With An Eye On How The West Is Coping On Dr. Quinn [Source: LA Times, Feb. 12, 1995. N.F. Mendoza]

Infertility is not just a contemporary concern. Beginning this week, CBS' popular pioneer drama, "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman," now in its third season, tackles the subject over several episodes.

Facing the condition will be blacksmith Robert E. and cafe owner Grace (played by Henry G. Sanders and Jonelle Allen), who married on the show last season. "I love how they've made us human beings, with both good and bad points," Allen says of her and Sanders' characters.

Allen began her acting career at age 5 opposite Helen Hayes in a revival of "Wisteria Trees" at the New York City Center. A varied background, she says, has been a plus. While growing up, she lived in Harlem, worked on Broadway and attended private school in Central Park West. "I was like Sybil with her multiple personalities. I was always interacting with diverse groups of people," she recalls. "It probably helped me as an actress." She received a Tony nominee for "Two Gentlemen of Verona," in which she starred opposite Raul Julia. Before "Dr. Quinn," her work in film and television ranged from "Hotel New Hampshire" to "Palmerstown" and "Generations."

A Vietnam veteran, Sanders was an aspiring novelist who found that an acting workshop worked like therapy for him. "It allowed me to touch on some feelings and emotions I hadn't dealt with," says Sanders in a conference call from his Altadena home. "I auditioned for every role I heard about," he says. "I everything, bad plays, anything, to get experience. Suddenly, I realized it was what I wanted to do." Numerous roles in Los Angeles theater have included "Fool for Love" and "Short Eyes," which he considers his "big breakthrough." A friendship filmmaker Bobby Roth led to a part in Roth's "The Boss' Son"; roles in "Bull Durham" and "Made in Heaven" followed.

Both Allen and Sanders take great pride in their current roles on "Dr. Quinn" and how their characters are being developed. "We've both got thriving businesses going and now audiences are going to see how we relate as husband and wife in a new home," explains Allen. Part of that "new home" includes children. "Grace wants all of it to come to fruition with this man," Allen adds. "She wants to have a family." Sanders points out that the story line is in keep- ing with facts known about the time. "They knew enough about infertility back then to know what it was," he says. "It's completely historically accurate."

Sanders reveals that he and his wife of 17 years, Naila, a wardrobe designer, had their own bout with infertility. "It took us four years to have children, before they found out it could be taken care of with a simple operation," says the father of four. "We were lucky. It's an issue that plagues many couples, and it will plague Robert E. and Grace for several episodes."

Both Sanders and Allen point out how important their characters--and their concerns--are to the show. "A blacksmith is a very intricate part of the community; a lot of people depend on him," Sanders says. "The cafe is integral to the show" as well, says Allen. "It's the social place to meet, where things take place. Both of them work together to build their community." "What's most important," adds Allen, who is single, "is first and foremost you're seeing an African American couple, a male and female who work together in all those things couples go through-- loving, fighting, striving, surviving, bonding--being human in a positive light during the Old West."

The depiction of Robert E. and Grace as a thriving--and emancipated--couple pleases Allen. "I get upset when people say the show is politically correct," she explains. "I choose to say it's historically correct. The research is there and has been done." "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman" airs Saturdays at 8 p.m. on CBS.

[Article Index] [Table of Contents]

Tough Choices [Source: Guidepost, Dec. 1994. H. Sanders]

Ever wonder how actors get those parts you see them playing on a TV series? Well, strange as it might sound, I got my role on Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman because I turned it down. And saying no wasn't easy.

For more than 20 years I'd studied, auditioned and acted in every show that would have me -- and more often than not, those parts were small. Throughout it all, my wife, Naila, and our two children encouraged me. I longed to give my family a good, regular income -- and spend more time with them. But in the meantime, I had to take what roles I could get, wherever they might be. That's why, when in the spring of 1992 I was offered a good at the Alabama Shakespeare Theater, I kissed Naila and the kids good-bye and headed for Lafayette, Ala., for five weeks. The play was Miss Ever's Boys and it was a chance to present a thought-provoking drama to an appreciative regional audience. The play was interesting and I settled in to concentrate on my part. And then one day as rehearsal broke, I was told I had a call. I went backstage and picked up the phone.

