Backstage Pass To Broadway

by Susan L. Schulman

  At the end of the performance, Raul Julia again brought Ray Bolger onto the stage of the Circle in the Square and, once again, perhaps for the last time, Bolger led a theatre audience in a letter perfect repeat of his 9 pm performance, to everyone’s delight. There was no trace of his earlier exhaustion. Sadly, Ray Bolger passed away in 1987. Happily, Raul and I were not responsible for Bolger’s demise. Raul, who earned his second Tony nomination for WHERE’S CHARLEY?, died unexpectedly in 1994 at age 54, of complications from a stroke.

  In 1973, Otto Preminger produced and directed Erich Maria Remarque’s drama FULL CIRCLE on Broadway. The cast included Leonard Nimoy and Bibi Anderson, but the real stars were Preminger and Remarque’s widow, former film star Paulette Goddard. In addition to the late playwright, the ageless beauty had also been married to Charlie Chaplin and Burgess Meredith. On the first day of rehearsal, with the press in attendance, she appeared beautifully dressed and be-wigged, draped in the biggest diamonds I’d ever seen.

  A few years later, Preminger hired me to promote his film, The Human Factor, starring Nicol Williamson and the beautiful black model Iman, who later married David Bowie. Occasionally we would meet in Preminger’s Upper East Side townhouse, which was filled with instantly recognizable art, including several Picassos.

  Despite my hard work promoting the film, Preminger failed to pay me. When confronted with my fairly tiny bill, he acknowledged I’d done the work, smiled and said, “Sue me.” So I asked a prominent entertainment attorney for help. While I sat across the desk from him in his office, my attorney called Preminger’s lawyer, a colleague of his, and simply said, “Tell him to pay the kid.” Preminger did, eventually.

  DAVID MERRICK’S FINAL CURTAIN CALL

  Richard Rodgers & Oscar Hammerstein II wrote musicals expressly for the theatre, except for Cinderella, a delightful musical fairy tale which became one of the first blockbuster TV specials in the 1950s, starring a young Julie Andrews. (In 2013 a revised version of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s CINDERELLA opened on Broadway to rave reviews.)

  But in 1945, after their great success with OKLAHOMA! and CAROUSEL, they were lured to Hollywood where they wrote the music and lyrics for their only original film musical, STATE FAIR, starring Jeanne Crain, Dana Andrews, Dick Haymes, a pre-GUYS AND DOLLS Vivian Blaine, Charles Winninger and Fay Bainter. In 1962 there was a less successful re-make starring Pat Boone and Ann-Margret. The R&H score, which included the Oscar-winner ‘It Might As Well Be Spring’ and ‘It’s A Grand night for Singing,’ had never been performed on stage until the North Carolina School of the Arts presented an adaptation by Tom Briggs (of the Rodgers & Hammerstein Organization) and Louis Mattioli in 1995.

  Without seeing that production, the Theatre Guild optioned the ‘new’ musical from The Rodgers & Hammerstein Organization for a national tour to star John Davidson, Kathryn Crosby, Donna McKechnie, Andrea McArdle, Scott Wise and Ben Wright. The show had been conceived by Tom and Louie as a ‘new/old’ musical the Rodgers & Hammerstein Organization could license to community theatres and summer stock companies, along with the big five R&H shows: SOUTH PACIFIC, OKLAHOMA!, CAROUSEL, THE KING AND I, and THE SOUND OF MUSIC. STATE FAIR was never intended for Broadway.

  But the Theatre Guild’s nine month national tour, which I handled, turned out to be a hit with critics and audiences across the country. It was staged in an old-fashioned presentational style, with painted backdrops by James Leonard Joy, and set pieces that moved on and off stage using manual push-sticks rather than electric-powered tracks. It starred familiar faces the audiences considered dear old friends. People swayed, hummed and even sang during the overture because they had grown up on this familiar music. About 10 minutes into the show, you’d see people sitting in the audience with big dopey grins, just smiling at the stage. STATE FAIR was warm, friendly and fun — it was like theatrical ‘comfort food.’

