I had seen barely a handful of musicals in commercial theatres, so I was not really prepared for the power of Carousel to move people.  What a play!  What words!  What music!  Carousel is the best melding of lyrics, music, plot, character, feelings and social depth that’s ever been created for the musical stage, and I couldn’t stop watching.  Though I’d only been asked to watch Johnny Henson’s movements, I was so enthralled by the music and words I couldn’t leave my spot in the wings.

I memorized all the second tenor parts on the train home that night and then went on to study my lines.  What were the first lines I was to shout in my professional theatrical career?  Being “1st Man” in Act I, Scene 3, I amazed the weary commuters  with the immortal, “Nettie!,” “Got any of them dough-nuts fried yet?,” “Are y’cookin’ the ice cream?” and ”Where’s Nettie?”  They looked at me like I was crazy, but I was riding too high to be brought down by wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

Johnny Henson was generous to me with his time, showed me where to stand in the wings, when to enter, where to be in the various numbers, what costumes to wear and when to change, etc.  Richmond Paige told me what makeup to buy (and where) and taught me how to apply it.  Our Musical Conductor Joseph Littau found me on Monday night before the curtain went up and said, “Don’t look directly at me, but watch me out of the side of your eye for all entrances and cutoffs.  I will be very clear.”  Stage Manager Andy Anderson told me, “Happy show, Bill.”  And I was on!

Act I, Scene 1: Dressed in an ice cream suit, I sold prop cones in pantomime, no problem.  Act I, Scene 3: I was a sailor, got my lines out, sang “June is Bustin’ Our All Over,” no problem.  Marveled at tenor Eric Mattson’s vocal ease with the difficult “When the Children Are Asleep.”  Then came “Blow High, Blow Low.”  I was doing just fine until—just before the hornpipe, with a specialty dance to be performed by Kenneth MacKenzie and Tanya Bechenova—I was standing onstage, trying to figure out where Johnny Henson had said I should be, when MacKenzie started running from offstage and made a spectacular flying leap to his usual landing spot onstage: right on top of ME.  Oops!  Picked himself up and proceeded to do his hornpipe, glaring at me sideways.  He was steaming!  Couldn’t wait to get off stage after the number and find me.  He berated me so loudly for being where I shouldn’t have been, for not watching out for him, for twisting his ankle, for ruining his career as well as his health, etc., that Andy Anderson had to come over and shush him and lead him away.  MacKenzie didn’t speak to me the whole three months I was in the show.

Continuing with my first professional stage experience, I held my breath as Henry Michel sang through the incredible “Siloloquy,” then I made the finale to Act I, no problem.  Act II, Scene 1 begins with “This Was a Real Nice Clambake;” I’m still a sailor, lying down with my head on the tummy of the beautiful Grace Bruns.  I can feel her breathe diaphragmatically as she sings her part, and look forward to doing that number again.  I watch Iva Withers sing “What’s the Use of Wond’rin’” from the side of the stage and realize what a wonderful singing actress she is.  In Act II, Scene 2, I go onstage to watch “Billy Bigelow” die, then stumble offstage to watch Iva Withers cry as she listens to Jane McGowan sing “You’ll Never Walk Alone.”  She cries every performance.  And suddenly we’re into the finale.  I’m in my blue serge graduation suit, facing straight out into the audience, and as we go through the scene I become aware that I can see the front row of the audience and watch nearly the whole front row reach for their handkerchiefs and sit there and cry.  As we sing the final chorus of “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” there are tears in my eyes, too.  And after the final curtain and bows, I just sit there stunned with emotion.

I remained in that stunned state as I hung up my costumes, took off my makeup, put on my street clothes, said goodnight to my new friends, walked over to the I.C. Station, rode south to Harvey, and ran home in the dark.  Carousel is not only a visceral experience to see, it is even more-so to be in.  I played 102 performances with that company, I’ve seen it several times, and in later years I played “Billy Bigelow” in five different productions.  I has never failed to grab me, hold me, and truly thrill me.  What geniuses were Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II.