"Henry? It's Beth in Los Angeles." Beth Sullivan and I were longtime friends as well as profess- ional colleagues. Beth develops ideas for television series, and I'd had parts on some of her shows. Beth sounded excited. "I'm working on a new TV drama," she said, "and there's a part you'd be perfect for. The pilot will establish the character as a regular." A feeling of anticipation was building in me too. The job sounded like the kind of break I'd been hoping for.

"We'll be shooting the pilot next week," she said. "I know you're under contract in Alabama, but the theater is dark on Monday, right? I've arranged to film all your scenes in Los Angeles on Monday, starting early in the morning. You can fly to L.A., tape the TV pilot, and then fly back without missing any performances." It's true, Monday is traditionally the day when the theater is dark. "Terrific!" I said. "I'll bet you anything the pilot is picked up as a series." "I have a good feeling about this." Beth said. "I'll bet you anything the pilot is picked up as a series."

A huge grin spread across my face. If I landed a role on a good dramatic series, I could stay home in L.A. with my family, do interesting work, and bring in a steady paycheck. I nearly floated over to the theater office to tell the managers so I could start making my travel plans. They were enthusiastic as I described the opportunity. "That's great, Henry," the director said. "Which Monday did you say you'll be gone?" "In a week," I said. "The Monday before the play opens. I'll fly out to L.A. on Sunday before and be back here in plenty of time for Tuesday night."

A look of concern passed over the director's face. "You realize there's a paid preview here at eight o'clock that Sunday night?" No, I hadn't realized. If you can work it out, go ahead," the director said. Okay, so I'd leave for California the moment the curtain came down on Sunday night. I immediately began calling to check airline tickets. But I discovered there were no flights leaving after 10:30 that night. There wasn't even anything to New York, where I could connect with a red-eye.

I hurried back to the office. "There's no way I can do the preview here Sunday night," I said. "Could you possibly cancel that performance? Change the time? Get someone to do my part?" "I'm really sorry," the theater manager said. "People have already bought their tickets; we're nearly sold out. And you don't have an understudy who's able to go on."

Some actors in this dilemma might decide that a network TV series was much more important than a repertory play in a regional theater and would simply walk out. But I'd accepted this part in good faith. I'd signed the contract, made a commitment. People were counting on me. As I sat in my hotel room, I thought about who I was, what I believed in, I'd been raised in a single- parent home by a mother who had a strong faith, and I remembered what the Bible said: "Let your yes be yes and your no be no" (James 5:12, Revised Standard Version). I had given the Alabama Shakespeare Theater my yes. It would have to stand. With a heavy heart I called Beth Sullivan's office back in California. I told them I wouldn't be coming.

It took me two who days to get my concentration back, to give 100 percent to Miss Ever's Boys. But I did, and the show was well received. Soon after that, I wrote Beth a letter thanking her for the offer. I explained that it was friends like her who given me jobs over the years-and that when I make a commitment to any job, I honor that commitment. I said I hoped she under- stood why I had to turn down her show. In a few days I got a letter back. "Henry we've been friends a long time," she wrote. "Of course I understand. "She told me I had "a refreshing attitude."

A month later, Naila and I attended a friend's open hours in Santa Monica. "Henry!" It was Beth, coming over to greet us. "Remember that TV pilot I wanted you to do?" How could I forget it? I hoped Beth couldn't see my disappointment. But she kept talking, clearly thrilled. "The network's picking up the show!" she said. "It's going to go to series." "I'm really glad, Beth," I said. "Still interested in that role?" she said. "It's yours if you want it." As I stared in disbelief, Beth gave me one of those I-know-you-all-too-well looks. "Henry," she said. "If this show is going into a long run, I need a good actor I can count on. And that's you."

The show is both an exiting adventure story and the saga of different people trying to get along in a changing world. My part is that of an independent village blacksmith in the old West: Robert E is an ex-slave carving out a place for himself and his family on the frontier. Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman has been a popular show for the past two seasons. Families all over the country enjoy viewing it together. Our "family" of cast and crew watched it together too. That first year we gathered at Beth's house every Saturday night with our wives and husbands and children to see "our" show on TV-and the job I got because I had to turn it down.