Scott Lowell is best known for his lead role of “Ted Schmidt” in Showtime’s groundbreaking series Queer As Folk, for which he was twice nominated for the Prism Award. Other television credits include Heroes (NBC), Leverage (TNT), Criminal Minds (CBS), various voices on the Fox animated series American Dad, On The Edge (Showtime), Alien Fury (UPN); Frasier, Caroline In The City and Early Edition. Film credits include The Chicago 8, To Live and Die in Dixie, Ping Pong Playa, Trapped Ashes, The Debtor$, Love Bites, Ladies Room LA, Damned If You Do and Opus 27. He recently appeared onstage at the Berkshire Theatre Festival in The Heidi Chronicles. Stage credits in Los Angeles include The Pain and the Itch (Furious Theatre/Boston Court – LADCC nomination – Best Ensemble); Orson’s Shadow and Present Laughter (Pasadena Playhouse); Durang/Durang (Hollywood Court); Anna Christie and The Caine Mutiny Court-martial (LA TheatreWorks). Chicago credits include Light Up The Sky and A Christmas Carol (Goodman Theatre); “Picasso” in the World Premiere run of Steve Martin’s Picasso At The Lapin Agile and Twelfth Night (Steppenwolf); 19 different characters in A Perfect Ganesh (Northlight); Laughter On The 23rd Floor (Briar Street); “John Wilkes Booth” in the Chicago Premiere of Sondheim’s Assassins (Pegasus, Jeff Citation – Production); The Chicago Conspiracy Trial (Remains Theatre); Much Ado About Nothing and King John (Chicago Shakespeare); the World Premiere of the six-hour Incorruptible (Jeff nomination – performance), Wild Honey and Orwell Down and Out (Bailiwick Rep.). Also a writer, Scott currently resides in Los Angeles.

Hello, my name is Scott and I’m a recovering Theatre Snob … you’re supposed to say “Hi, Scott.”

Thank you.

When I made the decision at twelve years of age that I wanted to become an actor there was no question in my mind what that meant: theatre. I grew up in New Haven, CT. Between the wonders of New York City and the great theatres near me (Long Wharf, Hartford Stage and Yale Rep), the performances I saw on those stages resonated with me more than film or television. My training at Connecticut College and at the O’Neill Theatre Center only cemented this feeling.

By the time I arrived in Chicago in 1987 (to rejoin some friends with whom I had helped start a theatre company) there was no doubt that the career I wanted was either one of a journeyman – – traveling the country and performing at all the great regional theatres – – or to be an ensemble member of an amazing company such as Steppenwolf (every Chicago actor’s dream whether they admit it or not). A life full of stability and creativity. I was fortunate to be nurtured by a creative community in Chicago unlike any I had known, and I grew not only as an actor but as a human and (by the nature of some of the pieces I worked on) a politically active soul. THIS was the power of working on stage and feeling the change come over not only yourself but your audience. THIS was the feeling I wanted always. When I worked on stage with actors who had found success in either TV or Film I was unimpressed. I felt that they could only maintain a character’s life for the moments leading up to their cue and a few moments after … then they just kind of … went away. THIS was not real acting, I told myself. The Theatre Snob in me had full reign. When I got my Actor’s Equity Card (by joining the cast of the original production of Steve Martin’s “Picasso at the Lapin Agile” at Steppenwolf) I took myself out to a dinner of Lobster and Oysters. I had made it.

As the years wore on, a glass ceiling of opportunity descended upon me as harshly as the gray skies of the endless Chicago winters. I began to feel restless. I began to feel unchallenged. I began to feel depressed. The roles I was offered fit into the subcategory of “utility actor” time and time again, and the span between the offers grew. I began delivering food wearing a bad polyester tuxedo in a car with no A/C in the middle of Chicago’s hottest, most humid summer. Where was that feeling of security that I desired? Where was that journeyman career? I discovered to my dismay that very few regional theatres actually cast out of Chicago at the time. I also felt that once the handful of casting directors in the city had made up their mind about who you were and what you could do as an actor it was very difficult to shake that opinion. I felt stuck.

A friend from college reappeared in my life. He had spent the years since we had seen each other working as an editor and writing screenplays on the side. He was going to shoot a short film that summer and he wanted me to be in it. Well, being Theatre Snob I had to pass as I was going to be running around in tights all summer and couldn’t possibly leave that opportunity. So I gave him the name of some friends of mine and they made the film … and they had an amazing time. This led to a year of conversation and planning about making another. Through this I began to see the challenges and new horizons that acting on film could offer. I discovered the great book by Patrick Tucker “Secrets of Screen Acting” which is written specifically for stage actors “transitioning” as well as Michael Caine’s “Acting in Film”. I really became intrigued.

