TIMOTHY D STICKNEY

I'VE LOST A LOT OF TRUST IN THE WORKPLACE," Timothy D. Stickney say. As he approaches the end of his third year as One Life to Live's" charmingly menacing "businessman" RJ Gannon, the Delaware native both rejoices in his status as an actor more gainfully employed than he's ever been, and laments the losses - many surprising - that came with the territory. For Stickney, the worst part of the job is what he labels the isolation. Because he toiled regularly on stages around the country, "I was used to having a family of actors and artisans who were sacrificing something to be there. In many ways they were really my family, and that notion of family was a feeling I took to every job I had. But it just doesn't work in daytime. There are different personalities and many different things at stake. The competition within the 'family' is insidious. Also, there's that extended family of actors with whom I became friends over the years, and with how I shared suffering through auditions and extra work and the like. When I got this job, and started to get the steady check, I didn't have their understanding anymore. I didn't share their worries. It's not jealousy on their part; they just don't understand the environment in which we work."

Stickney is not a whiner, and he's not unaware that thousands of actors would love to be in his shoes. "I knew how to work for three months, then be unemployed and not be suicidal about it," he explains. "That's my training, and I usually booked the job. Coming to this genre is like taking a day job, and I never had to take many of those. Millions of people see it every time you do it, and they feel this kind of proprietorship over you: "You're in their show, their story. It just never ends, and you can't prepare for it. I find that I don't smile as much when I'm in the subway."

Thanks to the relative anonymity afforded by years of acting in theater, Stickney had always enjoyed the luxury of sitting and observing people, unrecognized. In the past few years, thanks to his visibility and notariety, "I couldn't do that anymore, and it was frustrating. I was being watched instead. I can't think of many other occupations where, in your time off, work matters are brought up to you by people whom you don't know."

"I can't get used to it, though it's not all a bad thing," he adds. "I'm trying to enjoy it, because when I'm off the show, it will stop and I'll miss it. It's a strange kind of love people are sharing. It's just their timing is awful. My wife, Lee (dancer/choreographer Laura J. Priestly), can't stand it. It's not part of her career, but it intrudes on our life."

"I know a lot of this sounds trivial but it involves a retailoring of your life. It never occurred to me the amount of your private life that you have to alter and give in order to act." Nevertheless, there are advantages. "There's the regular paycheck, and I'm buying a house. I have a family; I'm not a 24-year-old actor who can afford to work in theater for $250 a week anymore. I owe it to my wife to make as much as I can because she carried us for a long time. That's why it's jarring to my system to have this steady gig, yet not work as much as I used to."

Although there are now more story developments forthcoming concerning RJ and the people in his orbit, "R.J. doesn't have as much grit. It's one of the quirks of the genre. Once the writers and producers start paying more attention to your character, it seems they make you nice," Stickney says. "I'm at a loss to understand it. R.J. is getting too nice. I called Maxine (Levinson, OLTL's executive producer) and told her it's not just me, I'm hearing it from a lot of people, so I had to say something. It's no accident that he's a loan shark. He made a choice to do things on the other side of the line. I'm satisfied, I guess, with what I'm doing, especially when I consider what has happened to other characters and actors since I've been with the show. I do feel that Maxine respects my work and opinions. I also think the network is becoming more aware of the size of the community of color that watches the show, and other soaps."

Stickney likens the daily grind of daytime acting to a 9-to-5 job. "Daytime is as far away from what I was trained to do and still be acting as I can imagine. It took me a year to understand the way the stream flowed, how things work. I learned I couldn't really affect the process, and I became depressed during my second year because of that. It was all I could do to keep my head up, I learned to live with it, and find some joy."

Looking at the imposing Stickney begs the issue of "the dreads." Smiling broadly, he recounts why he's been "twisting" his locks for the past 11 years. "I had at one time, like many Americans, fallen into the Jheri Curl morass. It's horrible, nasty stuff, and it came to a point where I just cut all my hair off. In my last year of school, (at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York), I decided to let my hair grow out, and I eventually wound up twisting it. The dreadlocks tied into my spirituality and connected me with African history. It wasn't that I aspired to do anything. I just always liked long hair."

"My hair never affected my being cast onstage. As I got older and more settled in the business, I started to book other gigs, usually as a criminal or gang leader. Ironically, one of the first questions I was asked by an interviewer was did I do my hair dreads because it was an 'in' thing to do. I couldn't stop laughing, thinking: You don't know the hell I caught over the years in restaurants, in survival jobs and in stores. They thought I was a troublemaker because of my hair."

Trouble is not part of Stickney's story, though acting, signing, and dancing surely are. According to him "There was always a place or context in which I would perform, though I really didn't consider this as a career until I entered high school. That's when the movie Fame came out, and I realized that young people must get paid for acting and singing. I was supposed to be the professional son in the family -- a doctor, lawyer, whatever (Stickney's sister, Phyllis Yvonne, preceded him into show business). I started putting in more time in choirs, traveling, doing concerts, all the things my parents thought were my diversions and hobbies. My parents weren't happy when I got accepted at the Academy of Dramatic Arts, but they weren't going to let me sit in the house and do nothing. When they drove me to New York, to the YMCA mother didn't even get out of the car to say good-bye. I cried, I was so devastated. Eventually, things worked themselves out. Before my father (Felix, a fund-raiser for the YMCA) passed, he came to accept my choice and he was proud of me. My parents came to realize I was good at this, and I was getting paid."

Stickney has stayed the course, both personally (he and Lee have been married almost 10 years) and professionally. All the while, he never entertained the prospect of doing a soap opera. However, Ellen Novack (OLTL's former casting director) knew from his stage work and brought in to read for R.J. "He was an intelligent criminal," Stickney says. "I thought: Cool, I get to show two aspects of my personality in a cardboard villain. They've admitted they hired me to play the one-dimensional bad brother. Jimmy Stewart and Henry Fonda were always favorites of mine, and even when they played killers in old Westerns, you liked them. I think that's what kept me on the show for so long. Even though it was one-dimensional stuff they were giving me to play, people were interested to see why R.J. is what he is."

Five years. That was the time period Stickney had in mind when he signed his first contract, though he believed he'd never last that long. "I'd like to do something memorable with my time remaining," he offers. "Aside from my entry story, I don't feel I've done something big with the character that will make it easier for an actor of color to come in here and be treated like anyone else, storywise." Additionally, his focus over the last few years has shifted, from just career too family and career. He loves performing - always will - but it's important for him to spend time with his wife, especially taking trips together to sun and water spots. And he's proud that he's maintained his professional integrity. "I take pride in my work, in what I've been able to accomplish so far. I'm a young veteran. A lot of my friends and classmates have moved on to do other things, and that's fine. I just never considered stopping. Acting is still what I want to do. The universe provides if you're not a lunatic about it. Things have just happened for me in many cases. Who knew I'd be buying a house at this time?"

Whatever the venue or role, Timothy D. Stickney brings intelligence, humor, and a taste of the unexpected to the table. Emitting a deep chuckle, he says, "Give me the opportunity and I'll surprise you. I'm still untapped, which keeps me hopeful. There are many things I haven't been given the opportunity to do, but I know I can do them. They're wasting me, really. I'm patient. It will take a couple of years for everybody to forget I was R.J., and then I will come back and they'll be surprised. I've got a lot of time to go in this business."

Home Page