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From WHYY in Philadelphia, this is Fresh Air Weekend.
I'm Sam Brigger.
Today, comic actor and writer Sarah Silverman talks about her new Netflix comedy, special Postmortem, which is funny and emotional.
It's about the death of her father and stepmother nine days apart.
Also, we'll hear from Cola Scola, creator of the Broadway comedy Oh Mary.
It's an intentionally ridiculous reimagining of First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln.
It betrays her as having become addicted to alcohol not because of the Civil War, but because she's desperately yearning for her only true love.
You are not going back to that.
It has a name.
It doesn't deserve one.
Say it.
No.
The thing I love more than anything on earth is cabaret.
No!
Plus, Ken Tucker reviews new albums by Willie Nelson and Ken Pomeroy.
That's coming up on Fresh Air Weekend.
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This is Fresh Air Weekend.
I'm Sam Brigger.
Terry has our first interview.
I'll let her introduce it.
I'm happy to say that comic writer and actor Sarah Silverman is back for a return visit.
Her stand up comedy is always original, brave and funny.
Whether it's talking about sex, abortion, being Jewish, racism or just daily life.
She's willing to take risks to make a point and make it funny.
She regrets a few jokes she told in the past and later apologized for them.
She has a new surprising comedy special, which I'll tell you about in a moment.
But first, more about Sarah.
She was a writer and featured performer for one season on Saturday Night Live.
She played a writer on The Larry Sanders Show.
From 2007 to 2010, she starred in the series The Sarah Silverman Program.
From 2017 to 2019, she hosted the Hulu series I Love You America, in which she had conversations to help her understand people she didn't necessarily agree with.
She's been in several movies and she's a regular on the animated series Bob's Burgers.
She recently roasted her friend Conan O'Brien at the Kennedy Center ceremony at which he was awarded the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor.
Her memoir The Bedwetter was adapted into an off-Broadway musical.
It was recently reworked, played at the Arena Stage in Washington DC and she's hoping it will move to Broadway.
Now she has her fifth comedy special.
It's called Postmortem.
Toward the beginning of the special, she's talking about sexual fantasies and sex talk.
Not surprising territory for her.
And then she quietly makes an abrupt turn to this.
Oh, my dad and my stepmom Janice both died last May, nine days apart.
And, oh, that one needs work.
Um...
But they really did and I was really close with both of them and my dad was my best friend and they both gave me so much and most recently, about an hour of new material.
So let's do this.
Sarah Silverman, welcome back to Fresh Air.
I think this is a very meaningful and funny special, and I'm grateful that you did it.
Thank you.
Sarah, I don't remember you ever doing anything as emotional as this new special.
What made you think about doing a special about your parents' death?
Oh, well, it wasn't something that I sat and thought about and decided.
My last special was coming out as they were dying, and so...
After they passed and I started doing stand-up again, I was at zero again, which is where I'm at right now.
So the only material was what was going on in my life, which was, you know, I remember going to Largo the club out here that I work at and I had just I had come straight from cleaning out their apartment with my sisters, and so that was just what I was talking about.
And, you know, I had spoken at my dad's eulogy and of course, there were a lot of funny things in there because he was hilarious and I so I kind of that was the starting point for starting over again with my stand-up, and it just grew and grew and built from there.
Did you use anything from the eulogy in the comedy special?
Oh, yeah.
Did you tell the Jeff Ross story in the eulogy?
Probably.
Probably, yeah.
All the funny stories about, oh, you know, people came to say goodbye as my dad was dying.
And Jeff Ross, who's, of course, the hilarious roast master general, he was very close with my parents.
And he came in, and he's comfortable with this stuff.
He's very comfortable with...
There was no awkwardness with him walking into my dad's bedroom as he was dying, you know.
And he said, Schleppy, you know, everyone called my dad Schleppy since before I was born, you know.
And he said, Schleppy, I got bad news for you.
I don't think you can be my emergency contact anymore.
