We were lucky to catch up with Bob Barry recently and have shared our conversation below.
Hi Bob, thanks for joining us today. It’s always helpful to hear about times when someone’s had to take a risk – how did they think through the decision, why did they take the risk, and what ended up happening. We’d love to hear about a risk you’ve taken.
Risking
I have been in the arts in one medium or another for my entire life,
In my journey, I have found out that the single most important factor in succeeding in the arts, or any direction or field one would want to journey in, has been the ability and willingness to risk.
Like many young people starting out, I was wandering about, trying to find my direction, and purpose in my life.
I remember back in my first year of college, sitting in the student lounge, (which I recall was my major at that time), dwelling over a cup of coffee, when someone I had never met walked up to my table, sat down, and said, “Hi! were doing a play in the old barn on the campus, and you look perfect for one of the parts in the play, would you be interested in auditioning for it?”
I looked at him for a few seconds, and realizing that I really didn’t have any particular plans for the next fifty or sixty years, I responded “why not”. After all, he did say I was perfect for it!
As it turned out, I apparently was “perfect” for the part at least in type, but more importantly, it was this seemingly unimportant, in the stream of things moment, that launched me into the world of the arts.
I had never done a play.
I had no skills,
I wasn’t even sure that I had any real talent for it, but it was new, exciting and so I risked!
As it turned out, my performance left a lot to be desired, but I showed up for each performance, standing in the wings terrified, waiting for my cue to walk on stage.. A funny thing happened, as I walked out on stage. I could feel the warm lights and they made me feel comfortable, and the terror I felt would just dissipate!.
I would join the cast, and the interaction and intimacy made me feel even more comfortable.
The most important thing was something from that play “Spoon River Anthology”, that really had an affect on the trajectory of my life. Spoon River Anthology is a play of Poetry written by Edgar Lee Masters. All the characters are people who lived in a small town in the Midwest and they all spoke their free-verse epitaphs from beyond the grave.
The “epitaph” that had a particularly profound affect on my attitude going forward, was spoken by another of the actors in the play. The character’s name was George Gray, and I am attaching the text from the page from my yellowed with age, 60+ years old script, that I have kept all these years, and reread from time to time to reinforce in me, the importance of risk in not just the arts, but in every facet of one’s life!
GEORGE GRAY (ACTOR ONE)
(Still at lectern.)
I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me-
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment:
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire-
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid,
I continued on with my “risk”, enrolling in acting classes in Manhattan, (yes, I am a New Yorker), auditioning for local community theaters and surprisingly being cast.
After some success in local theater, I decided, that if I was going to take this past the hobby stage, I was going to have to move up the risk ladder and try out for roles in summer stock, regional theater, touring CO,’s, and hopefully on to the New York Stage.
The next major risk came shortly after I got my own apartment in Manhattan.
in a rehearsal hall in midtown Manhattan called the Variety Arts Studios.
I had become an avid reader of the Backstage newspaper and the listings for auditions that were being offered. I saw this notice for a play I had done in college. It was Eugene Ionesco’s Rhinoceros, a bizarre play from “The Theater of The Absurd” which was popular for 20 minutes during the sixties. I had done one of the two leads in my college production and received kudos from the college paper. Naturally I thought the part was mine. With a smirk and a swagger I showed up for the open auditions, (non union), for the off Broadway production. Not being an Actor’s Equity member at that time I was relegated to these open calls that producers held for some legal reason, probably “right to work” laws. Whatever the reason, open calls were always held last after all the agent appointments, and AEA auditions, and it was first come, first served. Half the time the directors and producers had gone home leaving a stage manager to run the non-union casting calls.
I signed the list and left my 8×10 with a clipped on resume’ with the pile of others in a box next to the sign in list. There must have been fifty people in the waiting room and hallways, all before me, and half of them looked like me. It was disconcerting for me to realize that at least 25 of the men in that room were after the same part, and that was just the non-union actors. I began to study them and in my mind eliminating them as any real threat.
