Evan Jonigkeit. Learn that name. He’s 29, in “Really Really” at the Lucille Lortel, and about to become a hotshot. Years ago, actors were jazzed up to be called Rock Hudson, Tab Hunter, Chad Everett. So why’s he Evan Jonigkeit?
“My mother christened me after a character on ‘General Hospital.’ The rest is my father’s name, and I’m keeping it,” said the kid whose sweatshirt, stocking cap, junky sneakers, low socks and jeans proved he’s totally today. “Dad was a MetLife salesman who traveled selling insurance. I went from Long Island to Chicago to Pennsylvania. Moving so much, you learn to live in a temporary world.
“My parents live in that same house where I grew up in Langhorne. Its claim to fame is Kmart near Target near Walmart. We’re close, but there’s some older brother, younger sister rivalry. They’re not coming to tonight’s opening. Nobody did anything in show business, so I’m a rare bird who became the black sheep.
“Show business happened because in sixth grade I had a crush. She was in the choir, so I got into that. Then the teacher put me in a musical. It led to a high school comedy troupe.
“The last two years I’m back here. Uptown. Buying hot dogs on the avenue. Never living anyplace else. Look, I did all the bad things before. Now I’ve turned the corner, and work is important to me. I already have a good team — manager, agent, p.r. person. It’s the middle of pilot season, so TV people will all be in checking us out. Acting’s a tightrope. You’re your own business. You’re selling yourself.
“ ‘Really Really’ is about the Me generation. Affluent college kids, drinking, dealing with the real world and promises parents made that we’d all have jobs when we graduate. You make compromises for survival because we inherited something different and learned it requires a good deal of selfishness.”
AFTER performing in “Stripped the Play” at Vegas’ Planet Hollywood, Steve Stanulis was mugged by two robbers. Managing to escape this ex-NYPD cop tore some muscles, broke an arm and is back healing on the safe streets of NYC. Somebody should’ve told him the showbiz phrase is “Break a leg.”
JOB possibilities for when Obama goes bye-bye: Open a fast-food joint like “Born Again Burgers.” Having split his longtime reverend’s church, servers could be Jehovah’s Waitresses. Or manufacture Boomerang Milk Bones for when Bo gets too old to fetch. No? How about building a camembert, cheddar and brie factory in Israel called Cheeses of Nazareth. If all else fails, hold up a roadway sign saying “Will go to funerals for food.”
BRENDAN Fraser, who just declared bankruptcy but made millions starring in flicks like “The Mummy”: “Riding a camel is like driving a stick shift, only noisier and with more attitude. Forget their spitting — but their breath! They should airlift Altoids to Africa.”. . . Emily Watson’s guilty pleasure: “The Internet. I grocery shop and buy my kids’ clothes online. This way it’s no fighting crowds.”
OSCARS. A few years ago New Zealand grandma Joy had trouble watching Russell Crowe’s movie “Gladiator.” Couldn’t see him hurt, although it was make believe. As he faced death in a fight, she stood shouting: “No, leave him alone, Don’t hurt him.” She says: “His late granddad Stan, a filmmaker, adored him. When he won his Oscar, Stan’s MBE was on Russell’s chest.”
SANDRA Lee. You know her as the TV chef. The author. The one known for semi-homemade cooking. The knockout blonde referred to as Andrew Cuomo’s first ladyfriend. I know her forever — as one who gets up 4 a.m. for 6 a.m. tapings for her four television shows. As coming from poverty, marrying a wealthy LA developer, divorcing him, ploughing through many problems, moving here and making it all herself.
And Sandra’s biggest thrill these days? “March 1 my cockatoo is on the cover of a New York pet magazine.”
Your what’s on what?
“My Phoenix, he’s white with a white crest, has no feathers. Can’t fly away because he’s clipped. He walks around and talks to me. He says, ‘Hi . . . how are you?’ Ask a question and he says, ‘What? What?’ then, ‘No.’ ”
She carries pictures of him. Not understanding birds, I was really thrilled with the conversation. I asked, “What’s the thing eat?”
“When Andrew bought him he was a baby. Teeny. I wrapped him in cloth near a heater to keep him warm and fed him with a tiny eyedropper. Now he eats sweet peas, green beans, pellets and loves mashed potatoes.
“He was bought for me because I couldn’t survive losing another dog. When mine went, after being my love forever, I thought I couldn’t survive it. Cockatoos live 75 years. You know, birds choose you.”
No, I didn’t know.
DINNER at Le Cirque. We’re talking forever, and it’s getting late so we check the time. Examining her cellphone, Liza Minnelli announces: “It’s 2:30.”. . .“Whaa? We got here 8 o’clock. Can’t be 2:30. You crazy?” Liza — off to Paris and just back from somewhere else — hands me her phone. It says 2:30. All I know is we left Le Cirque when it was 3:15 a.m. somewhere in the world.
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.