Dreams take stage at Rainier Beach with "Dreamgirls" production

"What do I look like up there?" Marsailles Solomon looks straight ahead, trying to act nonchalant.

Told he's a dynamic dancer, he allows himself a smile. He's known for his hip-hop skills in the south end of Seattle but hopes this production of "Dreamgirls" will be a bigger stage.

Marsailles, 17, and his fraternal twin, Ivory, are two of the leads in a show many hope will finally kindle the programs envisioned when the Paul Robeson Performing Arts Center opened nearly 10 years ago at Rainier Beach High School.

Broadway Bound Children's Theatre, a youth-theater group based in Seattle's north end, has offered scholarships for years with few takers. So this year it set out to put on a musical with students it has long hoped to attract. It found a partner in Rainier Beach High, which has long wanted a full-scale arts program.

Now, it's showtime. Broadway Bound has six weeks of all-day rehearsals to prepare two dozen students, many of whom have never been on stage, to learn more than two dozen songs, about a half-dozen dances and all the lines in "Dreamgirls," the movie and Broadway play with many parallels to the story of the 1960s group The Supremes.

Broadway Bound not only waived its usual $600 tuition; it is paying students minimum wage. Otherwise, most would be bagging groceries or working other jobs — and some do anyway, after rehearsal ends. But they're not singing and dancing just for the money. They want a chance to show just how good they can be.

"I'm lookin' for something baby" — Act I

As the second week of rehearsal ends, however, Ivory Solomon is stressed. When he auditioned, he hoped to be cast as C.C., the songwriter brother of one of the Dreamgirls. He thought his friend Emmanualle Taylor, known as Sale (pronounced Sah-lay) would make a good Curtis, the ambitious manager who propels the Dreamgirls to fame. But Ivory, 17, with his sparkling smile, was tapped to be suave Curtis; Sale to be C.C.

"They must have seen something," Ivory says, shaking his head.

Right now he just doesn't know what. Perched in the back row of the theater, he spills his doubts to Sale. He's so different from Curtis, he laments. Curtis is blunt, manipulative. Ivory is friendly, earnest and very nice. Every time he flubs a line, he apologizes.

Still, he's determined. He sang so hard the first two weeks, he ended up hoarse.

In this neighborhood, he says, he's never seen an opportunity like this.

"I think that's why I'm trying to take good hold of it."

"Step, step, step on over" — Act I

Ivory is one of the few students with theater experience. He's been in two musicals: one at Rainier Beach last spring and one last summer at Langston Hughes Cultural Center in the Central District.

But it's the first time many of the students have sung somewhere other than church, or danced on stage.

That includes two of the Dreamgirls: Vanessa O'Francia, 16, from Renton High, who plays Lorrell, and Shaniqua Bodary, 17, who attended Cleveland last year. Shaniqua plays Effie White, the lead singer who is pushed out in favor of better-looking Deena, played by recent Garfield graduate Aspen Jordan.

Their hopes for the show are high, especially Shaniqua's. She joined her church choir at age 3 and has a voice so strong she hardly needs a mic. She sings and dances almost nonstop, even after lunch, when other students slip to the floor to rest.

"I just feel like it's not going to end here," she says.

Cleveland doesn't put on musicals. Rainier Beach has for the past two years, a labor of love by a young English teacher doing her best with a budget of a few thousand dollars.

Broadway Bound, in contrast, will spend about $150,000 on "Dreamgirls." The staff includes a choreographer, two music directors, a costume designer, a stage manager and more. The show is directed by Jimmy Nixon, Broadway Bound's founder and a longtime professional actor and producer.

As the second week of rehearsal ends, Clarence Robinson, a professional drummer who's helping with "Dreamgirls," is already telling students they are going to blow people away.

"I guarantee no one is expecting you to be as good as you are," he says.

"I am telling you" — Act 1

That was one of the main reasons for building the theater in the first place, says Michelle Jacobsen, a Rainier Beach teacher who pushed for its construction. There's so much talent that goes untapped.

A decade after the theater opened, the building is there, but the programs aren't close to what was originally envisioned. The drama program at Rainier Beach just started up again two years ago after a hiatus. There is one band class, taught by Robinson, with about 18 students. A volunteer writes grants that support the band, dance and other arts programs.

"It's been painful," Jacobsen says.

Broadway Bound staff members say they peeled the shipping plastic off the theater's soundboard and found lights that looked as if they'd never been plugged in.

"It was like walking into something that's been cocooned," Nixon says.

