Show business is vicious and cutthroat, and Larry is… not.  From the beginning, he’s had a reputation as person you could go to.  If you were stressed about auditions, or hurt, or just falling on rough times– his couch has seen a revolving door of people needing a place to crash, or a shoulder to cry on.  

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As a child, Larry grew up just outside Baltimore.  From an early age it was obvious that he had a gift for performing; he was a shy boy that just seemed to light up in front of an audience.  His mother, and staunchest supporter, chose to put him into lessons – vocals, tap, ballet, jazz… Whatever they would offer at the local rec centre.

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His father was less than thrilled.  But then, he was a rich and influential man, who was also less than thrilled about paying child support for a one night indiscretion.  Larry didn’t really understand why his father lived with another woman, or had other children, or why he wasn’t allowed to speak to any of them.

It was just the way life was. Normal.  And he mostly assumed that it was normal for other people, too.

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School was difficult for Larry.  He wasn’t naturally academic, and though he tried (and tried, and tried) it just never seemed to be quite enough.  He’d just turned seventeen when he was able to catch an audition for a traveling performance of Sweeney Todd.  

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Anthony Hope was his ticket out of Maryland, and Larry threw himself into the production with the single minded enthusiasm of a man who had suddenly realized where he belonged.

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For the next decade, everything seemed to go perfectly.  He was good, damn good– and had a reputation as a pleasure to work with.

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And then, with one slip, everything changed.

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It was during rehearsal, and it was just an accident.  They happened.  A fall, a bad landing.  But almost immediately, Larry knew that something was very wrong.  He tried to push through– he’d been hurt before, it came with the territory!  A week later his doctor was signing him into surgery to repair the damage.

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You’ll be able to walk.  But you’ll never dance like that again.

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Larry didn’t know how to cope with that news.  Theatre and dance was all he’d ever wanted to do.  And he wasn’t even thirty!  He had years left… Should have years left…  But his knee was an unknown and unreliable variable.  And he’d been in the business long enough to know the black mark it put beside his name.

Instead of giving up, Larry has turned his love and experience behind the scenes.  Still walking the boards, just not under the lights.  And what had started as a way to adapt, has become something he genuinely loves.  

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Yes, he misses performing.  Every day.  

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But he hasn’t let this setback turn him bitter and angry.  If anything, it’s made him kinder.