And then what your father said?
He said, I think I should.
He laughed, you know, and it was so sweet.
And I tell that story in the special and miraculously, because it's not like I was shooting video a lot on my phone, but I had videoed it from my phone when he walked in, just you know, because I knew he'd be excited to see Jeff.
And captured that.
So you know the thing i love about the special one thing i love is the um credits.
You know, if you keep the sound on and watch through the credits, there's a lot of easter eggs and you see that video and and he even says a joke beyond that, you know that they are talking and laughing and it's so sweet.
You know, it's just so sweet.
And there's great photos of your parents in there too and of your sisters.
Yeah.
So the thing about giving a eulogy is like you really want to do it.
And at the same time it feels like well, it must have felt for you like you were doing a comedy special or putting on a show when maybe you just wanted to grieve.
On the other hand, it gives you a chance to live in the memory of the person or people that you lost.
And then you wonder if you can get through it without totally breaking up and weeping.
Yeah.
Yeah.
There was so much time for sobbing and tears while they were dying.
It was just so hard.
And I have three sisters and nieces and nephews.
We really shared the burden of it all.
And were able to go through it together.
So many people as I toured the country would say, I'm the only child and I realize how lucky I am.
And, of course, speaking at a funeral is tough, but I always find funerals so joyful because well, I mean, first of all, most of them are for comedians.
But my parents were so funny and such characters and loved to laugh.
It was...
On their tombstone, you know, they were kind of buried together, and they have one tombstone.
And my sister Susan, who's a rabbi, thought of what we wrote at the top, which was, you know, Janice and Donald, who love to laugh, you know.
And so it's.
You know.
I feel like funerals and shivas can be so joyful, you know, and sharing all those stories.
It's that—it's when you realize those stories are finite, you know, that— it gets sad again.
And you, you know, like this whole tour was so cathartic, you know, in that way.
But I remember crying at my mom's when my mom died 10 years ago.
Because Janice is your stepmother.
She's the one who died nine years apart from your father.
Yeah, it's, you know, I mean, all that stuff.
And we were talking before this a little bit.
Just, you know, there's there's kind of so much joy and relief in the funeral and thereafter, because you're all together with the people who love this person and you're sharing stories.
And then it's when you get back into normal life and you're like in line at the grocery store that you just kind of crumble into tears.
You know, like just saying the words like well, my mom died.
You know like it's hard to say.
The tour was interesting because the first half of it was –
I dreaded going on stage.
I dreaded sledging through all of this because I hadn't figured it out totally yet.
I hadn't found all the laughs.
There was a lot of kind of I mean, just this is kind of story jargon, but like laying pipe to be able to tell the whole picture but not knowing what goes where.
And it was hard, you know.
And it hurt more.
And then, as I figured it out, how to tell the story and how to digress and how to keep it funny and moving I mean moving along, you know.
But it became really a joy to go out like where I couldn't wait to tell this new crowd about these people.
You were with your father and stepmother when she was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer.
So I want to play a clip from your special postmortem about your father's reaction.
Well, let me just say we weren't with them.
They were in Florida at the time.
But what we would do is, whenever they would go to the doctor once they got older, we would have them record it on their voice memo app on their phone and post it to our family WhatsApp chain so that we could listen to it and make sure everything was being taken care of.
And that's how we heard the appointment where she was diagnosed.
Okay.
So this clip starts with you talking about Janice's reaction, your stepmother's reaction to the news and what she has to say to the doctor, their individual reactions to this news.
I'm still listening, you know, and Janice is just.
Her reaction.
Is so Janice, you know she just goes.
Well, I'll just do everything you tell me and I'll just do every single thing you say and I'll fight it.
And it was just so.
Her and then my dad's reaction was the craziest thing I've ever heard in my entire life.
I'm not kidding.
You just hear him go, I'm alone!
Then he goes, I'm a widow!
I know my...
My mother, Beth Ann, is out there somewhere going, it's widower.
And, but mom.
