One second of silence, and thenSpitznagel plays two dram<strong>at</strong>ic minorchords.“It is spherical!” Lindahl declares, followedby two more suspensefully modul<strong>at</strong>ingchords.“It is globular,” M<strong>at</strong>hes emphasizes.Chord, chord …“It is the plaything of children,” Keancries. Chord, chord …“It is cooovered in muuuud,” intonesthe final team member, P<strong>at</strong>rick Reidy.After a few more rounds of invoc<strong>at</strong>ion,the pianist begins a jaunty tune, andLindahl starts singing along: “We’re havinga gre<strong>at</strong> day … We’re haaaving a gre<strong>at</strong> day.… And things look sooo optimistic … We’rehaaaving a gre<strong>at</strong> day!” M<strong>at</strong>hes and the othersjoin in for another round, harmonizingas if they were reading off a sheet of musicand building to a grand finale of, “We’rehaaaaving a gre<strong>at</strong> day!”For young actors in New York City,“having a gre<strong>at</strong> day” does not come easily,but M<strong>at</strong>hes, Raymond and McDowall areimprovising their own cre<strong>at</strong>ive identitiesand careers with tenacity and commitment.Last fall, the three close friends who met<strong>at</strong> UB decided they weren’t going to waitaround to be cast in their dream roles.Instead, they launched their own the<strong>at</strong>ricalventure: The Radium Girls, a companydedic<strong>at</strong>ed to promoting women’s roles andwomen’s voices.Act One:School GirlsEver since she can remember, Raymondhas wanted to be on stage. She d<strong>at</strong>es herconscious decision to become an actor toage 7, when she performed in the musical“Annie” and cried all the way home afterthe last show, because she didn’t want it toend. “It’s a strange thing th<strong>at</strong> kind of picksyou,” she muses. From her home in Sar<strong>at</strong>ogaSprings, she followed her older sister,Monique Raymond Cohen, BA ’05, to UB.There was no question th<strong>at</strong> she wouldmajor in the<strong>at</strong>er.One year l<strong>at</strong>er, M<strong>at</strong>hes arrived <strong>at</strong> UBfrom the Rochester suburb of Fairport,where she had fallen under the spell ofMidge Marshall, Fairport High School’sbeloved drama program director. (Claimto fame: Philip Seymour Hoffmann was aMarshall protégé.) As a high school sophomore,M<strong>at</strong>hes had seen a touring productionof “Rent.” Her face soaked in tears asScene from The Radium Girls’ recent production of “Five Women Wearing the Same Dress.”Mimi and Roger confessed their love, shedecided, “I wanna give people th<strong>at</strong> feeling.Not crying,” she clarifies, “but feeling.” Afew days l<strong>at</strong>er, her f<strong>at</strong>her asked wh<strong>at</strong> shewas planning to do in college. “The<strong>at</strong>er,”she said. And th<strong>at</strong> decision never changed.Meanwhile, in Queens, McDowall wasfollowing a similar track. The deal wassealed for her when she won admissionto one of New York City’s performingarts-focused public high schools, the FrankSin<strong>at</strong>ra School of the Arts. She, too, cameto <strong>Buffalo</strong> to be a the<strong>at</strong>er major, one yearafter M<strong>at</strong>hes.The three women got to know eachother well in the very selective and intim<strong>at</strong>ethe<strong>at</strong>er program. Faculty like Maria S.Horne, an intern<strong>at</strong>ionally known masterteacher, became powerful role models forthem. “We had kick-ass female professorsin our department,” says McDowall.One of M<strong>at</strong>hes’ favorite roles <strong>at</strong> UB wasJuliet in a Shakespeare adapt<strong>at</strong>ion th<strong>at</strong> she,Raymond and other UB students staged <strong>at</strong>a UNESCO (United N<strong>at</strong>ions Educ<strong>at</strong>ional,Scientific and Cultural Organiz<strong>at</strong>ion)the<strong>at</strong>er festival in Romania. Raymond,meanwhile, enjoyed me<strong>at</strong>y roles like theheadstrong Lydia Bennet in a stage versionof “Pride and Prejudice.” McDowall ran theannual student review, “From the Wings”(good prepar<strong>at</strong>ion, it turned out, for runninga the<strong>at</strong>er company), and starred in theboundary-breaking play “T<strong>at</strong>too Girl” bycontemporary playwright Naomi Iizuka.The three women worked with enormousdedic<strong>at</strong>ion, balancing heavy courseloads,rehearsals, work and classes. Aftergradu<strong>at</strong>ion, they all moved to New YorkCity—trained, confident and ready foranything.Act Two:City Girls“In school, they told you, ‘You can playevery role you want, and th<strong>at</strong> you have thepotential to book any role,’” says McDowallone recent day in her Harlem apartment,which she shares with Kevin Zak, BFA ’10,a fellow <strong>Buffalo</strong> the<strong>at</strong>er alum.