Tag Archives: werk


The following excerpt on touring is from “#SOBLESSED: the Annoying Actor Friend’s Guide to Werking in Show Business.”

     In the Roman Catholic religion, there are artifacts known as “relics.” Relics are items closely associated with saints. If you are lucky, one day you’ll meet someone who toured the country on a Full Production Contract, and that person is known as a First-National Relic. If you come in contact with this rare entity, I suggest you spend significant time in its presence. The First-National Relic is sacred. They are an ancient national treasure. They existed in a time when people actually went on the road to save money. They indulged in superfluous luxuries they didn’t even need. The First-National Relic owns an apartment. They may even own a second property in a foreign location such as The Poconos. The only confirmed whereabouts you can witness this endangered species in action is in whatever city Wicked, The Lion King, Jersey Boys, or The Book of Mormon is playing – where they hide safely within their holy sanctuary.

     What events transpired to bring along the extinction of the Full Production Contract tour? Take a trip back in time with me as I attempt to transcribe the somewhat booze-hazy yarn I learned at Chelsea Grill, from a First-National Relic (who I’ll lovingly refer to as Old Annoying Actor Friend) that used to drink at a place called Marlowe – which is now the Brazilian BBQ joint next to Joe Allen’s on 46th Street.

The Fall of the First National

A Drunk-matic Tale Told in the Words of Your Old Annoying Actor Friend

     In the past, when you were no more than a babe, I earned an enviable living out on the open road. In those days, you didn’t go on tour to pay bills. You went on tour to buy timeshares. Now, your weekly tour salary is like the $200 you get in Monopoly when you pass GO, before rounding a corner filled with hotels. It didn’t always used to be like that…

A Long Time Ago, in a Broadway Season Far, Far Away…

     There once was a revival of The Music Man, directed and choreographed by Susan Stroman. It was nominated for a lot of awards, but it didn’t win any – except one. The 2001 First National Tour of The Music Man holds the esteemed acclaim of being “The First Time a First National Touring Company Launched Non-Union.” I think the cast was making about 76-trom-BONES a week. This pissed off everyone. Equity actors were picketing cities all over the country. Newspaper articles ran in local papers. There was even general outrage among non-theatrical folk for the injustice of paying actors so little to perform while charging premium ticket prices to audience members. The Music Man required a gigantic cast, and the producers felt that the only way to tour the show at all was to send out a non-union company for (allegedly) salaries as low as $450 a week, plus housing and a $35 per diem. Actors’ Equity was certainly not going to agree for any of their valued union members to work under such conditions. HELL NO. Steps needed to be taken to ensure this did not happen to a First National Tour ever again.

A New Kind of Tour

     When Actors’ Equity was given the chance to co-develop a cheaper way for producers to send actors out on the road, they freakin’ jumped on that shit. AEA was like, “Please don’t send the tour out non-equity! The Music Man was a mistake and we know that! We’ll do anything!” And that is when the very first Multi-City Ass Rape Tour was born. For now, we’ll just call it 42nd Street. The First National Tour of 42nd Street launched in August of 2002 under the newly conceived “Special Agreement Tour Contract” (a.k.a. Special Agreement to Be Paid Shit) with a minimum weekly salary of $575. That sounds like music to my ears. Come on along and listen to, the Lulla-bye-bye of Your Dignity. It might seem like a lot of money if you only make $30 at the dairy – but the 42nd Street tour was playing first-rate cities, including a sit-down at the Ahmanson in Los Angeles, while the exact same production continued to run on Broadway, where the cast made over twice the amount. But – hey! At least the tour was union!

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?



     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.


#SOBLESSED: The Annoying Actor Friend’s Guide to Werking in Show Business is available on Amazon Kindle and paperback!

Things I Wish I Had Been Told at [CCM/CMU/Michigan/Anywhere Else Is Irrelevant]

My actor friend, Callam Rodya, recently published some of the fundamental lessons he learned while pursuing an acting career in Canada. However, I believe the life of an actor in New York City is somewhat different.

I may have just graduated from my BFA program last May, but I spent an entire summer pounding the pavement before booking my first Broadway show in September. That difficult time in my life provided me with several lessons that I wish were shared with me before I walked off the stage at my showcase and into the offices at Gersh.

