Tom Antonellis Has Had a Few Firsts You Can Relate To

My first interview for a job after college was a casting call for Paramount Parks’ Star Trek program. 

I’d graduated from Syracuse University with a degree in Film and this acting opportunity seemed like one of the coolest ways to spend my first post-college summer.  

The first interview (or audition since that’s actually what it is for anything show business related) resulted in my first job after college.  I was cast as a Romulan (for the non Star trek fans, that’s like a Vulcan, but a villain – pointy ears, bowl-cut haircut, olive skin tone).  The character I created was Subcommander Tomas — a walk around character at Paramount Parks where I developed a really good memory for names.  I would encounter and be introduced to a kid at 12pm and see the kid 5 hours later on another walk, and toss him a “Greetings Justin!” and blow his mind.  

Walk around characters (picture Aladdin or Aurora at Disneyland) are permitted to address the park patrons, as opposed to the mascot-type characters who are silent.  

It was a great summer, but it was only a seasonal job and, by early September, I found myself headed home to Massachusetts for the reality check that would be my post-college life.  I knew there’d be some serious saving to do if I was to be able to make my big move to New York or Los Angeles where I would be able to pursue “the dream”.  Dad’s plumbing company was glad to have me in the office – I organized the heck out of that place.  But, and I’m putting this kindly, I was/am certain I was not meant to work in any job having to do with… plumbing.  

During this time I was reconnecting with friends from my hometown – folks hadn’t seen much since High School graduation – friends with whom I’d only touched base on college breaks and holidays.  Those breaks and brief visits were enough, though, for my friends to become aware of the fact that I’d acquired what I thought, at the first time, were decent ballroom dancing skills.  Whenever home on breaks, I’d teach my first student, my sister, all my moves.  

In no time, I had Julee doing jitterbug lifts in the living room.  

Knowing my penchant for dancing, my friend Dan told me that he heard, on the radio, an ad for Arthur Murray Dance Studios.  He said the radio ad mentioned that the studios trained people to become teachers.  This is the FIRST and only time I’ve heard of AMDS utilizing precious advertising time in this way.  In all my years as a manager, I learned many things for certain.  

One is:  if you’re going to pay for radio advertising, chances are you’re going to want to be trying to reach potential students.  This was 1996 and before widespread internet advertising, website pervasiveness and way before social media.  The Yellow Pages – yes, it was an actual book – and print advertising were still the biggest ways the studio reached the public.  

I decided to go for it:  the First happy job after college, a job with Arthur Murray.  Maybe I’d be able to dance my way to a show-biz town instead of filing plumbing purchase orders to get there. 

My first interview was at a studio which will, for reasons that will become apparent, remain nameless.  Truth is, I could name it because they are no longer around, but I’m not going to.  I walked in very confident about the prospects of employment.  I could dance after all.  I could teach – back at Syracuse, I was given the chance to be a TA for the Basic Ballroom Class the minute I stepped into the Intermediate.  This place would be lucky to have me.  

Well, it turned out I was in store for my first dancing heartbreak, and the first test of my determination to pursue teaching ballroom dancing as employment.  The franchisee told me she would pass.  I was surprised, but was raised to be very respectful.  I thanked her for her time and headed back to my car.  I got halfway across the parking lot (I can still picture the parking lot and the type of day it was) and turned around to head back in.  She greeted me and asked if I forgot something.  

I said, “you know, I just had a question.  And certainly you’re entitled to not want to bring me on but, may I ask why?  Why was it you aren’t interested in me?”  She said, and I quote (I can hear it to this day), “you have too many bad habits I would rather not have to undo.  I’d rather train someone from scratch.”  Again I thanked her for her time and I went home.  

The next day I looked up every Arthur Murray in Massachusetts and said to myself, “That can’t be the last word in this company.  I’m going to try another studio.”  The first one I reached on the phone was the AM Boston Studio, at the time helmed by franchisees Paul and Doris Lightner, who have both since passed.  

Paul gave me my first chance in the company.  

I told him what the other studio’s franchisee had said about my dancing – I wanted to start on a very honest level.  He told me, “Oh, no.  That’s no problem.  We’ll train you.”

For months on end, after a full day filing pipe requisition orders and fielding phone calls for overflowing toilets, I took the T from he station closest to the plumbing company into Boston to train with the staff in the 7-10pm block.  

I learned quickly what these “habits” were over which the original lady turned me down. 

First, a Rumba problem.  I started my Rumba box to the side.  Instead of a slow step forward on the left, side together, back step on the right, side together, I was doing side together, forward left on slow.  

Unforgivable right? 

Next, a Cha-Cha Issue.  I didn’t understand the musicality.  I rocked forward on beat 1.  That meant my timing was 1,2,3-and-4; 5,6,7-and-8 instead of the more appropriate:  2,3,4-and-1 more apt for Latin expression.  

1,2,3-and-4 = hideous.  

My major Latin styling problem – my Cuban Motion was backward.  When I stepped on a foot, the corresponding hip went with it, instead of more cleanly stepping on a foot and assuring that the corresponding half of my rib cage went with it/over it.  

I remember, one time, asking the guy who was training me:  “Do you think the original school turned me down because she thought I wouldn’t be willing to adjust these deficits in my dancing? Or couldn’t?”  He said, “Probably.  She probably thought you would fight the training.”  I told him, “Nothing would please me more than to correct these problems.  I want to do it the Arthur Murray way.  The right way.  

A great many firsts would follow the training at the AM Boston studio: 

My first placement with the studio.  As it turned out, by the time I was ready, Boston didn’t need me, but Burlington needed a male instructor.  I did very well at the Burlington location and loved my time there and adored my franchisee, Linda Mansfield.  

My first Dance-O-Rama students: Deidre and Leslie.  I will never forget them.  

My first pro show demonstration.  A swing to “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” with Dawn Killam. 

My first group class where I used my memory for names from the theme park to rattle everybody’s name off in rapid fire to cheers and applause.  

I would even get a chance to run into that first, original franchisee again – the one who didn’t like my “bad habits”.  It was years later – after many other firsts.  After my first flight across the Mississippi, after my first job in Los Angeles – AM Sherman Oaks.  After my first time in the top 20 New Student Specialists list in the entire company.  It may even have been one of the first instances in my life of true vindication.  

I reintroduced myself to her at an event and said, “I’m not sure if you remember me but I applied in your studio.  It was back in 1996.  At the time you didn’t feel it was a good fit.  But I still appreciate having met you because even turning me down galvanized my desire to work for this company.  And now I’m a top twenty specialist.  I’ve come a long way.  Thanks a lot.” 

Yeah, I was tossing it up in her face, and I’m not too terribly proud of that – it is a cool story though, but the truth of it was:  I had come a long way, and I did so because I was determined to work a job that I loved.  All due respect to my father’s choice to be a tradesman by day and a guitarist and songwriter by night, I knew that the plumbing company would kill me… slowly.  I loved the idea of a job that would give people something wonderful and that would give back to me a teacher’s sense of accomplishment.  

And it was all worth it when I would be blessed with more firsts like:

My first testimonial from a couple sharing with me that my teaching them to dance saved their marriage.

My first tearful admission from a student that she had been contemplating suicide, and that now she felt she never would, or could, do that.  Now, no matter how alone she ever felt, she would always have her dancing.

I’ve learned that, in life, the firsts really don’t ever stop coming.  Thanks for taking some time to relive with me some of my firsts.  I’m looking forward to hearing some of yours.