You Have No Idea: A Famous Daughter, Her No-Nonsense Mother, and How They Survived Pageants, Hollywood, Love, Loss (32 page)

When I left, I did what I always do after these meetings—I called Mom.

“That sounds like a great idea, Ness,” Mom said after I told her the latest. And I thought,
Okay, good, Mom wants me to do the show.
I still want Mom’s approval.

My first meeting with the cast was a read-through at Marc’s house. Everyone breezed in and embraced one another and told their summer vacation stories. They were about to begin their seventh year together and they were welcoming to me. And I was happy to have a job. Maybe I could boost their ratings by bringing in some of the
Ugly Betty
viewers who were in withdrawal. (Although, Wilhelmina would cringe if she saw some of Renee’s getups!) I’d also bring back the black audience who hadn’t seen a black main character since 2005 when Alfre Woodard was on the Lane and kept her son shackled like a slave in the basement.

It’s great when people come up to me and say, “Renee cracks me up. …. You are so funny.” But even better is being on the set and making the crew laugh while they’re watching. They’ll hold it in until the director says, “Cut!” Then there’s this roar of laughter. That’s the moment I live for.

I’ve had a lot of those moments.

A few years ago, I starred as the Witch in a revival of Stephen Sondheim’s
Into the Woods.
One day I’m rehearsing at the theater when I got the word that Stephen Sondheim decided he would rework “Last Midnight,” which is the Witch’s final, pivotal number. In this new version, the Witch would not only threaten the Baker and his wife but she would also take their baby and sing to it. This required more music and additional lyrics written by Sondheim for me!

There I am, at the theater waiting for Stephen to fax fresh lyrics. I flashed back to freshman year at Syracuse, when my friend Tim Thayer played Stephen’s song “There Won’t Be Trumpets” on the piano. I remembered the thrill of hearing this new music and learning about this brilliant composer. And now Stephen Sondheim’s writing music and lyrics for my character!

At that moment I thought,
How crazy—from student and dreamer to now being able to live my dream. It has manifested.

There aren’t too many times in my life that I go, “Wow, I can’t
believe this is actually happening.” Usually, I don’t realize the enormity of a moment until it has already passed. But it always hits me eventually. The first time I sang my version of “Last Midnight,” chills raced through my body. Just like they had the first time I sang with Barbara Cook or the first time I took over for Chita.

I thought to myself,
I’m part of Broadway history.

I remember a conversation I had with Phil Stewart, my acting teacher from Horace Greeley. At the time, I was just about to star in
Kiss of the Spider Woman
. I was excited and proud, but I also was frustrated with some of the press who kept bringing up Miss America. We were talking about my career and I complained a bit to him.

“I’m finally on Broadway and getting rave reviews, but Miss America will never go away. It’s always mentioned in articles, headlines, and descriptions of me.”

He looked at me and smiled. “Well, I guess that was your path. You know it doesn’t diminish your work. It doesn’t take away from everything you’ve done. You just have to accept it as part of your journey, part of your history.”

I realized he was right. Let it go. For better or worse, Miss America will always be a part of me. It doesn’t define me, but it will always be a part of my story.

I flashed back to that moment when I was pregnant with Melanie and a reporter had asked what I’d tell my child about the Miss America scandal. At the time I was offended and speechless. His question echoed in my head for years and years. How could he ask me such a thing? What
would
I tell my children?

Now I know the answer to that question. Because when they asked about Miss America, those photos, or any other part of my life, I told them what I always tell them—the truth.

After all, it was part of my journey that led me to them and to where I am today.

I sang “Happy Birthday” to Stephen Sondheim for his eightieth, just before James Lapine surprised him with his own theater, New York, March 22, 2010.

Performing with the legendary Barbara Cook on Broadway in
SONDHEIM ON SONDHEIM
,
New York, 2010

Performing my solo “Ah, But Underneath,” from the second act of
SONDHEIM ON SONDHEIM
,
New York, 2010

My
SONDHEIM ON SONDHEIM
dressing room at the legendary Studio 54, New York, 2010

Lunch with the girls from
UGLY BETTY
,
(left to right) Me, Judith Light, America Ferrera, Becki Newton, and Ana Ortiz, New York, 2010

My
UGLY BETTY
dressing room at Silvercup Studios, New York, 2009

Cohosting the ABC Inaugural Special in honor of President Barack Obama, Washington, D.C., January 2009

“Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied (Sing Ye to the Lord),” Bach Motet 1

My mother with her college mentor, Dr. Richard F. Sheil

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

M
om, you’ve provided me with the armor that gives me strength in my battles, the grace to make everything look effortless, and the humor to always look at life as a crazy unending adventure.

Dad, well, you get your own chapter in this book … not a day goes by that I don’t miss and love you.

To my insanely talented brother, Chris, who is a wonderful example of a Williams man. Incredible shoes for you to fill and your best is yet to come.

To Ramon, for not only believing in me when many didn’t but also giving me three gifts of life: Melanie, Jillian, and Devin.

To Rick, for cocreating our powerhouse daughter, Sasha Fox.

And of course thanks to my four most important and glorious productions, my children:

Melanie, you continue to unfold like a beautiful flower as you mature. I am so proud of your writing, your elegance, and your deep concern for others.

Jillian, you exude such passion for life! May it never cease and
may you continue to not be afraid to take chances. And we can’t forget your unique trait of bursting into tears at the sight of Chris Tucker or the thought of an injured Saint Bernard.