One after another actors went in to the room down the hall. They were in and out in minutes. Some looked angry when they left, others looked sadly disappointed, and a few just had a blank looks as if they were numb. It was an hour and a half later when the stage manager called my name. I followed him down the hallway; we walked in to a small rehearsal room with a table at one end with three men sitting behind it. I remember their faces to this day. They were in pain. I guess you can get pretty whacked out of shape after 8 hours of watching mostly bad auditions.
The man in the middle asked my name and I told him. He shuffled through the pile of 8×10’s on his desk, picks mine up and starts to read my resume, which took him no time at all. He turns back to me and said, “Where did you do Rhinoceros?”
I told him the truth, “college theater group”. He smiled and said “you might be right for this in 15 or 20 years. Thank you!”
That was it. No reading, no probing questions to try and ferret out the real me. At least he said I might be right for it in 15 or 20 years. That was positive, right?
I walked out of the door, my head full of what I could have said, should have said, and a couple of “why did I say that’s?” running through my head. I walked almost blindly through the hallway and instead of walking out the door to the waiting area; I stumbled into another audition room with two men sitting behind a table, one small and frail looking, the other larger and more muscular. A third person was sitting at the piano. We all stared at each other for a brief moment when one of the men says, “Give the accompanist your music.” I finally came to consciousness, told them that I walked through the door by mistake, apologized for the intrusion, and started to walk out the door to the hallway. As I started to close the door behind me, I heard one of the men at the table say “Wait a minute”, “Come back for a moment.” I turned and walked back into the audition room, and the two men were in a huddle discussing something for a moment, and then the slighter man who had not spoken to me yet asked me, “can you sing?” I said yes, but that I had no music with me. I never had any formal training but I had a pleasant lyric baritone and sang in several previous college productions.
He then says “Sing Happy Birthday”. I had no idea of what key to sing it in and asked the pianist to help me choose a key. He played, I sang. The larger man, (who turned out to be the musical director), said take it up a third to the accompanist. He played I sang.
We sang happy Birthday at least 5 times each time higher until my voice reached its limits.
The next thing I know I get handed four sides, (pages from scripts), for characters in four different musicals, and told to come back in an hour to read for them.
As I walked out the door with scripts in hand all I could think about was, I took a risk to come and audition, and that walking through one door I was told I wasn’t going to work for 15 years and by sheer accident walking through a second, I had an opportunity to get my first real professional job as an actor.
I walked out onto 46th st. and slowly walked east toward Broadway. I was scanning the scripts while walking, bumping into people along the way. I came out on Broadway at 46th and looked around for someplace to sit and study my scripts.
At the point where Broadway crosses to the East of 7th Ave between 45th and 47th ST. sits a little triangular square known as Duffy Square. Named after a priest named Father Duffy who was honored for his work with the “Fighting 69th” during World War I, a statue honoring Father Duffy sits on the north end of the triangular park. On the opposite side of the square was a statue of the legendary actor and entertainer George M. Cohan. It stood almost directly across from the Palace Theater where he appeared countless times from the vaudeville years on.
I crossed the street and sat at the feet of George M. Cohan and began studying the sides.
They were 4 different musical roles, Carousel, (dual roles of the “Star Keeper, and Dr. Seldon”), Music Man, (“Marcellus”), Pajama game, (“Prez”), and several small roles in Gypsy, (Cigar, Mr. Goldstone.)
Two of the Characters were major roles, and the others were supporting character roles. Three of the Characters shared similar qualities. They were “Everyday” kinds of men, sort of “Blue Collar” guys. I had an immediate feeling of empathy and understanding with these characters and I felt comfortable with them.
The roles I didn’t immediately bond with were the two characters in Carousel, (actually the same actor playing two roles), which both required a New England accent and they were people that I did not have an immediate understanding of, and did not identify with. I decided to spend my time working on those roles. As I read them over and over, I realized that they weren’t really so different from the others. The biggest challenge was the New England accent.
