At the 'places' call of every show, our assortment of St. Tropez townsfolk and gussied-up lady birds gather behind the rose-colored show curtain and say a prayer for our bodies, voices, minds and give thanks for the gifts that we've been bestowed and the hope that we can touch someone by sharing them. Then we form a pagan circle and recite a long (and ever growing) string of superstitious phrases, some of which are a carry-over from the London company. By the time we reached Opening night, the chant had grown to include, "Un Deux Trois - OOOH - Booyayakasha - [swahili tongue clicks] - AllergiesSchmallergies - Gooorrrgeous - WE GOT THIS!" Kelsey Grammer then squeezes all of the 'girls' breasts for luck and Nick Adams christens the show with a new subtitle (example: "Tonight is Wasabi Wednesday... let's get hot!") On Sunday, with a tender smirk, he said, "Ladies, it's Savor it Sunday," which was perfectly appropriate. We had trucked through our final week of previews while pollen counts reached their yearly high - tired and sniffly but determined to impress Brantley and the other critics! Now came our reward: to perform for a house of people who love us, have cheered us on our whole lives, and people who found the work so remarkable that it was worth investing in. That's a piece of cake.
The advice no one gives you when making your Broadway debut is that you should show up three hours in advance of the curtain time! Normally, I give myself an hour and a half to get into lady face, my wig, microphone and costume, so I gave myself an additional 15 to distribute gifts (I found these great little birdcage tea light holders) and make the rounds. What I didn't allot time for was clearing my station of two dozen cards, small boxes of gifts, and seven flower arrangements (Talk about touched... how generous my friends are!) There were crates of gifts and tall arrangements lining every hallway of the diminutive Longacre! Everywhere I turned, there was a tulip... I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. And just as I found spots near the window, on the floor, in the sink, etc. to put my flowers and applied my final lash, we were called to the stage for the Gypsy Robe presentation.
I didn't expect to be touched by this ceremony in the way that I was. Gathering as a company, encircling all of these Broadway veterans who welcomed us newcomers and saluted those who are often on the boards. Dale Hensley, our Zaza cover (among other roles) was knighted our Gypsy and ran around the now horse-shoed grouping of half made-up actors with their wig preps on, as we petted the robe that had just been marked by Addams Family. He then ascended the steep staircase and made visits to every dressing room in the building, to bless them. When he made it to room 6, I was frantically touching up my lips and scrambling to get my down to my wig call, but his sense of joy and calm spread through me. 'Savor it Sunday,' I thought!
The performance that evening was magical, with energy so palpable we could feel the beach balls in the opening number cutting through it, making it multiply. I could see the light reflecting in my fathers glasses at the back of the orchestra, and hear my mothers scream of glee after my aria. It was not lost on me that these were the people who took turns driving me to rehearsal, purchased new tap shoes every time I outgrew the previous pair, stayed up late to share bowls of Rice Crispies after my childhood acting gigs. And here was the fruit of OUR labor, a lifetime in the making! *Grin* Thank you for indulging my sentimental gushing.... but my arm hairs were standing on end the entire evening. Even more so when we took the second verse of "The Best of Times," pointedly aware of the appropriate lyrics. At that moment, Jerry Herman was escorted down the aisle, and helped to the stage by Christine Andreas. All of the Cagelles cried off their bottom lashes in unison... we were so deeply touched by this surprise, and overcome with relief from the evening coming to a close that the only possible reaction was crying! The last we had heard, his doctor forbid him from flying after his recent back surgery, but here he was only weeks later!
A few days later, I reminded him that I had played Young Patrick in Mame when it opened the Jerry Herman Ring Theatre in Miami, and he flew in from Bel Air to make some tweaks. He took a moment to study my face and said, "I remember. I came down to supervise. It was with that lovely, lovely woman Gail Edwards." I'm certainly not the same twelve year-old boy he met then, and whether or not he really remembered me or was being kind is besides the point... seeing him on that stage that night took me full circle, and made me even more grateful of the where I am in this moment. He wrote the truth... "The Best of Times IS now."