It was so crazy.
I'm the designated dad whisperer and I was tasked with calling him.
And I had to say, dad, you cannot talk that way in front of your alive wife.
You have to pull your shit together, okay?
This isn't about you.
This is about Janice.
You have to take care of Janice.
You have to focus.
You can't like fall down right now.
And he said, I know, I know.
And then he started sobbing and I've really never heard him do that, you know?
And he goes, I just, I don't want to be in a world without my Janice.
I just don't want to be here without her.
And I just I wanted to console him and I looked for something to say and I said well, you know, statistically you won't.
And, I mean, I didn't know that was going to come true.
I, obviously, this is not a time to say I told you so or anything like that.
By the way, all true.
I mean, it's like the truest special.
And I don't even find that appealing to say, like, everything I say is completely true.
And obviously there are some just pure jokes in there.
But my family, you know, they always know to take everything with a grain of salt.
But they were just like, everything you said really happened.
It's so crazy.
Yeah.
We're listening to Terry's interview with Sarah Silverman.
Her new comedy special, Postmortem, is streaming on Netflix.
We'll hear more of their conversation after a short break.
I'm Sam Brigger, and this is Fresh Air Weekend.
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So your father ran or owned a discount women's clothing store called Crazy Sophie's Outlet.
He did his own TV commercials.
Radio ads.
Radio ads.
Okay.
I'm not sure if I asked you this before, but can you describe the clothes that he sold?
Yeah.
He actually originally had a store that was his father's called Junior Deb and Varsity Shop.
And he took that over.
He actually made it a chain.
And it had like Levi's and, you know, kind of cool clothes at the time.
But it originated it was more like sold brownie and Cub Scout uniforms and all the stuff that you might need for school and clothes.
And then he...
That store closed, and he opened Crazy Sophie's Factory Outlet, and that was his store.
And it had kind of a little more off-brand.
He had some designer stuff.
He would list all the brands like in a garbled New England accent.
You know radio ad, like you know, Unicorn Jabozzi, Cavaricci.
You know, like I don't know.
Yeah.
He didn't have like kind of the big brands like Levi's, but he had.
You know, maybe if you remember some of those brands, I do.
But and it was, you know, just kind of discount women's clothing.
I don't know.
Did he bring them clothes that he expected you to wear, but you didn't want to wear them?
No, we wore it.
We wore whatever.
We weren't big clothes people.
I mean, yeah, I had the – when he had the other store, it was like he had great clothes.
I remember all the fads, the like eyes on over another eyes on.
Yeah.
It was a big thing at one point.
Or knickers.
I had like gray corduroy knickers and a coral sweater.
And I remember saying to my mom, take a picture of this.
This is what I'm going to wear at my first New York City audition.
You know, I was in eighth grade.
Like I was going to be an adult and wear that outfit.
You know, you just think, oh, this is forever.
Did he expect you to work in the store?
I didn't work in the store.
My older sisters did.
My sisters, Susan and Laura, did, and Jodine and I did not.
We were younger.
But I do remember we went to—Jodine and I.
They had us go to Hebrew school for one year in third grade.
I was in third grade.
She was in fourth grade.
And we didn't know from this.
You know, we were not—
And very Jewish.
As Susie said, who's a rabbi now?
We just thought being Jewish meant being a Democrat, because that's how we were different in New Hampshire.
Yeah, you were the only Jewish family where you grew up.
Yeah, pretty much.
In Bedford, in Manchester, the big city, there were a couple temples there.
And we went to, we hated it.
We went to Hebrew school for one year.
And it was in Manchester where my dad's store at the time was.
And we would have to walk from Hebrew school after school to my dad's store.
And we were instructed not to eat anything.
You know, we'll ruin our dinner.
And one day we pooled our money together and we bought a large McDonald's fries and wolfed it down and went to the, got to the store.
This is, I swear to God, a true story.
And he looks at us and he goes, you had French fries.
And we were just couldn't believe it.
