Author’s Note: Your humble reporter is opting for the rare choice of writing this blog in the first person. Normally I don’t choose such a convention of journalism, but I see no other way to write this blog and make it personal than to call regrettable attention to myself. And believe me when I say this will be one of the most difficult articles I have ever had to write. Bear with me, however.
Almost exactly twenty-two years ago tonight, after submitting some samples of my skills to John Hammond at That New Magazine, Inc (the parent company responsible for TheaterWeek, Opera Monthly, Christopher Street, the New York Native weekly newspaper and the then-soon-to-be-revived Night & Day Magazine), I got THE phone call at the office where I was serving as staff support for my day job in the music industry at Warner-Levinson on 68th Street and Broadway. Mr. Hammond informed me that I was officially hired by Night & Day. I was to have a weekly deadline of no less than three cabaret reviews per week, but I was also being given carte blanche to submit any feature articles and interviews I so chose if they passed muster with the editorial staff for acceptability, and also to consider any features or interviews they might wish me to write. They explained the financial arrangements, which were hardly in the millions, but I was twenty-one years old and I didn’t think I should argue with such a thing, especially after having toiled in cabaret since I was a teenager and finally being given the blessed chance to move up somewhat in the community ranks. So I took my first gig, which was writing a small feature about that year’s MAC Awards at Symphony Space. It was published on March 5th and, I’m happy to say, caused a small stir among the cabaretfolk, who were pleasantly surprised to learn that I actually had any talent for anything that could be of use to them besides merely being “that little crazy boy from Queens who used to do bad drag and sang like a histrionic.” For the next two weeks, I reviewed my first cabaret show ever (Peggy Lee at The Ballroom), followed quickly by writing my first feature article (about the show Heart Strings at the Beacon Theater and the big party that followed at the Citicorp Center), my first interview (with Rupert Holmes, just prior to the Broadway opening of his murder mystery Accomplice on Broadway at the Richard Rodgers), and reviewing Judy Carne at the Duplex, Mollie Taylor Martin at Don’t Tell Mama, and various and sundry others. Not to mention being welcomed at a MAC meeting at the Trocadero as though I was the latest Bright Young Thing in town, and soon finding myself on every possible A-list that cabaret had to offer. I also just happened to be dating a certain lyricist at the time who was already extremely well-known on the cabaret beat, so of course he was joining me for every show I had to review and I guess we made a decent-looking couple. And then all of a sudden, I got a phone call from Terrence Womble at David Rothenberg’s office, asking me if I could possibly see it in my heart to review Steve Ross’s new show at the Oak Room at the Algonquin Hotel.
OK, now, wait a minute. The ALGONQUIN? THE Algonquin? Like, home of the Round Table? Like, one of the most legendary showrooms in New York? Like, a place where even my parents, who had been major cabaretgoers since I was a child, had never been? Really? ME? Little Andrew from Queens? But what came out of my mouth was, “Sure, Terrence, I’d love to. Please put me on the list for a party of two. Jay and I will be there on time and looking forward to it. And please thank David for us.”
So…after a few days spent with trying to figure out what the hell I was gonna wear, how to wear my hair, etc., we went. We got there early enough to have a drink in the lobby first (because apparently, that’s what one DID at the Algonquin), and then the spectacular Arthur Pomposello (who was the best thing to ever happen to the Algonquin when he managed the room in the 1990s) graciously ushered us in. The staff couldn’t have been more fantastic, Steve couldn’t have been more fantastic, and it was the first night I got to meet people like Jeff Harnar and David Staller and KT Sullivan and the very late lamented Buck Buchholz. And there wasn’t one person in that room who could have made me feel more welcome. I was HOME. Jay and I broke up shortly thereafter over a silly misunderstanding, but my invitations to the Oak Room continued quite unabated for several years. Among other things, I was present when Tovah Feldshuh made her cabaret debut there, entitled Tovah…Cross Ovah! I was there to watch KT Sullivan (looking like a diamond in an elegant jewel box) make her debut in the club. I was there to watch Jeff Harnar do one of his first-ever performances of The 1959 Broadway Songbook. I was there when Mel Roy presented a benefit concert featuring Lainie Kazan, Julie Budd, Terri White, Mike Burstyn and a plethora of others. I was there to watch such cherished friends as Tennie Leonard and Angela LaGreca make their first Oak Room appearances. Needless to say, I was there to watch Karen Akers, Andrea Marcovicci and Julie Wilson appear many, many times. I was there for numerous occasions when the radio show New York Cabaret Nights would broadcast from there on WNYE radio, hosted by Steve Ross and featuring such guests as Phyllis Pastore, the Manhattan Rhythm Kings, Angelina Reaux, and the late Anne Francine. And unfortunately, I was NOT there to see such friends of late as Maude Maggart, Emily Bergl and Kat Gang, but I was fully aware and thrilled beyond words.
Several hours ago, we all received the news that the Oak Room is no more. The Algonquin is being renovated and the room will not re-open. And I am desperately saddened. There are entire aspects of my last two decades that are embedded into the glorious oak paneling of that room as though crocheted there personally by God’s almighty hand. These are the moments where I have no choice but to simply (I hate saying this) be a “big boy” and accept that things change.
But it’s unfair. It’s really unfair. And I’m not gonna like this.
God bless you, my darling Oak Room. I loved you well, and I’ll miss you always.
It’s interesting to think that as recently as ten years ago, the word “viral” had the same connotation as a death sentence. Today, of course, in the age of the YouTube phenomenon and Webseries springing up like carpets of mushrooms, the adjective has become cherished by those who choose to spend their time producing video displays; in modern parlance, it denotes attention by tens of thousands on the Internet. One such clip, which was filmed in March of 2011 and enigmatically titled “An Example of the Prolonged Effects of Exposure to Musical Theater,” somehow has managed in the last two weeks to reach officially viral status, going from a few hundred hits to nearly one hundred thousand in the space of a few days. It features a downright adorable young gentleman in a hoodie, lip-synching his way through snippets of no less than ninety songs from sixty-seven Broadway musicals in the space of five-and-a-half minutes. More than this, though, is the brilliance with which this clip was edited and pieced together, and his obvious gift for comedy and facial expression. Thousands were suddenly talking about it on social networking sites and theater-chat message boards, and while the clip has its detractors, fans of musical theater far and wide have embraced it. The big question that emerged, however, was “Who IS this guy??”
Well, it transpires that his name is Kevin Harris. He’s a twenty-four-year-old graphic-design student currently living in Seattle after growing up in Richland, WA. And he graciously granted The Andrew Martin Report a most intelligent and insightful interview.
ANDREW MARTIN: What draws you to theater music/musical theater?
KEVIN HARRIS: I grew up watching classic movie musicals like The Sound of Music, West Side Story and Bye Bye Birdie, but I never really understood that they were originally stage shows. I guess I was always a little bit of a performer. I enjoyed being goofy and making people laugh, but most of my interest was in drawing. When I was in elementary school I participated in some small plays, but didn’t do anything else until my sophomore year of high school. My sister kept trying to get me to audition for shows, but I never thought I would be very good at it. I finally gave in and auditioned for Bye Bye Birdie, and ended up being cast. Ever since that first show, I was hooked and practically lived in the school auditorium until I graduated. I also participated in my school’s musical theatre class. My teacher, Lynn Morin, introduced me to the music of Sondheim, Schwartz, Kander and Ebb and all the other greats. It was because of that class that I really started to delve into the wonderful world that is musical theatre. Sadly, I have not been on stage in about three years. As for right now, I’m just studying away in school.
AM: Was making faces and being comical something you’ve always done? Were you the class clown? Did you ever have any aspirations to go into comedy (standup, sketch, improv, etc) as opposed to theater? Do you have any particular inspirations or heroes in comedy?
KH: I think I’ve always had a knack for contorting my face. I remember when I was very young, my mom would ask me to do my silly faces and she would crack up at her crazy little boy. People may say differently, but I don’t really think I was the class clown in school when I was growing up. I did joke around a lot when I was with my friends, though. Now that I am older and in college, I am definitely more vocal and will crack jokes in class, and banter with my professors. I guess you could say being in theatre made me a bit more comfortable with “performing” around people I don’t know. When it comes to performing, I have always been drawn to live theatre. I have been told that I should try standup, but I’m not really interested in it. I’m not so much about telling jokes as much as I am about creating characters. Sketch comedy and improv do interest me, but I haven’t had much opportunity to do either. I have been wanting to write a one-man show for a while, so I could have the chance to play multiple characters. I have about four plays I have been brainstorming over the years that would involve the actors playing multiple parts, and could include some improv as well, but who knows if I will ever finish them? I love a lot of the old comic greats like Jerry Lewis, Abbott and Costello, and Danny Kaye. But I would have to say that my absolute favorites are Paul Lynde and Jack Lemmon. Paul’s snarky, campy style, and Jack’s reactions and mannerisms, have really stuck with me. I also admire Tracey Ullman and Carol Burnett. They are so amazing at transforming themselves into different characters. I love that!
AM: Where did you get the idea to start doing these videos? What was your first? How many have you done so far? Which one(s) is/are your favorite?
KH: When I first got my laptop, I decided to play around with Photo Booth one night. My friend had shown me some videos she had made, and I decided I wanted to try doing something too, just for fun. I was going through my iTunes, and decided to try lip-synching to some of my favorite songs. I posted it on Facebook and my friends seemed to enjoy it, so I decided to make some more. The first one I did is called “iTunes Craziness and Such” (and that is pretty much what it is!) and I have done ten lip-synching videos since then. I would have to say my favorite is the first Broadway one. Musicals give me a chance to act and tell a story a lot more than normal everyday songs do.
AM: Have you taken particular inspiration from others who do these kinds of videos? I’m thinking specifically of Gary Brolsma, aka NumaNumaGuy, or what Seth Rudetsky does in his “Deconstructions.”
KH: I really enjoy Mirandasings, Kid History, Liam Kyle Sullivan, SororityDORKS and yes, of course, Seth Rudetsky.
AM: What’s the process behind doing one of your lip-synch medleys towards a YouTube broadcast? Do you first decide what music to use and then what facial expressions/physical actions go with it, or does it all sort of come together at the same time? Do you have a specific order in mind for which songs will play? Is the editing process ever frustrating?
KH: When it comes to just a regular video, I go through my iTunes and pick a few songs that I think would be fun to “sing”. Sometimes I know what part of the song I want to record, and other times I just do the entire song and then pick one part of it during editing. I don’t really have much of an idea of how I will act during a song beforehand, and I just jump right in! As for a themed video, I usually have an idea of which songs and parts I want to do before I start. Once I pick some of the songs, I look for ways to lead into other ones with the same word or topic so as to tie everything together. When everything is recorded, I start the hardest part, which is synching the video with the original song so the sound is of good quality. This usually takes a long time and can be a little frustrating to get it matched up just right. Then I start fitting all the clips together like a puzzle. I arrange it, watch it, rearrange it, watch it again and so on until it feels just right. I know that if I start laughing, then it’s good.