“But I’m <strong>at</strong> this audition, and there’s300 of me,” she says. “Wh<strong>at</strong> do I have to doto make myself stand out of the crowd?”Th<strong>at</strong>, the three women have all found,is the essential challenge of making it as anactor. Talent, training, energy, passion—they simply aren’t enough. Among thereasons they cite for not getting a part are:1 inch too short; 1 inch too tall; didn’t likethe shirt you were wearing; wearing thewrong perfume; hair the wrong color. “I’vehad so many moments where I’ve been sittingin a casting office and been so close,”says Raymond, “but ultim<strong>at</strong>ely didn’t get it.It feels tangible yet so far away.“In school,” she adds, “you learn techniqueand craft. You w<strong>at</strong>ch all of the gre<strong>at</strong>performers, and you read all of the gre<strong>at</strong>plays. When you get out, you have to learnhow to market yourself. You only learn th<strong>at</strong>by jumping in.”18 UBTODAY Fall 2013 www.buffalo.edu/ubt
“It’s a business,” M<strong>at</strong>hes chimes in.Th<strong>at</strong>’s not to say the three haven’t wonparts. At the same time, they have learnedhow stereotyped women’s roles can be.McDowall, for example: With her curlybrown hair, curvy figure and husky voice,she’s usually cast as “funny, or bitchy or thesidekick.” “Some roles have been good,”she says—she especially enjoyed a short,independent comedy film she appeared inthis year, “Future Assassin.” “And some Ijust chalk up to experience,” she adds.Although M<strong>at</strong>hes has struggled todistinguish herself from (in her words) “allthe other girls with brown hair and blueeyes,” she has started to find her niche.She enjoyed her work with “School Spirits”for the Syfy network, for example, whichreenacts reports of on-campus paranormalevents. “It was an amazing experience ofwh<strong>at</strong> being on set is like,” she says. Shespent about six hours in a swimming poolfor one episode, doing laps to the pointof exhaustion. Is she a swimmer? “Notreally,” she says. “Th<strong>at</strong>’s why I’m an actor.To experience life from different points ofview, to live another life for a few minutes.”Raymond is represented by two agencies,which is a huge step for an actor. She’sin the adult and youth departments—andbecause of her small frame and highpitchedvocal range, she is almost alwayscast in teenage roles. “I’ve been cast as acharacter named Minnie,” she laments,and she recently voiced Sally Brown fora “Peanuts” anim<strong>at</strong>ion. But she has alsoplayed Tricia in the play “Dog Sees God,”which reimagines the Peanuts characters(Tricia = Peppermint P<strong>at</strong>ty) as troubledteenagers, <strong>at</strong> an off-Broadway the<strong>at</strong>er.One reviewer called her “the perfect ‘MeanGirl.’”At the same time, the reality is they alsohave to have “survival jobs,” as Raymondcalls them: McDowall is a wardrobe supervisor—sheregularly works for Juilliard andpicks up work for organiz<strong>at</strong>ions like theJoffrey Ballet. She is also a teaching artist<strong>at</strong> the Harlem School of the Arts, an afterschoolprogram. M<strong>at</strong>hes works full time<strong>at</strong> a bar, and Raymond is a maître d’ for arestaurant and sells skin-care products.“You need to be able to sit in the middleof this teeter-totter,” says M<strong>at</strong>hes, holdingout her hands like the scales of justice.“And keep them in balance. You are yourown enterprise, and you have to tre<strong>at</strong> it assuch in order to survive—for your own sanity,and to get in front of the right people.”“You never have a day where you’re notdoing something,” says Raymond. “You’realways running, running, running.”Then, they decided to start setting theirown pace.Act Three:Radium GirlsOne day l<strong>at</strong>e last year, Raymond andM<strong>at</strong>hes took a scene study class together.It’s the kind of thing motiv<strong>at</strong>ed actors doto keep themselves sharp. While rehearsing,they got to talking—and dreaming.