Words at Intermission: Paul Aguirre

Wearing glasses, a scally cap, and a charming smile, Paul Aguirre appears on my computer screen. He’s at his house in Fairfield, Connecticut, where he lives with his boyfriend and their pets.

“We have two fur-children,” he tells me: “a dog and a cat.”

Having grown up in upstate New York, he’s not too far from his childhood home—but he’s come a long way since starting out as an actor.

“None of my family had a theatre background,” he tells me, “so I was the first one to do that kind of thing. My mom was super supportive; she literally would take me to all the community theatre rehearsals that I did. In high school, I think I did 13 shows a year. Almost every year. Our high school did three shows a year—we did 2 plays and a musical—and we had Elmwood Playhouse and Antrim Playhouse, two community theatres, and they did plays and musicals all year round. So I got into playing in the orchestra for a show, or doing the crew; I was always involved somehow.”

It was through community theatre that he met George Puello, then the artistic director of Westchester Broadway Theatre. Tragically, the theater was forced to permanently close its doors this year due to the COVID-19 pandemic—but in 1995, it was a bustling dinner theatre that regularly showcased both established and up-and-coming performers, and Puello gave Paul a chance to be one of those up-and-comers.

“He invited me to come to the theater—and this was the first time I actually got paid to do a show. It was a kid’s show, it was only two weeks of performances, and I think it was like $500 for the whole thing, but it was still my first time getting paid to do something I loved doing in high school. And that was my first real venture into it professionally.”

It wouldn’t take him long to find more work in the field.

“I started auditioning in the city, and I got the non-Equity tour of The Who’s Tommy, and I played Uncle Ernie, which was a principal role, my first big job—I thought it was a big job at the time. It was new and crazy and exciting and I loved every minute of it. I loved touring; I loved going to all these different cities and feeling like I was on vacation more than anything, because I was doing something I loved—that I was getting paid for. That just roped me right into having to do this for the rest of my life.

“At the time [Actors’ Equity Association] had a thing called an eligibility card, and to get that card—this was before the EMC card—to get the eligibility card you had to do a non-Equity tour, or work in an Equity theatre. You just had to do one, and then you’d get your eligibility card, which would let you audition for the Equity shows. And when I got back from that tour was the year that they got rid of the eligibility card, so I never got to use it!”

Nowadays, the union for professional theatre actors and stage managers, Actors’ Equity Association (or AEA), has what’s known as the Equity Membership Candidacy program (or EMC): once you’ve worked at a union house for a week, you become eligible to join the program and start on a track to eventually join the union. Union status isn’t required to be a professional actor or stage manager, but AEA members receive higher salaries than their non-union counterparts—as well as health, pension, and 401k benefits.

After a few years of non-union work, Paul became a member of AEA in 2002, when he joined the national tour of Seussical the Musical, a show based on the works of Dr. Seuss. When he returned to New York from tour, he was thrilled to be a union member—and he quickly became an AEA monitor.

Monitors run auditions—taking down names, lining up groups of auditionees, and making sure that as many people as possible get to audition. It’s a volunteer position, but a necessary one—and Paul found that it was a valuable way to get to know people on both sides of the table.

“I loved it,” he says. “I got to meet all the other Equity people and get to know them, and non-Equity people, and then you also kind of talk to the auditioners, and so you’re meeting these casting directors—you’re not auditioning for them right then and there, but they see your personality and they see how you organize and, you know, how you run things. And I felt like I ran fun auditions and kept everybody relaxed outside—as much as inside—the room.”

That’s what Paul was doing when he and I met, and I agree that he was excellent at the job. He no longer serves as a monitor, partially because he now lives so far away, but also because he’s been acting pretty much nonstop.

“I’ve been, knock on wood, super lucky that I’ve been able to work consistently. A lot of regional jobs—and a lot of theaters have asked me back, which is wonderful—but I still haven’t gotten that big Broadway break. It’s weird because I’ll do a regional gig, and then at least one or two people from that gig are in a Broadway show within 6 months, or something huge, which is great!

“And I know that I’m on the level. Like, I know that I’m just as good as any other Broadway performer—I’m positive in my work—but you see that and you’re like, ‘ahhh I want that Broadway show…’ but then I have those friends, like one of my friends who played Kim in [Miss] Saigon forever, who was like, ‘oh my god, I’m so jealous of you—you’re always working!’ and I was like, ‘but you’re on Broadway—I’m doing regional gigs,’ and she was like, ‘yeah, but you get to do different shows all the time, and get those creative juices from rehearsal,’ and I was like, ‘yeah, okay, I can see that.’