AM: Are you particularly surprised that the Broadway video has gone so viral in such a short amount of time?
KH: VERY surprised! I woke up one morning and had over sixty e-mails saying people were commenting on the video, and subscribing to my channel. I made it so long ago, and just for fun, that I never thought it would get noticed. It still surprises me how much people seem to enjoy it.
AM: Obviously you’ve become a topic of conversation on some of the theater-oriented chat boards that exist online. What do you think of some of the feedback you’ve gotten, whether positive or negative?
KH: People have been very kind and supportive. They really seem to relate to my love of musical theater, which makes me very happy. Some really amazing things have happened because of this, namely getting e-mails from Marc Shaiman and Jim Caruso. Finding out that people you respect and admire all of a sudden know who you are, is crazy! Some people have been rude with their comments, but I just think it’s funny that they feel the need to say those sorts of things. I’ve also had some marriage proposals, which is pretty darn silly. I would have to say my favorite feedback are ones where people say they were having a horrible day and then watched my videos, and they were able to smile and forget their troubles for a little while. If my videos are able to help people laugh and be happy, then I am doing my job.
KH: That was so much fun! My friend Ashley Wasson was making a film for class, and had the idea to do an interview with an artist. We pretty much just improvised the entire thing on the spot. I love creating eccentric, weird characters and just letting them loose! So, yes, I would LOVE to do more videos like that. Very soon, I hope!
AM: Do you plan to do a sequel or second volume to the Broadway video? Or any of the other videos, like your Glee medley? Whether you do or not, do you have anything else in the immediate works?
KH: I made a second Broadway one not too long ago. I have been considering doing a third and people seem to be all for that, so that will most likely happen at some point. I am currently working on anotherDisney video and am having a lot of fun thinking up things for that. I’m also considering maybe doing some vlogs, and I have an idea for a Broadway-themed video series.
AM: Those who watch the video get a sense that you’re probably endlessly joking, and somewhat hyper and high-energy (in a good way). Is that accurate? What can you tell us about yourself that might surprise us?
KH: According to my friends, that is a very accurate description. Like I’ve mentioned before, I love to make people laugh and try to help them forget their troubles for a little while. I’ve found that being hyper and high-energy seems to do the trick. Even though people don’t believe me when I tell them this, I am actually very shy. I know it seems hard to believe, but it’s true. I get really nervous when it comes to meeting new people, or being in a room with a bunch of folks I don’t know. I also hate watching my videos with other people, because I get so embarrassed. But I’ve found that if I am really crazy and goofy when meeting people, it makes it a lot easier to break the ice and start up a conversation. I think I have become friends with a lot of people I know because I made them laugh right off the bat.
AM: Do you want to find a way to turn this into something lucrative? If so, what’s your vision for that?
KH: I never really considered my videos anything more than fun, little ways to release my desire to perform on stage. If anybody thinks it could become lucrative, let me know! But if I could choose anything to come out of all this, it would be to have more characters that I could eventually perform on stage.
AM: Do you have any advice to offer to others who want to make similar videos for broadcast?
KH: I would say just have fun, and stick with things that bring you joy. I have learned from experience that if you enjoy something, you will be led to other folks who also enjoy it. I would also say don’t try to copy other people just because they may have found success in what they have done. Be inspired by them, but be sure to put yourself into what you create. You will enjoy it so much more if you do.
It’s a sure bet, therefore, that a hungry worldwide audience will continue to enjoy the work of Kevin Harris for ages to come. If you’re still unfamiliar, watch his work and be ready to laugh!!
Every once in a while, a younger person emerges upon the cultural mainstream from the world of classical music and is clearly ready to take their rightful place as a crossover superstar. In the last thirty years, notable examples of same have included violinists Midori, Joshua Bell and Vanessa-Mae, as well as vocalists Josh Groban, Charlotte Church and Cecilia Bartoli. To this illustrious roster must be added the name of Lola Astanova, a twentysomething pianist about to make her Carnegie Hall debut on Thursday, January 19th at 8 PM, as part of a benefit for the American Cancer Society. Chaired by Donald Trump and hosted by Julie Andrews, what marks this event as additionally unique is that Astanova is not only presenting her program of selections as a tribute to the legendary pianist Vladimir Horowitz, but she will be playing on the momentous Horowitz Steinway, being trotted out for the concert by longtime Horowitz trustee Franz Mohr.
A native of the Uzbekistani capital of Tashkent in the former Soviet Union, Astanova began studying and performing in recitals by the age of six, and from the very beginning her course was clear. “I knew right away,” she said in a recent radio interview, “that being a musician and having a place on stage was what I wanted out of life.” Her earliest mentors include the renowned instructor Len Naumov at the Moscow State Conservatory, whose own pedagogical lineage traces directly back to Franz Lizst. Clearly established as a musical prodigy by the age of nine, it was at this time that she and Naumov visited the United States and she experienced Carnegie Hall for the first time as a spectator; she knew inherently that she would one day play on its hallowed stage.
However, she had quite a way to go before she got there. After concertizing extensively throughout Europe, Astanova made her official American debut in 2007 at the Kennedy Center, as part of the Neiman-Marcus Christmas Catalog concert alongside the Kirov Orchestra and Valery Gergiev besides Regis Philbin (and in the process received a Steinway piano as a gift for her incredible performance). She relocated to New York very shortly thereafter, and has since proudly become what she calls with a chuckle, “just another regular American girl. I love New York, I love to shop, I love going out…I just happen to have a job that’s a little bit different than other girls my age.”
Capitalizing on the “broadcast yourself” idea made so popular in modern culture by such Internet factions as YouTube, it was the mere blink of an eye before Astanova was camcording her performances of classical compositions and displaying them across the information superhighway. Always impeccably dressed in high fashion and looking scrumptiously beautiful only added to her allure, and before long her videos were garnering hits in the hundreds of thousands. And it isn’t merely older aficianados of concerti and sonati who have happily joined her fan base; indeed, legions of younger people across the globe are jumping on her bandwagon and admitting, begrudgingly or otherwise, that classical music can be cool. But, not to be outdone, she has also begun transcribing contemporary pieces and giving them a classical spin (one in particular, Rihanna’s “Don’t Stop the Music,” has garnered well over one million YouTube views, and this is just one of several).
It is a sure bet that a star will be born in the personage of Lola Astanova before this week has concluded. The Carnegie Hall concert is almost completely sold out at this point, but keep a very careful eye on her name. To merely say she’s “goin’ places” would be the understatement of the decade.
About twenty years or so ago in cabaret, a young gentleman by the name of Jim Pallone made his debut at Steve McGraw’s on West 72nd Street (formerly Palsson’s, currently the Triad). His opera-theater voice and presentation were so powerful that within a short amount of time, he became very much a front runner in the arena, appearing in many a benefit concert besides receiving one award nomination after another, and rightfully so. Indeed, it left many wondering if Pallone would ever have a worthy successor. That personage has been discovered in the form of the breathtaking Charles West, who this evening at 11:15 will close out what has been nothing less than a spectacular debut, entitled Charles West…Feeling Good and running as always at Don’t Tell Mama, 343 West 46th Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues. West, the current standby for the role of El Gallo in The Fantasticks at the Jerry Orbach Theater, emerges as a sure bet for much-deserved success in the cabaret community, and absolutely takes his place among the New Faces of 2012. In a show directed and co-written by Mark Hawbecker and with musical direction by the ever-excellent Steven Ray Watkins, not to mention the marvelous work by Jim Griffith on lights and sound, this presentation deserves to run far beyond the end of the year. None of this is to say that West takes the stage with the confidence of a seasoned cabaret pro, but it may well be the best raw beginning enjoyed by an audience in many a moon. His ability to communicate a lyric coupled with his glorious vocals and not merely handsome visage but charismatic and oh-so-sexy demeanor make him a natural for the art form. In point of fact, he comes across rather as a sane counterpart to Marc Kudisch, and should most certainly enjoy the same type of success in due time.
Leading off with Bricusse and Newley’s “Feeling Good,” West appears not merely sultry but a delicious departure from the customary “Broadway glamour” so many theater entertainers display in their initial cabaret outing. “Something’s Coming,” though perhaps a tad “lounge-y” at times, works to the hilt, and he follows with a parody of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning,” with a lyric by Hawbecker that easily takes its place among the very best work of Gerard Alessandrini and the Forbidden Broadway canon. From there, a trio of songs that would be considered extremely risky pickings (“On the Street Where You Live,” “Why God Why?” and “Some Enchanted Evening”) are simply transformed into wondrous mastery. What follows is a selection of songs from upcoming Jerry Orbach tribute It’s Nice To Remember, including “Lullaby of Broadway,” “Razzle Dazzle,” “Everybody Likes You,” “Promises Promises,” and a medley of “My Time Of Day,” “Luck Be a Lady” and “I Can See It.” He even makes it a point to mention Orbach’s non-musical theater efforts, including the sizzling play Scuba Duba, and it’s more than obvious that West has done thorough homework. And he goes so bravely far as to introduce material not from the Broadway catalog or the American Songbook, among them a delectable “Stray Cat Strut” by Brian Setzer and the Stray Cats, and by the time he finishes the evening with “Try to Remember” (accompanying himself at the piano, no less), West is a winner on each and every count.
Please, won’t you take this advice I hand you like a brother? If you are finding yourself later this evening with no plans and wish to indulge in a brand-new and extremely exciting cabaret discovery, truck on down to Don’t Tell Mama to catch Charles West. You’ll be very glad you did, and by all means, tell them I sent you.
“Ever since I can remember,” says Mark Wilk, “I’ve wanted to work in show business. The trouble is, I didn’t know whether I wanted to write, or perform, or compose, or critique. I’ve tried my hand at all of them, which has taken years of effort, but I’m convinced that a man can wear many hats, and now I want to wear them all. Am I being greedy?”
Greedy, perhaps, but with absolute qualification. The prodigious Wilk, who hasn’t even turned thirty, has been a leading reviewer of theater for Nite Life Exchange since the website’s inception. But also an accomplished pianist, he’s begun performing every other Monday at La Mediterranee Bistro, 947 Second Avenue, and just picked up another regular gig at the posh Walle Restaurant & Lounge, just a stone’s throw from La Med. As if none of that was enough, he’s co-written the music and lyrics for a modern retelling of Alice in Wonderland, this time with an urban Black girl from the Bronx as the protagonist, and his collaborator is the multitalented music-and-comedy legend Marilyn Michaels. Who, as it happens, is also his mother. But make no mistake; this kid is hardly getting by on the coattails of mom and the impressive entertainment family from which he hails. Wilk is very much a happening event all on his own.
