Today is the 40th birthday of
Julianna Margulies.
Why is this something blog-worthy (my blog specifically?)
When I moved to New York, on the advice and with the encouragement of an actor friend, I auditioned for and was accepted into a theater program created by a Sanford Meisner disciple (and a member of the Neighborhood Playhouse), which would lead to my eligibility to join the Chelsea Repertory Theater Company. (Okay, so it’s off-off-off-off Broadway but remains a fine troupe of actors.) Julianna was one the students in my course. It would be a few years before she would be awarded an Emmy for her performance in ER but at that time we were all coffee-swilling, Marlboro-toking, New York
artistes, just “livin’ the life.” We were not close friends but enjoyed random discussions in between exercises. She left after the first trimester of training, tired of only working at her craft – she wanted to know about "the business."
When I was performing in my first Repertory show (I played the mountain village incorrigible slightly-retarded and physically deformed girl with no sense of social decorum – hence the comedy relief in a theater piece about how a society and religious fanaticism controls it people,) she was in the audience. The next day, we were assembled at the theater for director’s notes and various scene run-throughs to prepare for that evening. As we were finishing up, she arrived at the theater to "well-wish." I knew she had “gone Hollywood” and since she seemed to have more to say to the others than to me, I kept my distance. Plus, I thought it was cheesy the way that some of them were glibly imploring her to remark about their
particular performances. When most of the them had filed out, to grab naps or food before the evening show, I was still there hanging around– probably to monkey about the set, even though it was not encouraged (but I rarely paid attention to the rules.) When I was done and went to take my bag and head home, I noticed she was approaching me. I smiled and said, “Hey Julianna! How are you? How's–” And then, she hugged me. I was astonished. Mainly because I was the troublesome one of the group and that I was never dressed or acted like a NYC sophisticate. My best outfit was jean cut-offs, cowboy boots, a crisp, white tee-shirt and leather jacket – compared to her fine clothes and demure and aloof elegance. When the embrace was finished she stepped back to look at me and say, “I saw the show last night. You were amazing, I mean it. You have really become a talented actress.” I was floored and blathered out "thank you but really I messed up this one line
again..." I also noticed we were the only two people remaining in the performance space, which lessened some of the good feeling from her compliment. I was also amazed at her attention toward me. Had she forgotten about her constant scowling at me because during our first trimester of intensive Meisner-training, the instructor often picked on me (often to my dismay) to make his point ranging from what
not to do on stage
BUT how to channel charismatic and boundless, physical energy. I was so volatile and lively but also dedicated to my craft; in hindsight I was a good instrument with which to make a point about whatever we were learning. (Parenthetically, during a scene from A View from the Bridge, to make a point, I removed my tee shirt and bra – witnessed by everyone – then replaced my leather jacket over my naked torso to illustrate the point that I would convince the slumlord to
consider an alternative form of rent payment.)
Within that year of performing in two other plays for the company, I moved to London to spend several months working as an artist’s publicist (sans pay - he was my London slumlord) and to test my fiction writing ability.
When I returned to New York, it was autumn. I was still quite disoriented and confused about my artistic future after my out-of-America experiences. One afternoon, while I was walking down West 16th street, where I lived, I noticed a bundle of TV Guides lying by the kerb ready for recyclables collection. The top issue in the stack had a picture of what I 'thought' was Julianna, holding an Emmy. I had been away for many months and wondered if I was mistaken about what I saw (the bundle was yucky with sidewalk
schmaltz, so I didn't dare touch it.) When I was inside of my apartment, I called a friend from the theater company, someone I had seen at least three times since I returned from London ("I know you are coming back on that day, but it's my 30th, so you had
better show up at my party.") I told him what I thought I had just seen.
He replied flatly, in his signature campy, irascible tone, “What’s
wrong with you?! Last spring while you were
doing whatever in England – by the way you missed my best performance so far, in a Clifford Odets play – Julianna won an Emmy for her role as Nurse Hathaway on ER. Don't they have
news over there? I guess I didn't mention it to you because I am
still so jealous!”
“Oh,” was all I could say.
I realized that I hadn’t followed American TV or read
fluff news the entire time that I was in England.
Happy 40th, Julianna, you look fabulous!
