B00AZRHQKA EBOK (14 page)

“Shall we each have two more?”

“No, thank you. I suggest that we each two go home.”

“I’ll take you,” he said.

“What does
that
mean?”

“I’ll take you
home.”

“No, no. Taxi’s fine.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“But
you’re
right here. Next door. At the Thomas Alva Edison. Inventor of the electrical lights and stuff like that.”

“And you?”

“I never invented
anything.”

“I mean, where do you live?” he asked.

“Pretty sneaky, aren’t you? Trying to worm my address out of me.”

“I'm taking you home.”

“Oh, yes. But to
whose
home?”

“To your home.”

“You mean the one at Fifty-four West Fifty-five Apartment Nine-D, for Detroit, five eight six seven three one one?”

“You got it on the first guess.”

One of us—I don’t remember which one—decided that it would be the better part of wisdom to walk. Whoever it was—the decision pleased me. I was worried as to what I might do if we got into a taxi together. Inventory: Three Bloody Marys (!), one beer, one stinger, all in the course of an hour and fifty minutes. I thanked Fortune for all that food, otherwise, I might be horizontal.

We walked. He took my arm, and I was grateful.

In front of 54 West 55, we stopped. He offered his hand. I leaned over and kissed
his
cheek.

SHINE ON, HARVEST MOON

Company Bulletin

Monday, October 15

BOSTON LIFE
: I suggest a walk on Beacon Hill, including Louisburg Square; a visit to Goodspeed’s Secondhand Bookshop, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, one of the best in the world; the unique and fascinating Gardner Museum; if you want a treat, the Faneuil Hall Market and have lunch at Durgin-Park, a marketman’s restaurant, which has been there for more than 100 years; or go out to Fenway Park and walk. For the more adventurous, Cambridge, Harvard Yard, the great glass flower collection at the Agassiz Museum.

L.G
.

VISITORS
: No visitors are allowed backstage at any time without an O.K. from the stage management.

CASTING
: Correction of scene breakdown: Mrs. Fowler will be played by Alice Cort.

PRODUCTION MEETINGS
: Shubert Theatre at 2:00 P.M.

Today: Sets, Lights, Sound (Ivan Kurlansky, Millie Kramer, Stu Bender, Aki Fukado, and production staff)

THE COMPANY YOU KEEP: NICK PAPPAS
(Stunts)

I am not so showbiz like the rest of you so not much of this.

I am Greek born into a circus family. Everybody. When I was four I was already getting tossed back and forth in a trapeze turn. Twelve I was a top-notch tumbler. Then America. Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey nine years. Then Hollywood, where I made a pile in stunts. Now I run my own Gym and Training Workshop: 404 West 56
^th
Street, N.Y., N.Y. 10019 (212) 586-7717. I offer 15% discount to all in this company. I will get you in shape. Some of you need it. Real bad.

SMOKING
: There have been serious backstage fires in Boston. The theatre is constantly patrolled by inspectors. No smoking backstage by anyone, please.

RESEARCH
:

The Everleigh Sisters were amused at the report of the vice commission:

“The (X523), at (X524), (X524a) Dearborn Street. This is probably the most famous and luxurious house of its kind in the country. The list received from the general superintendent of police August 16, 1910, did not give the address of this house, nor of eleven other similar places on the street.”

Those code numbers meant The Everleigh Club at 2131-33 South Dearborn Street. They appeared so well protected the Chief of Police did not care to mention them!

QUOTE FOR TODAY
:

“Girls will be girls, but they should be restrained.”

Lucy Page Gaston,

Anti-Cigarette Crusader

There are now 2 days remaining until our first preview.

There are now 42 days remaining until our Philadelphia opening.

BOSTON

11

Boston. The Ritz-Carlton. Larry’s suite. 1204-5. Conference: Larry, Hy, and Fred.

“I like the score more and more,” says Larry.

“Are you gonna talk in rhyme all day?” asks Hy, at the piano. He plays and sings:

“‘I like the score

More and more;

More and more

I like the score.’”