One would imagine that a childhood of such circumstances, in Wilk’s case on the Upper West Side, would come with oceans of pressure to strive for excellence or constantly be ‘on.’ After all, he’s not just the son of Ms. Michaels, but the grandson of Metropolitan Opera star Harold Sternberg and Yiddish theater star Fraydeleh Oysher, and the great-nephew of world-renowned cantorial artist Moyshe Oysher. But he is quick to dispel that myth. “Being born into such a distinguished lineage, there’s not as much pressure as you’d think!” he says. “So many of my family are entertainer-extraordinaires that I’ve been afforded the luxury of flying under the radar, so to speak. And so much attention has been given to mom–and she knows how to hold people’s attention, lemme tell ya!–or my late grandparents or my late great-uncle Moishe, that I’ve been able to watch and observe and learn.” He continues, “I guess it’s taken me a while to work up the gumption to put everything I’ve learned over the years into practice. Since I’m a natural observer, and mom’s a natural entertainer, I learn something new from her pretty much every day, as I did from my grandparents when they were still with us. She’s the toughest critic I know, so when I do something right, it’s a mini-triumph!” But naturally, even such events as his Bar Mitzvah came with a degree of flash. “In a family of entertainers,” he says, “any time there’s a stage and an audience, it’s a performance, so we all treated the Bar Mitzvah like I was on the finals of “American Idol.” My grampa, grandma, my mother–and yours truly–were really selling the material. And man, that Haftorah was one tough sell,” he chuckles. “Really, though, it was an uplifting experience. Fifteen years later, people are still reminiscing about it, and it was the only time in my life where I was the ‘lead’ on stage and the rest of my family became a supporting cast.”
Wilk opted to attend Vassar for college, not necessarily a first choice for some but a natural fit for him. “At Vassar, I liked my professors more than I did my fellow classmates,” he says. “I was a film major, you know. Most people are surprised that I didn’t major in music, but how much can someone teach you about music after you’ve been taught by Marilyn Michaels for eighteen years, eh? But anyway, I was a film major, and my classmates were on a whole ‘nother level of pretentious. Can you imagine three hundred twenty-one-year-olds walking around with their heads held high because they’ve seen La Dolce Vita and Umberto D and are convinced they know everything about the history of cinema? And oy, the theater majors were no better. If I were to have admitted that I didn’t like August Strindberg, I don’t think I would’ve survived the night. Ultimately, though,” he continues, “my professors were too smart and knew too much for me to up and leave. And the place really was gorgeous. I have fond memories of lounging on the quad with some of my dormmates, or practicing on any one of the sixty-five Steinway pianos in any one of the dorms. There was never a day there when I wasn’t at a piano.”
Clearly he was on a career path towards doing something in the business of show, even if an actual goal wasn’t completely realized. And whereas some offspring of the famous become stars by association or, as is more common, simply laze about on their trust fund, nothing could be further from the truth in Wilk’s case. “I’ve been a salesman at Tiffany’s in their Silver department. I’ve been an online poker player, where I caught a few lucky river cards, that’s for sure,” he laughs, “I’ve been a ghost writer, kind of like in Roman Polanski’s movie The Ghost Writer except without any of the political intrigue, and I’ve been a PR rep at an athletic league. Oh, and don’t hold it against me, but I was a production assistant at FoxNews. Such nice people, and such awful politics.” Since his father, Peter Wilk (long divorced from Ms. Michaels) is a renowned colon surgeon, did he ever also entertain the idea of a career in medicine? “Oh, this is an interesting one,” he grins. “When I was six, I had the misfortune of walking into my parents room while they were watching a videotape of one of the gastric-bypass surgeries my father performed at Beth Israel. They could have been having sex and it would have been less traumatizing. So to answer your question, no, I never considered medicine after that. But I’ll admit there’s always been a curiosity about medicine.” He sighs, “Maybe in another life.”
And of course, writing the new Wonderland musical has been a priority of Wilk’s for several years. “What a journey!” he says happily. “When I was twenty, at Vassar, my mother’s neighbor Karlyn Ferrari gave me an idea for a movie about a contemporary Alice in Wonderland. Instead of England, it would be New York. And instead of a rabbit hole, it would be a sewer cover, etc. Well, my mind just went in a thousand different directions, and faster than my fingers could type, I was writing out this story of an African-American girl from the Bronx who winds up in Wonderland. The first draft was pretty much unreadable,” he continues. “I was twenty, knew nothing, and thought I knew everything. Oy, that’s a bad combination. I showed it to my mom looking for advice, but she saw a lot of potential and began to write it, too. Suddenly, I had a co-author. And I swear, I fought her tooth and nail on almost every single change she made. It took me three years to get my ego under wraps. Originally, I didn’t even want it to be a musical comedy! I wanted one song, and that was it, a la Magnolia, the Tom Cruise movie. But she was writing some splendid melodies, and every now and again I’d come up with a lyric. Once we’d written four songs, we were committed to an entire score! So now we have a madcap musical comedy on our hands, and we’ve had three readings: one in ’06 in mom’s house that was dreadful but informative; one in ’09, a ‘table-read’ with several Tony Award winners (Lewis J. Stadlen, Dick Latessa and Capathia Jenkins!) that was stupendous; and one last year that, unfortunately, did not see the light of day because several of our cast members fell prey to illness. Yikes! But,” he finishes, “I’m happy to say that we’ve made it even funnier since then, and I’ll pit her score up against any Sondheim, Rodgers, or even Jerry Herman’s any day of the week! Looking into next year, or possibly early ’13, we’ll be putting it up. We’re using Little Shop of Horrors as the template for how we want to produce the show–a small off-Broadway theater, and then have it catch on!”
Mother Marilyn did play a small role in his employment at La Med as well. He says, “My mother talks on the phone all the time, and she’s always looking to win friends and influence people. On a lark, without ever actually having been to La Mediterranee, she looked it up online and then contacted the owner, Ernesto, saying that she knew a gifted young pianist, etc. Can you imagine such a thing? This is why she’s survived in show business for fifty years. Traveling salesmen wouldn’t have such guts! In any case, Ernesto got in touch with me, I auditioned for him, and we haven’t looked back. It was my first time at a New York City bistro, but I’m already also a regular at Walle. And I do hope this is a start to something bigger. People have been telling me for a number of years that I’ve been keeping my voice and piano-playing too much under wraps, but I’ve only recently started to believe them. Funny, that. But really, I sing in the shower so much, my vocal instruments are in prime condition!”
Where does Wilk see himself ten years from now, in both a best-case and worst-case scenario? “Worst case?” he laughs. “‘Please, sir, c-can I have some m-m-more?’ Best case? ‘Thank you, oh, thank you! I’d like to thank all the little people who…’ No, really, nothing will ever stop me from watching plays and movies and offering my opinions about them, so whatever the worst case is, critiquing will always be alive and well in me. Nor do I ever see myself away from a piano for more than a day. But if somehow the good Lord foils my plans, artistic expression always finds a way out, in one way or another. The best-case scenario is really for me to live up to my potential, however much of it I have. And I’m really too biased to accurately gauge that.”
Finally, as a young person, what advice can Wilk give to other twentysomethings who seek a similar career path? “In show business, talent always takes a back seat to good old fashioned gumption,” he says. “Now, that’s the toughest lesson I ever had to learn, and the toughest with which to reconcile. It shouldn’t be that way–people should be able to spot talent like a light in a dark room–but for most people, it’s tougher to spot than Waldo. So it’s the people who are out there every day, plugging away for themselves, who thrive and survive, and if they happen to be talented, what a break it is for the world!” He sums up, “My mother always says ‘nothing comes easy,’ and she’s dead right (she usually is). As with pretty much everything, I’ve been a slow learner. But I’m learning, always.”
Thus, the time is now for the public at large to learn a thing or two about Mark Wilk and what he has to offer, be it journalistic, compositional, musical, vocal or otherwise. Because it can only be a matter of time before this bright young thing has the world at his feet. Be there.
Courage Campaign Flash Mob Protesting Michele Bachmann, September 16th, 2011, Los Angeles
Just like flagpole-sitting in the 1920s or marathon dancing in the 1930s, cultural fads will usually enter a stage where they appear to be everywhere, but like many phenomena will fade away and only be remembered as a historical blip. The latest cultural fad which seems to have been popping up within the last two seasons is that of the “flash mob,” in which a large group of people appear at a location as if from nowhere, usually breaking out into song and dance, sometimes for purposes of political protest but also for entertainment. Improv Everywhere became one of the first-known creators of the flash-mob phenomena, when they staged a spontaneous musical that burst forth at the food court in Los Angeles’s Baldwin Hills Mall in early 2008 which went viral after placement on YouTube, and since that time they’ve staged both musical and non-musical flash mobs in cities all over the world (a notable one was when Grand Central Station froze in place, and the reconstruction of a scene from Star Wars on a New York City subway).
But is it just a craze? Has it been around longer than we realize and is only just getting recognition as such because communication is so much more heightened? And will this really go the way of flagpole-sitting and marathon dancing and just disappear as a thing of the past? Or is it possible that it will continue on and on as long as there are participants and an audience?
Devoted "Flash-Mobster" Amada Anderson
Amada Anderson has been a devoted “flash mobster” since 2009. A critically-acclaimed and highly-visible actress, singer, poet and performance artist on the current Off-Off-Broadway scene in downtown New York, she fell backwards into the movement. “I’m not normally a ‘dancer’ dancer, I just like to dance,” she explains, “and that January I ordered a DVD that showed me how to dance ‘Thriller’ in the comfort of my own home. I then learned that in addition to learning this dance, it was part of a worldwide event called Thrill the World that started in ’08. Mobs from other countries were organizing to be part of it, with everybody dancing to the song at the exact same time all over the globe. And I wanted to be part of that; I figured I’d get a group of people together and register it as an event in New York and host it in a park somewhere. Then, that June, Michael Jackson died. It was very sad to find out that this huge awesome tribute, which he actually knew about and watched from his helicopter in LA the first time, was going to be even bigger and better and he wouldn’t get to witness it. I found out online that there were other people who had the same passion about it that I did, and through the online MJ Community, I reached out to the leaders of the Halloween Parade people who teach ‘Thriller’ to the crowd every year. We decided to join forces and promote Thrill The World NYC with a combination of ‘Beat It’ and ‘Thriller’ all over mid-town. So I created this flash mob event; I basically used my networking skills and charismatic charm to get others to join me. After we danced, we all celebrated at Webster Hall, and it was just a lot of fun.”
What does Anderson consider the most important requirements for someone wanting to begin “flash mobbing,” and how to get started? “I personally feel that it’s just like going swimming,” she says. “You have to sometimes just jump in, to get over the cold-water syndrome. Or even doing karaoke for that matter. If you’re shy, it’s OK, but after you realize that everyone is dancing the same movements you are and backing you up, it feels really freeing. If someone wants to try a flash mob-like feeling, I suggest joining the mailing list of Improv Everywhere. I’ve personally volunteered more than once with them, and it’s a lot of fun. And you’re with hundreds, if not thousands, of participants just in New York City alone. Since my first time, I teach ‘Thriller’ every weekend and I’m always looking for people to join me to help promote Thrill The World NYC, which this year will take place on October 29th at 10 AM at IS52 in Inwood and 10pm on the Boardwalk at Coney Island. You can check here for a schedule of classes, and the entire thing is a benefit for my favorite charity, The Pajama Program.”
