Wit and Wisdom

by Beth Broderick

BINGO! The story of how it came to be that I called BINGO wearing feathery garments and (for a time, at least) a tiara for two hours at Hamburger Mary’s. For a worthy cause, of course, why else?

It all started when Jeff mentioned that he was going to see a student’s dance performance in Alhambra. Jeff is one of the premier acting coaches in town, and he often goes to see his students in plays, recitals, and performances of varying kinds. He is deeply invested in their well-being and shows up in their lives.

In Los Angeles, this can mean fighting hellish traffic to go to a remote locale and see a very iffy production full of well-meaning young folks who aren’t quite there yet. I accompany him on occasion. We try to find a great place to eat beforehand to take the sting off what we may be in for when we arrive. We could be in for spotty “reimagined” Chekov, all-new Shakespeare featuring roller skates and flaming batons, or spoken word events that reveal limited vocabularies and bizarre proclivities. If it’s weird, we’ve seen it and seen it and seen it.

For a variety of reasons, a dance performance in Alhambra sounded like a very heavy lift. First, Alhambra is not a place one hears of often. There is the rare review featuring one of the many Asian restaurants that line the main artery of town, but otherwise, the word on Alhambra is crickets.

There is no word.

Then dance. There are some wonderful companies that make their home here, but there is also the chance that one might run into an “experimental” revue featuring clogs, rubber chickens, and who knows what else. I once sat through a performance in downtown L.A. where a very small woman was shoved into a sack and dragged off stage, only to find her way back out and get herself shoved back in. I was in the middle of the second row, so there was no way to escape without causing a scene. Ugh boy. That was a long night.

“Dance in Alhambra, huh? Okay, Jeff, I’m in. I can’t let you go there alone.”

On the day, we piled into his Mini Cooper and made our way to the exotic locale just east of L.A. proper. It was actually a pleasant drive wherein two people who know a lot about Los Angeles learned a few new things. There were a lot of nice tree-lined streets and housing stock that charmed with historic Craftsman domiciles and classic ranch-style spreads.

Jeff had his sights set on dinner at a place he had read good things about, but we could not find it. The address did not exist. Maybe it was a food truck that moved on to greener pastures? Who knows. We punted and turned toward the main street and “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe’d” it to a place called “Sichuan Impression,” hoping for the best. It was fantastic. The food was off the charts. We ordered the crab and literally moaned with delight at the perfect blend of spice balanced with the sweetness of the seafood. Also, and this is a big one because Asian joints are not notorious for their beverage selections, the waiter poured me a damned good glass of Chardonnay. Heaven.

Alhambra. Who knew?

YOUR NUMBER IS CALLED.

The performance took place in a very cool space and was so well attended that we were lucky his student had thought to reserve our seats. And it was good. Really good. Three different choreographers had pieces in the show, all of which showed talent and poise, but one stood out from the rest. Jeff’s student, Chasen, had created something truly unique. We made a note to be sure to see his next show.

There would, on the surface, seem to be no reason for a person such as myself, a person with two left feet, zero athletic ability, and no aptitude for dance, to be the newly elected president of the board of directors for The Realm Ballet Company. I just kept seeing their work and believing in the artistry of Chasen Greenwood and our in-house composer, Taylor Briggs. They asked for my help, and I could not say no. It will be a steep, steep climb to fully establish our new dance company, but we are selling out performances and grinding away at the task of finding financial support.

I have, in the main, served on boards that dealt with politics or social service delivery. Though I have made my living in them for 30 years, ironically, I don’t have much board experience in the arts. Nonetheless, I dove in because we need the arts, and they are under attack in some cases, underappreciated in others, and underfunded at every single turn.

The fellowships and grants are dropping like flies. The NEA recently ended its decades-long writing fellowship. Numerous theaters that had secured federal grants have been told that they will now not be forthcoming. At a recent conference of ASCO, the Association of California Orchestras, several groups from across the state shared that they were considering shutting down their programs. The money just is not there.

Markets are roiling. The price of gold is skyrocketing, a sure sign of instability on the horizon. Artists from every walk of life are feeling the pinch. Good jobs are few. Jobs that pay well are even fewer.

“The drag queen who calls with me isn’t coming. I need you to step in.” he said it as a matter-of-fact. A done deal.

Bingo Jeffrey was calm. He had decided before I got there that I was the solution. The Realm Company had invited friends and family to come play BINGO as a fundraising effort. Jeff is the king of BINGO in L.A. He gives charities a 75/25 split of the take on these nights. There are prizes for the winners and a few live auction items. My fellow board members and I stepped up to the plate and donated great loot. The drag queen who was supposed to call the numbers was MIA and it was decided that I would need to take her place.

“Okay, I’ll sub in. I got you. But can you find me something to wear? You know, give me a bit of drag glam?” I asked.

“There are a few things upstairs.” Jeff went up the steep, winding staircase to look for drag-worthy items.

Michael ordered me a veggie burger and insisted that I take a few bites before the show started. I got through half of it and tossed back a few fries before the thing began.

I made my entrance sporting a giant rainbow boa made of some kind of synthetic fabric that weighed a ton and was hot as Hades.

“Let’s start with B-12!” I called out into the microphone.

“The vitamin shot we all need!” Bingo Boy, a.k.a Jeffrey, called out after me.

“I… IIIIII… I have an inkling that the number is I-29.”

“Good, but slow it down,” Jeff nudged me.

“Whoop! I have a naughty N! N-70! N-70! Everybody got that?”

There was a murmur of consent from the crowd.

“G! Let’s hit that G-spot!” Jeff said next. “G-54!”

“Oh! OOOOOOOOOO my! I’ve got 0-14!”

Folks were having fun. The winners were told to run through the dining room while the rest of the players pelted them with used bingo cards.

I got rid of the boa after two rounds. It weighed more than me, I swear, and was a nasty, stuffy thing. Being a drag queen takes serious stamina. I made the effort. I kept the tiara on for a bit and entered after the break in a wacky red peignoir that Bingo Jeffrey had scrounged up.

“BINGO!”

My sister Laura had dutifully shown up to support me while her wife stayed home with the new baby. They are both always in my corner.

“Oh my God! That’s my sister! She got BINGO!” I shouted into the mic. That was not BINGO protocol, but who cares?

I was thrilled. Laura won! Then another winner came forward, and the game ended up in a tie. My sis lost the “ball” draw to another gal, so she didn’t win the prize, but she once again won my heart. It’s a blessing to have sisters like mine.

After ten rounds and a successful live auction, our winnings were not stellar, but we were happy. Many of our dancers were in attendance, the stakes are high for them, and they know it. My friends and family showed up in a big way. Thank you, loves.

Just another day in the life of a group of artists determined to succeed. The odds are against us, and so what? We will keep plugging away at it because it is what we do. It is who we are. All of the screens in the restaurant showed clips from our ballet seasons over the last three years, and everyone commented.

“Oh wow. They are really good. They are really are something spectacular, so original and gorgeous,” one attendee after another said to me.

Yes, they are, and I will do all I can to give them their shot, to promote their singular vision. I have had a great run as an actor, writer, and model. It’s my turn to give back.

It’s a lot of work, but there is joy in the doing.

Art matters. Art makes us better. Art helps us heal. Art is an essential component in our lives.

If the boa fits and that’s what it takes… I am gonna wear the damned thing.

On we go …

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