In My League
By Scott McCormick

Who makes up the Leagues and why, oh why do they try so hard?

As the heat index in this swamp we call a city creeps above the 200 degrees mark, a beastly monster springs to life at the corner of 14th and T, NW.

This beast has 500 heads and twice as many arms and legs. Each set of hands grasping 60 headshots and resumes, which have usually been copied and assembled the night before in one of a dozen Kinkos around town. Each of these heads runs a monologue it half-remembers performing in an "Intro to Performance" class long ago.

What is this beast, and why has it sprung to life in front of Source Theater? The answer is one of DC theater's weird little rituals: A gaggle of actors swoop down from all over the eastern seaboard to sign up for the League of Washington Theaters'  Auditions (a.k.a. "Leagues").

DC is, depending on who you ask, either the second- or third-largest theater town in America. Chicago, with its hearty supply of young male improvers, arguably lays claim to second place. There's no argument about No. 1. But Washington and its surrounding suburbs support more stage actors than any other city in the U.S., aside from New York. "Support" may be too strong a word, since few actors make a living simply as actors. Many are scraping by as wait staff, office workers, and temps.

Cattle Call

The League of Washington Theaters helps promote and develop the DC theater scene. One of its largest accomplishments is a yearly combined cattle-call/audition. Hundreds of actors herd across a stage to perform in front of a director, with about a minute and a half to prove they have what it takes to be in a show. Think the audition in A Chorus Line, without the careful choreography and tights. The twist on Leagues is that you audition for all of the 60 or so DC theaters at once. For many actors, it's seen as the 'make it or break it' event of the year. Ninety seconds to be brilliant, or it's better luck next year.

I've been on both sides of this process, as both an actor and auditor (the fancy name for the people who watch the auditions), and I know the pain and anguish experienced on both sides.

The whole thing is really a lesson in Darwinism. Each actor is somehow trying to work her way up the ladder of theatrical success.

They Try So Hard

At the bottom is the group new to the DC theater scene. It's mix of new college grads, retirees, housewives, and people who have been told by well-meaning friends, "You have a great voice!" The unifying theme is that they don't always stick to a tightly controlled set of rules. Some rules are written down, such as Don't do a Shakespeare monologue unless you're very good, or Don't do a monologue that's longer than 90 seconds. Other rules aren't written down, but they should be because they drive auditors crazy:

Don't do an accent if you don't have one.
Don't do a monologue meant for someone half your age.
Don't do a monologue that has been done a hundred times before and probably done better by someone else.

These rules are subjective, but they're things the next group of actors has grasped.

So, So Cool

The non-union horde has done and seen it all in their short little theatrical careers; they're the next step up on the ladder. Usually somewhere between ages 25 and 35, the non-union horde frequent the 40 or so non-union theaters in town. They do as few as one show and as many as six shows a year. They work for little money and audition for everything. Their lives have become enmeshed, as they attend all the same parties, do the same non-union tours, see one another at the same auditions, take the same classes, and can be found at the "it" bar on Thursday nights, singing karaoke, drinking too much, and staying out too late.

These non-union actors have come to the audition hoping to work their way up. Hoping that one of the big theaters, such as the Shakespeare Theater, Studio, Roundhouse, or Olney, will give them the break they need to become a union actor. This is the step up they crave, because any of the bigger theaters will pay them just enough to keep them in the game. Leagues, for these actors, is the chance to get their resumes in front of the casting directors and remind them how good they've gotten since last year, when they didn't get the big break.

Big Fish

Another group of outsiders, union actors, travel down from New York to audition in what they see as a less competitive and therefore easier-to-conquer theater market. They come here thinking they're big fish in a small pond. And many of them are quite good; unfortunately, they're outsiders and also unaware of many of the same rules as those at the very bottom.

Top Dogs

Finally, near the top of the ladder are local union actors, most a little older and more experienced than their non-union comrades. Many don't even bother with Leagues any more. Most of them have established relationships with the larger union theaters and would be asked for auditions, whether they attend Leagues or not. These are, for the most part, actors doing what they want, living moderately comfortable lives, and subsidizing their theater income with voiceover work, industrial films, and teaching. The next step for many of them is to try and break into New York theater, but many have settled into their role at the top of the DC theater ladder. Well almost the top -- there are always auditors.

We Like to Watch

The auditors are an even stranger mix of humanity, made up of a collection of artistic directors, casting directors, and interns who got stuck with the job because their boss slipped into a mild coma after the first day of auditions. Each is looking for the next big thing -- the talent in the rough that they, alone, will recognize. One theater may be looking for all the tall thin blond boys they can find. While another's scoring for both acting and the way an actor would look naked. And still another is looking for a one-legged Asian albino who can whistle and speak Esperanto. The good news is that if such an actor exists in DC, he'll probably show up at Leagues.

Leagues is viewed by some in the community as a mild inconvenience and by others as a vital necessity. This may be an actor's only chance to be seen by the larger area theaters. For many theaters, it's still the best way to get a measure of the available talent. With more of the larger theaters casting roles out of New York, some of the smaller theaters fear that the lack of interest from the larger theaters may lead to a cancellation of Leagues altogether. This may force smaller theaters to band together and create a mini-League-like audition.

Leagues continue to be the one place for everyone to have their 90 seconds of fame on the DC stage. Besides if you blow it there's always next year.

Illustration by Cynthia Fowler