#SOBLESSED: the Annoying Actor Friend's Guide to Werking in Show Business (8 page)

Things weren’t looking that dark yet, though. Hits
like
The Producers
and
Hairspray
were going out Full Production,
so there were still opportunities and reasons to go on tour. Plus, the novelty
of being plucked out of a touring company to replace someone on Broadway was
still an alluring possibility. There was always a chance you’d get “bumped up”
because the show was still running in New York. Now, tours rarely launch until well
after their Broadway doppelgänger has posted a closing notice. Somewhere, a
stigma was developed that booking a touring production is not as good as booking
the Broadway production. Never mind that often the creative team goes back to
the drawing board to improve the show for the road and future regional
licensing. You’re not going to appreciate that, because you’re still wondering
why it took you six auditions for the Broadway company to book the tour.

Contract Experimentation

By 2004, Equity started dabbling in "experimental”
touring programs designed to accommodate the diverse economic conditions of
each show that went on the road by offering different tiers of salaries and
other compensations. Like any good taboo experimentation, our union (with its
members’ best interest at heart) bent over and firmly grabbed its ankles to Bottom
for the producers – and we all woke up with crabs in our eyes. Actors’
Equity’s experimental phase in touring gave birth to the bastard Tiered
Production Contract – and we’re not talking a cool bastard, like Jon
Snow. The Tiered Production Contract is full on Special-Ed-King-Joffrey-Inbred.

The Tiered Production Contract was a sexy excuse to
keep a show union while paying actors an amount based off how well the
producers thought a tour would perform financially. The formula to decide our
pay cut was based off words like “presenter, “guarantee,” and “Net Adjusted
Gross Box Office Receipts.” Now – I’m too drunk to explain what any of
that means, but it sounds pretty bad. Basically, the level of the tier is
reflective of the cost of running the show vs. potential money earned.
Productions that either cost too much to run or aren’t projected to make a lot
of money, are often placed on lower tiers. Can you imagine if this theory were
applied to Broadway productions? I mean like – wouldn’t
Scandalous:
the Life and Trials of a Kathie Gifford Vanity Piece
have been Tier C based
off its box office advance? Wouldn’t
Spider-Man: Turn Off the Crazy
be
Tier D based off its running cost? Why is this behavior acceptable on the road?
Is it only a matter of time before Actors’ Equity agrees to a tiered Short
Engagement Broadway Contract? Is anybody listening to me? #jazzhands.

Along Came SETA

There were originally six tiered categories ranging
from B to G. In 2008, it was discovered that by the time a production qualified
for the bottom three tiers, it was sold to a producer who would tour it non-equity.
That is when tiers E, F, and G spun off and became the SETA contract – which
has since grown to six categories itself. When I say “spun-off,” I’m not so
much talking a spin-off like
Frasier,
but more like the kind of spin-off
when three of the Golden Girls moved to Miami to run a hotel. If you don’t
understand that reference, then I’ll go back to the “bastard” one. Tiered
Production Contract Tours is to Special-Ed-King-Joffrey-Inbred as SETA Tours is
to people who think they’re too cool to watch
Game of Thrones
… God, I
suck at this – um … The SETA contract is so horrible it has two more
categories than cancer.

The SETA contract stands for, “Take a-SEAT-a Before
You Read That Paycheck.” It also stands for Short Engagement Touring Agreement.
The name suggests it was developed for small productions that tour for a short
time. Wrong! It applies to any open-ended tour that doesn’t play a given venue
longer than four weeks. So… Like… That’s
every tour
. SETA was originally
created to protect the integrity of the Production Contract. Production
Contracts are negotiated between the union and producers before SETA, to
prevent concessions granted in the SETA contract from creeping into the
Production Contract. At some point in the process, the SETA contract clawed its
dirty ass out of the sewer where it had been biding time and building strength
crudding up mucous and feeding off pond scum – and slashed the shit out
of the Production Contract.

Fuck It, Cheers!