Many hope this production represents a new beginning. Not only does Broadway Bound want to continue working in the South End, the school expects to receive an infusion of resources this year under the district's Southeast Initiative, some of which is earmarked for a music teacher and drama teacher.

Nixon knows what it's like to have lot of desire and not much money.

In Jersey City, where he grew up, he lived in a four-bedroom house shared by 15 people. Until he was 13, he figured he'd be a P.E. teacher. Then his priest took him to see the musical "1776," and all that changed.

"A program like this," he says, "would have meant the world to me."

Still, Broadway Bound is about $100,000 short of what it needs to break even on "Dreamgirls." The staff wonders whether potential donors are wary given Rainier Beach's reputation as a rough school — a reputation Jacobsen and students say doesn't match the place they know.

"It's just show biz" — Act I

By the end of the third week of rehearsal, tensions rise within the cast. Ivory and his cousin Quincy Robinson are among those frustrated that some students aren't taking the show as seriously as they do. Quincy, a poised 16-year-old from Renton High, announces plans to quit at the end of the week.

The blowup clears the air. Quincy is convinced to stay. He wants this production to succeed — not so much for himself, but for his cousins. Especially Marsailles, who dozes off during vocal rehearsal because he was out late. Marsailles, who jokes that if he wasn't in this musical, he'd be hanging with the wrong crowd. It's not entirely untrue. He's hung out with the wrong crowd before. Quincy hopes the show will propel Marsailles toward his dream of becoming a choreographer.

"I just KNOW he has it in him," Quincy says.

At lunch a few days later, more trouble. As the other students leave for lunch, Nixon sits in a chair onstage, almost knee-to-knee with the girl who originally was to play the Dreamgirl named Lorrell. For a number of reasons, some personal, it isn't working out.

Nixon reassigns roles. Vanessa is the new Lorrell. The other girl can stay in the ensemble if she chooses.

It isn't the only cast change this week. Nixon fired another student he worked hard to motivate. That made five students who have been asked to leave. Nixon works with them when issues come up. One brings her nieces from time to time so she doesn't have to miss rehearsal to baby-sit. The staff offers to help another find foster care. But if students are late and they don't call, they're out. Even if they call to say they'll be late, he docks their pay. If they aren't working hard, they can lose their role. Because they are paid, they must earn it.

"I am changing" — Act II

Eight days to opening night. The students know all the songs and most of the dances. Now it's time to "block" — work out where to stand, where to look, how to deliver lines.

Nixon is all over the stage, his blond hair flying as he shadows whoever is speaking, showing them what he wants them to do. Aspen, the only one who's worked with Nixon before, sums up his style: Once blocking starts, she says, Nixon starts yelling and doesn't stop yelling until opening night.

Shortly after lunch, he loses patience with Nico Handley, a tall, aw-shucks 15-year-old who's playing the manager to Marsailles' character, the singer Jimmy Early.

"You're doing everything I told you not to do," Nixon says.

Nico walks with shoulders slumped, hands in his pockets. Nixon wants his head up. Nico says his lines to the floor. Nixon wants him to boom.

Nico listens, hands behind his head, fingers laced.

Trying again, he finally stands up straight, yells at Curtis (Ivory) that he's nothing but a hustler. Marsailles claps, but Nixon moves on. No time to waste now.

Ivory says he's getting Curtis down. His biggest challenge now? "Remembering my lines ... all the way through."

For Quincy, the challenge is not falling for a girl in the cast that he likes a lot. As a rule, he says, he keeps relationships separate from work. (Although he makes an exception later.)

For Nico: Keep acting like someone he's not.

The magic of theater, however, in many ways has already happened. Makela Stewart, the Rainier Beach drama teacher who's also helping out with "Dreamgirls," says she could never get Nico to sing out for her. Now he is. And Ivory. For awhile, he shied away from singing solo. Now he's a lead.

Pam Berry, the volunteer who writes grants for Rainier Beach's arts programs, says that's why the arts are so important: They change people. Even the students who appear lost. If they like to sing or dance, she says, "you put them in a program like this ... and you won't recognize who they are."

On Monday before opening night, Sale, who graduated from Rainier Beach this spring and is the person many students seek out for advice, summons everyone into a circle. They stand, silent, heads bowed. He prays for them to get through the last week, when nerves always wear thin. They want people to see the talents they have, and all they've learned. They want to show the whole city that South End students can work together — and shine.

"I love saying this," Sale says later. "We're always a lot stronger than we think. A lot better than we think. All we need is the opportunity and ability to show it."

Linda Shaw: 206-464-2359 or lshaw@seattletimes.com