DARE TO BE FABULOUS! By Gretchen Wyler

Gretchen Wyler has celebrated a spectacular and distinguished career in the theater and television, including Silk Stockings, Damn Yankees, Bye Bye, Birdie, and the original Guys and Dolls. While performing on stage by night, she was managing an animal shelter by day. Gretchen went on to found The Ark Trust, producer of the annually televised Genesis Awards, honoring the media and entertainment for shedding a spotlight on animal cruelty.

I have lived in two worlds – as a working actress in show business for 50 years, and as an animal-rights activist for nearly 40. Neither of these worlds have a high success rate, but I have succeeded in both. I attribute that to my energy and my passion. I collect quotes. Words drive me. Pictures can make me smile and touch my heart, or pictures can make me sad and make my heart hurt. But words inspire me. I am often surprised – and yet, pleased – when someone has crystallized MY thoughts in their words. In a recent conversation with actor Mike Farrell, I asked him how he continued his fight to save the environment, and he replied, "My outrage fuels me." HIS words fuel ME. My favorite is, "A doer doesn't dwell on victory or defeat. A doer just does." I have always been a busy person. When I was asked in an interview what my idea of happiness was, I replied, "Being in pursuit of something," which brings me happiness. I never cared about being rich; I cared about being happily busy. I recall when one asked if I ever, just to relax, drove to the beach and watched the tide come in. I responded with a smile and said I did not, but I would if I wanted to. I am hardheaded. I used to wonder how President Ford found time to play golf, which was often reported in the newspaper. How could a president find the time – or want to MAKE the time – to play golf? I've never envied the people who have time, or MAKE time, to relax… to sleep late… to watch TV… to take vacations. I'm awake. I'm busy.

I have three favorite words. I call them "the Power Three"- strategy, manipulation, and closure. I am, admittedly, "street smart." I graduated from high school and started pursuing goals. I am action-oriented, not study-oriented. I like to fearlessly move forward. It works for me.

Goals. Realistic goals. The word "realistic" is important. I admire people who yearn for the impossible, but I would rather reach for attainable goals. I know what triggered my first goal - to be a great dancer. I was born in 1932 in a little Oklahoma town, Bartlesville. When I was 18 months old, my mother found baby Gretchen in her crib, and her eyes had crossed overnight. In 1933, there were a lot of cross-eyed people since the medical technology had not pioneered the research to straighten eyes. I knew how ugly I was and there's not one picture of me looking into the camera. My little head was always down. I was sent to dancing school at the age of 5 and, as if it were yesterday, I remember deciding I would grow up, become a great dancer, wear beautiful costumes, and no one would see how ugly I was. In 1941, breakthrough surgery straightened my eyes and changed my appearance but didn't change my dream. I was determined to be a successful dancer. I wasn't too sure how, and there are no "how-to" books on the subject, but I had a strategy. It reminds me of a favorite quote: "How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, practice, practice."

Growing up was wonderful. I took center stage. In the first grade I was the leader of the rhythm band, at eleven I had a playschool for children, at fourteen, a dancing school. I was president of my class, editor of the high school paper and basketball queen. Those years gave me a great sense of leadership and a strategy to move forward and take control, knowing that there was a high price for such a position.

My parents supported my dream, but they probably thought it was just that – a dream. Meanwhile, they insisted I go to college, so I made a deal with them. Since I was a straight-A student, I asked if they would let me graduate a year early and then go to college for a year to see if I liked it. But all that changed one night. A few months before I was set to go to Northwestern, I met a beautiful woman at the wedding of a friend. She'd heard that I was a good dancer, and she invited me to join her new ballet company in Little Rock Arkansas. She had just hired a renowned ballet master from Carnegie Hall, and I decided this was the opportunity I could not miss. I packed my bags and left town three days later. My folks did not try to stop me. It felt just right to run away from home to start my career. That year in the ballet lived up to my expectations and I dreamed on. My first job was in the corps de ballet at the biggest outdoor theater in America – the St. Louis Muny Opera. The only limits one has are those of vision. I envisioned Broadway, and at 18 I auditioned and was selected to be a dancer in the chorus of Where's Charley? starring the great Ray Bolger (the scarecrow in "The Wizard of Oz"). That led to a chorus job in the original company of Guys and Dolls, and then my "big break" came as the singing and dancing star of Cole Porter's last musical, Silk Stockings in 1955. Throughout those early years, there was a LOT of strategizing and manipulating, and I did get a lot of closure!