You have to have an “ear” for accents. It’s like music, if you hear it, then you can re-create it. I sat there on those cold cement steps surrounding George M. for at least a half hour trying to capture the lilt of
a New England accent with little success, when a couple of tourists of the hundreds that had been passing by me, stopped to read the placards underneath the statues and one of them read the text out loud with the most identifiable New England Accent I ever heard. I followed them around the square as surreptitiously as possible trying to listen to their conversations. I was mouthing every word they were saying as they read the info on the two statues and conversed. After a few minutes they left, but I had it. I rehearsed the scenes, applying the accents I heard and feeling much more comfortable about them headed to the Variety Arts Studio back for my reading.
The hallway was filled with actors, scripts in hand, waiting for their turns. I signed in, studied and waited.
My name was called and I was led back to the audition room. I was met by the stage manager, who told me that he would be reading with me. He asked me if I had a preference for a scene to read first. I decided on the “Carousel” characters fearing that if I read the other roles first, I might lose the music of the New England accent that was still ringing in my head.
I read! They listened! It was a first for me. Nobody said “Thank You”, or “that’s enough”, or “we’ll let you know” after the first few lines. I went through both scenes and after I finished, the director said, “would you read the other roles for us please.” One after another I read them. The characters were similar in nature and I was afraid that I was not defining each character enough, but it was an audition, not a performance as I learned over many years of doing this. All they were looking for in me at that stage was an indication of how I perceived these characters, how well I performed them, and did I match up with the other actors they had hired or were considering.
I finished the last reading and the two gentlemen at the table conferred for a brief moment and said that they were making their decisions this evening and that they would be contacting their final choices in the morning. I thanked them and left.
I was on a “rush” for hours. It felt so good to have gotten through it with virtually no preparation, having to rely only on my instincts and innate abilities and a willingness to risk. I spent the evening reliving the day’s drama, and with good and bad fantasies running through my mind, I nervously awaited the morning.
Morning came early, and from 7 AM I sat by the phone waiting for the phone to wring. At 12:30 in the afternoon the phone rang.
I picked it up and a voice said, “is this Bob?” I said yes, and the caller said, “Bob this is the stage manager from Melody Park Musicals, and we would like you to do the 4 roles you read for yesterday.” He said that I would have to come in to meet with the producer to get all the financial arrangements dealt with and to sign contracts. We set up an appt. for 5:30 that afternoon at the Edison Hotel in midtown, I thanked him took down the info. At that point I realized that I had no idea where the shows were going to be performed? It wasn’t as if I actually planned on this audition. I didn’t even remember seeing a listing for this job in the casting lists. And in the midst of the quest, “where or when” seemed irrelevant.
I dressed up nicely and took the bus back into the city and then walking 6 blocks to 47th ST. and the Edison. I was a good half hour early, (I am always early), and hung around the lobby of the Edison Hotel so I wouldn’t look too anxious.
At 5:28 I took the elevator up to the room and knocked on the door. The door opens and the slightly built thin man from the audition greeted me. He introduced himself and said my name is Bill Butterman and I am the producer for Melody Park Musicals. I shook hands with him and we sat down. He then rattles off the details of the contract he was offering me as if he has said it all 20 times before, and probably did.
He said that I will be getting $60 a week, and that the living arrangements for the tours will be partially subsidized by the Co. and that I would only be responsible for $2 a day towards rent, sharing rooms of course. There was no allowance for food, however he said that there are many meals that are supplied by the Co. during rehearsals, and special back-to-back performances. Also, that in each town we went to, there would be opening night parties, and other festive occasions to supplement our diets. He said my billing would change with the importance of each role.
There was no chance I was going to say no, so I pretended to give it a moment’s thought and then with a smile agreed to the arrangements.
