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Turning into Tracy

As she preps for her Hairspray debut, Michelle Dowdy is overwhelmed to find herself among Broadway's cast of professionals.

By LANE DEGREGORY
Published December 6, 2005


photo
[Times photos: Cherie Diez]
On her first night in New York, Michelle Dowdy looks at the city from the window of her room at the Hudson Hotel. She couldn’t believe this city had suddenly become her home. Broadway, where she would start work the next day, was only a few blocks away.

 
Michelle practices songs from Hairspray during her first rehearsal with the show’s musical director, Lon Hoyt. The session took place in Hoyt’s office, backstage at the Neil Simon Theatre on Broadway.  

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Musical director Lon Hoyt was surprised Michelle already knew all the songs from Hairspray. As they rehearsed on her first morning in New York, he asked her how long she had the cast album. She smiled. “Since it came out.”
Hear audio from Michelle Dowdy's Gibbs High performances:
Michelle Dowdy sings Good Morning Baltimore and I Can Hear the Bells
Michelle, left, meets actor Shannon Durig outside the stage door. Durig was starring as Tracy, the show’s lead. Michelle had come to New York to be her understudy. She longed to play the part “for real.”
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Somewhere in the darkness, her cell phone was ringing. Michelle Dowdy rolled over in a too-big bed, wondering where she was. Lamps with painted faces stared at her from the end tables. Her purple suitcase was propped against the wall.

In Michelle's sleepy haze it dawned on her: New York! It was May 31 and she was waking up in the Hudson Hotel, a few blocks from Broadway - where, just out of high school, she would start work that day.

She answered the phone (Yes, Mom, I'm fine, sorry I forgot to call), caught some more sleep, then enjoyed a long soak in the tub. After a stop for a burger, a Coke and a slice of cheesecake ($26!), she made her way to the Neil Simon Theatre at the corner of Broadway and 52nd.

Hairspray, the marquee read. A giant, glittering purple can towered above the building.

Michelle stared up at it. She had always wanted to be here. But now that she was, she couldn't help wondering whether she belonged.

As she stood there, starstruck, a thin, dark-haired woman approached with her hand extended. "Welcome!" she said. "Welcome to Broadway!"

***

Margo Lion, the show's lead producer, is the one who cast Michelle as the understudy for the role of Tracy Turnblad. She escorted Michelle into the old theater and introduced her to Hairspray's publicist.

"She's got a great voice. She's a wonderful dancer," Lion enthused as the publicist nodded. "She has an authenticity about her, and a genuine warmth."

Blushing beneath her freckles, Michelle shuffled her feet.

Through a thick gray door, up a narrow flight of stairs, Lion led Michelle to a cramped corner office. Stage manager Frank Lombardi got up to greet her.

"You'll be watching the show tonight, and probably for a while, from the audience," he said. "We'll rehearse you two or three times a week until you're ready to go on."

Michelle nodded, and they were off again. Lombardi guided her up another winding staircase, past head shots of former cast members. She recognized some: that woman was on One Life to Live; that man had been on Too Close for Comfort. She was part of this now, one of them.

Lombardi said they were going to meet the person who would do her hair.

"I'll have my own hairdresser?" she asked.

"And a dresser . . . and a makeup artist . . . and a wardrobe supervisor . . ."

"That's awesome. This is awesome," Michelle said. Her face hurt from smiling.

She learned she would have three wigs, six dresses and four pairs of shoes, each custom-made.

"Now, you'll want to come meet your mother," Lombardi said. "He's right in here."

A huge man with frizzy hair hurtled out of his dressing room. He was wearing a flowered housedress. She knew him immediately: Bruce Vilanch from Hollywood Squares. He crushed her in a bear hug.

"Oh," he bubbled, "you're cute as a peach."

***

She sat that evening in the center of the seventh row, beneath the gilded dragons circling the domed ceiling. At a minute past 7, the lights dimmed and the fluted curtain rose. A huge bed was balanced vertically at center stage.

On it, a chubby girl in a big wig was stretching and yawning.

