Thursday, September 16, 1999
Day of dancing dreams
Auditions for 'Nutcracker' a waiting game that ends in joy or sadness
BY CAROL NORRIS
Enquirer contributor
Before she tries out, Bailey Schneider, 7, is measured by Nick Ciafardini.
(Craig Ruttle photos)
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10 a.m.: The studio parking lot at Central Parkway and Liberty Street begins to fill as the 13-18 year olds arrive. The first to go in, they'll try for roles as angels, bears and big mice.
Months before little girls in green velvet dresses and little boys in starched white shirts scrunch into Music Hall seats to watch the traditional Nutcracker, another tradition occurs.
Each September brings an audition for children who will be the show's dancing mice, bakers and sailors.
Crammed into one long day, hundreds of kids file through the Cincinnati Ballet studio doors for their shot at a part. This year's auditions were Sunday: 570 kids (the most ever) auditioned; 150 were selected.
Following is a journal of their day.
Dancers wait as judges huddle.
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Registration is outside and manned by volunteers. No parents are allowed in — except to visit the restroom.
A few Nutcracker veterans sit in the lounge and are eager to talk. Sloan Tucker, 9, of Anderson Township, is here for her fourth year. She offers a backstage look: “Sometimes it's really confusing, especially in rehearsals. Everyone's running around.”
Megan Corcoran, 15, of Eastgate, joins in. “We're expected to act like professionals. It's hard because we're all so young.”
Megan points out that dancers are normal people “but with extraordinary talents.” The room erupts in giggles. Megan wants to say young dancers appreciate the efforts their parents make to get them to classes and auditions — and to pay for everything.
Ashley Roberts, 13, of Evanston, chimes in that she pays for classes herself by working. “I make icees,” she says.
Leigh Lijol, 12, and mother Sheridan react after Leigh won the lead role as Clara.
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11 a.m.: The parking lot is filled with parents in folding chairs or sitting on blankets. It looks like a giant picnic, except there is no shade.
Annita and Guy Parker of Sycamore Township are under their beach umbrella waiting for daughter Tiffany, 12. They've brought a miniature TV, a pager and a cooler filled with Gatorade, Reese's Cups and fried chicken. “We learned from last year. You can't leave because the kids come out disappointed sometimes. It's so boring — all you do is sit here. So we're prepared,” Mr. Parker says.
Across the lot, a tailgate party is developing. Betsy Mueller of Warren County and Mary Morton of Symmes Township are snacking and waiting it out in the shade of Joe Helmes' van. Mr. Helmes of Anderson Township is here for the first time with daughter Katie, 13. If things drag, he'll watch the Bengals on TV in the van. “I've been to my kids' baseball games. I know about waiting,” he says.
Noon: As more kids begin to arrive, the noise level in the hall and waiting studio rises, but inside the audition studio all is orderly as school director Daniel Simmons, education and outreach manager Tama Alesson and teachers Nancy Fountain and Kris Galemmo assess the 100 eager 10-12 year olds standing quietly in front of them.
1 p.m.: The first picks have been made and a few girls are in tears. The tailgate party has picked up Shari Poff of Symmes Township, but is losing the shade of Mr. Helmes' van. Katie has not made the cut but is looking to the future. “Can I take kick boxing?” she asks dad as they load up.
2 p.m.: The two girls who will alternate in the major child's part of Clara have been chosen: Eliza Kelley-Swift, 13, of North Avondale, and Leigh Lijoi, 12, of West Chester. “This is great,” Leigh says, giggling. When mom is told the news, there are hugs and more giggles. “This was not supposed to happen. We were thinking maybe sailor,” Mrs. Lijoi says with a laugh.
2:35 p.m.: Thirty-eight smiling kids come marching out of the audition studio. They've just been told they'll be soldiers. Following the marchers is Gerald Haynes, 12, of downtown, who'll dance the important part of the Mouse Prince. He'll lead an army of mice in Act I and will get to die a dramatic death. He handles the news with stoicism, but the alternate, Allyson Cameron, 13, of Cheviot, bursts into happy tears.
3:20 p.m.: The 7- to 9-year-olds have been ushered in to audition. They'll be looked at for bakers and mice. The 10-12 group is still here. Decisions are coming slowly for this age group. A couple of hundred must be judged.
The youngest, ages 5-6, have registered and are pirouetting in the waiting studio. It's getting louder in that room, and a couple of little girls are beginning to cry for their mommies.
Backstage moms — in the best sense of the word because they've volunteered to keep down the chaos and do the running — are busily getting snacks, walking kids to the restroom and matching moms to kids who are breaking down. Outside, it is 90 degrees and more beach umbrellas have gone up.
4:20 p.m.: The 10- 12-year-olds are still here, and parents are looking anxious. Most of the chairs have been folded, and folks are milling around the entrance. The 5- and 6-year-olds are still waiting. Their bouncing is getting tired and smaller, and when the door opens, someone screams “I'm hungry.” A volunteer is dispatched to find a snack. A couple of dancers have left because of tummy aches.
5 p.m.: Things are looser than they were at 10 a.m. More kids seem to be milling around looking for their mommies. One 5-year old cries because she doesn't want to go through with the audition.
Outside, Tara Jurgens, a mother from Fort Thomas, explains why she's back again this year. With all the waiting and hassle, she vowed last year would be their last. “Did I say that? Oh, we say that every year,” she says. “We don't really mean it.”
Daughter Michael Ann, 12, has been auditioning for five years. Last year was her first time to be cast; this year she'll be a sailor. “The first year, driving home, her little cousin, who had also auditioned, just wasn't getting it. She asked "So when do we start the play?' Michael Ann said, "Don't you get it. We didn't make it.' Then they both cried,” Mrs. Jurgens says.
Tears or no, kids keep coming back. Sunday's crowd was one of the largest ever. The 150 who make it are divided into two casts and share the number of performances equally. The criteria, other than dancing ability, have to do with age (5-18) and size (3 feet 2 inches to 5 feet 5 inches). There are 75 existing costumes to fill.
4:50 p.m.: Nick Ciafardini brings in the measuring stick from outside. It's been his job to measure each child's height. He begins to straighten the waiting area.
5:30 p.m.: The 5- and 6-year-olds are escorted in to audition. Almost everyone else has left. Cookie crumbs crunch underfoot as people head for the exit.
7 p.m.: The staff wraps it up for another year.
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