It was around this time in the national touring
downward spiral that I gave up, married an IATSE member, and moved to Jersey to
sell real estate. I was like, “EFF THIS. I’ll let the stably employed spouse
provide, while I wait for Broadway to call again.” On another note, if you ever
want to know what’s happening with that workshop or out-of-town tryout you did,
talk to the IATSE guys. They know what theatre a show is going into before the
theatre owner.

After I quit touring, I got a bit disconnected from
how things went down between 2008 and 2011. I’ve even logged onto Google to
fill in the holes and complete the code, but it’s unclear exactly when the top
three tiers in the Tiered Production Contract got the “Red Wedding” treatment. It’s
like – one day I woke up and the first national tour of
Memphis
,
the Tony Award winner for Best Musical, was on a SETA contract, and I was like
– WTF? SETA all of a sudden had a first, second, and third category.
Pretty soon every tour was SETA. You know that when the
Les Miserables
tour
goes out SETA, we’re all screwed. Luckily, the “integrity of the Production
Contract” is safe because IT DOESN’T EXIST ANYMORE. The only producers who send
out Full Production Contract tours these days are just trying to share the size
of their man parts.

Don’t get me wrong; the SETA tour isn’t all that bad.
The top category’s weekly salary is $917 less than Production Contract, but you
get free housing! You don’t get free housing in New York! You also get $48 a
day to pay for food! I mean, you can buy groceries for one week from a single day
of per diem – unless you get stuck in a hotel with only a refrigerator and
a microwave, which is often. It’s amazing how fast you can burn through $48
before dinner because you don’t have a kitchen, and the thought of microwaving
egg whites one more time is disheartening.

Actors on tour used to live off their per diem and
bank their salary. I’m dating myself, right? In any given city, a healthy
omelet, green juice, Panera lunch, and sensible dinner will put you well over
your per diem – and god forbid you want a glass of wine or toke of reefer
after the show. If you’re without a kitchen on tour and want to save money,
you’re going to have to choose between your bank account and your body. Should
you choose the former, then kiss your waist goodbye, because it’s damn near
impossible to maintain your physique and fit into your costumes when the only
way to bank your salary is via Clif Bars and McDonald’s. #whatididforlove.

SETA also allows you to travel forty hours a week (and
up to ten hours a day) in a bus if it’s necessary. There’s even a clause in the
contract that allows for twelve-hour travel days for every thirteen weeks
– but they can be executed all at once if the producer wishes. That means
that for every fifty-two-week period, you might have to endure a twelve-hour
travel day,
four times
. I wouldn’t sweat the long travel days. I’m
certainly too old to sit in hip-flexion for ten hours after a five show
weekend, but you should be fine if you allot some of that per diem to Epsom
salt and a foam roller.

The Light is Getting Dimmer

While I could continue discussing why the present
touring life isn’t quite what it was in the past, I think it’s important we
look toward the future. The national tour contract tumbled down the slippery
slope of desperation out of fear. We, as a union, seem to be afraid that if we
stand our ground and try to get things back to the way they were, everything
will end up non-equity. If that’s the concern, then let me present you with an
example of how a recent Equity tour, that in an effort to stay union, is not a
lot different from the non-union tour that started this mess in the first
place. Second place? #yes. #how. #hmm. #ugh.

In the fall of 2013, a national tour launched
starring a household name that many people know from a famous 1960’s –
70’s TV show, but you might recognize from a show that was on the WB before it
became CW – and if you don’t know what the WB is, you’re dead to me. To
protect the integrity of this production, I’m going to change the name to
something completely random. Let’s just call it,
Shmello, Shmolly!
When
auditions for
Shmello, Shmolly!
were first published on
actorsequity.org, I was like, “Did I accidentally log onto The Onion? Is this
sarcasm?” The tour of
Shmello, Shmolly!
was slated to go out on a SETA
Category Six contract for $548 a week, in which it was to play a scheduled seventy-three
cities in six months. A 2011 – 2012 non-equity tour of a different
musical (
Shmiddler on the Shmoof
) played over ten cities less, in seven
months. Was this for real? Was there actually a universe where a non-equity
tour had less one-nighters than an Equity approved tour?