Larry ignores the levity. He has a serious purpose for this meeting. I can tell by the concentrated way he sits there, aiming his whole spirit at the others in the room. I have seen it a number of times, usually when he wants or needs to convey something from inside his head to the inside of another’s head. Not only thoughts or ideas or notions—but often emotions or feeling.

As usual, Hy does most of the talking for the songwriting team, as well as the reacting and arguing and defending. Fred sits somewhere apart, looking bemused, doodling on a yellow pad, and looking a bit scared. The team is like a husband-wife, with Hy the domineering, bullying man, and Fred the put-upon, passive spouse.

Larry goes on. “What I mean is that it sings well and dances well. I appreciate its variety. I really love it. I hope it isn’t just that I'm getting used to it. That happens sometimes, doesn’t it? You hear a tune over and over and it automatically takes hold.”

“This is a big score,” says Hy evenly. “Important. We’ve got two-three potential standards and a half a dozen could-be-hits—and every goddamn number in the show is useful. Wait and see.”

“I agree.”

Hy bursts into song again.

“‘Wait and see

How I agree

Tea for two

And two for tea.’”

A sign of nerves. Hy may be gross, but he is no fool. He knows there is something in the air. Some problem. So does Fred. Larry does not call meetings to give people rubdowns.

“A
lovely
score,” says Larry.

A long silence follows, broken finally by Hy.

“But?…”

“But nothing,” says Larry, stalling.

“O.K. It’s perfect, so how can it be improved?”

“Are you asking
me?”
says Larry.

“Yes, if you want me to.”

“Period period period. Flying machines are beginning to get off the ground. Electrical automobiles. The Pierce-Arrow. The Peerless. The Locomobile.”

“What
is
all this?” asks Hy.

“Jim Jeffries and Jack Johnson. Teddy Roosevelt. Ellis Island. Happy Hooligan. The Follies. Frank Merriwell. Jokes: I’m sending my wife to the Thousand Islands for her vacation—one week on each island. And: You can drive a horse to drink but a pencil must be lead. Weber and Fields. The Cherry Sisters.”

“So what?”

Larry continued, softly, despondently. “What can we do to get that sound in our songs? That feeling. That time.”

“Speak up!” said Hy. “I can’t hear you.”

“Period sound, Hy. Feeling.”

“It’s all there now.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I’m asking
you
. You’re the expert.”

“If I’m the expert, why don’t you take my word?”

Larry is on his feet, pacing. “Let me ask you this, Hy. You, too, Fred. Could it have something to do with the orchestrations?”

“Yes,” says Fred.

“No!” says Hy. And to Fred, “Butt out, Fred.”

“He asked me.”

“Butt out of the orchestrations, I tell you. They’re not your department.”

“Still,” says Larry. “We’re all on the same show, no?”

Hy is angry. “I’ve got banjos in there and a honky-tonk piano. I’ve got wood-blocks and soprano saxes and cornets. What the hell are you
talking
about?”

“With all that,” says Larry, “we’re still getting a seventies sound.”

“Of course,” says Hy. “For a seventies audience. With seventies ears. You want a
real
period show—dig up a nineteen-oh-eight audience and do the show for
them.”

“Look, Hy. I’m trying to approach this problem reasonably—so don’t go off the handle and—”

“God damn it,” says Hy, “if I—”

He stops.

“Yes?” asks Larry.

“What?”

“You were going to say something.”

“I’ve said it.”

“Let me point out something,” said Larry. “The book has been rewritten fifteen-sixteen times.”

“It needed it.”

Larry lets that pass, continues. “And it’s
still
in a state of flux. I consider a book—in fact, a whole show—to be a living, breathing thing. Developing, growing. The thing about a show—where it differs from a movie, say—is that it’s not frozen, ever. It can’t stand still. There are never two performances exactly alike. So it’s always in action—which means that either it’s getting better or else it’s getting worse. And that’s why—”

“I’ve done more shows than—”

“Don’t interrupt!”