Well, forces in my life collided. The Chicago winters were causing an intense Seasonal Affective Disorder in me, I needed to escape an unhealthy on-again/off-again relationship, and I found myself at best on the “B team” of actors in the city. I needed change, challenge and sunshine (and a woman who didn’t make me punch walls). The idea of moving to Los Angeles suddenly appealed to me and I started preparing myself.  I began doing commercials and industrial films, got my SAG and AFTRA card to join my AEA card and started building a “nest egg”. I spent a week in Los Angeles in November of ‘97 at the behest of friends of mine from Chicago who had already made the move. I was overwhelmed by the number of friends I had out there and the pockets of creativity they had formed.

During that trip, on a small side street in Hollywood I passed a few ordinary street lamps and electricity poles. They were plastered with posters and signs for headshot photographers and printing as well as classes. It struck me that the people who had placed these signs assumed that the majority of people walking down this little side street were going to be actors. The weight of that and the volume of actors I would be competing against out there really hit me. Paralysis set in. Then my friend let me know that, yes, it can seem like the majority of people in this city are actors, but you have to realize that most of them are people who were told by someone back home: “You know, you’re real good lookin’! You oughta be in the motion pictures!”  They have no training, no skills and no experience. By having all three of these things already, my friend told me, you instantly rise above 95% of the people out here. This calmed me down, and as I strolled the beaches of Malibu in my shorts and t-shirt in the middle of November (when I would be shivering and cursing life back in Chicago) I made my decision.

Upon returning back to Chicago I continued to build my “nest egg”. I had been told to bring enough to live off for at least six months as I settled in and searched for representation and work (this proved to be very true). I cobbled together a demo reel from student films, commercials and even a monologue that I wrote and then had a camera man at “The Jenny Jones Show” (where I did audience warm-up) shoot for me to look like it was a scene from a film.

I drove out to Los Angeles at the end of January 1998. What happened next is a bit of an anomaly. Through a friend I got a meeting with the commercial agents over at Abrams Artists (they have since left and formed AKA with whom I am now ensconced). Despite my worries that they might view my reel as amateurish due to the lack of clips from any significant projects, they decided to take a chance on me. They sent me out the next day and I booked it. It would be the first of 12 national spots I would do that first year. I can’t attribute this to any extraordinary thing I did, I just think the market shifted to “guy next door” when I moved out here and things just clicked. But what I can say is that it proved to be a great training ground for me. A lot of directors working in commercials are terrific film and TV directors who do commercials as their “day job” just like we do. So I learned a TON and had the bonus of getting paid for it. It’s a great way to get comfortable on a set and play around with what works and doesn’t work on camera. For example: my eyes. While I never had to worry or think about them on stage, these directors showed me that on camera (due to their larger than normal size) they “pop” in such a way that even the slightest movement of them becomes incredibly significant. They helped me learn to use this new-found power for good rather than evil.

Now, while I was lucky enough to work this way soon after arriving I was still a Theatre addict and I started jonesin’ to get back on stage. I spoke with friends of mine (you see how crucial having a strong network of support out here is) about which were the good Equity theaters and I sent a mailing out to them. Again, timing and fortune smiled upon me and I was cast at The Pasadena Playhouse – – one of the few theaters, I was told, agents and casting directors don’t mind going to – – and through that production an agent at Don Buchwald & Associates snatched me up and I met a few casting directors who have since become lifelines. {As a side note here, having had the pleasure of working twice now on productions at the Playhouse and having been witness to many, I can only hope, for the sake of all the good people who have toiled there behind the scenes, the extraordinary artists who have graced her stage, and most importantly for the future audience members whose lives will be the poorer for not experiencing a production in what is rightly the State Theatre of California, that her doors will reopen soon. If for no other reason, it should be saved for its Green Room – among the finest in the country!}

At first I was just hip-pocketed at DBA (represented by one agent but not fully signed … kind of like an internship) and it became my task not only to woo casting directors but to woo the other 7 agents as well. At the time (it seems so long ago now) I hit upon the idea of sending faxes. Few were using email regularly then, phone calls could be rebuffed and I had images of letters or postcards being tossed directly in the “circular filing cabinet.” So I sent personal (at times wacky) faxes of thanks after every audition. This came out of genuine appreciation of someone either submitting me or taking the time to see me, but it had the added effect of building relationships with the agents and casting directors and helping them to become fans.  Most of those who worked so hard to get me my first jobs in town back then are still my greatest cheerleaders today. I owe them all so much.

As I began to do guest spots on television shows I learned about different atmospheres on sets and how they affected the quality of shows. The best example was the set of “Frasier”. The actors on that show treated everyone as an equal. They never hid in their dressing rooms. They were out in the “green room” socializing and making everyone feel welcome. In one week of work on that show I felt as if I had done an entire run of a play with that cast. Theatre Snob started to think “Hmmm, maybe TV isn’t so bad after all. It’s kind of like … theatre!” It’s no wonder that show was as successful and beloved as it was.