We were like, what?
How do you know?
And you're not going to believe this, Terry, how he knew.
Salt in our mustaches.
It could have been a soft pretzel.
True.
We probably had that unmistakable McDonald's smell.
Oh, I know.
I know the smell you mean.
Yeah.
Your father wanted to be a writer.
Did you ever read anything he wrote?
Oh, I feel so guilty.
I started reading a few of them.
He had a few self-published novels.
And bless my niece, Aliza, who read every single one of them, and it meant the world to him.
And I don't know—and, you know, my other sister is the same.
I don't know what that block was, because of course we'd do anything for him and we wanted to support him and we wanted him to— feel loved all the time.
But it was really hard for us to read them.
You know, he's our dad.
And I'm such a hypocrite as the person that I am and the shows he sat through of mine.
But, you know, there was like sex scenes and sexuality.
And, you know, he was a sexual being, but it was just gross.
We just thought it was gross and we just couldn't.
And I feel so guilty about it.
There's one thing I feel pretty guilty about, but I didn't.
So he wanted to be a writer but instead had a factory outlet women's clothing store.
But when you were in college, after one year at NYU, I guess he knew you wanted to be a comic and perform.
He offered to pay for room and board for you for three years if you wanted to drop out of college.
Yeah.
Did he feel bad that he gave up his dream and not want you to give up yours?
That could be it, maybe.
I think he... You know, I will say, as a rare story for a comic, my parents totally believed in me.
You know, I was a good student kid anyway.
I was anal.
I did my homework in, you know, literal and figurative ways.
So they weren't.
I wasn't a slacker, you know.
I wanted to be a comic.
I was out every night, you know?
And so...
My first year of college, I had all my classes, and I was a drama major at NYU.
And...
I think I felt well one I went to class all day and then I worked passing out flyers for a comedy club in New York City that was called the Boston Comedy Club.
It was in New York City.
And I would pass out flyers every day from 4 p.m. to 2 a.m.
And then, you know, my first class would be in midtown at like 8 a.m.
And I was falling asleep during my classes, and teachers were getting mad, and I was horrified.
This is not me at all.
You know the thought that I would be sleeping in class.
I would—you know it was very reminiscent of being at sleepovers as a bedwetter.
I would pinch myself to stay awake.
I just couldn't fight it, and I felt so guilty.
Also because NYU is so expensive, I had a small— scholarship.
You know, at the time, it wasn't that small, but today it would sound very small.
I had $1,500 per semester.
And my dad paid the rest.
And I felt so guilty.
And they gave me no guilt about it, but that I'm this drama major that I, you know, I had academic classes, but mostly it was voice and movement and drama.
And I just thought, geez, that's so much money.
And I took a year off.
And when I was returning, about three weeks before I was going to return, I had changed to the arts and sciences school because I really – I knew I wanted to be a comedian.
I wanted to be an actor.
But I knew I could take an acting class.
I wanted to – if I was going to be in college, I wanted academics.
I wanted information I could draw on, you know.
And –
But about three weeks before I started back – and I had been doing stand-up and I think I had passed at my first club by then, when I was 19.
And –
My dad called and said, you know, listen, if you – I believe in you.
I wouldn't – you know, I believe that what you're going to do, you don't need a diploma.
And if you want to drop out, I will pay your rent and utilities for the next three years as if it were your sophomore junior senior year.
So that saves him a ton of money, right?
My rent was $350.
It moved up to $450 at one point.
And, you know, I had roommates and everything.
And he didn't have to pay for college anymore.
And it really worked out.
You know, by the time I would have graduated college, I was a writer at Saturday Night Live.
And I never needed money from my parents.
And, you know, I was independent, financially independent from then on.
Sarah Silverman, it's been such a pleasure to talk with you again.
And, you know, I'm sorry about the loss of your parents.
Thank you.
Thank you.
So be well and thank you.
Oh, man, thank you.
Sarah Silverman's new comedy special Postmortem is streaming on Netflix.
