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Broadway Bound They'd like to be stars; first they need to learn how to get a foot in the door By Anne Downey '95G Photos by Perry Smith/UNH Photographic Services

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Also read: A Year of Celebration

Let me hear your raptor call," a casting agent asks a student, who has listed the talent under "Special Skills" on her resume. From deep in the student's chest, an otherworldly, half-human, half-animal scream emerges and fills the audition room. "Good," the agent says. Three other agents at the table interrupt their note taking to glance up—apparently raptor calls are unusual at auditions, even in New York.

The next student places his hands on the floor, kicks his legs over his head, and walks perfectly balanced across the room (Special Skill: Walking on Hands). "OK," an agent says. Not as special as the raptor call. Then the actor sings the anthem "Go the Distance" from "Hercules."

Kris Coughlin '10, left, Laura Loy '10 and Allie Hadwen '10 on Broadway.

"I see you playing more of a character role, something funnier," an agent comments. "Something like—"

"Lefou!" another agent chimes in, naming a short character from "Beauty and the Beast."

"Exactly! Are you funny?" the first agent asks.

"I can be funny," the actor says uncertainly, trying to remember the last comic role he played. When he realizes he doesn't have anything remotely funny in his "book" (the binder with a repertoire of songs that every actor brings to auditions), his face flushes with an "I blew it" look.

"How tall are you?" another agent asks.

"Five nine," the actor replies.

"Really?! You read shorter than that, which is great. There is so much work for the short, funny guy. You can make a ton of money playing Lefou."

The actor, who had entered the room with "leading man" ambitions, leaves it disappointed, dazed—what exactly should "the short, funny guy" sing?—and vaguely hopeful: they seemed to think he had a shot at a career. Didn't they?

Senior showcase season starts in late winter—theater majors come to New York City from across the country to take workshops with, and perform for, industry professionals who could get them work when they move to the city after graduation. It's snowing hard on Thursday morning, Feb. 25, the beginning of senior showcase weekend for 13 UNH seniors. Really hard. In fact, it won't stop snowing until Saturday afternoon—over 20 inches will fall on Central Park in 36 hours.

Snow is not the only problem. "I feel like crap," Allie Hadwen '10 tells Kris Coughlin '10. Hadwen was diagnosed with a severe ear and sinus infection on Wednesday, and now her head feels like it's going to explode. Worse, she can barely hear herself sing. She, Coughlin and two others, Ethan Thomas '10 and Laura Loy '10, make up the UNH showcase company—they were chosen by their professors last spring to perform and have been rehearsing a piece made up of two scenes and several songs for six months.

They have three 12-hour days ahead of them. Today, they are scheduled to attend a workshop with four casting agents and a coach; tonight, they will perform for a roomful of agents, directors and personal managers. While stretching, vocalizing and completing their "look," they keep checking the weather. The city is swirling with "Weather Event!" energy—airports are closed, trains are packed, people are leaving the city in droves.

"I'm not going to lie to you, we're going to lose some people," Shorey Walker says, in between checking her e-mail for cancellations. Her day job is director of marketing for Actor's Connection, a studio that schedules seminars, workshops and showcases. She also directs, acts, sings, dances, models and goes to 10 auditions per week. Theater people do a lot, but apparently many of them don't do serious snow.

Professional organizations like Actor's Connection, and the showcase concept itself, are relatively new developments in the industry. In the 1980s, for example, actors who came to New York for their big break were pretty much on their own. They went to auditions, flooded the market with headshots and resumes, bartended, waited tables and hoped. They hoped to get an Equity card—having an Actor's Equity Association union card was an actor's ticket to auditioning for the best shows. They hoped that they had the right look for a producer; that they'd meet a reputable agent (or a not-so-reputable one with really good connections) at a party or through a friend.

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