BWW Exclusive: Read an Excerpt from Michael Riedel's New Book- RAZZLE DAZZLE: THE BATTLE FOR BROADWAY

Michael Riedel, Broadway's most respected (and feared) commentator pulls back the curtain on its stars, its producers, and its mega-hits to reveal all the shocking drama, intrigue, and power plays that happened off stage in his new memoir, Razzle Dazzle (available today; Simon & Schuster; US $27.00). Michael Riedel has been a theater columnist for the New York Post since 1998. He worked at the Daily News (New York) for five years before returning to the Post and has written for The Guardian, Harper's Bazaar, Mirabella, Departures, and Commentary. Riedel is the cohost of Theater Talk with PBS, is a contributor to the BBC, and has appeared on Larry King Live, the Today show, Good Morning America, and many other news programs. He lives in New York City. Razzle Dazzle is his first book." target="_blank">CLICK HERE to order today.

Razzle Dazzle is a provocative, no-holds-barred narrative account of the people and the money and the power that re-invented an iconic quarter of New York City, turning its gritty back alleys and sex-shops into the glitzy, dazzling Great White Way-and bringing a crippled New York from the brink of bankruptcy to its glittering glory. Michael takes readers into what was at the time a seedy symbol of New York's economic decline, Times Square. Two men, Bernard Jacobs and Jerry Schoenfeld, transformed the collapsed theater district by taking over a crumbling theater company that became one of the most successful entertainment empires in the world and revitalized Times Square.

Michael tells the stories of the Shubert Organization and the shows that re-built a city in grand style, revealing the backstage drama that often rivaled what transpired onstage, exposing bitter rivalries, unlikely alliances, and-of course-scintillating gossip. This is a great story, told with wit and passion.

Below, we are excited to bring you a excerpt from Chapter Two: "The Phantom":

By 1958 Henry Speckman had worked as a maintenance man for the Shubert Organization for 41 years. Short and stocky, he was suffering from severe emphysema. He didn't talk - he wheezed. His doctor told him he didn't have much time left, even less if he kept working. He requested a meeting with Mr. J.J., as everyone called J.J. Shubert.

J.J. rarely met with anyone unless his two lawyers, Gerald Schoenfeld and Bernard Jacobs, were present. J.J. received people behind a large desk in his sixth floor office in the Sardi building. The lawyers sat on either side of the desk, close to J.J. The "victim," as the visitor was called, sat opposite J.J. The lawyers had their backs to the "victim" so he could not make out what they were whispering. Speckman was the victim that day. He came in, wheezing as usual.

"Mr. J.J.," he began, "I've been with Shubert for 41 years, but I can no longer work. I've got emphysema, and I've checked on my insurance and it's not enough. I can't live on it. Even with the social security, it's just not enough. I was wondering, would you give me something to help supplement it. Something more in my pension, maybe...."

J.J. glared at him. "How long did you say you were here?"

"Forty-one years."

"I've taken care of you for 41 years," J.J. replied. "Now go and find someone else to take care of you."

"That's the way he was," Jacobs would recall nearly 40 years later. "He was not conscious of the fact he was cruel or mean. After all, he grew up in a world in which he and his brothers came out of nothing. And they clawed their way to become the dominant force in the American theater."

Short, thick, rumpled and prone to titanic rages, J.J. ran his empire, which at one point included 20 theaters in New York and another 50 or so around the country, with an imperious hand. Since 1953, when his only partner, his brother Lee, died, he answered to no one. He was surrounded by courtiers who every day at six vied to take the box of papers for Mr. J.J. to sign up to his penthouse. He who had the box had the king's ear, at least for the night.

J.J. was grooming his son John to take over one day. But he was not ready to relinquish control yet, and John often feared his father would never do so. In fact, there were times when John feared his father might throw him out of the company. If he made a bad decision, J.J. would explode and scream, "You're fired."[1]

J.J. told his underlings, "My son has no more authority here than the porters in my theaters."[2]

Once, when John refused to ride in a car with one of J.J. mistresses, his father punched him the face. When, in a divorce case in 1916, his first wife Catherine Mary accused him of having caught syphilis from hookers, he struck back by denying John was even his son. John's real father, J.J. swore under oath, was one of Catherine Mary's many lovers.

J.J.'s brutal treatment of actors, directors, chorus girls, even his own family, was legendary. He screamed, he bullied and sometimes he lashed out physically at those who displeased him. A notorious incident occurred in 1911 involving a showgirl named Peggy Forbes. A grand niece of President Zachary Taylor, Forbes was confident, even a bit arrogant. J.J. didn't like her attitude. He preferred chorus girls who were subservient, in every way. One day after a matinee at the Winter Garden Theatre, he fired her. As she later recounted in court, she marched up to him and said, "Mr. Shubert, are you a man or are you a monkey?" and then turned to walk away. Enraged, J.J. spun her around and smacked her twice in the face. She sued him, claiming the assault left her with a swollen eye and a bleeding lip. The suit made the papers, and everybody had a good laugh at J.J.'s defense: He hit Miss Forbes, he said, only after she'd stuck him with a hatpin.