Of the sixty actors in the cast, most were local folk who, for free, jumped at the chance to “be involved” in community work and, more importantly for them, the ego massage of being seen on stage. But the company did hire eleven professional actors for the lead roles, five from New York, three from Los Angeles, one from Washington, one from Chicago, and one from Miami. They were young, ambitious men and women who were waiting for that elusive “break” of which they all spoke with a familiar awe and loathing, as if it did indeed exist but was a fickle thing, awarded more often to the unworthy and the lazy than to the talented and the hardworking. They were hyperbolic, animated, bawdy, and energetic. They looked at summer stock as a necessary evil, something to fill out their resume, “paying their dues.” A way to keep working. Crosstown paid no more than most regional theaters—which was not much—despite its abundant funding; so, compounding the bruised egos, the frustrations, the fatigue, and the isolation from city lights of these hungry people was their gruff indignation, causing them to look askance and aloof at sleepy, backward Crosstown.

The men were mostly gay, which haunted and taunted Horace, for to him they were physically beautiful. With tall, lean, almost animal bodies, or stocky, strong and solid frames, or faces that carried such charm as to be cherubic—clearly here lay danger. But how could he avoid it? The lead, Edward Gordon, was an aristocratic Georgian who had gone to New York to make it big—though after six years, he was still awaiting that auspicious day. He had classically English bone structure, blond hair, blue eyes, strong teeth . . . so flawless he was almost boring. There were the stock jet-black-haired, green/blue/brown-eyed hunks, including Antonio Santangelo, who was part Italian, part Puerto Rican. He was a born and bred product of Brooklyn, sly and sarcastic. The shadow of his beard was almost blue.

But the man who had changed Horace’s mind—or, more accurately, convinced him that his mind had lied to his heart—was the only professional black male actor. Everett Church Harrington IV, a singer/actor/dancer with light brown eyes and skin of caramel. The first day Horace saw him, he was gripped by anger.