She spoke with Terry Gross.
Our rock critic, Ken Tucker, has been listening to new music, looking for something that's not just entertainment.
He thinks he's found it in two new albums by musicians who are both influenced by country and folk music but who otherwise could not be more different.
A relative newcomer, 22-year-old Ken Pomeroy, and a relatively old pro, 92-year-old Willie Nelson.
Here's his review of Pomeroy's Cruel Joke and Nelson's Oh What a Beautiful World, an album of covers of songs by Rodney Crowell.
Let's start with Ken Pomeroy.
It's easy to adopt the attitude that pop music is primarily entertainment, a pleasant distraction from whatever's going on in your life or in the world around you.
Sometimes, however, you come across songs and performers who offer more than entertainment.
They provide comfort, nourishment, reassurance.
One of these artists is Ken Pomeroy, the 22-year-old woman whose voice began this review.
Pomeroy has just released an album called Cruel Joke.
She's from Oklahoma, a Cherokee Native American, and her songs about farms and cowboys, sung with an acoustic country twang, mark her as one smart high plains drifter.
Broke you, like a mirror, into pieces, A few of me staring back in disbelief.
Honey, I swear I didn't mean to.
Never love someone like I loved you.
Playing a little cowboy, put your hand in mine.
I'd get lost for days in your green.
In that song, Flannel Cowboy Pomeroy seeks forgiveness from someone she wronged in no small part because she believes they were meant to be together.
It's typical of her approach on this album, which is full of complex emotions and urgent desires.
Her narrators don't want to become isolated.
They're not loners.
They hope to quell fears through relationships that only strengthen during difficult times.
You're talking too loud.
They can hear you way up in the sky.
With the days getting darker, coyotes are not drags on and there's nothing new to say.
My mother keeps lying, saying there's no other way.
I like the way Pomeroy's plain-spoken verses open up dialogues with the listener.
The conversational tone is something Willie Nelson perfected decades ago.
It's what's made him perhaps the most intimate pop music interpreter since Frank Sinatra.
These days.
Age has shortened his breath and thinned out the timbre of his voice, but it's still a quiet miracle that draws you in close, as on his version of Rodney Crowell's song What Kind of Love.
I'll give you the best I can give you, baby.
That's all I can give, And we'll live it the best.
We can live it baby, As long as we live.
What kind of love never turns you down?
What kind of love lifts you off the ground?
Turns your life around?
What kind of love makes you go out in the wind and the driving rain?
What kind of love runs through your heart With a pleasure so close to pain?
What kind of love only this love I have.
In the past, Nelson has recorded other album-long salutes to some of his favorite songwriters and singers, such as Ray Price and Roger Miller and Lefty Frizzell.
This one feels a little different.
The best moments here are when he takes hold of some of Rodney Crowe's more recent songs, not the hits.
These are reflective, contemplative compositions.
Like Kem Pomeroy's work, it's about appreciating people and rekindling connections.
Sometimes I think about leaving, As if I had some place to go, I might even crank up the engine And roll down the street just for show.
But nobody said it was easy.
But that doesn't mean it ain't right.
I don't want nobody else with me When it comes time to call it a night.
So far I've kept every promise And this I'll continue to do.
I'll love you like nobody's business.
I wouldn't be me without you.
There's a 70-year age difference between Ken Pomeroy and Willie Nelson, but I hear a similarity in their goals.
To resist despair, to get us to look up from our phones and look into someone's eyes.
They're both making beautiful music for tumultuous times.
Ken Tucker reviewed two new albums Willie Nelson's Oh What a Beautiful World and Ken Pomeroy's Cruel Joke.
Coming up, we hear from Cola Scola, creator of the Broadway show Oh, Mary.
The show imagines Mary Todd Lincoln as a drunk who dreams about returning to her only true love Cabaret.
I'm Sam Brigger, and this is Fresh Air Weekend.
