FRASIER

"Can you make a 10:30 AM audition for FRASIER tomorrow?" The call came in at 8:30 PM Thursday night. "If you get it, you will go right to work, and then rehearse Monday and tape it Tuesday." said the beleaguered casting assistant, apologizing for the late call. "What happened? Did the other guy die or something?" I wondered aloud. "The part was added at the last minute. So I’ll Fax you the sides right now. Any questions, call me." and she hung up.

I turned to my old pal Roger, "Sorry." We were in the middle of our second cocktail, prior to our yearly dinner together. I was somewhat surprised by the call, I explained, because I had elected not to inform my agents that I was in town, and was taking the month off. But apparently another casting director and good friend, had recommended me, and as Roger pointed out, "Why not?" He was right. The show was immensely popular, and wouldn’t it be fun to have a job just before a scheduled trip to Ireland.

At this point the FAX kicked in and out came the "sides" with dialogue that seemed to come from some corporate type. "I can do this." I reasoned, already deciding which suit to wear. Then I read the last line: "I may have come out of that board meeting Joe Martin, corporate sell-out, but I am going back in there Jose Martinez, man of principle." "Jose Martinez!" What the hell was going on here? An almost archetypal WASP, there is nothing about me that says Mexican. (Although I did play a Puerto Rican Jew called Gutierrez once, but that’s another story for another day.) But an Hispanic? What were they thinking of?

But mine is not to reason why, merely to turn up Friday morning and give it my best shot. In fact Friday was already going to be a busy day, since my friend John DeLancie ("Q" from Star Trek) was having his 50th birthday party that night and I was on the set-up committee. So Roger and I worked on the piece, between mouthfulls of dinner. After he left, I committed it to memory and went to bed excited but cranky at the knowledge that another sleepless night lay ahead.

When I arrived at Paramount Studios the following morning, I was directed to a waiting room full of corporate looking actors, who not only wore identical suits but also looked unnervingly like me. "This must be the place." I reasoned. In fact one of the guys had a photo so similar to mine, I handed it by mistake to the casting assistant when she asked for mine. Soon each of the other auditionees was taken into the inner sanctum, until finally it was my turn. After my first reading, I was asked to repeat the audition about five times, each time directed to highlight various script points. Given that most of the dialogue had been changed since the night before, this was easier said than done.

To cut to the chase, I got the part. I shook hands with the producer asking, "What are you going to say to the Latino community, who are going to be up in arms over this?" He cast me a baleful look and advised me to shut up about it. And then I was taken over to the sound stage where I was walked onto the FRASIER set and met the director and of course all the cast, and immediately began rehearsing. Plotwise, I had no idea what was going on, since I hadn’t as yet been given a script, but the safe thing to do I figured was to talk loud, stand still and keep looking at Kelsey Grammer. Then we had a run-through in front of about 25 producers, who all laughed when I said I was "Jose Martinez." And even Chris Lloyd the big producer congratulated me on a job well done. I shook hands with Kelsey, signed contracts, went to a fitting and was home by 1PM, having started at 11AM.

At home, I sat at my desk in disbelief, all the while, re-writing my resume and planning to make a few calls to the publicity department of my series in Toronto. "But a Mexican," I worried, looking out my window, where alot of real Mexicans were working on my property fixing the damage from "El Nino." Switching to my "to-do"list, I made a note to tell Dan Butler, a regular on FRASIER, how wonderful he had been in his one man show, and to inform Perry Gilpin that she had once been a neighbor. And hey, the director had gained some recent notoriety as the new artistic director of the Pasadena Playhouse, so I was sure there would be some future work there. Then too, the role of "Martinez" was supposed to be recurring, so I would have to be flown in by the studio from Toronto, for my next appearance, which, if I were good enough might become a regular. I would probably make just a few hundred thousand the first year, I day dreamed, but after that they would have to re-negotiate, and I’d get half a mil easy. Look at the cast of SEINFELD! In no time, I was sure, I would be in a co-starring situation with Kelsey. They’d have to get rid of that wretched "Niles." And probably want to re-name the show, FRASIER AND MARTINEZ!

Just then the phone rang and it was my commercial agent. I had to use him to do the deal, since my theatrical agency had gone belly-up (yet another story). He was probably just reporting the deal, which had already been explained to me: top of the show, which was about $3000.00. "Well, you probably have the highest hourly rate in the business." he joked. "I am glad we got what we wanted." I countered. "And they really liked you. They’ll use you again; they promised. "In the recurring part, you mean?" I asked. "No, next season. The casting director said that everyone loved you. They just decided to go really Hispanic with the part. Heavy accent and everything." "You mean, I was fired?" I gasped. "Oh my God, I thought they told you." the agent whimpered. Just then the casting agent who had originally recommended me called and joked that I probably made more money per hour than the President. $3000.00 for two hours work was not bad. Plus they really thought I was wonderful she assured me, and that they would promise to use me next season. And would I send in three 8X10’s with resumes to the office.

Absolutely stunned, I got dressed and headed over to DeLancie’s place to join the rest of the decorating committee. On the way, I ran into a traffic jam, which gave me a moment to reflect on this amazing turn of events. Clearly, we had a no fault situation here. After all I had gotten the part. And they then, realized what I had known all along, that "Martinez" should have gone to anHispanic actor. So the good news was that I got the $3000.00, since I had already signed the contract. And the cost to repair the damages from "El Nino" were estimated at $3000.00. This was perfect. What a joke. What a lark. What a life!

Unfortunately, too much time on the freeway gave my mind a chance to kick in. I have long ago come to the realization that my mind is not my friend, and sure enough, here it was suggesting: "If you had turned a little more sharply on your exit, you could have gotten a bigger laugh. And a snappy gesture on the word "salsa" would have nailed that line. Maybe a dark eyebrow pencil would have sold the Mexican thing better. Then they wouldn’t have fired you!" (It’s a wonder that I am not in a mad house.)

At the party that night, a cluster of semi-celebrities (Leonard Nemoy, KateMulgrew, Dwight Something-or-other from the A-TEAM) and 50 others waited for the birthday boy to appear. I smiled conspiratorially at the guy next to me. To my horror, he turned out to be Chris Lloyd, the producer of FRASIER, the very one who had fired me. I turned quickly away, as did he. I simply couldn’t bring myself to talk to him because it might look like I was trying to get the job back. He on the other hand was probably fearful of dealing with another crazed actor, particularly one he had just fired. So instead we got down to the business at hand which was to watch my friend John make a tearful entrance to his 50th surprise birthday party.

© Bruce Gray 1998