In 1956, I married Shepard Coleman, a cellist with the New York Philharmonic, later to become musical director of the original Hello, Dolly! in 1964. It was a good marriage – he was a brilliant musician and an intellectual, but divorce came twelve years later. In retrospect, I know it was my energy level, my drive, and his attempts to slow me down that brought the separation.

Over the years, I had many lovers, but I kept moving on. Not for one day have I wanted to settle down or commit again. I had things to accomplish. And I never felt having children was my calling.

Until 1997, I earned my living as a union actor, dancing my way through stardom, replacing Gwen Vernon as Lola on Broadway in Damn Yankees, replacing Chita Rivera as Rosie in "Bye, Bye Birdie," loving the "new" variety television – dancing on Ed Sullivan, Perry Como, Gary Moore, Bell Telephone Hour and Andy Williams. A highlight was starring as Sweet Charity at the Prince of Wales Theatre in London's West End. I even met her Majesty the Queen at a Royal Command performance at the Palladium Theatre.

My life was full and I continued to pursue my theatrical goals. I once counted the number of starring roles I played - on Broadway, in road companies, summer stock and dinner theaters. I counted 22 shows! (Another favorite quote: "Boredom is what we feel when we are not participating in our own life.") In 1972, while doing a production of Company, I fell off the stage and broke my leg. I was told I would never dance again. We can't control what happens to us, but we CAN control our reaction to it. I decided to stay in show business and go for acting roles. I'd miss the overture and the excitement of "stopping the show" with an especially exciting dance number, but by then I was 40 years old, and I'd done my last tour jete.' I also decided I wanted to produce an off-Broadway show – fearless – but I did it. It was not a hit, but it was a marvelous adventure.

Also, I decided I could put more time in my animal work. In the early 1960s, I had Great Dane show dogs and became a "stage mother" as I watched a number of my dogs become champions. I had a lovely home in Warwick, New York, and in late 1966 I heard terrible things about the local dog pound, located on the village dump. At that time, no one even knew if there was a dog pound, or where that dog pound might be. I wanted to see for myself. I remember it was a December snowy day, and as I drove up, and hid in my car, I watched a toothless old man loading dogs into a truck from New Jersey. He slammed the door on the tail of one poor dog who let out a scream - I later learned that the truck came every two weeks to pick up all the dogs and sell them to a laboratory for experimentation.

An activist was born. A person does not search for a cause, it finds you. I'd been found. I vowed to do something about the dog pound. Determined. So I started what I called "the Power Three" – strategy, manipulation and closure. It worked. On October 13^th, 1968, the new Warwick Animal Shelter opened its doors and welcomed the first of thousands of unwanted dogs and cats. I managed the shelter for ten years while continuing as a New York actress. I also became the first woman elected to sit on the Board of the A.S.P.C.A. in New York City. And I was the first person to be dropped from that Board as a result of suing my fellow Board members for "corporate waste and indifference to animal suffering." The case was settled out of court in my favor, in favor of the animals.

Slowly but dramatically, my life changed. In the '60s, no one cared where furs came from, how animals were treated before they got on your plate, and what was being done to research animals behind closed laboratory doors. As information came to me, my passions were fired by my outrage. But in those early days I was in the closet! I told no one when I got rid of my fur coats and became a vegetarian. But I steadily began to find the courage and the words, and I knew I had work to do.

Animal-rights was not a phrase in the '60s. Peter Singer's Animal Liberation came out in 1975 and lured throngs of compassionate people into something called "the humane community." I began to feel comfortable with my new set of values, and eager to share them.