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Don’t interrupt when I’m talking, Hy. God
damn
it!”

“You talk too
much,”
says Hy.

“I have to with you, because you don’t listen. And when you do, you don’t hear. You don’t know how.”

“If I—”

“What I’m pointing out is this. The text changes. We’ve made hundreds of set adjustments. Alicia’s never out of the wardrobe room. The only part of the show that’s preserved in amber is the score.”

“Horseshit.”

“What changes have you made? Or Fred?”

“We dropped four songs.”

“That’s not a change.”

“What?! And put in two new.
That’s
not?”

“No,” said Larry. “I’m talking about the lapidary work that everyone—”

“Hold it. Gimme a dictionary, Midge. He’s starting in with that Yale Drama School noise.”

“Lapidary,” says Fred. “It means polishing. That’s all.”

“It does?” Hy asks Larry.

“More or less.”

“They why don’t you say so? Those egghead words of yours. Show me one in a hit song.”

“Why do we all go on working and polishing and stuff and—you know what polishing means, don’t you?”

“Of course,” says Hy. “It means lapidary.”

We all laugh, relieving the tension a little.

“Think on it, Hy. Think how you can get more period feel in your stuff.”

“You know what’s your trouble?” asks Hy. “Why you’re always gonna have troubles on musicals? And be miserable? And get ulcers? And grow old? I’ll tell you. You hate songs. You don’t admit it, but you do. You hate songs. You think they get in the way of your great storytelling—but where you’re wrong is songs
make
musicals. Books are clotheslines, that’s all. But you love books and you hate songs and that’s what makes you an out-and-out all-time Olympic champion card-carrying
putz!”

The discussion has degenerated into acrimony and nothing constructive is going to be accomplished today.

Larry says, “Oh, how wrong you are. How you ever could have gotten such a wrongheaded notion is beyond me. I
love
songs. I can sing you six hundred songs—with verses—and second choruses. I adore songs. What I do hate is song
writers.”

“You do, huh?”

“I do—yes—and with good and sufficient reason. They’ve got—you’ve got—one of the easiest pitches in show business. You know what Dick Rodgers once told me? He told me he’d never written a song in his life that took him more than twenty minutes. He said if it took more than twenty minutes, he knew it was no good.”

“So what? I’ve never taken more than fifteen. Have I, Fred?”

“Sometimes ten,” says Fred. “Lyrics take longer. Sometimes ten days.”

Larry again. “Burns my ass,” he says. “If we need a line on a scene or a curtain or an idea for a number—we sweat blood and lie awake nights and throw up mornings. But a songwriter? What’s
his
problem?
Anything
is a song. Any sentence. Any statement. Any expletive.
Anything.”

“You’re talking a lot of crock, you know it?” says Hy.

“Not at all. Anything is a song. Hello. Goodbye. I love you. I hate you. I’m sorry. What’s the trouble? Have a good day. I’m going home. I’m leaving home…I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a bet you can’t say
anything
in the next five minutes that isn’t a song.”

“Fuck you,” says Hy.

“That’s a song,” says Larry.

“Cut it out,” says Hy.

“Another song. Right, Fred?”

“Sure.”

“See you later,” says Hy, starting out.

“‘See You Later’ could be a hell of song.”

Hy, at the door, turns back to Larry and points. “I’m warning you.”

Larry sings: “‘I’m warning you! It’s you I’m after—’ ”

Fred sings: “‘Adorning you/With love and laughter!’ ”

Hy is all at once at the piano, improvising the next phrase, in their key. Fred, on his way, sings:

“‘Take heed, I need

What only you’ve got

My prick, I’ll stick

Right into your slot.’”

Hy: (Singing a break)

“‘I’ve hit the jackpot!’”

He collapses into laughter on the keyboard which moans and reverberates. He stands.

“Period. You want period? You’ll get it. I’ll see that you get your period. The orchestrations? I’ll talk to Ralph. Come on, Fred.”