As Tracy sang Good Morning, Baltimore, Michelle felt she was watching someone playing her. Through the whole show, perched on the edge of her crushed velvet seat, she mouthed the words, swaying and clapping, laughing louder than anyone at jokes she already knew.

Afterward, outside the stage door, she met more of the cast while they signed autographs. Michelle had never signed an autograph. She couldn't imagine anyone wanting hers. "Did you find a place to live yet?" an actor asked.

"No," she answered. "I haven't even started looking."

The stage manager came out, bearing a black three-ring binder. "Your script," he said. "Tomorrow, 10 a.m., we need you here to learn the music. Bring a tape recorder and a blank tape."

"Thank you! I will."

Michelle turned and walked up Broadway, her feet throbbing in the stilettos her mom had bought her for graduation, wondering where she could buy a tape recorder at 11 p.m. and how to hail a cab.

***

The musical director's office is a cluttered cubby with green walls, the windows painted shut and an air conditioner held in place with duct tape. It's far from glamorous, backstage at Broadway.

"Okay, so we'll run through the whole thing," Lon Hoyt said. Michelle hadn't found a tape recorder, so Hoyt let her borrow one.

She sang the opening number sitting down, right on time, right on key. Hoyt noticed she didn't look at the score. "You did your homework!" he said. "How long have you been listening to the cast album?"

Michelle wrinkled her nose. "Ever since it came out."

Her character, Tracy, sings 10 songs. During the first half of the show, she leaves the stage only for a 20-second costume change.

"So what you need to work on," Hoyt said, "is stamina. Practice singing on a treadmill."

Michelle laughed.

"I'm serious," he said.

***

"All right, we're going to torture you into playing Tracy, are we?" asked a white-haired woman with a lilting British accent. It was the next day and Michelle was standing in a fitting room at Euro Co. Costumes, chewing gum.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions here," said the woman, Janet Bloor.

Height? 5 feet 2. Weight? 172. Dress size? 14. Hose? Large. Allergies? Pollen.

Bloor laughed. That one had been a joke.

"We'll be making you a bum pad to hide the mike, and they'll probably want me to do other padding," she said. "There's a specific silhouette they're looking for."

Her bum sufficiently sized up, Michelle had to go to a custom shoe-fitter, blocks away. She stepped off the curb and thrust her right hand into the air, toward traffic. Three days in the city and she was hailing taxis.

At T.O. Dey Custom Fitted Shoes, the owner ushered Michelle into a side room. "Sit on the bench, take your shoes off," Gino Bifulco said. She handed him an order sheet. "Ahh, you're going to be Tracy."

He traced her foot on a piece of paper, measured its width, length and height. Bifulco has made shoes for Mariah Carey, Jerry Seinfeld, Julie Andrews. He would make Michelle buckled black dance shoes, checkered Keds with custom arches and hot pink pumps for the grand finale.

"When are you going on?" he asked.

When? Well . . .

They told her she would start rehearsal that week. They said she could go on as the understudy - her Broadway debut! - within a month.

They didn't tell her everything.

ABOUT THE SERIES

It is based on six months of reporting. St. Petersburg Times writer Lane DeGregory and photographer Cherie Diez met Michelle Dowdy and Karla Harris in May. They interviewed Michelle and her mom, as well as Michelle's teachers, friends and relatives in Florida. They also made three trips to New York City, where they interviewed the producer, stage manager and musical director of Hairspray and watched Michelle at work on Broadway. Most of the scenes described were witnessed by the reporters. Others are based on people's recollections.

Lane DeGregory can be reached at 727 893-8825 or degregory@sptimes.com Cherie Diez can be reached at (727) 893-8048 or cdiez@sptimes.com

SUNDAY: Broadway calls

MONDAY: Goodbye, Mom

TODAY: Turning into Tracy

THURSDAY: Are you happy, Honey?

FRIDAY: Waiting in the wings

SUNDAY: Showtime

Third of six stories.

[Last modified December 7, 2005, 14:26:57]


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