Which begs the question, are there any downsides to “flash mobbing,” either as organizer or participant and whether it’s for politics or strictly entertainment? “It’s funny you ask that, ” Anderson responds, “but yes. In New York you have to have a sound permit to blare music, or have large numbers of people just show up somewhere and do something. But when I have my flash mobs, which happens every Saturday at 1pm before my ‘Thriller’ Class, I always advise people that our idea is to promote the event and entertain. So what happens is we show up, get into costume, I bring my boombox already cued up to dance the short version of ‘Thriller,’ and then I tell them to look for cops. If we see them, we don’t go dance in front of them; in fact, we will find another spot to dance altogether if I don’t have the sound permit. But I tell them that if a cop does come over and ask us to stop, we STOP, hand them a flyer, and move on. But it’s usually is over very quickly, in three minutes or less, and people really get entertained and motivated or inspired. I’ve had people follow me all the way to class because they were so excited to learn the dance. Again, it’s fun!”
Cultural phenomenon? Unquestionably. Momentary craze? Anyone’s guess. But as long as even one person out there is coming up with new and inventive ideas for the flash mob that can easily be executed, it’s a fair guess that fans of the movement will very happily continue tuning in to watch the fun and enjoy what they see. Ditto those who love to participate and organize. (Note to self: the local mall does have a food court with pretty good acoustics…)
Back in the glorious heyday of the legendary Greenwich Village supper club The Five Oaks, the only element in greater abundance than the kitchen’s signature Southeastern fare was the catalog of songs featuring lyrics by Dawn Hampton and music by Robert ‘Bobby’ Peaco. Such numbers as “New Orleans Louisiana Blues,” “I Rode That Train to Sorryville,” “That’s How the Ball Bounces” and the pair’s titular homage to the club, “The Five Oaks,” were sung regularly over the course of an evening by such singers/service staff as Aaron Lee Battle, Debra Anderson and Dan Onzo, besides Hampton and Peaco themselves and a hearty smattering of the club’s regular patrons. One of their rare and particularly haunting ballads, however, was “Bring Back the Spring,” which would always invite an appropriate silencing hush over the noisy dinner crowd with its plaintive opening strain, “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all…” And all who were there unanimously agreed that it was never sung better than by Michael Guerette, a pixie-ish gentleman diminutive of height but tremendous of personality and charisma, who had also worked at the Oaks for quite some time as a singing waiter. It was, therefore, a shock to so very many when, on August 12th, the body of a hiker was found dead on the Appalachian Trail in Maine and the person in question turned out to be none other than Guerette, aged fifty-one, whose cause of death has officially remained unexplained. Indeed, what is most unusual is the fact that Guerette, a native of Maine who for the last several years had chosen to reside in the Fire Island enclave of Cherry Grove and display his gift for all things floral as a renowned landscaper and florist, had been a nature lover and avid hiker for the majority of his life, and had trekked the treacherous Appalachian several times before.
Steven Lowenthal, a fixture on the downtown scene as a singer-pianist and accompanist at the Five Oaks and other locales, was stunned by the news. “He was a naturally consummate performer,” says Lowenthal, “and great at everything he did. Michael was someone whose beauty and depth intimidated me even as we joked around, and so I was not aggressive in trying to know him, although we enjoyed each others’ company over many years. I can’t even remember which songs he sang with me, except for ‘Pass Me By’ , but I assure you they were all good! My first impression of Michael,” he continues, “was a bar customer who looked like an extra from the movie Fanny, which was filmed on location in Marseille. My last impression is of an even more gorgeous man, who sure knew how to stock an delightful garden boutique, out in Cherry Grove. I don’t remember which years he worked at the Oaks exactly, but approximately from 1981 for quite some time.” Aaron Lee Battle agrees. “I remember that he was a lovely man, with a pure and beautiful voice, and I do think that he sang Hampton and Peaco’s ‘Bring Back the Spring’ the best it was ever sung,” he says. “I always wish I had that beauty and control in my voice. I didn’t work with him at the Oaks because I believe he had stopped working there then, but I do remember spending time with him and Bobby Peaco. And seeing him in Cherry Grove many years later. and feeling that he was happy and loving life. It gave me joy!”
Singer-pianist/composer Peaco, who heard the news while recently appearing in performance on the Greek island of Mykonos, arguably knew Guerette better than anybody and was absolutely bewildered to learn of this tragic demise. “Michael was my first lover,’ he says. “We met in college at University of New Hampshire, and moved to New York together in 1981. He actually moved a few months before me, because he had taken a bus from New Hampshire to New York, to audition for the original Merrily We Roll Along and got a callback. Didn’t get the show, but was encouraged to leave school and move to New York City. I finished the semester, and then joined him. He had gotten a job at the Five Oaks because a year before, we had a vacation in New York City and went there and loved it. The first time either one of us sang publicly in New York was on that trip (and Marie Blake scared us to death). But he started hanging out there when he moved, and got a job. I got a job there shortly after I moved, as a busboy and service bartender. Before I got the job, he was bartending one night for a show there that Dawn Hampton was doing, and told me I should come see her. Which I did, and was enchanted, as was everyone. So Michael is the reason Dawn & I first met. He sang ‘Bring Back the Spring’ beautifully, and sang it at the MAC Awards one year, which must have been late ’80s or early ’90s. We had long since broken up, but always remained friends, and in the late 80’s we were roommates again for a year or two, in the Village.” He finishes, “There’s so much more I could say, but most of it is really personal. I hadn’t seen him in several years, but he was never far away in my thoughts.”
Dan Onzo was another singing waiter at the club who worked closely with Guerette and knew him well. “How very, very sad that Michael has gone,” he says. “However, may I say as always, he did all things with brilliance. To believe that he would go for a two-week walk along the Appalachian Trail, on his own, is in and of itself alone amazing. His singing? Well, there are no words. And as to his little flower shop in the Grove, I went there every single time, after and before getting on or off the ferry. The serenity and beauty of the setting, as well as the calmness of his demeanor, would always remind me of the joy of my arrival. And it definitely prepared me for my departure back to the fracas of work and the bars back in the city. Although I hadn’t spoken to him within the last five years, I have thoughts of him nearly everyday, especially when I sing.” And finally, singer-pianist Charles Lindberg volunteers, “I remember when Michael was a customer at the Oaks; he was an adorable little boy who frequently wore a red bandanna. The owners of the club at the time were Jeremy Burrell and Ginger Regan, and Michael was asking about work. I remember Jeremy telling me that Ginger didn’t want to hire him because she thought he looked like a hustler. Jeremy, on the other hand, saw through what other people saw, and went with his instincts, which was a good choice. Michael was one of the sweetest, generous, kindest, humblest people I knew. We dated for a while, and I still remember him very fondly. Outside the bar he was the same sweet, adorable, fun loving person. He always made me feel great, and I have never had anything bad to say about him; actually, I have nothing even remotely negative and never will. He will be sorely missed.” Ergo, though many are saddened by the news of Michael Guerette’s unfortunate and untimely loss, there is comfort in the thought that he’s loaning his angelic voice to a choir on high. And in the final analysis, he’d probably be amazed that so many will always keep a place for him alive in their hearts. All sympathies to his family, friends, and those who simply had the inestimable pleasure of meeting him, for he won’t soon be forgotten.
Entertainment personality Helena Joyce-Wright is one of those performers who come along every so often, so revered by their peers as to be considered legendary and yet still sorely lacking the name recognition they so rightfully deserve. After making a tremendous Broadway debut in Amen Corner over twenty-five years ago, years of starring in national tours and regional companies both musical and dramatic have followed ever since, as well as numerous appearances as Billie Holiday on stages far and wide, but other than a more-than-memorable experience understudying Leslie Uggams in Jerry’s Girls, true stardom has managed to elude the lady. That, however, may finally be about to change; on the evening of Sunday, August 28th at 7 PM, Wright brings her long-awaited one-woman opus, All The Parts I Every Wanted To Sing But Couldn’t ‘Cause I ‘Wuz’ Black, to the Abingdon Theatre, 312 West 36th Street as part of Works-In-Progress Productions. Directed by Dwight R.B. Cook with musical direction by Andrew Smithson and choreography by Mamie Duncan-Gibbs, the show proves rather to be one part Ntozake Shange at her most dramatic, one part Elaine Stritch at her most liberated, and never anything less than the most singularly-unique package she could possibly offer. (Tickets are available by calling 212-868-2055). While the show waits for a longer theatrical run which is most certainly in its future, Wright will continue to champion the mega-hit Web series The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl, developed by and starring Issa Rae and hoping for a jump to full presentation on cable television, in which she’s creating the recurring role of J’s Mother. With so much going on, it’s a joy for The Andrew Martin Report to grab a quick interview with Wright just a few days away from what could well be the second chance of a lifetime.
ANDREW MARTIN: I understand that you come from a rather large family, and that talent runs through the bloodline. When was the first time you realized that your family had special abilities for the stage and other forms of entertainment?
HELENA-JOYCE WRIGHT: I actually come from a rather small family. Interestingly, I had seven great-aunts, all of whom married, but only one, my grandmother, had any children. The others traveled with their husbands and sorta spoiled me rotten…except of course for my grandmother. My mother was considered ‘prolific’ because she had four children. As for the stage, that is, it would seem, in my blood (much to my mother’s horror). My aunt, Robin Braxton, is part of theatre royalty as part of the early members of Negro Ensemble Company (NEC). Watching them as a child seared things into my consciousness, like, all things are possible. They took a play from a church basement to a Tony Award, and I got to see this process. I started out as a dance student but I was never encouraged to do ‘fluff stuff,’ because I had gotten so much attention for my academics, and specifically, writing. My mom was devastated when I turned down a full scholarship to Harvard in journalism to study musical theatre instead, but the joke is, she had only put me in ballet because she knew I’d be tall and worried about my posture and decorum. I was a ‘closet singer,’ and had to go all the way to California to ‘come out,” if you will.
AM: What was your first time on a stage, what was it like, and did you know right then and there that this was what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?
HJW: This is what’s strange. My elementary school was doing the play Peter Pan, and I went to audition for Tinkerbell. My music teacher, Ms. Guillermo (who I’ve been trying to find for so many years), broke the news to me that Tinkerbell was only a follow spot. I was crushed, but she asked me to sing anyway. I did, I sang “Moon River,” and she cast me as Peter Pan. It was great, and I got to fly around the auditorium! But then I didn’t go back on stage, except dance recitals, until I left home for college.
