I held a human skull yesterday at the legendary Players Club. Believe me, I wasn't expected it. The Players Club was formed in 1888 by Edwin Booth... big brother to John Wilkes. This old gentleman's club smelled like leather, dust and old man juice. Not that I've smelled old man juice before but I would imagine it would have the same kind of muskiness about it. So of course, I was delighted to see it hadn't been touched too much since Booth died up in his room. Which I stood in... but I'll get to that later.
The reason I ventured into the Gramercy Park town house was because of Johnnie Planco. For those not in the world of theater and film Johnnie is the man. That's pretty much it. He's a Manager and former William Morris agent - who has represented any major star you could think of. He was there to talk to us (The Old Vice New Voices New York Network Members) about life, about theater, and about the business of both. For an hour he told us about his humble beginnings, of being in the right place at the right time, and how you have to pay it forward. He was engaging and funny but more importantly told us some fun celebrity stories. One of Jack Lemmon injuring little old ladies with his gold balls. Frank Sinatra getting drunk with him until two am, and telling him what he should name his unborn son at the time. Kevin Spacey's dog peeing his career away. Theater greats playing bridge and joking about the women they had affairs with…. but mostly he talked about how people helped him early on for no reason but to pay it forward. Someone had helped them and so he learned reaching out to the next generation and giving them a push is how the industry continues to grow. He was inspirational and I enjoyed it very much… and immediately thought would he read my play? And looked around at all the other aspiring, actors, writers, director’s producers all thinking how can we corner this guy? But Johnnie’s no fool. He hightailed it out of there when his talk was done. Having been an agents assistant, to another former William Morris employee, I had to call Johnnies office at least once a day and thought ‘well I have his number… he did say we are driving our own careers and to be pushy but not aggressive… but I’ve never had that chutzpah... I’m a bit of a chicken shit. So once he finished his spiel he left us in the hands of the head of the players club to give us a tour. Did I mention the chandelier made of horns? I might have forgotten that bit.
So I think it was John Martello, the Executive Director who gave us the tour. Short, round, funny man in an oversized brown suite, you know the type. Who when asked by one of my peers (when he was naming all the portraits of the past members, like Barrymore, Helen Hays, and Booth) where his portrait was, I hope ironically… John, without missing a beat replies “I think they’re going to put mine in the men's room." Oh to have a sense of humor.
So we wandered around from old room, to old room, looking at antique props, a ton more portraits of theater’s greats. Then we get to this room on the third or fourth floor. It's the muskiest of them all. The air is still, the heat over welling and you think holy crap, who the hell died in this room? Well, that would be Edwin Booth. The room is roped off in the center.
To the right you see a small bed with a canopy, a day bed next to it. A dresser with family photos from the 1800's. An old dictionary and a death wreath. All the bedding is decayed but still amazing to look at.
You turn to your left and you see a table, fireplace, some more desks, and bookshelves with antique toppings. (Sorry my descriptions are so vague but it was a lot to take in…and you can just look at the picture. Or just imagine grand, rich words, old wallpaper, crown moldings and stifling heat.) Because we were a large group he had us file in past the red ropes - into the living space. I noticed out of the corner of my eye was a scull sitting innocently on a bookshelf, as if enjoying the tour. (It’s at the very left corner of the photo.) And as it sat listening intently like the rest of us John, nonchalantly turned and reached for it.
He began to tell us that before the time of film and even radio great theater actors toured around (as they do today) but in this time it was the only thing people got, so they knew their Bible versus and they knew their Shakespeare. That's it. And sometime in the 1800's, a horse thief asked before he was killed that his scull be sent to Junis Booth (that's Edwin and the Lincoln Killer's big daddy. Also a famous drunk actor in his own right.) So he, the thief's skull, could play ‘Yorick’ in future productions of Hamlet. Well, no one knows if big Papa Booth used this new prop piece but Edwin, certainly did. He even signed it when he finished the tour. Now John says to us, holding the skull as if it's nothing but a prop, "And this is it. The original skull." Then he passed it around. I tried to avoid it but it was impossible. It was like playing hop potato... and I did no want to be the one to drop it. Could you imagine? I'd have been notorious in the theater land. Banded from the Players Club before I was even a Player! No, I held that thing, which felt lighter then I imagined. A shiver went throw my spin as John also told us "Oh and Edwin died in that bed, right there." So not only am I holding some horse thief's skull but also I'm standing in a dead guys room? It's a good thing I love me some theater or I would have chucked that corpse and made a break for it. But I didn't. I smiled and tried to hand it off as quickly as possible.
After the tour we filed into the tiny bar. I saw Lisa Kron and a really famous old actress, with sharp pointy eyebrows (I can't remember her name) but the were chatting innocently with their drinks. Other grey hairs sat around enjoying their diner and game of pool. I looked around for a familiar face but didn't find one. Since I'm as broke as a joke I left the drink line and made my way out. The doorman looked at me surprised, "Are you leaving?" I almost felt guilty. "Yes I said," in what I felt was my tired voice. "I have to get home." Thinking I could look like a busy, important person… right? I don't think he bought it. Instead he gave me a look like he was saying "Girl, you crazy? There is some hard core networking going on in that room." Yea, that's right you can say that much with just a look. But guilty or not, I’m not a networking type of a girl. I mostly stay to the side looking awkward and boring. So why do it? Having had enough interaction for the day I headed out onto the street. The humidity and fresh air nearly knocked me on ass. I was in the real world again. If this had been a movie that town house would have decayed behind me... hidden and bored up. But it hadn't. It was still there with grey hairs moving in and out. I thought, one day I’ll be a player… but until then… well… better grow some balls and look up Johnnie's info. But first I had to wash the ‘Yorick’ from my hands.
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