What Did You Call Me?!

Take a look at page 62 of the Fall 2004 issue of Show People. In the bottom right hand corner, you’ll find, “Take this quick quiz.” Four statements follow, to which you’re supposed to answer yes or no.

1. “I know the lyrics to ‘Not Getting Married Today.'” In fact, the song that ends the first act of Company is titled “Getting Married Today.” And while I can’t say I know every word of the lickety-split A-sections of the tongue-twisting Sondheim lyric, I do know by heart the more leisurely B-sections (“Go, can’t you go? Why is no-body listening?” etc.) Does that count?

2. “I know who Donna McKechnie is.” Yes, she’s best known as the original, Tony-winning Cassie from A Chorus Line. And while she made her name there in 1975, I first learned who she was in 1968 when she, Baayork Lee, and Margo Sappington stopped the show by headlining “Turkey-Lurkey Time” in Promises, Promises. (I might have even known Donna McKechnie two years before, when she appeared in the summer stock tryout of A Joyful Noise. I had a ticket for a performance in my native Massachusetts, but when my parents suggested that they wanted to visit relatives in Maryland and I found that Liza Minnelli was doing The Pajama Game there, I said, “Let’s go!” For years, I felt I made the right decision, but that feeling has since passed.) So, yes, I do know who Donna McKechnie is. I even know who Eulalie McKechnie is, and that she married Mayor Shinn. Maybe I should get a little extra credit?

3. “I have both versions of The Wild Party on my iPod.” Well, I haven’t got an iPod, but I do have both CDs of The Wild Party and am grateful for each. Owning both would seem to be enough to score a point, woudn’t you say? This is, after all, a theater quiz and not a technology quiz. (Actually, it’s not really a “quiz” at all, but that’s another story.)

4. “I know who the Tony Awards were named for.” Sure, Antoinette Perry, the performer-turned-director, who staged the original Harvey. All set there!

So I’ll give myself a half-point for questions one and three, and full credit for questions two and four. But, as it turned out, all I needed was one right answer. For underneath the questions comes, “If you answered yes to any of the above, then you’re a bona-fide Theater Dork. To purchase this 100% cotton T-shirt ($15) for yourself or a stagestruck pal, e-mail merchandise@showpeople.com.” Pictured is a white T-shirt with black lettering that says “Theater Dork.”

You may infer that I’m upset because I’m not able to get that T-shirt for free; usually, when you can answer questions of this nature you do get something at no cost. But that’s not what’s infuriating me. I don’t think that anyone who knows the answer to these questions is a “Theater Dork.” What s/he is is a Theater Expert. A Theater Savant. A Person with Taste That’s Superior to the Average Person’s. One of those phrases should be printed on these T-shirts, which should then be worn as proudly as a karate champion wears his black belt. Granted, being able to take the edge of your hand and smashing it through a block of wood is a great accomplishment — but so is listening to cast albums, reading scripts, scrounging up the money to see shows, traveling out of town for some of them, then calling fellow Theater Experts, telling them what you saw, letting them know what you thought and what they can expect.

Really, what is it about us that makes us ashamed of being smart about theater? Because most people in the world aren’t, should those of us who are and crave to know more each be termed a “Theater Dork?” I say no. Just now, I went over to see the sportswriters who work at the Star-Ledger, the New Jersey newspaper where I’m a theater critic. I asked, “Is there a pejorative term for someone who knows Sibby Sisti’s lifetime batting average or the record for the number of games that an entire baseball team went without hitting a triple?” The first sportswriter I asked couldn’t come up with an answer. He finally turned and asked a compatriot if he could think of such a term. “Well,” the second sportswriter said after a brief pause, “I guess you could call him a ‘Stats Geek.'”

I guess you could, but the fact that no term came immediately to their minds says something to me. I read a good deal of sports-related material but I’ve never seen an ad in any newspaper or magazine where a sports fan is asked four questions, offering him the chance to be rewarded with a T-shirt branded “Stats Geek.” I’ve never seen any sports fan wearing one, either. You know and I know that such a T-shirt doesn’t exist — but now we know that a T-shirt stating “Theater Dork” does. Hey, Show People: Aren’t so-called “Theater Dorks” what’s keeping your magazine alive?

Please don’t misunderstand me; I do believe there is a place in the world for T-shirts bearing the words “Theater Dork.” They should be worn, however, by those who know NOTHING about theater, as a badge of shame — a variation on the dunce cap. At least once a day in every school, a teacher should choose a student at random and ask, “Who’s Stephen Sondheim?” If the kid doesn’t know, the teacher should say, “Then where Theater is concerned, you’re a dork! Go put on this T-shirt, which you must wear in disgrace for a solid week.” During this span of time, the ignoramus should be continually mocked by the rest of the student body — all of whom, of course, know who Stephen Sondheim is. (Some of them will ideally be wearing their own “Theater Expert” or “Theater Savant” T-shirts as proudly as Boy and Girl Scouts sport their merit badges.) And after the thoroughly repentant kid is finally enlightened and has learned about Sondheim, he’d better know who, say, Joe Mantello is, or he’ll be humiliated by having to wear a “Theater Dork” T-shirt for another week.

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[To contact Peter Filichia directly, e-mail him at pfilichia@theatermania.com]