AM: I know that you switched colleges in a rather drastic change of events. Please explain that, and the remainder of your college life until graduation.
HJW: It was indeed! I was sort of a hot property, having won some writing awards, etc. I was heavily recruited coming out of high school, and I had committed to going to Harvard, after my visits to a number of other schools. But I changed my mind at the eleventh hour, and went to Howard instead. No sooner was I there than I was transferring; my mom said all I really wanted to be was a professional student. I ended up studying musical theatre under John Blankenship and John Houseman at USC, and did my graduate studies at University of Houston, where Ntozake Shange and Loretta Devine both loomed large, and which is also where I met and fell in love with Billy Stritch. Oh, and besides all this, I actually graduated with honors from Spelman College.
AM: What ultimately brought you to New York, and what were your earliest jobs, both on the stage and off?
HJW: I was very fortunate. Ruby Dee and Ossie Davis saw me in a production of their play Purlie Victorious, and ended up bringing to New York to co-star with them in Zora Is My Name. That was where I met Woodie King, Jr. And Philip Rose, the man who would be my lifelong friend, mentor, protector and fan. I miss him more than I can say. But, I still had to take LOTS of offstage jobs to pay for my decision to study theatre; it was not something supported by my mom. She just did not ever want to see me struggle.
AM: What were the events leading up to you being cast in Amen Corner? Was your Broadway debut everything you thought it would be? Why or why not?
HJW: No, it was not. With the exception of Chuck Cooper, it took a while for the cast and I to warm up to each other. I was this new kid, who was sort of the teacher’s pet. They didn’t know where I came from or how I got here, and I hadn’t ‘proven’ myself. Of course, my own arrogance didn’t help. I remember thinking, “Now what?” once it was over, because it came too easy and I didn’t have a full appreciation of what it was. Of course now, with a thirty-year perspective, it all makes perfect sense. If had not done that show then and gone through the experience, I wouldn’t possibly be able to do what I’m doing now. This time I am fully present, and grateful for a second chance. I really take a lot of comfort in knowing that if God didn’t want it to happen, I would be in a wheelchair unable to sing, so that takes a lot of the pressure off me!
AM: What were some of your favorite jobs in between Amen Corner and Jerry’s Girls?
HJW: I enjoyed working with Rosetta LeNoire at AMAS; that stands out. I also learned that I was a pretty good teacher. A little unorthodox, but some of my former students are on Facebook and I love them to life! Most of the jobs actually came after Jerry’s Girls, because I was wiped out during that tour. It was pretty devastating.
AM: Tell us about the night you went on for Uggams.
HJW: Well, you’ll have to come to the play to hear that story, but I’ll excerpt you a bit . Can you say, ‘caught with your drawers down?’ Oh my. I had been partying all night, staggered back to the hotel at 3am in the Nob Hill section of San Fran, and I get “the” call! Ms. Uggams’ mom had passed, and I was on! Oh, no. Oh, no! PANIC! I never had one understudy rehearsal, because neither Leslie nor Carol every missed a show. It was all very crazy; my understudy was preparing to go on for me, while I was preparing to go on for Leslie. There was lots to maneuver, tons of blocking, and musical numbers up the wah-zoo, and then there was that entrance from waaaaay at the top of the glass staircase, which I had to walk down as though it wasn’t two stories high, in a Bob Mackie original and three-inch heels, all the while singing and emoting and never letting them see me sweat!
AM: Tell us the circumstances of trying to be a working mother.
HJW: That proved impossible. Especially after losing his father. HORROR! My son demanded my attention, and while you can divorce all the husbands you want, those same rules DO NOT apply to children! For a while, I was artistic director of a LORT house in California; I loved the job, and knew I had the vision to make things happen, but it was a struggle because when I got there, the theatre was already in complete disrepair and I was viewed as an outsider, so there was a lot of pushback. People thought the theatre had money, which it did not. I financed most things personally (not a good formula), and the very month I learned my little theatre had been awarded one of the top grants, two million dollars sustaining, I also learned that my mother’s cancer had returned and I had to make a decision. All this plus trying to raise my son and be a great mom. So it was a no-brainer. But of course, I would have liked to see what I would have produced if given the resources. There are some pretty incredible things floating around in this head of mine. And I’m sure God will give me another chance to make them happen. And it’s not just about me, I dream about blessing other people in a major way, all the time. I think of ideas for shows, like some people think of, whatever they think of. I get ideas like The Maestros and Their Muses, sorta just what the title implies. And The Big Bounceback, a show about three or four resurrected ‘Dark Divas’ converging to do their own Follies of sorts. And one of my very favorites is inspired by my relationship with Andre DeShields, but I haven’t had a chance to talk with him about it yet. But I think he’s going to love it.
AM: What about your close brush with starring in the original cast of The Lion King?
HJW: Again, you have to see the show to hear my take in detail. Suffice it to say that in the end, that beat saying, “No matter what I ever accomplish in theatre, Tony Awards notwithstanding, to my son I will always be that woman who turned down the chance to be Rafiki in The Lion King.” My spin was different. “A monkey?? Why in the world would they think I would be perfect for a MONKEY??” Sad, but true. And, I’ve been trying to be seen again by them ever since.
AM: In the show, you also touch briefly on being a cancer survivor. Besides those things you discuss, what do you not talk about in the show that you think is important to share about the experience?
HJW: I had such a struggle coming into an understanding of certain things. I really thirst for answers and knowledge and I searched everywhere from Ashram to Islam. I just kept looking and looking and looking, I knew there was something more, but I couldn’t figure it out. And I completely rejected the whole notion of my family worshiping someone with blond hair and blue eyes. That made absolutely no sense to me. I never just accepted things at face value; I always looked deeper. I wanted answers! You would think that someone who loves so many abstract forms of art wouldn’t have such an impossible time believing in something like God, but I was stumped during that time. I used to make some of the craziest demands like, “If you’re real. just put an HJ in the sky.” I mean stuff straight out King Herod’s song. I really don’t want to get on a soapbox, because that’s not my style, but I have to say that after the cancer, losing my mom, husband, brother and dad, I was sad, sad, sad and angry, angry, angry at Him, and right about then He made Himself very clear, and I was very grateful. It was like finding that one friggin’ missing piece to the puzzle and really everything started to make sense, even the cancer, why I had it and why I don’t now. I still don’t understand stuff like Heaven. Or, how will I see my mom and dad, how exactly does it work, will they look the same, will they just be spirits, and will that scare me? Again, I like exact answers, and I like details. But in my relationship with God after all that happened, He delights in my humor and I delight in His.
AM: How did you come to get involved with Issa Rae and Awkward Black Girl?
HJW: Oh, here we go. Basically, almost two years ago, when I first began putting together Amen Corner: The Musical, Issa was here working in New York at New Federal, where I was calling and harassing Woodie King, my mentor who I mentioned earlier. Issa was a sweetheart who helped me, sight unseen, to not only navigate Woodie and budgets, but she was also giving me Facebook pointers. I asked so many ridiculous questions back then (not to be confused with the ridiculous questions I ask now) that it’s a wonder she speaks to me at all. But we’ve just had a connection ever since. When ABG was introduced, I got so excited and started advocating, because the show is so good; I wanted to make sure my few little networks knew about it . Which elicited the response from the producers of my show, “We wish you would network your OWN show like that!” Somewhere in all this, I was having really bad withdrawals because the show only airs once a month, and I was reduced to watching outtakes and then her other series, Fly Guys. Anyway, I woke up one night with the character of her mother in my mind. Not being a screenwriter, I hesitated sending it to her, but I finally did and she loved it, and we started talking about my playing her mom. When my showdate was pushed back, I had to turn down the commercial I was going to Los Angeles to do, which of course affected her plans to introduce the ABG Mom character. At the same time, things started to really blow up for ABG (a hundred thousand hits for Episode Six), along with all the other great things that are happening with it; Dennis Dortch directed the last episode, they surpassed their Kickstarter goal, Issa’s been signed by Tina Fey’s agent, etc. I’ve watched with an incredible and overhwelming sense of pride and excitement, and it’s just a vicarious thrill watching this all unfold. So the long and short is, I adore her and have from the start. The only downside is that now I have to find someone to answer all my silly Facebook questions.
AM: Can we talk about your recent experience with the MetroStar competition at the Metropolitan Room and why you entered, as well as your thoughts on the outcome?
HJW: What a trip! Andrew, I never thought of myself as a singer, I’m a musical theatre character. I’ve always found comfort hiding behind a character. Although, playing Billie Holiday forced me out of that. Anyway, I was tickled pink (or purple) for the chance to compete; I love being taken seriously in that very particular market. It was very validating. And the week I really thought I sucked and left thinking I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell, one of the judges told me later that I nailed it. The next week when I thought, “Hey, I did OK,” considering the abrupt departure of my musical director due to a personal crisis, that same judge, Sherry Eaker, asked me, “What happened?” I liked her instantly. Anyway, if I had it to do again, I would have taken the advice of the accompanist who said he was terrified to sight-read Sondheim and gone with a simple Billie Holiday number. But I thought he did a great job.
AM: What are your personal hopes for ‘Cause I Wuz Black after it plays on the 28th?
HJW: That this show will get picked up, that it hits a pulse, gets developed, moves to Broadway, and everyone’s hard work and belief in me and this project will be rewarded with a sweep at the Tonys, and I am finally able to hire the people that I want and fire the ones I don’t. Tee hee! Then I can produce other stuff in the Works-In-Progress Productions arsenal.
AM: If you could have had it all to do over again, what would you have done with your life?
HJW: I would have handled my losses differently. I really wasn’t at my best at fifty percent, and my son deserved better. It was the best I had, but it wasn’t enough. So I guess I wouldn’t have stayed stuck so long. And I was engaged three times to three wonderful men, but I had horrific commitment issues. It would’ve have been good to work some of that out BEFORE I got married, but I think I’ll be a better wife the next time. After all, I hear the third time’s a charm.
AM: What is the one philosophy of life you’d like to share?
HJW: Actually, I have two. The first is, never argue with an idiot, because he’ll only bring you down to size and beat you with experience. The other is, I am the miracle I had been waiting for.
A miracle most assuredly. Whether or not All The Parts I Every Wanted To Sing But Couldn’t ‘Cause I ‘Wuz’ Black becomes a life-changing event for Helena-Joyce Wright and the fans so eager to crowd the Abingdon on the evening of the 28th remains to be seen, but it doesn’t even matter in the grand scheme; her life has already changed for the better more times than most would ever have been blessed. The rest is merely sweet and blissful icing on the cake of life.
