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Episode 65: Who's Out Front?

Writer's picture: Kristin LindstromKristin Lindstrom

The makeup room at the Kennedy Center Opera is bustling. We’ve got a big show tonight, with a full chorus and lots of supers. We’re moving them through as fast as we can,

A balding head pokes around the door: Boardman. “Guess who’s out front?”

It’s astounding how many people fall for this, even though Boardman does this every couple of weeks.

“Who?”

“Who?” echoes another chorus member.

“Joseph Papp! Second row center, orchestra.”

Papp is one of theater’s most influential producers, and he’s not sitting in the orchestra.

Invariably, two or three people peel off the line, and scurry off toward the stage level. I envision them standing in the wings, pulling back the curtain to peer into the audience. That is until the stage manager catches them and chases them off.

“Guess who’s out front?”

We turn to see Boardman’s mischievous face at the door to the makeup room.

There’s a chorus of, “Who? Who?”

“Andrew Lloyd Weber. Middle of the orchestra, seven rows back.” Hmm, wouldn’t you think Andrew could score better seats?

Glances are exchanged. A couple folks are off to check this out.

Leon Spinks.


This is during Jimmy Carter’s administration and when Boardman has his best one ever.

“Guess who’s out front?” He’s leaning against the doorway grinning.

“Now who?”

“Amy Carter and Leon Spinks!” Together? That would be worth seeing. Amy is still a child and Leon is a punch-drunk heavyweight champion boxer who remarkably won a match against Muhammad Ali in a split decision. He can barely talk, let along take in opera. Hah!

Amy Carter I met Boardman through an old boyfriend. They both worked for the foreign service. One day after the opera season was over, I get a call from Boardman. Turns out he thinks he bares a resemblance to relatively new Russian premiere, Mikhail Gorbachev. Boardman thinks he might be able to pick up some extra money posing as a Gorbachev look-alike. The only problem is that Boardman is lacking the signature wine stain that graces the Russian leader’s head. Could I replicate it for him? I felt sure I could. Perry and I make our way to Boardman’s apartment nestled in amongst embassies and consulates. I set up my make-up kit next to a picture of Gorbachev. This shouldn’t be hard, but Boardman’s slightly oily skin keeps sucking up the makeup. All of it. The more I put on, the less there is.

Mikhail Gorbechev


After an hour and half, we have to call it quits, no closer to a Gorbachev wine stain than when we started. Disappointment reigns.

I am sorry to say that the delightful Boardman came to a very sad end. I saw in the newspaper one day that he died of AIDS. Most tragically, he moved to Australia where, apparently, he died alone. A terrible end for a gregarious, intelligent man.


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