In 1977, I had a television series, was a performer on a Broadway show ("Sly Fox" with George C. Scott), managed the shelter in Warwick and ran a 60-member volunteer program at the A.S.P.C.A. Life was good, my health was perfect and I was happily busy. I traveled to Los Angeles with "Sly Fox" for the summer of' ‘78 and decided to stay for a while. I soon found out that California was a very fertile state for animal-rights progress. At that time, the President of the Senate was an animal advocate. I became active in city and state politics, arranging celebrity flights back and forth from the State Capitol to help me lobby. My most satisfying achievement was to sponsor and have the President of the Senate author an Animal-Rights Resolution - the first in the world – a legislative text that recognized the rights of animals. A fine use of the Power Three that brought the resolution to closure DESPITE heavy opposition on the Senate floor. One Senator actually said, "If God wanted animals to have rights, it would say so in the bible." Although I continued to perform in film and television, my focus at that time was almost exclusively on efforts to raise awareness of animal abuse and exploitation.

In 1986, with the increased power of the Political Action Committees (PACS), I became frustrated with politics and decided my time would be better spent working to change minds rather than to change laws. I founded an event called the Genesis Awards – an award show that honors members of the major media who produce works which raise public awareness of animal issues. The name Genesis was selected since it is the book that tells the story of Noah and the Ark, the first "news report" of an animal rescue! The Genesis award event is now in its 21st year.

In 1991, I was left a sizable bequest for my animal work, and I decided to start my own organization, The Ark Trust, Inc., working with the media and producing the Genesis Awards. For the past 18 years, the event has been seen as a television Special, first on Discovery, and now on Animal Planet. Power Three at work – from a 1986 luncheon for 140 people, and now a star-studded crowd of nearly 1000 in the International Ballroom of the Beverly Hilton.

In 1997, I starred in a grand production of "Hello, Dolly!" at the Muny in St. Louis. I had an agenda. Closing night, I made a curtain speech, telling the audience of 12,000 people that I had started my career in the corps de ballet in the Muny 47 years ago, that life is choices, and I had chosen to end my stage career that very night. The decision was good. It was a clean "exit" from the stage.

In 2002, The Ark Trust merged with The Humane Society of the United States (Power Three!), the largest animal-protection organization in the world. It seemed right.

In 2002, I had breast cancer. I am a survivor: pain is actual, suffering is optional. Again, We can't control what happens to us, but we CAN control our reaction to it. I keep doing what I do. I will not feel sorry for myself, or allow fear of death to fill my head. Radiation did affect my immune system, so I have some physical ailments. But that doesn't stop my clock from running, or slow down my days. Along the way, a doctor told me I have a low energy level. Me? I assured him he'd misread the tests. He replied, "Just picture your mind dragging your body around." Okay.

What's ahead? I wonder. I'm not religious. I'm not opposed to religion, I just don't feel a need for it in my life. I am spiritual. The Earth is my church, all the Earthlings are my friends, and I don't eat my friends.

I now have a home in the country-there is an orchard, a rose garden, 2 rescued horses,
and 4 foundling cats. I intend to keep working hard, but I know I'll "wear out" one day soon.

That's okay. I believe I have done the best I could do to help animals. It has been a seemingly impossible task, but I continue to draw my inspiration from thinkers of history past. I have memorized the words and the phrases, and continue to be driven by a new generation of profound thinkers.

Man, instead of being lord and, therefore, protector of the lower animal kingdom, has

become its tyrant.

I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained.

They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time.

Extreme horror of cruelty is the mark of the spiritual man.

Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

We need a boundless ethics which will include the animals also.

We live by the death of others. We are burial places!"

The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are

treated.

The question is not, Can they reason? Nor, Can they talk? But Can they suffer?

Until we stop harming all other living beings, we are still savages.

We draw the line between us and all the rest of creation.

A fabulous life? Webster defines "fabulous" as "extremely good, pleasant or enjoyable." Yes, mine has been fabulous. One journey. I have been accountable to others, and to myself. Life is choices, and I believe I have made the right ones – at least I stepped up to the plate.