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The Broadway comedy O Mary is nominated for five Tony Awards, including Best Play and Best Leading Actor in a Play.
The comedy follows a very fictionalized, intentionally improbable version of First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln in the time leading to her husband's assassination.
Our guest today, Colo Scolo, wrote the play and stars as Mary.
They spoke with Fresh Air's Anne-Marie Baldonado.
The New York Times calls the play Oh Mary unhinged, so campy and so unexpected.
They've also called it one of the best comedies in years.
Those looking for a close to historically accurate version of Mary Todd Lincoln should definitely look elsewhere, because this play is a reimagining based on very few facts.
Here the First Lady is depressed, sad beside herself and constantly drinking, not because of the Civil War or even the deaths of her children.
She longs for her only true love Cabaret, and her husband, the President, will try anything to stop her.
Another ploy to keep me from drinking and tucked away in the drawing room where no one can see me.
Contrary to what your paranoia tells you, I'm not some evil mastermind conspiring to keep you miserable.
When you keep me off the stage, you make the whole world miserable.
But for God's sake Mary, how would it look for the First Lady of the United States to be flitting about the stage right now in the ruins of war?
How would it look sensational?
That's Tony nominee Cola Scola as Mary and Tony nominee Conrad Ricamora as Abraham Lincoln.
Cola Scola first received rave reviews for O'Mary when it premiered off-Broadway in 2024, before transferring to Broadway.
In addition to all the Tony nominations, the play was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in Drama.
Cola Scola first came up in the cabaret and alt comedy scenes of New York after moving to the city 20 years ago.
They also gained a cult following through their online shorts.
They have starred in shows including Search Party, Difficult People and At Home with Amy Sedaris, and have written for shows like Hacks, Z-Way and the other two.
Cola Scola, welcome to Fresh Air.
Thank you for having me.
I couldn't have put it better myself.
That is exactly who I am.
Okay, great.
Well, do you remember when you first learned about Mary Todd Lincoln and what you learned about her, or at least like what your early memories were of her or the president?
She's one of those people that everyone just has sort of background knowledge of.
You know, like Mrs Claus, or like you know, toasters have two slots.
It's just things you accept.
Yeah.
And those kinds of things and people are what interest me most, because I guess comedy relies so much on expectation that if I know there's a shared expectation by the wide audience then it's easier to subvert it.
Well, can you talk about how you first came up with the idea?
I think it was in 2009.
Yeah.
I don't remember what sparked it.
I just remember walking around Lincoln Center and I had the thought what if Abraham Lincoln's assassination wasn't such a bad thing for Mary Todd?
And it was just an idea that... tickled me so much.
And originally, in my mind, it was the seed of an idea for, like, Mary's second chapter.
Like, sort of Nancy Meyers-style divorcee rom-com.
Like, what did Mary Todd Lincoln do after?
You know, like...
She fully leaned into herself.
And then yeah, slowly over 12 years, I kept having other little ideas that eventually added up to the play.
Well, you've said that this play is very personal.
And I'll say it again.
This play is very personal.
Well, you've said, Mary is me.
Yeah.
How is this play about you?
This play is about...
A woman with a dream that no one around her understands.
A dream that the whole world is telling her is stupid and doesn't make any sense.
And I feel that way.
I want to unpack what it is about cabaret that Mary loves and maybe that you love, too.
What sets cabaret apart from other kinds of performing?
There are some things that are maybe factual about cabaret.
You know, it's intimate.
There's interaction with the audience.
It's about personal storytelling.
It's about the story of the song rather than the singing mostly.
And yeah.
Yeah.
Well, like Mary, you are a well-known cabaret singer.
And you came up through this downtown New York scene with people like Bridget Everett and Murray Hill, who people might know from the HBO series Somebody Somewhere, among other things.
Can you describe what that scene was like?
This is the mid to late 2000s?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
So there was this monthly cabaret show called Our Hit Parade at Joe's Pub, and it was –
10 different cabaret or musical or performance artists performing the top 10 Billboard songs of the month, doing their own interpretations of those songs.