One day in the late spring of 2000, as a notorious and disastrous commercial strike wore on, I received (late in the day, of course) two appointments with scripts to read and scenes to prepare for the following day. One was for a movie-of-the-week about firemen, the other was a 3-part pilot for a series about the lives of five gay men and two gay women in Pittsburgh. I started to read “Queer As Folk” and I was stunned. I couldn’t believe they were going to put this show on television. The character description of “Ted Schmidt”, the part I had been submitted for was “chubby and balding”. Now, while I didn’t exactly feel I matched the physical description, the more I read of this guy the more I felt like he was acting out scenes from my own life in LA. His very first scene had him trying to talk to guys in a bar who walk past him as if he were a ghost. He continues to mutter an imagined conversation with these hunks as they keep passing him by. I felt as if someone had spied on me at a number of parties in LA as women I tried to speak to looked right through me. I was hooked at the universal themes in the show buried in this bold, innovative exploration of gay life. I understood the psychology of this guy down to his toes. It was a no-brainer. The firemen movie was tossed aside and I focused entirely on QAF all the while thinking in the back of my brain “well you look nothing like the guy they’ve described so it’s probably not going to happen. ”

What did happen is that Theatre Snob ran into a bunch of Theatre People doing television and his life has never been the same. From the moment I met Linda Lowy, the casting director, and discovered that she was married to my favorite Steppenwolf actor from Chicago, Jeff Perry, I had a feeling things might be different. (Along with her amazing partner John Brace she also casts “Grey’s Anatomy” and “Friday Night Lights” among other projects.) I then met Ron Cowen and Dan Lipman, the Executive Producers and creators of the show (as well as “Sisters” and “An Early Frost”) and found out THEY were Theatre People as well. Their third Exec. Producer was Tony Jonas, the former head of Warner Bros. TV (’95 – ’99) who helped bring to fruition some of the greatest ensemble television ever (“E.R.”, “Friends”, “The West Wing”).

Still, I tempered my excitement with the fact that I was not “exactly right” for the show. I later found out from Dan and Ron that they really didn’t have a clear definition of the character in their minds … until they saw me. When I was brought in to test for the good folks at Showtime I looked around the waiting room and realized that I was the only one in there reading for “Ted”. I had learned from previous tests not to read the voluminous contract that they make you sign JUST before you go in the room (so as not to place in your mind just how much money you stand to lose if you blow this ONE audition) so I just signed by the “x’s” and passed it back and I waited for more “Ted’s” to come in. None did. I later learned that Jerry Offsay, the President of Showtime in 2000, was rather upset about this. Execs like options. They don’t like to be strong-armed into a decision. But as Jerry later told me: “then you walked into the room and I said to myself: ‘now there’s the PERFECT sad-sack!’” They say “Luck is when Opportunity meets Preparation.” Nothing sums up my situation better. An opportunity came along and I was ready for it.

Most of my fellow cast-mates on QAF turned out to be theatre people as well with as strong a belief in the strength of an ensemble as I had. Shooting in Toronto forced us to become a family as we knew no one else up there. We spoke together of what we wanted the atmosphere on our set to be like, and I told my story about my experience on “Frasier”.

While there wasn’t the time to have full rehearsals, it was an extraordinarily collaborative environment during that first year with Dan and Ron allowing us an incredible amount of input. We all cared deeply about making this the best show we could. It had the exact same energy, focus and commitment as any piece of theatre I had ever worked on. Due to the subject matter of the show it instantly politicized us all as well and as the show became a success and I saw how far reaching it’s impact could be I realized that good television could be like “Theatre Plus” — Plus the ability to reach far more people than any one play can. Plus a way to communicate and entertain people in a far more intimate way than one can from the stage. Plus a way to tell not just a two hour story but an 88 hour one!

The biggest struggle that I had was adjusting to telling that 88 hour story and how that affects your psyche. When you’re doing a run of a play, even the most psychologically taxing ones, you’re taking the same 2 – 3 hour journey every night. In making a television series it’s a new journey every week if not every day … and you’re spending sometimes 16 – 18 hours a day in that character’s skin. You really end up living more of his life than your own. I found myself becoming very depressed as we neared our first break in 6 months during that first season. It wasn’t until I got back to LA for a few weeks that I realized all this and saw what a toll playing this emotionally complex character was taking on me. The next five years were all about figuring out how to “leave Ted at the office”. Sometimes I succeeded and other times … well … let’s just say I apologize to certain folks. They know who they are.

As the success of the show allowed me access to new projects  I discovered that, while I still hold to the ideals that blossomed as a child (and that were fertilized by my mentors in college and came into bloom in my years in Chicago), with a good script and powerful ensemble of artists you really can help make positive change in the world even if that change is just to entertain for a few hours. I realized that the theatre isn’t the only place this can happen for an actor. An artist can create on many different canvases and in many different media.

So now I am just an Acting Snob, and the only way I feel fulfilled is by doing and exploring it all. I hope I am among the fortunate few who are allowed to do so as long as I am able.

Thank you.