The existence of Godspell as a legendary musical for over four decades could be rightfully called a mix of miraculous and divine. It started out as a Master’s Thesis project for John-Michael Tebelak, then a student at Carnegie-Mellon, and its earliest presentations on stage were little more than parables and songs strung together and performed by a group of friends from school. Within a surprisingly short amount of time, most of the score was discarded and rewritten by Stephen Schwartz, the once and future giant of the modern Broadway musical. This was after the show had caught the attention of Ellen Stewart, who brought it to the Off-Off-Broadway mecca LaMaMa, from whence Edgar Lansbury and other producers moved it Off-Broadway to the Cherry Lane Theatre and then to the Promenade. Five years later after steady success, it landed on Broadway and would ultimately run there for well over five hundred performances. The show spawned “Day by Day” as a Top Fifteen hit on the Billboard charts in 1971, regional companies and tours began to sprout throughout the globe, and the film version of the show was released two years later and retains a tremendous following. What may be most incredible to realize is that Godspell, in different incarnations, served as the official launching point for the careers of Jeremy Irons, Gilda Radner, Martin Short, Eugene Levy, Andrea Martin, Victor Garber, Lynne Thigpen, Melanie Mayron and countless others. And New York has seen two notable Off-Broadway revivals of the show since that time; the first was in 1988 at the Lamb’s Theatre, directed by Broadway cast member Don Scardino and featuring Trini Alvarado, Eddie Korbich and Laura Dean, and at the York Theatre in 2000, starring Shoshana Bean, Capathia Jenkins, Barrett Foa, Eliseo Roman, Leslie Kritzer and Chad Kimball among others. But a Broadway revival, which had been scheduled for 2008 and had announced its stars as Diana DeGarmo and Gavin Creel, never took place for a variety of reasons. Which is why the theatre world is anxiously awaiting the latest Broadway outing of the show, with production spearheaded by the Great White Way’s newest powerhouse, Ken Davenport. And the buzz generated by this production, whose previews are scheduled to begin on October 13th at the Circle in the Square, make it seem almost certain for the show’s future go-round as a mega-hit.
Robin Lamont, then and now
Therefore, it’s not merely just a delight but something of a historic happenstance for The Andrew Martin Report to be granted the opportunity to interview all of the original women of the show, some of whom even began on the project way back when it was still merely Tebelak’s thesis at Carnegie in the late 1960s. Robin Lamont was one of the first of these to become particularly well-known, for it was her sultry, folksy lead vocals that helped make “Day by Day” such a memorable hit. After her Godspell days she remained a Broadway mainstay, starring in both Grease and Working (another Schwartz-involved opus), but made a complete career change several years ago when she received a law degree and began work as an Assistant District Attorney of New York, while also settling into life as a proud and happy wife and mother. Most recently, she’s switched gears again and become a novelist, very much enjoying the success of her critically-acclaimed crime-suspense story If Thy Right Hand (those interested in learning more should visit www.robin-lamont.com). Sonia Manzano has also enjoyed breakout success, not for theatre but as a star of children’s television; while belting out the lusty “Turn Back, O Man” in the show, she was also cast as Maria on Sesame Street by the Children’s Television Workshop and has remained one of the show’s most beloved characters ever since her first episode. She has also begun writing a series of children’s books for Scholastic. Peggy Gordon retains the distinction of being the only original cast member to have co-written the one song from the show that wasn’t discarded and replaced with a Stephen Schwartz composition (she penned the music to “By My Side” with lyrics by Jay Hamburger, and for which she also provided lead vocals), and since Godspell, has become a much-sought-after vocalist for live performances and recording sessions besides one of the most in-demand writers in the city. As the one self-confessed ‘non-singer’ among the women in the show’s original company, Gilmer McCormick nonetheless created a memorable impression when talk-singing the bouncy “Learn Your Lessons Well” in the first act; she also remains very happily married to the show’s original musical director Stephen Reinhardt, and since Godspell she’s had a more-than-full career on stage and screen in roles both comedic and dramatic. And JJ McCraty was at one time known professionally as Joanne Jonas, who no one could ever forget with her commanding performance of “Bless The Lord,” but after officially leaving the business of show in the late 1970s, today is very heavily involved with the stress-reduction company HeartMath and retains a strong artistic sensibility throughout her work with them. Rounding out the women is Nina Faso, who was the show’s original stage manager and sometimes-understudy, and who since that time has directed countless productions of the show as well as Working and other musicals; today, she and her husband most largely work in the areas of finance and real estate from their home-office in San Diego. All of the women were also involved in the film version in 1973, save for Manzano, who was busy with Sesame Street obligations, and Gordon, who had to drop out due to a medical emergency; her role in the film was embodied by Katie Hanley, while McCraty/Jonas took over the singing of “Turn Back, O Man” and Lynne Thigpen assumed “Bless the Lord.”
Again, not all were involved in the original production at Carnegie before the Schwartz touches were added. “Actually,” Lamont says, “I think I’m the only cast member (besides David Haskell) to have been in the Carnegie inception, then Café LaMama, then to open at the Cherry Lane, in the Broadway opening, and also in the film.” Manzano adds, “I was involved with the production at Carnegie, and at that time it was highly improvisational. It was really just the seeds of what it grew into.” Lamont agrees. “At Carnegie, the show was very experimental, in line with the real ensemble theater that was coming into vogue at the time. I would describe it as ‘raw,’ and wildly different than anything students had seen before.” But whether or not they were all involved in the original production at school, they certainly were part of Tebelak’s widely-growing group of friends, either at Carnegie or from other performance venues. McCormick recalls, “I suppose that the first time I actually worked with JM would have to be the summer he took a group of us to Bay Village, Ohio, to do a season of stock. Among other future Godspell-ites in that group were Jeff Mylett, Steve Nathan, Carla Meyer and Jay Hamburger. We performed MacBird, Marat/Sade, Now Is The Time, and Italian Straw Hat, among others.” Faso also knew Tebelak from a stock experience: “I first met JM at ‘freshman camp’ before school started in 1966,” she tells me. “We were both Dramats (double performance/directing majors), a small group which included Cindy Atlas Gricus. We liked each other, and pledged to be best friends through college.” “I wasn’t involved until LaMaMa,” says Gordon. “In fact, Carol deGiere, the biographer of Steve Schwartz’s great biography Defying Gravity from Godspell to Wicked, sent me a PDF version of our original working script; it was literally five pages of prologue/philosopher speeches (with my name written next to Sartre), and about twenty-five pages of Biblical text. The Carnegie cast, which included wonderful actors like Bob Ari and Randy Danson, created an invaluable skeletal structure. They made it possible for us to use the six-week rehearsal process at LaMaMa (approximately two weeks at JM’s loft and another month at the LaMaMa rehearsal space on Great Jones Street) to fully flesh out, through improvisation, the seminal production Steve Schwartz saw during our two-week run in the month of March. It was through this improvisatory process that I added ‘By My Side,’ thanks to Gilmer’s suggestion, and Jeff Mylett added his song, ‘The Raven and The Swan.’”
Peggy Gordon, then and now
Which leads, naturally, to the next question: what was the first time any of them met Stephen Schwartz? “I was in summer stock and he was our musical director,” McCraty tells me. “It was my second season of stock. I had just finished my first year at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, so I was in the chorus and very green. He was this cute small Jewish guy, who really knew his music. The piano was an extension of him. You know, I was raised as the youngest of three girls, with jazz and show music pumped into my veins daily; Ella, Frank, Judy, Barbra. And I could harmonize with the best of them. Perfect relative pitch. Music is/was language to me. I hear the world in sonics and rhythms, and when I met Steve, he was one of only three people who lived in that land that I felt connected with. It wasn’t long before he not only heard my voice but got a sense of my musical ability and we formed a group who sang separately from the regular shows. I became close with him right away in the working process. It was awesome.” Manzano adds, “I don’t really remember the first time I met him. Check with him. But I do remember ‘Turn Back, O Man’ as being the first song he wrote for the show, and I’d like to think it was because my character was so clear.” “The first time I recall meeting Stephen,” says Lamont, “was when he played the new score for the Café LaMama troupe at an apartment in New York City (which I think belonged to one of the producers). I thought the score had amazing vitality, but at the time I wondered if it was too ‘commercial’ for the power of the piece. Needless to say, I was very naïve and foolish. Steve’s score has become a classic in musical theater.” “Stephen and I met at Carnegie during the same years,” McCormick recalls, “though not in the same class. Even so, we knew each other well, shared a lot of the same friends, and one of my classmates even dated him for a time, so I feel as if I’ve known and loved him all my life. We knew at school that he was an exceptionally talented music man, while watching him try out, for instance, his musical Pippin, which of course later went on to Broadway. It has been wonderful watching his career skyrocket; he deserves every bit of it, and he’s worked hard.” And Faso has arguably known him the longest. “I first met Steve early in freshman year. One of the first mainstage productions at school was a lavish version of Sheridan’s The Rivals. The entire school worked crew on this fantastic production, for which the ushers and the house was costumed and decorated for the period. They had harpsichord music underscoring the entire play, and one of the juniors was in charge of music (not too popular with serious professors at the time). So one night when I was on crew, I heard music coming from the practice rooms upstairs and followed the sound, to a room where Steve was playing the piano and presumably writing the harpsichord parts. I said hello and asked if I could listen to him, he explained musically what he was after; I was a director, as was he, but my mother is a classical pianist, and I earned college money working for the local symphony/opera company where I grew up in Syracuse. So that began a very long friendship, and I got to know him very well over the years. We both loved music and opera. And he had long blond hair and we were both very hippie-ish, even though we were serious students. Also, he was roommates with a boy I eventually dated, so we saw each other often and became even more special friends. And, The Rivals was a huge success. The funny part is, Steve can still play all the music from it.”