And it was a monthly show.
Usually, you know, like over half of the same people and then a few special guests.
And we did that every month for like three years.
And I was a regular guest.
And it's truly like I didn't go to school, but I feel like that's where I cut my teeth, so to speak, and learned how to perform and how to write for an audience.
Well, there's footage online of you performing at the last show in 2012, which was kind of a celebration of the show coming to an end.
Would you mind if we played a little bit of your performance?
I'll let you do that, yeah.
Okay, thanks.
When I was three, my dad chased my mom and me and my little brother out of our trailer because he thought the government was after him.
They weren't.
But we ended up going to my grandmother's anyway.
Actually, we made a pit stop at my mom's AA sponsor's house, but that's for a different show.
And I remember when we got there I was really scared and confused because I wasn't sure are we living here now?
And...
I remember going to my mom and telling her that I was really scared and afraid.
And she gave me the best piece of advice that I've ever received.
And she said, Cole, go away.
And 15 years later, I did.
I moved here to New York City.
I followed, yes.
That was seven years ago, and four years ago I came on this stage and did my first star hip parade and I sang this song.
Take a deep breath as I walk through the doors.
It's the morning of the very first day.
Say hi to my friends who I ain't seen in a while.
Try and stay out of everybody's way.
It's my freshman year and I'm gonna be here for the next four years in this town.
Hoping one of the senior boys will smile at me and say, you know, I haven't seen you around before.
Cause when you're 15 and somebody tells you he loves you, you're gonna believe them.
That's Cola Scola performing in 2012.
I love that performance.
And the joy of you singing a Taylor Swift song.
That's the Taylor Swift song 15 about being in high school.
I mean, listening to that, I wanted to jump out of a window.
That was 13 years ago.
It was a long time ago.
Look, I would have done that a lot differently now, and I would have done it differently knowing that other people would listen to it later.
Well, I will say that I would pay good money to hear you sing the Taylor Swift songbook.
All the phases.
I'll see you at Carnegie Hall in a couple of years.
And that story that you tell on stage during your cabaret act, is that true?
You were young.
Do you have memories of that?
I do have memories of that.
And I remember being excited that we were going to my grandma's because I didn't like the trailer where we lived and I didn't like my father.
And you ended up living with your grandmother.
Yeah.
And my grandmother and I shared a bedroom and she taught me how to read.
And yeah.
Yeah.
Well, you said that you loved to hear your grandmother's stories.
What were some of your favorite stories that she would tell you?
She told this story a lot about her 10th birthday when she found out her dad had a stroke and died working in some sort of mine in Canada.
And then there was also a story about how She really couldn't see.
Her eyesight was really bad, but her family couldn't afford glasses.
But then one day a doctor came to town and gave her a free pair of glasses.
These aren't great stories.
It was always the way that she told them and the details and the way she you know, she disappeared into the story and the in the telling of it.
Like, and I, you know, we didn't have a lot of money.
We didn't have a lot of money.
And mom made $3 a month, $3 a month, six kids and $3 a month.
And the, the, just the seriousness.
I mean, I'm laughing cause I'm just now realizing it was a cabaret act.
I never put that together.
That was my first exposure to cabaret, was hearing my grandmother with Alzheimer's retell me stories about her childhood in Alberta, Canada.
Well, I read that you used to stay at home on Mondays because on Mondays your grandmother would have lunch with her friends and you really wanted to hang out with them.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I would go to lunch with them.
I don't know why my mom – I'm sure she knew.
I mean it was literally every Monday of second grade that I would say, I'm sick.
I need to go to grandma's.
And we would go to this burger joint or the diner with my grandma Irene, and her friends Ruby, Grace and Shirley.
In your comedy you often do characters that are middle-aged women like Mary and like these women that you're speaking of.
Do you think your appreciation for women of that certain age sort of began with your grandmother and her friends?
Undoubtedly.