  1. “Stealing the show” is not a compliment. It means you were trying to have a “moment” when the rest of the ensemble was discussing dinner plans and making fun of the principals. Like you’re supposed to…
  2. You’d be surprised how few of your friends and family, or people with a personal connection to you are not willing to pay for theatre tickets whatsoever.
  3. You can totes play roles in your forties when you’re in your twenties. But, only if you book something out of StrawHats or NETCs, and nobody takes that shit seriously on your resume.
  4. By the same token, there are very few roles in the theatre for twenty-year-olds, unless someone from the casting office went to your school. Then that shit don’t matter.
  5. The stage manager may work harder than you. But technically, they don’t werk harder than you.
  6. Most people get drunk on Opening Night…because they can always callout the next day… dzuh. So, don’t ever be a swing.
  7. Being attractive and under twenty-five is the single MOST important thing you can do after you graduate.
  8. Background work does shit for your career. But posting the words, “on set,” “early call,” and “Craft Services” on social media will fool your friends back home into thinking you’re #nailingit.
  9. Unions are awesome when you’re on Broadway and the worst when you’re on tour.
  10. When people said you would be poor thanks to your brilliant career choice, it’s because their parents aren’t paying for their apartment. And that’s okay.
  11. EPAs and ECCs are on one level. Actual appointments are a completely different level altogether.
  12. Directors, casting agents, and producers care as much about how easy you will be to drink with as they do about how moderately acceptable you are for the role.
  13. Remember how you used to have five weeks to get off book? It’ll be another five weeks before there is a finished book.
  14. Save up a certifiable shit-ton of money if you’re going to move to New York. That is, if you want to actually be able to live off unemployment, prep for Broadway Bares at the gym, day drink, netwerrk, and you know, any of those other career-building essentials.
  15. Don’t do everything. Seriously. Know when to turn something down. And believe me, you’ll know. (i.e. SETA, LORT, LOA, GUEST ARTIST, 99- SEAT, COST, DINNER THEATRE, SHOWCASE)
  16. It’s not unreasonable to expect to be paid for your work. But you won’t always be. So when you do regional theatre, which will be a lot, make sure that after taxes and agent fees, the contract is more than you are making on unemployment plus your under the table job.
  17. Ninety percent of casting decisions have everything to do with whether or not you’re wearing Lululemon.
  18. Most of the time, when you don’t get the part, it’s not because you suck, it’s because you weren’t in someone on the creative team’s previous project.
  19. Nothing is more important than appearance. Sleep is important, but don’t skip the gym to take a nap. After all, there’s always frozen spoons and a hair and makeup person on set. But they aren’t a fucking wizard when it comes to your body.
  20. Take your “me” time. And make sure to share it on Facebook.
  21. Don’t embrace your “physical flaws.” Just try desperately to forget they’re there.
  22. Don’t actually spend money on Schmackary’s. Wait until they show up at your rehearsal studio. That means you’ve arrived.
  23. The camera really does add ten pounds. So don’t eat the Schmackary’s.
  24. No matter how big of a star you were in school, out here, just keep acting like it. Somehow that shit pays off.
  25. Acting is actually easier than you want to believe it is. And more people can do it naturally than you want to believe. And I want you to remember that when you pay your soul-sucking student loan every month.
  26. You are replaceable. And probably by someone like Karen Cartwright.
  27. Stage and screen are completely different worlds, unless you’re on SMASH, then you can act to the back of the house.
  28. You thought there was “technique” to acting on stage? Just wait until you have to be happy for your friend that booked the role you were up for.
  29. Rehearsals are hard. Actors weren’t meant to work from 10 – 6.
  30. It is not okay to be drunk, stoned, high, or any other kind of intoxicated while you work. That’s what travel days are for.
  31. Try not to get discouraged/cynical/jaded/resentful right after graduation. Wait until you’re about two weeks into your first Broadway show.
  32. And finally, don’t go down this path just because you’re “good enough” to be a professional actor. For the love of God, do it because you think you are.

Always be #grateful and #SoBlessed.