“I do get to travel to different places and work with different people much more often, but it’s hard—even when you’re doing the gig, you’re on to the next one already and are trying to submit—seeing what’s coming up and everything.”

Even with the inherent frustration that comes with chasing a dream, Paul has had a career packed with fulfilling work. And while he’s a member of the Latinx community, he hasn’t found himself pigeonholed in the industry; his resume lists mostly roles traditionally played by white actors.

“Well, it’s funny,” he says. “I’ve been working more as a Latinx actor recently than I did at the beginning. I would get called back for Man of La Mancha but never book it, but then it was maybe the past 6 years that I started booking all the Latin shows.

“It’s like family almost, when you do In The Heights and Evita, if it’s also directed by a Latin director. There’s an immediate sense of family, ‘cause in the Latin community, it’s very family-oriented, very welcoming, I find. So when you do those shows, it’s like you’re immediately at a family reunion.”

I tell him that I’ve had similar experiences performing in shows with other Asian actors, and that it’s nice that things have changed since we started out. Until very recently, it was shamefully common for white actors to play people of color—but not the other around. Over the course of several decades, many in the industry (but not all) have begun to realize how outdated casting practices have created and perpetuated inequitable power structures, and they’re making efforts to right their past wrongs: producing new work by and for people of color, casting performers of color in traditionally white shows, and ceasing the practice of white-washing (casting characters of color with white actors).

“I am all for nontraditional casting,” Paul says. “The white-washing of shows—casting directors need to be more cognizant of what they’re doing in that aspect, especially when the subject matter of the piece is related to race. If it’s a Latin show, you need to cast Latin people.

“At the same time, I have to go in for roles that are not my type, or else I would never work. I can’t not go to a Billy Elliot audition because I’m not a London actor—I have to go, because I’m a dancer, and I’m a character guy, and that’s what they need for that story. So it’s hard, ‘cause people say, ‘you shouldn’t go in for things you’re not right for’, and I agree with that, but at the same time, I have to go in for things I’m not right for, ‘cause there’s just not enough work for me as a Latin actor.”

Before the pandemic hit, Paul was gearing up for a production of Evita at Drury Lane Theatre, just outside of Chicago.

“Marcia Milgrom Dodge was directing. She’d just done the production at Riverside Theatre in Florida, and I was in the ensemble and covered Magaldi. Then when she [was casting the production] at Drury Lane, she sent an email to our entire company, asking our availability. It ended up working out that the guy who played Magaldi wasn’t able to do it, and since I understudied him in Florida, she asked me to come in and do it, and I didn’t have to even audition…which is very nice,” he laughs.

“But the reason why that also happened was, coincidentally, the guy playing Magaldi in Florida couldn’t make the first couple of rehearsals, and the first thing we were doing was the opening sequence going into ‘On This Night’, cause [the director] just started from the beginning and started staging. So I just walked up and started doing it, and she was like, ‘oh, you know it? Great!’ and she staged it all with me and then we plugged him in when he got there. So that’s how she knew she could work with me.”

I tell him that it sounds like he takes his understudy work very seriously—an effort that’s always appreciated by employers and colleagues alike.

“I actually love being an understudy,” he says. “Like I had told you, Tommy was my first big job, and I was Uncle Ernie. I was never any good with interviews and having all that publicity stuff to do, the responsibility of being a principal—it made me nervous. And I was also so jealous of the ensemble, ‘cause they had this amazing choreography—and since I dance, that’s where I love to be. So I learned early on that I enjoy being in the ensemble and understudying a principal, because you get all the fun of being in the ensemble—of creating roles that aren’t necessarily specifically written, you get to create your own character in a lot of ways—but then you get to play that principal role, if you get to go on, and have the best of both worlds. I love being an understudy, so I take it seriously because I love it, and I just want to know my part. I find it helpful to always be ready.”

While Paul’s dutiful preparation has gotten him decades of continuous employment, no amount of homework could have prepared him for the COVID-19 pandemic. He was getting ready to leave when he heard the news.

“I had suitcases out, I was doing that last bit of laundry, our flights were all set. They emailed us, I think it was Friday, saying, ‘as of now, things are going as planned, but we’re seeing what happens.’ And then later on that day, they said that we were going to be delayed a couple of weeks. But then, when it was official that everything was closed all over the place, we got an email saying that they were going to postpone our show until the following year. As of now, we still have our contracts set for the end of March.”

With vaccines starting to roll out and theatre companies coming to agreements with the unions regarding COVID-related safety precautions, Paul may very well be able to do the show as planned. In the meanwhile, he’s been able to get by on unemployment—and he’s been keeping himself busy, growing a business that he started a few years ago.