We shook hands and he walked to his desk to get my contract when I asked him exactly where are we going to perform? He looked at me strangely for a moment, and then perhaps remembering the unusual circumstances of my auditioning says, “You will be touring Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi, and Alabama, and your home base will be in Galveston Texas. He said that the company was a bus & truck tour and we would be playing different cities throughout the states mentioned. Further explaining that the Company would be playing one, two and sometimes three-niters in different towns and while performing in each show which toured for several weeks we would be rehearsing the next show during the days, and on days we were not traveling or performing. It was called a bus and truck CO. because the actors and crew, and some musicians would be traveling on the bus while the sets, props, and drops would be carried in an eighteen-wheeler truck that followed the bus. Sometimes the truck would go ahead of us if there were special needs in a theater that needed more time and attention.
The producer handed me my contract and I filled in my name, and signed the bottom.
I then asked how I was going to get to Galveston. He said that several of the actors from the NY area were going to drive down and ride share and that they would arrange for me to travel with one of these groups.
Butterman then went back to his desk, put together 4 scripts from a pile on his desk, handed them to me and said he would see me in Galveston.
I had two weeks to get my life together before I left.
Throughout my career in Musical Comedy, Stage, Commercials, TV & Film, as a Singer/guitarist and my present career as a Music Industry and Jazz Photographer, risk was the primary factor. If, I wasn’t able to take the initial step of risking, nothing would have come to fruition!
As George Gray so eloquently said
“We must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.”
Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
After 30 years of working in the performing arts on stage, screen, TV commercials etc. and as a guitarist and singer in the clubs and restaurants in Manhattan. I moved to LA CA and after a number of years doing TV and film, I changed my direction to what had been my hobby since I was 8 years old, Photography
I am today, and have been for the last 25 years, a music industry and Jazz Photographer
What I believ sets me apart, is my being able to work and get good images of live performances and low light situations.
Recording studios are not known for good lighting, nor do they care.
They are concentrating on recording sound, and couldn’t be less interested in my ability to record images. As long as the musicians and vocalists can see their charts, the powers that be are fine with that.
I have learned to work in almost all low light situations and be able to provide my clients with more than useable images.
This also holds true to theaters, concert halls, nightclubs and restaurants.
My artworks are known as performance portraits. They are all Black & White and taken in ambient light during live performances. My work is available to be seen on my website, jazzography.com. under Portfolios.
Another project I am working on is called my Flora Project.
Living in LA, you have a great deal of plants and succulents that are flowering all year long.
As I walk my dog Lily in the Hollywood Hills, I stop and photograph the flora that interest me, bring it back to my studio and work on these images very much like a sculptor. I look at the image and slowly remove everything I feel is unnecessary, until I have what fills my vision.
These can also be seen on my site in my main menu bar under Flora.
Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?
I met a psychologist a number of years ago, who had written a book about the creative mind, It was his theory that creative people do not cerebrate like linear minded people.
He also believed that artists/creative minded people, feel more strongly, and deeply than non creative minds.
It’s not that one type of mind is better than another, but each one has different needs, goals and points of view.
Most of the truly committed artist I have known, and I put myself in that category, feel that being an artist wasn’t so much a choice, as it was a need!
Artists speak through their work. Sometimes words are not enough! Their message can come out as music, painting, sculpture, poetry, dance and many other forms.
One more thing! The need to create doesn’t always need an audience to approve or disapprove.
The ultimate critic is that artist him or herself.
What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?
For me, it is the pure joy of the creative process. The excitement of seeing your work develop into a finished art piece can be exhilarating.
As an actor, my favorite time was the rehearsal period.
That is where all the creativity starts and builds.
For me, there is a feeling of sadness when the work is done.
Sort of like a postpartum low.
But It only lasts till you start the next project.
Contact Info:
- Website: jazzography.com
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jazzbarry
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MrJazzography/videos
- Other: Wikipedia – Bob Barry (Photographer)
Image Credits
My personal image off myself was taken by – Don Saban the two black & white images of musicians are mine The image of myself and Julius LaRosa was taken by a fellow actor 45 years ago and i can’t for the life of me remember his name? However, I am sure if he is still with us, he would be OK about the usage. The photo of Bobby Morse and I from the Broadway show, So Long 174th St was taken by Martha Swope