And so, from the time of Carnegie-Mellon to the show’s restructuring period at LaMama, Godspell was firmly taking root. Schwartz’s music, Tebelak’s direction (with additional direction by Schwartz), and Reinhardt’s musical direction (he also collaborated with McCraty/Jonas on choreography)were all being brought to life by the five women, as well as Stephen Nathan as Jesus, David Haskell as Judas/John the Baptist, and Jeffrey Mylett, Lamar Alford and Herb Braha rounding out the male cast. And Faso’s stage management began to emerge as a character all its own. What, then, did they think when the official “new version” began to take the shape it would embody before moving to the Cherry Lane? “We laugh about it now,” Gordon says, “but quite candidly, we really couldn’t understand why our producers wanted to replace Duane Bolick’s original music. It was melodic, and very much like what you would have heard on early-70s FM radio. But our producers were in their forties, and it was a real generational shift for them to feel comfortable with music that, to them, sounded like rock & roll, as opposed to the kind of theater pop popularized by the show Hair. They loved Steve’s music when they heard him play his score for Pippin, so they felt his musical sensibility would be a better fit for a show that was breaking new ground as a theatrical hybrid: part clown show, part revue, part book musical. But poor Steve; we actually liked his music but kind of displaced our anger toward our producers, whom we also grew to love, for dropping Duane’s music. So we reassembled after a few weeks off between LaMaMa and Cherry Lane. It was the night before our first rehearsal on April 12th. We were at Edgar Lansbury’s house and gave Steve a very cold reception when he played all the new music for us. But I have to say how magnanimous he was to tell me that he tried to write something to replace ‘By My Side,’ but ultimately felt like, why do that when there was something already so perfect for that spot? Can you imagine someone choosing to share the spotlight like that, when he’d been given carte blanche to replace all the old music? So our resistance dissipated after the first few rehearsals, because Steve’s vocal arrangements were so beautiful and just heaven to sing. As for the show itself, since we had five new songs (out of Biblical text and hymns) and one wholly re-conceived song, ‘Turn Back, O Man’ (which had been a gorgeous ballad and Robin’s solo), we mostly integrated the new and then got to work either cutting or reshaping sections around the new musical material. What I’d also like to add is that we created all our own choreography. We had no official choreographer although we were blessed to have Joanne and Steve Reinhardt (who wore three hats: musical director, piano player/singer and dancer). Joanne and Steve were able to help us manifest dance and movement ideas into purposely silly choreography. As I told the director for the Broadway revival, Danny Goldstein, JM wanted everything, EVERYTHING, to be in clown character and that included the choreography. Rather than slick, he wanted goofy. Case in point, it was Sonia’s idea that we do a faux tap dance in ‘All for the Best.’ She talked about what children look like when they’re learning to tap but haven’t mastered the steps yet. It was a VERY funny illustration and perfect clown behavior!! And that’s how all our choreography evolved.” Faso has even more backstory about the show’s evolution: “At LaMaMa, JM and I wanted to expand the parables without using fancy effects. We broke into groups and worked on specific pieces, and never gave too much thought to the aggregate effect, as we knew from the interest in the show that it had a glow. We did endless versions of endless parables until we felt we had a decent and funny show, with a shape from Misery to Joy to the miracle of the resurrection. The scheduling of music rehearsals I left to Gilmer and Robin and Peg, and we had some facsimiles of Susy Tsu’s costumes. I know the old designers were there, but I don’t remember anything except the work, trying to keep the troops fed and somehow finding a way to put up a fence at LaMaMa. God bless Jeffrey for helping me constantly to try to do crew work and act, too; he was brilliant. It’s just that we had so much to do, no money, and no real producer yet. But the show opened at LaMaMa, and was sold out all performances. That’s when Charlie Haid came and loved the show, and brought Joe Beruh and Edgar Lansbury. So that was the real beginning of the transition to what it became.”
Sonia Manzano, then and now
Thus, on the evening of May17th, 1971 at the Cherry Lane Theatre, the West Village cul-de-sac of Commerce Street came alive with the force of a new musical. How soon was it before the cast knew they had a hit on their hands? “Well,” Mc Cormick says, “I had a sort of different opening night experience than everyone else. Of course we all went to Sardi’s to wait for the reviews to come in, and when they did, we knew we were a smash. I know none of us ever thought that this would happen, I don’t think any of us really knew what we had or the impact it would have on the audiences. But also opening night, I cut my foot badly on the fence onstage, and could only stay at Sardi’s for a little while before being whisked away to the emergency room for eight stitches. Naturally, I was unable to go on the next two performances, and Nina went on ably in my place. As a consequence, the second night I watched the show from the audience for the first time, and I have to say I was practically dumbstruck. An actor’s perspective is very limited on the stage, and I never really saw what my fellow actors were doing or how the whole piece moved and danced and exploded with such precision. You almost couldn’t take it all in. Two sawhorses and three planks became a boat, or an altar, or a swing, or a table and any number of other things, and as an audience member you sometimes don’t even see the change. That was the FIRST time I was aware of ‘what we had,’ and I remember telling JM that every single cast member should sit out one show and experience the piece as a whole. Which he thought was a good idea, but we had no understudies as of yet so it would have to wait. I was really proud of the show, and even more proud of its simple message of hope and peace, which was changing people’s lives. It was theatre in its truest form.” Lamont says, “I think it sunk in that Godspell was a hit when the out of town productions began to open. First, we went to Los Angeles, and soon after there were productions in Canada, London and France. Knowing the show ‘worked’ abroad was big.” And Gordon adds, “It was literally while I was still in Los Angeles before rejoining the original cast back in New York. We’d split the cast in the fall of 1971. Some stayed in New York, like Sonia and Joanne, with a replacement cast. But most of us went to LA for a few months to open the show at the Mark Taper Forum. On a popular variety show, there was a skit about doing the Old Testament as a musical, and Alan King cited ‘the international mega-hit Godspell.’ I just sat there and thought, ‘Wow, that’s my show they’re talking about.'” “And for me,” says McCraty, “it was when we took out a full-page ad in the Times, after Clive Barnes gave the show a so-so review. But the best part of his review was, ‘no doubt there will be those who will love this show.’ And the producers wrote, ‘Right you are, Mr. Barnes,’ and listed every other rave review on this huge page. We sold out at the Cherry Lane from then on.”
With every new hit musical comes the recording of the original cast album. What memories stand out about this event? “The most remarkable thing about it to me,” says Manzano, “is that we did the the whole thing in one day.” Gordon agrees. “Lightning fast, almost too fast. Steve Schwartz and I have commiserated about this, that we wished there were things we’d redone. But when you’re in a hit show, and we were, the impetus to get the album out is great. We literally did all the vocals on our Monday day off. I remember glancing at the clock on the wall of the recording studio when it was time to record ‘By My Side’. I think it was something like 1:20 a.m. That’s why I refer to it as my somnambulistic vocal!” “I have only a vague memory of that session,” McCormick says. “Not being what I call a singer, those sessions were probably very uncomfortable for me and I’ve simply blocked it out. All I remember is being very close together around a mike, and the light wasn’t very good.” And Lamont finishes, “It was my first recording session ever! I had a ball, and fell in love with working in a studio. I had some pitch issues with ‘Day by Day’ on the original cast recording, although it is earnest enough. But I did better, I think, on the movie album version of the song, which is still the recording I would prefer people listen to.” While we’re on the subject, were any of the gals, especially Lamont, surprised by the success of “Day by Day” and it’s sudden constant airplay on the radio? Or by the fact that the other songs didn’t become those kinds of hits? “For me it wasn’t so much hearing it on the radio,” Gordon tells me. “I stayed in LA an extra two months while I watched the majority of the original cast sing ‘Day by Day’ on the Grammy Awards in New York. I suddenly realized the scope of the show’s immense popularity. I don’t think I was surprised that other songs didn’t become popular hits, since they were mostly converted hymns. But ‘By My Side’ got a fair number of artists either recording or covering it. Recently, Tori Amos covered it on tour. Amazing.” “I am not surprised that it was the only song that became a Top Twenty hit,” Manzano adds. “Most musicals only have one or two songs that transcend the show it is from, after all.” McCraty says, “I think the first time I heard it was in an elevator,” while McCormick chimes in, “My first time was probably in an elevator or grocery store, but I wasn’t surprised that it became the hit of the show. Although I liked many of the other numbers a lot more, they were, nonetheless, “show tunes” and were not, as they say, as hummable as ‘Day by Day’ certainly was. As a side note, shortly into the second run, we read that ‘the current Pope’s daily prayer is ‘Day by Day,’ a well-recited prayer in the Catholic church.’ That certainly didn’t hurt the song’s success.” And Lamont has perhaps the best anecdote of all. “Believe it or not, I think the first time I heard ‘Day by Day’ on the radio was when I set my radio alarm for 5:30am to wake up and get to the Godspell movie location bus. Kind of surreal, to wake up and go, ‘Is that me?’ I was not surprised that the song reached the top of the Billboard charts, and not terribly surprised that it was the only one to do so. It was always the one folks went home singing after the show, and of all the songs, can stand on its own the best, both lyrically and harmonically.”
Gilmer McCormick, then and now
The next step in Godspell’s evolution was, of course, the film version. The differences between working in each medium are easily imaginable, but what were likewise the similarities, if any? “I had a blast making the film,” Lamont says, “and felt honored to have been included in the cast. In theater, as an ensemble piece with all ten cast members on stage pretty much the whole time, our rehearsals were constant engagement; we experimented with bits, tried choreography, we were moving all the time. On the film set we did some improvisation, but the time frame was limited because we always had a crew on hand that was working by the hour. And on film, you have to hit marks, stay still while the cinematographer does his thing, and WAIT! Wait always between set ups. In retrospect I think the film was pretty good, but overall didn’t capture the intimacy of what cast and audience most often felt during a live performance. So I don’t believe that the show transferred well to screen. But then again, I don’t like many movie musicals.” McCraty says, “It was so very different. I was playing a mashup of Joanne and Sonia, because Sonia had a contract with Sesame Street. So my best friend, Lynne Thigpen, and I split the roles. It was an awesome experience, the city, the cast, my first film choreography credit, etc. And I especially loved the crew, who taught me a lot about photography.” McCormick’s experience wasn’t quite so celestial, however. “It wasn’t a good time for me. I think that was mainly because of the choice of director, although I had greatly admired his work in other films. David Greene was an elderly, rather eccentric Englishman, whom I think just found himself outside his element, and justifiably so. Godspell, after all, comes out of American Street Theatre, which is very hard to translate to the screen unless you’re Martin Scorcese. The screen wants to narrow the focus, and the stage wants to expand the focus. Part of the success and charm of Godspell was its expansiveness. Nevertheless,” she continues, “I still receive fan mail from people whose lives the movie has touched or changed in some way. I know JM intended to change lives when he wrote Godspell, so all’s well!” And Gordon had every intention of doing the film until fate stepped in. “I got a wicked case of tonsillitis that took me out of the show in early June, and out of the movie too. It was a summer of healing from infection, an operation and then more recuperation. I wasn’t able to sing until late August, so Katie Hanley, who’d been a Robin clown replacement in New York when we were in LA, did part of what I did in the show and Gilmer did the rest. I recently had an interesting conversation about the film with someone and here’s the end result: JM felt strongly that the juxtaposition of two radically different images is what characterized Godspell. An empty, abandoned, urban child’s playground devoid of everything but possibly the remnants of something in the way of three planks, two sawhorses and green garbage bags that would magically transform into our prop bags. In this blighted, empty world he placed ten adolescent, innocent clowns who would not only inhabit the world, they would become and then transform the world. Now, this said, if you read David Greene (the film’s director’s) Wikipedia biography, he states that although he and JM began collaborating on the screenplay, it really wound up being all David Greene because it veered away from JM’s concept of an empty world and focused instead on a world empty of people. Now, did this work? Yeah. It did. Somehow, the emotional power of the show did translate in the juxtaposition David created. Millions of fans have come to Godspell through stock and amateur productions, but millions have also come though the movie and have been as moved as those audience members who’ve seen it live.”