They leave. Larry pours himself a glass of water, drinks it, and looks at me.

“Would you believe we’re all grown men?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Let’s do some bulletin, you mind?”

“Not at all.”

He sits down, uses his inhalator, and begins to dictate. “Health note       To the entire company       In a few days we shall all be working under strong lights for many hours at a stretch       I learned some time ago that powerful artificial light of the kind we are compelled to use enters the body through the cornea and destroys calcium       Calcium supports nerve ends       This may explain the temperaments and tantrums often associated with long sessions on stage or movie sets       A New York insurance company having installed extra-powerful fluorescent lights in its massive offices housing eight or nine hundred young women per floor began to experience odd happenings faintings hysteria fistfights and hair-pulling menstrual irregularities and arthritis Investigation eventually determined that the young women were lacking in calcium       When it was supplied up and down the aisles on a regular daily basis all the difficulties vanished        So it might be with us if we do not take care        I am asking the       management to supply the company with Squibb’s Dicalcium and Viosterol phosphate compound        Please take three a day without fail Doctor Henry Ross our company physician approves but you may of course consult your own doctors for corroboration        I have used this method for many years on shows films and television productions with great success        If you have any questions regarding this matter please take them up with me paren or Doctor Ross paren        That’s all on that. Now let me lay the color scheme on them and see what happens. Screams and yells, no doubt. And controversy. And 'This guy’s nuts!’ But watch. In the end, they’ll love it.”

“Love what?”

“The color idea. Didn’t I ever tell you?”

“No.”

“My mistake. It’s just—Well, take it down. You’ll get it as I give it. O.K.?”

“Yes.”

“For the bulletin. Soon. You can hold the calcium item for a few days.”

“Right.”

“To the Company       One of the difficulties faced by a Broadway director is solving the problem of establishing a uniform style in each company he organizes       You are a talented group of people the most talented I have ever had the good fortune to assemble       And yet       You come from different backgrounds have been trained in various ways have had divergent experiences and worked in dissimilar methodologies       In five or six weeks it is part of my job to blend you into a company make you seem like The Old Vic or the Comédie-Française or The Moscow Art       If I fail we all fail       Thus any and all ways in which we can attempt to become one are desirable       Note how athletic teams have a uniform how schools and stables have colors how clubs have insignias and blazer patches       All right then       Here is one I now propose for us all       A small one to be sure but a favorite of mine and one I have used in the past with success       Let me tell you first how it came about       Some years ago I was traveling in the South Seas       I stopped with my companion for a few days in an Indonesian village       I noticed nothing unusual on the first day but after two or three days it began to dawn on me that on each day every man woman and child in the village was wearing something in the same color       I mean that on Tuesday say everyone had on a green scarf or hat or skirt or ribbon or belt or something       underlined       The next day the color would be pink or orange or violet       Apparently each day had its color and one felt the unifying effect of the custom       Here then is what I propose       Let us all join in wearing something anything of a given color on each day we are together       Here is the scheme Monday red       Tuesday blue       Wednesday orange       Thursday purple       Friday green       Saturday yellow and Sunday pink       Para       Now I realize that it is going to be a lot easier for the girls than for the boys but let’s see some ingenuity and imagination       Further I know that on some days we will not be together but on these days off it is even more important to stick to the plan       Please understand that this is not an order merely a suggestion but one that if carried out will do something constructive for us       Thank you.”

“Sounds interesting,” I said.

“Some’ll hate it,” he said. “You’ll see. Fascinating to observe which ones pick up on it and which ones resist it.”

“Does it mean everyone?” I asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, does it mean me?”

“Certainly.”

“Good, but I’ll have to buy something orange,” I said. “I think I have the rest one way or another.”

“I can do mine with T-shirts and neckties. Look, Midge—be an angel and get me seven T-shirts, one in each of those colors and seven neckties—same. Will you?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

“An what about Hy, Fred—Art, Ivan, and so on?”

“Everyone.
The more the better.”

“Well, excuse me—but that’s not clear in what you just gave me.”