I wanted...
I mean, I wanted to be with them.
I wanted to be them.
I just... They were... And they... Because they also loved me.
They loved... I was so precocious.
And they were always just shower... I mean, after my grandmother...
Her Alzheimer's got really bad and she had to move into a nursing home and the group of gals split up and all went their separate ways because of health issues.
I started going to church by myself.
I was like 11 years old because I needed that validation from God.
Older women.
I needed someone brewing coffee for the group to look at me and say well, aren't you just so polite?
That was life to me.
When did you find performing?
I think your first play was when you were 11?
Yeah.
That was my first professional acting job.
But when I was, I think, five, we didn't have performing arts in our town.
But there was this company called Missoula Children's Theater.
And every year, two adults from this theater company would come to town for one week.
And in that one week, they would do auditions on Monday and the show was on Friday.
And I just lived for that one week, a year.
But then, yeah, my first professional acting job was in a production of Grapes of Wrath.
I played Winfield Jode.
And it was in a town 30 miles away from Klatskanai, where I grew up.
And...
During that time, my grandmother lived in a nursing home, and it was much much, much closer to the theater than where I lived.
So some nights after rehearsals, I would stay over at her nursing home.
What was it like being a kid in the nursing home?
Well, I wasn't sure that I was allowed to be there.
I knew I could visit.
I was pretty sure I wasn't allowed to spend the night, but I did anyway, and it felt...
It was weird.
I was lying to so many adults just so that I could be in this play.
I think I lied to my mom and I told her like, oh, no, the play feeds us.
And meanwhile I wasn't eating because I knew if I said I need money for food, she would say well, we can't do that.
I'm sorry, you can't do this play.
And, you know, I lied again.
To the adults in the play saying like oh yeah no, I can stay with my grandma in the nursing home so I can be late at rehearsal.
And just 11 years old trying to keep everyone in the dark about the fact that I was a child.
Well, you know, Grapes of Wrath, a serious play.
But you ended up finding community there, like an extended family.
Yeah, this woman that played...
Rose of Sharon, her name was Susan, she bought me food on our meal breaks every day.
And it was never an issue.
I never asked her.
She just, she saw what was going on.
And she would buy me food.
And then other actors would give me rides to my grandma's nursing home.
And I was in heaven.
Yeah.
Now you were in shows, like you said, you were in Fiddler on the Roof, Little Shop of Horrors, Les Miserables.
What kind of parts did you play?
Well, because I was a, you know, for all intents and purposes at the time, a boy who could sing.
I was always cast as, you know, like the romantic male lead.
Yeah, for the most part I played these roles really boring parts that didn't speak to me or spark me at all and sort of.
For that reason I didn't pursue acting after high school.
I didn't think that that's what I wanted to do.
So when you sort of pictured yourself as a performer in the future it wasn't as an actor in plays?
No, I didn't even picture myself as a performer.
I didn't know what I wanted to do yet, but I was like, oh okay, so if I want to be an actor, I'm going to have to go to school and learn how to move less gay and talk less gay and play these boring boy parts.
And I was like, I don't think I want to do that.
Well, you've said that you always associated, quote unquote, theater with pretending to be straight.
Yes.
That's what you're talking about?
Yeah, yeah.
Even back then you felt that way?
Yeah, especially back then.
Now I don't at all.
And I would play the stage manager in our town like a bitter, bitchy old jaded queen and not think nothing of it.
Well, I read that.
In fact, someone please produce that.
I would love to try that out.
Cole Escola, congratulations on the Tony nominations, and thank you so much for joining us.
Thank you so much for having me.
Cole Escola spoke with Fresh Air's Anne-Marie Baldonado.
Escola will play Mary Todd Lincoln until June 21st.
O'Mary continues its Broadway run until September.
Fresh Air Weekend is produced by Teresa Madden.
Fresh Air's executive producer is Danny Miller.
For Terry Gross and Tanya Mosley, I'm Sam Brigger.
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