» Columnist’s cameo:
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel columnist Jim Stingl plays a guest walk-on part in a Milwaukee Repertory Theater performance of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol.”
By the time I stepped on stage, Ebenezer Scrooge was already a changed man with Christmas in his heart.
The ghosts had come and gone, and I was milling around with fellow London townsfolk to marvel at the old grump’s transformation from miserly to magnanimous.
I stood — and I can’t stress enough how surreal this felt — alongside the professionals of the Milwaukee Repertory Theater in front of 1,000 people at the historic Pabst Theater for one night’s performance of the timeless classic, “A Christmas Carol.”
They call it a guest walk-on. It comes with no lines to deliver, which was fine with me. I was on stage less than 10 minutes, so there was no danger of me becoming the Ghost of Christmas Pest.
My night to remember was last week Tuesday. Marquette University President Michael Lovell did it the following night. TMJ4 anchor Susan Kim had her chance the previous week. Hank the ballpark pup walked on for the second straight year.
An invitation to join the show came in August, giving me four solid months to be nervous about it. A week before my moment on stage, I visited the Rep to be fitted for a gray ankle-length cape coat, Canadian beaver top hat, cravat, scarf and gloves.
But the freakiest final touch was the mustache and bushy sideburns device created by Rep wig master Lara Dalbey. Itchy and colorfully named a hulihee, it hooked behind my ears like a pair of glasses.
Frances White, the Rep’s director of media relations, explained my character’s role, which was to react with interest while Scrooge exhibits his newfound joy to his nephew Fred. Then I’m back for the finale to join in the singing of a new song, “God Bless Us Everyone.”
“You won’t be miked, so don’t worry if you’re on key or not,” she said.
“But remember,” costume shop assistant Amy Horst chimed in, “you’re going to be surrounded by people who do have mikes, so don’t take license to sing like ‘In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida,’ because it will get picked up.”
OK, no Iron Butterfly from 120 years in the future. Check. I’m learning how this theater thing works. Maybe I could be in “Hamilton” next. Or just even get tickets to “Hamilton.”
The night of the show finally arrived. Rep digital content manager Austin Bean was assigned to keep track of me. I got in costume and we hung out with other cast members in the basement below the Pabst stage.
It was funny to see 19th-century street urchins passing time on their smartphones. Tighe Leszczynski, 13, showed me how to play a game where you try to connect two disparate things as quickly as possible using just Wikipedia links. Then he and Liam Jeninga, also 13, tried teaching me to juggle.
Actors would whoosh in and out of the waiting area, depending on which scenes required their presence. When a show runs nine times a week, everyone settles into a confident rhythm.
I was able to ascend to the stage level and watch parts of the performance from the wings. At first, I couldn’t figure out who Scrooge was talking to about the best way to handle these ghosts, and then I realized it was the audience shouting advice to him. That’s new this year, and the kids in the house seemed to love it.
When it was my turn to finally walk on stage, I was instructed to follow actresses Deborah Staples and Kat Moser and stay close to them. I happily complied. Their rehearsal time is measured in months, mine in minutes.
I tried not to fall down or lose my hat or direct my gaze at the three tiers of people who paid to see professional actors. The cast of 39 and I sang the song, with me faking a lot of the words. We bowed and we waved and wished the audience a merry Christmas. And then the curtain fell. Not on me, I’m happy to report.
I’m no Hank the dog, but the critics — my kids in the audience — said my walk-on was a cut above bah humbug.