced for a rough patch, knowing that many tourists would stay away and that the delegates themselves might be hostile to the spirit of many theatrical offerings. Some shows shut down for the week. Other, more heartland-friendly productions would be offering special rates and the occasional pep-rallying curtain speech. "Four more years! And now, The Lion King!"
At first, Hairspray seemed an odd choice for the Bushes. Set in 1962 Baltimore, it's about this chubby little teenage girl named Tracy Turnblad, whose common sense and dancin' feet lead her to fight the system, represented by a segregated TV "sock-hop type television show" and ***SPOILER*** win the cute guy. She sums it all up elegantly at the end of act one: "We're not so different after all. We just want to have a good time."
The first President Bush began his congressional career around the same time the fictional Tracy bopped at the hop. His first campaign played predictably to a states'-rights constituency as regards the Kennedy-Johnson civil rights legislation: He said it was broccoli and to hell with it. But he did do the right thing for whatever reasons in 1968, breaking with many conservative Republicans on housing and busing. He was silent on twisting and shouting, but any step forward was a good one.
In the ensuing decades, we saw plenty of Mr. Bush as RNC chief, CIA director, Veep, POTUS, statesman emeritus. One's view of him depended largely on one's politics. There are some shadowy stretches, but that goes with the territory.
So now the ex-Prez wanted to see a crowd-pleasing, slightly goofy musical fable with a sweet and smart moral, and that was fine by me. Just no pictures.
That got a little iffy as the day approached.
Someone in the PR food-chain decided the Bush visit called for a great big photo opportunity. The entire cast should stay in their finale wardrobe mine's a big, red velvet cake of a thing, with an immense beehive to match and pose for pictures with the visiting VIPs. A two-shot of Barb and Edna, matriarchal prows prominently featured, was also cooked up. The cast responded largely in the negative. There followed a flurry of phone calls from various producers: They worried that dissing the dignitaries was at odds with the show's message of inclusion. We countered that we had no problem with having the Bushes backstage; it's just that we didn't want anyone using the event to imply that the cast supported the current administration, the war, the Republicans or the elephants they rode in on.
We pondered, briefly, WWHD: What would Harvey do?
As Edna Turnblad, I followed in the T-Rexian footsteps of Harvey Fierstein. According to Keith, Harvey's and my dresser/factotum, the voracious Mr. F. eats politicians for brunch. It takes a certain amount or chutzpah to interrupt a compliment in order to rip the speaker a new credibility gap, but Harvey did so with Joe Leiberman re same-sex marriage and one or two others. Had Harvey still been playing Edna the whole question of the photo op would not have come up.
We fretted. We didn't think to look for historical precedence, but Hollie Howard, one of Hairspray's "nicest kids in town", showed us a picture of herself with the Bush in question, taken backstage at Annie Get Your Gun some years back. The wide-eyed expression on Ms. Howard's face attests to the friendly whack on the can Forty-One had administered at the moment of photographic exposure. Jonathan Dokuchitz TV host Corny Collins reached further back. He had played the Wolf in a revival of Into the Woods. Before he could join the rest of the cast for a group shot with then-President Bush and family, a squad of wardrobe people armed with seam rippers, removed the furry lupine genitalia from Mr. Dokuchitz's costume at the request of the White House.
Enlightening. But no help in the current situation.
Finally, with all the common sense of Tracy herself, it was settled. My own contribution to the Great Debate was as follows: It's OK to do some things in life without having your picture taken doing it. I can think of a few that are even improved by the absence of cameras. Producer Richard Frankel made the announcement: anyone who wants to meet Mr. and Mrs. Bush were invited to stick around and say hello. Just no pictures.
Sometimes an anti-climax is refreshing. Mr. Bush and his wife were very complimentary, and we were glad they liked the show. I suppose I could have grilled him on October surprises, Iran-Contra, or Noriega just to satisfy my own curiosity. But if he didn't answer Dan Rather, he probably wouldn't come clean to a middle-aged actor in a big red dress.