“We said, you know, let’s do somethingwe can be in control of,” recalls Raymond.McDowall joined in the convers<strong>at</strong>ion aboutroles they’d like to take on, books they hadread and plays th<strong>at</strong> had inspired them, inparticular, plays in which female characterswere not just talking about shoppingor men.Within a month, they had held a launchparty for their new company, The RadiumGirls (TRG), named in honor of aninspiring group of women from the early20th century (see sidebar). “The gre<strong>at</strong>thing about TRG is th<strong>at</strong> each girl bringssomething interesting and necessary to thespectrum,” says Kashana Young, one of thecompany’s major backers. “There is nothingthese girls can’t do. If there is, thankfullyfor us, they know their limit<strong>at</strong>ions.TRG are grounded and realistic and do notwaste time with fanciful dreams.”There was no time for “fanciful dreams”between TRG’s launch party in December2012 and the May 22, 2013, opening oftheir first show, Alan Ball’s comedy “FiveWomen Wearing the Same Dress,” <strong>at</strong> Manh<strong>at</strong>tan’sBridge The<strong>at</strong>re. The three pulledtogether and did everything from securinga the<strong>at</strong>er to learning their parts to castingthe other roles to selling tickets.“Our professors always told us aboutthis,” says Raymond. “‘You’re going to bedoing the<strong>at</strong>er in the smallest spaces. You’regoing to be sweeping the floors yourself,doing your own hair.’ For this show, I washanging wallpaper, sweeping floors, actingand producing. I was like, ‘Wow, this isexactly wh<strong>at</strong> they were talking about!’”They swept up quite a few talented collabor<strong>at</strong>orsalong the way and inspired themto don<strong>at</strong>e their time and talents—peoplelike Jaime Torres, a friend of McDowallfrom her wardrobing work, who did thecostume design. It’s a key position in a playth<strong>at</strong> revolves around five bridesmaids for aSouthern summer wedding. “[The dressesare] supposed to be tacky without actuallylooking terrible,” Torres explains. Heloc<strong>at</strong>ed peach-colored readymade dressesand added lace and beads to fit the part,and cre<strong>at</strong>ed h<strong>at</strong>s for them as well. “I loggeda lot of hours,” he says with a laugh. “It wasa lot of hand-sewing. But I had a very personalconnection to the show and wantedto give them the best they could get.”The work paid off. Two among the <strong>at</strong>tendeesof their sold-out audiences wereHenry and Jo Strouss, who got to knowM<strong>at</strong>hes from her “survival job” as a bartenderand have become her p<strong>at</strong>rons. “Itis easy in New York just to go to performanceson Broadway,” says Henry, “but itis critical for young performers to enter theprofession for the art to survive. Workingon a shoestring budget, these youngwomen put on a highly enjoyable show.”For The Radium Girls, though, the biggesttriumph lies in the opportunity theytook to define themselves. “When your vision,your point of view is clear, everythingfalls into place. Th<strong>at</strong>’s wh<strong>at</strong> they don’tteach you in school,” M<strong>at</strong>hes says. “Cultiv<strong>at</strong>ingyour own importance, your own wayof doing things, is when you hit gold.”Laura Barlament is a New York-basedfreelance writer and editor of WagnerMagazine <strong>at</strong> Wagner College in St<strong>at</strong>enIsland.Why Radium Girls? While Jacqueline Raymond, Kelsey M<strong>at</strong>hes and Amanda McDowall were mulling over a namefor their new venture, M<strong>at</strong>hes heard a podcast and McDowall read the book “The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography ofCancer” by Siddhartha Mukherjee, which includes the story of the early-20th-century female factory workers known as theRadium Girls. These young women worked for the United St<strong>at</strong>es Radium Corpor<strong>at</strong>ion in Orange, N.J., painting w<strong>at</strong>ch dialswith radium-laced paint—a substance the company deceitfully told them was harmless. After they contracted cancers, someof the women fought back in the courts and won. Their efforts led to groundbreaking worker-protection laws.www.alumni.buffalo.edu UBTODAY Fall 2013 19