What goes through their minds when they see other productions of the show today, if in fact they do see other productions of the show today? McCraty begins by saying, “I’ve never seen another production of the show live on stage, but I do enjoy watching the different productions on YouTube. They’re all just delightful.” “I can never contain my emotions at any of the productions I see of the show,” Manzano remarks, “but one that particularly hit me hard was seeing it at LaGuardia High School, because I’d been a student there. So it was a very heavy experience.” And Lamont and Gordon attended the 2000 performance at the York Theatre together, which they both claim was “absolutely outstanding.” But McCormick has probably seen more productions of the show than anyone on earth. “Stephen musically directed all the European productions and all the road companies, so I got to see many wonderful productions over the years. I can’t even say whether or not I had a favorite.”
JJ McCraty (aka Joanne Jonas), then and now
Naturally, as with every show so full of life and long legend, the deaths of original cast members and others involved with a show from the beginning is an inevitability. Godspell’s first casualty was none other than John-Michael Tebelak, who passed from a heart attack on April 2nd, 1985 at the age of thirty-five. Shortly thereafter, Jeffrey Mylett lost his battle with AIDS on May 7th, 1986, a month shy of turning thirty-seven. The cause of Lamar Alford’s demise, on April 4th 1991 at the age of forty-seven, has never been disclosed publicly. David Haskell fell victim to brain cancer and died at age fifty-two on August 30th, 2000. And Lynne Thigpen succumbed to a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of fifty-four on March 12th, 2003. Of course, all of the women who knew them well have plenty to say. “Jeff, David’s, and JM’s deaths were very hard because these are people who were part of my teenage community at Carnegie,” Gordon explains, “and were not just good friends, but best friends. Lamar’s death was extremely painful because I found out after the fact; he’d gone back to school at Morehouse College, where he then became a teacher and mentor to many other artists, but we’d lost touch, so his death is especially painful. And Lynne…oh boy. I think sudden death is probably the worst, because it’s like an amputation without anesthesia. At least with an illness, there’s time to prepare for the loss, but Lynne’s death was sudden and very hard.” “Jeff was a beloved friend,” McCormick says. “He was a devoted follower of Meher Baba, which manifested itself in a gentle nature, good humor, a little mischief and a wonderful, insatiable curiosity. He was our daughter, Eve’s, godfather. His sudden passing was devastating in so many ways, not the least of which that he was so very young. We all took it extremely hard and he will always be missed. Lamar…oh, what a big, old kindly bear he was. A blend of child and man, in a Baby Huey body with a monster voice. For someone so big, he was able to move around the stage with such agility and lightness that it was truly surprising. He was very much loved and his loss, again, was a huge blow. Lamar sang at our wedding and thatʼs the way I’ll always remember him; that and his silly clown face. Lynne was one of my dearest friends of all time and her death was a total shock, quite out of the blue; so fast, in fact, that it took me days to believe that this strong, beautiful, generous, talented lady was really gone. I still mourn her and miss her with all my heart. There will never be another like her. David and I also went to school together but, again, not in the same class. When we started workshopping Godspell we became very close friends, which we maintained. David was the one we all thought was going to be a star: handsome, charismatic, and a fine and sensitive actor. Although never reaching stardom, he, nevertheless, did a lot of fine work in his career. He was a dream to work with, generous and non-temperamental. JM’s death touched me profoundly, as did all the others really, but his was the first. And again, no warning, just up and died one day, and so young. I think what touched me the most about his death was the thought of all the unrealized dreams that died with him; thoughts and ideas that he expressed often over the years, his head was always brimming with ideas. I often wonder what kind of things he would have written about had he lived. He often talked about Godspell as being the first part in a trilogy; wouldn’t that have been something? He was a brilliant, kind, joyful, magical man. I will always be grateful to him for the faith he had in me over many years, not only as a performer but as a friend. He will always be loved and missed.” “I was very saddened by their deaths,” Lamont recalls. “The AIDS epidemic took the lives of many friends and colleagues, and I miss Jeffrey and Lamar in particular. We spent a lot of time together in New York. Lamar was a hoot! And Jeff a complicated, funny, introspective guy. I’m also saddened by the sudden deaths of Lynne and David; very hard to take. I’d known David since Carnegie and done Working with Lynne.” Manzano concludes, “Of course we’ll always all miss everyone, but I was profoundly affected by Lamar’s death. He was so very unique.”
Nina Faso, then and now
Finally, how does each of the women predict the newest Broadway revival will fare? “It’s hard to say,” says McCormick. “The first job the director (Danny Goldstein) will have is to help each actor discover his or her clown persona. It is a play about the transformative power by the central character, Jesus, upon the clown characters, making them one thing at the beginning of the play and quite something else by the end. I just hope the message stays in tact. Godspell is a very easy show to lose the focus at any given time through extraneous movements or cutesy play acting, and if it’s allowed to happen too much, it can definitely lessen the impact of the show itself. JM was very strict about where the focus was at every moment. I really hope it does succeed. We could use a hefty dose of hope and peace right now, eh?” Gordon is more optimistic: “Danny Goldstein, the director, has been very receptive. I gave him a DVD of a tenth-anniversary reunion production we did in LA, with the majority of the original cast and four other actors who did the show for years in New York and other companies. It was directed by JM and musical directed by Steve Reinhardt. In addition, Steve Schwartz has been very active in helping Danny. I feel he’s been given enough visual help to understand why the show was such a mega-hit internationally, both creatively and emotionally. So I’m confident that this will be a revival we’ll be proud of.” McCraty diplomatically offers, “The piece is powerful, and if done with honesty and genuine heart it should be great,” while Lamont adds, “I’m curious to see how audiences will respond. On one hand, the show is of a particular time, but on the other, it’s perfect for updating, adding new material, new bits, contemporary references. And the score is still tremendous. I hope it will be a huge success.” But Manzano simply responds, “How will it do? Your guess is as good as mine.”
Well, one must simply guess that the Broadway revival of Godspell, regardless of its overall outcome, will be guaranteed to not only touch the lives of those who already count the show among their favorites, but to reach a whole new audience of younger people otherwise unfamiliar. The possibilities remain endless for the next chapter in Godspell’s long and incredible life, and it’s safe to bet that the New York theatre scene eagerly awaits the following step towards the show’s renewed success.
OK, so I realize I haven’t done a Friendship Folio in a few weeks. This has partly to do with a certain person who shall be nameless telling me, “You know, you’re really doing yourself a disservice with this Friendship thing. People won’t take you seriously if you say someone’s a friend of yours and then you review them positively, because the readers will think you’re biased.” Well, at this point, I don’t care. Anyone with half a brain knows that I call it like I see it, and also that I’ve sometimes had to rip some of my best friends to shreds if I thought their performance wasn’t up to scratch. That said, I’d like to discuss my friendship with Terri White, one of the great ladies of Broadway and a woman I will never stop admiring as long as I have a salient brain cell in my head.
Terri was already long established as a Broadway star before I met her; she created the role of Joice Heth in Barnum at the St. James and completely electrified Broadway in the process, with a showstopping number in the first act. She went on to several other major successes after that, including understudying Nell Carter in Ain’t Misbehavin’, way before landing firmly in cabaret and piano bar as the new girl in town with which to be reckoned. But we’d never personally crossed paths. In point of fact, it was a wintry day in ’88 when I strolled into DT’s Fat Cat (one of my favorite Happy Hour hangouts back then) and my pal Jeff Matson ran up to me and said, “You’ll never guess who stopped in here the other night to sing. Terri White!” To be honest, I wasn’t even really sure who that was, but I feigned enthusiasm. It should be noted that at the time I was directing a cabaret act for Sukhreet Gabel (remember her?) at the Trocadero on Bleecker and Charles, and there was one night that me and my mom and a cousin and a friend besides Sukhreet eventually wended our way to the Five Oaks for some post-show drinks. The pianist (I think it was Bobby Peaco) then announced, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the one and only and incomparable, Miss Terri White!” She took her place at the microphone and delivered a rendering of “Keepin’ Out Of Mischief Now,” which was so visceral as to have all of us in tears. I made it a point to go up to her and introduce myself, and she seemed thrilled to meet me; she knew who I was as a journalist and radio personality at the time, and assured me that I’d be seeing her around town sooner or later. To which I very much looked forward.
The next time we met was at Eighty Eight’s, at a benefit for the late Tim Moore, in which she got up and closed the show with her signature number from the regrettably short-lived Broadway musical Welcome to the Club, namely “A Tasty Piece of Cake.” I went up to her again and introduced myself, she remembered exactly who I was, and theretofore was born a friendship that has lasted for over two decades.
From there, my camaraderie with Terri blossomed completely. I will never forget the night she and I sat at the bar at the Five Oaks discussing performers like Vivian Reed and Cheryl Barnes and her professional entanglements with them, or the horror of hearing how she was a childhood victim of aggressive anti-Black sentiment. And all I could think was, “Screw that mess, girl. You’ve made it, you know it, we all know it, so let’s let it go.” But with Terri, it can never be let go if it’s a grudge on a deeply personal level. And that’s perfectly understandable.
I’m loathe to discuss the next circumstance, but I must. One night in ’97 when I was very firmly in my cups at the end of the night (as I was wont to be at the time; another friend recently likened it to “Hurricane Andrew blowing in”), I said something profoundly stupid about her. I don’t remember what it was, except that it had something to do with the difference in our ages. I’m not sure that she remembers what it was either exactly, but it was hurtful enough that she completely cut me dead as though I’d never existed. And I’m sure I deserved it. It also didn’t help that I was reviewing the Back Stage Bistro Awards that year and pretty much panned the show that she’d directed, because if I wasn’t on her roster du merde before, I sure was now. A few weeks later, at the MAC Awards afterparty, she seriously looked like she wanted to punch my lights out. And believe you me, this is a woman who could take me out with a solid smack. But she didn’t, thank goodness, or I might not still be here to tell the tale.
Then, as many know, began her homelessness. I knew none of this at the time. BUT…in January of ’08, she appeared in a benefit show at Judson Memorial Church on Washington Square South, and she seemed genuinely happy to see me. I made it a point to say, “Terri, I’m so sorry we left our friendship on the wrong foot and I hope you can forgive me. I was a completely different kind of person then and I said something profoundly stupid. I can’t bring myself to apologize enough, and I hope we can be friends again.” She gave me a hug and a kiss and said, “It’s bygones, honey. Bygones. You and I will always be friends.” Which is good enough for me.
As I write this, she’s preparing to open in Follies at the Marquis, in the same version of Sondheim’s musical which received decidedly mixed reviews, but where it is always said that Terri walked off with the whole first act after singing “Who’s That Woman?” in the character of Stella Deems. Broadway has always been where Terri has belonged, and so shall Broadway have her once again and deservedly so.
I love that she’s my friend, and I’ll never stop loving her as a person.
Author’s Note: Your humble reporter is opting for the rare choice of writing this blog in the first person. Normally I don’t choose such a convention of journalism, but I see no other way to write this blog and make it personal than to call regrettable attention to myself. And believe me when I say this will be one of the most difficult articles I have ever had to write. Bear with me, however.
The Andrew Martin Report 