At $548 a week, it would be criminal for your agent
to take 10% from your paycheck. Under the assumption they take only 5%, and you
loose an additional 15% to taxes and 2% to dues, you’re looking at banking
around $427 a week. I’m still trying to figure out how potentially forty hours
of travel, plus twenty-four hours of performances a week, is better than
working two shifts at an average New York City bar for the same amount of
money. All this talk about numbers is making me want to play a game of what the
kids call #throwbackthursday, and compare the conditions of
Shmello,
Shmolly!
with the 2002 non-equity tour of
The Music Man
.

2002 Production Contract Minimum

$1,250

Alleged Non-Equity Salary

$450 + Housing + $35 per diem

Percentage of Production Contract Earned

55.6%

2013 Production Contract Minimum

$1,807

 
2013 SETA Category Six Salary

$548 + Housing + $48 per diem

Percentage of Production Contract Earned

48.9%

Getting the Chance to Perform and Share Your Gift

Priceless.

Based off those calculations, the cast of the non-equity
tour was closer to Production Contract than the Equity tour by 6.7%. If
The
Music Man
took place today, under the same conditions, it would be making
$121 more a week than
Shmello, Shmolly!
– if you adjust for
inflation.

Obviously there are exceptions to consider; mainly
that
The Music Man
was a big First National and
Shmello, Shmolly!
was
never intended to be anything more than a small bus and truck. However,
The
Music Man
caused so much of a stink in each city it visited
because
of the limited salary the actors were being paid. Union members picketed
because it was non-equity, but the media made a bigger deal out of how little
the actors were being compensated when the audiences were still paying premium
prices. To add to the oddity of this entire situation, tickets for
Shmello,
Shmolly!
are (in some cities) only ten dollars cheaper than the average
ticket price of the next Production Contract tour that follows it. I think it’s
a little bit dated to keep blaming the economy, when the average ticket prices
on the road are often more expensive than on Broadway – regardless of how
high or low the tier of the contract. Audiences aren’t being given a cut. Why
should we have to take one?

If we keep allowing concessions just for job
opportunities, it’s only a matter of time before the SETA Category Six goes
from being the exception, to the rule. We need to do something about it. And
like any good member of AEA, I’m going to fight the only way I know how –
by venting to you over cocktails and then never attending a meeting or voting
in any union elections.

I’ll drink to that… I could use another drink… Does
anyone still wear a show jacket?

***

OLD TIMES IS HARD

It was at that moment when my First-National Relic
completely blacked-out on the bar at Chelsea Grill. I appreciated their story,
but isn’t it just like the Old Annoying Actor Friend to highlight how much
better life was when they were in their prime? Things might not be as good
– but who are they to discourage us from following our dream of touring
the country doing what we love?

If the SETA contract was only created to make jobs
available for union members, then we should jump on those opportunities because
it’s a chance to perform! We should be #grateful. Performing gives our position
within this business some credibility and validates our life choice. Even if
the SETA contract is just a Sad Excuse To Act, you can still have a lot of fun
– even if you can’t afford to buy fruit when you’re hungry in between
shows. #workiswerk.

However, there were some valuable life-lessons about
touring that I was able to deduce from what my Old Annoying Actor Friend mumbled
through their boozy-delusional-fog. This business is a job. You go to a job to
make money to support your life. When you go out of town, you forfeit your life,
in an effort to have a better life when you get home. You don’t go on tour
because you want to see Scranton. If you have a valid reason to go on tour,
then by all means, do it. If you’re breaking out of the ensemble to play a role
– go on tour. If you just got out of a relationship and need a
distraction – go on tour. If you’re a vagabond or right out of college,
without an apartment, bills, or responsibilities – go on tour. Do not go
on tour just to scrape by. If you go on tour, find the appropriate time to do
so, know when to quit, and know when to make the decision never to do it again.
Much like “swinging,” touring credits on a résumé only take you so far before
they risk becoming your identity within this industry.