  Almost everyone connected with STATE FAIR needed it to succeed — John Davidson had had early success on the stage and then moved to TV. He had toured in many legit shows, but yearned for the validation of creating and originating a role on Broadway. Kathryn, a bright and talented woman, was tired of being known as Bing Crosby’s widow or Mary Catherine’s mother. Donna McKechnie and Andrea McArdle hadn’t had a major hit since they each shot to stardom years earlier in A CHORUS LINE and ANNIE, respectively. Ben Wright had gained early fame in the original cast of Stephen Sondheim’s INTO THE WOODS but had married and retired from show business to join his father-in-law’s marketing firm in North Carolina. And the charismatic song and dance man, Scott Wise, who won a Tony Award® for JEROME ROBBINS’ BROADWAY, had returned to dancing in Broadway choruses to support his ex-wife and young daughter.

  The legendary Theatre Guild had been dormant for years, long past its heyday of producing hits for The Lunts, Helen Hayes and Katharine Hepburn. Robert Franz, a former agent and originally an intern at the Theatre Guild, bought the rights to use the venerable organization’s name and revitalize it. After producing several small touring shows, Franz and his partner Philip Langner, decided STATE FAIR would resurrect The Theatre Guild.

  STATE FAIR was special to me too — I genuinely liked the cast, the creators and the crew; I loved the R&H songs, and enjoyed the fact that I played such a key role in this production. The producers sought my input on almost all decisions, so I felt valued and involved. I was proud to represent it. And I needed a hit too.

  STATE FAIR rehearsal (Left to Right): Jackie Angelescu, Scott Wise, Donna McKechnie, John Davidson, Kathryn Crosby, Andrea McArdle, and Ben Wright, with Assistant Musical Director Rob Berman at piano.

  (Photo credit: Carol Rosegg)

  Kathryn Crosby is a smart cookie. She had learned about self-promotion from the Master, her late husband, Bing Crosby. One day at rehearsals she eyed a pile of old magazines brought in to help the cast get the feel for the ’40s when the musical was set. Kathryn spied a Life Magazine with a familiar couple on the cover. She held it up, grinned at me, and photographer Carol Rosegg got this shot which we used for advance publicity.

  Kathryn Crosby

  (Photo credit: Carol Rosegg)

  The STATE FAIR tour began in Des Moines because Gordon Smith, one of the co-producers, had been the director of the Civic Center of Greater Des Moines. The Theatre Guild hired many local Iowa vendors, including a Des Moines TV crew, to shoot our TV commercials, and local printers to print and ship the show’s flyers and posters for all the tour cities to come. I became good friends with the managers of the Iowa State Fair, who helped us promote our big new musical, which was actually set at their own world famous State Fair.

  Normally, Des Moines shuts down completely in August during the Iowa State Fair because nothing can compete with it. This time, our STATE FAIR worked hand in hand with their state fair. Our actors lead the Opening Day parade seated in vintage cars, judged Most Beautiful Pig contests and competed in cooking competitions. At our opening night, following the curtain calls and the standing ovation, the Governor of Iowa presented everyone in the STATE FAIR company, including me, with certificates naming us Honorary Citizens of the State of Iowa.

  Because pigs are a central theme in STATE FAIR, I wanted photos of John Davidson with pigs to use for advance publicity. So, before rehearsals began in New York, John Davidson and I traveled to the World Pork Expo at the Des Moines Fair Grounds to shoot still photos and promotional video of John with pigs — lots and lots of pigs. We also ‘rented’ three small pigs to use in a TV commercial shot on stage of the Des Moines Civic Center Theatre. At that time, John, who played a pig farmer in STATE FAIR, was lobbying the Theatre Guild producers to use a live pig in the show. Jamie Hammerstein, co-director of the musical and son of Oscar, said “Trust me, John, you don’t want live animals in the show,” but John kept insisting that having a live pig on stage would be great for STATE FAIR.

  When we shot the pre-production TV commercial on the stage of the Des Moines Civic Center, I sat at the piano pretending to play while John
sang ‘Our State Fair’ to a little pig he was cradling in his arms. What none of us city folk knew, was that ‘real’ pigs (pigs raised for slaughter) are normally touched only three times in their lives — at birth, during branding and when they are killed. So the little pig didn’t know why this handsome, dimpled man was hugging it and singing to it at the top of his lungs. As soon as John picked up the pig, it would scream and squawk very loudly, drowning him out. We tried another pig. Same deal. The pigs HATED being held in his arms. Between takes, a young girl, age 10 or 11, whose family owned the pigs, would casually come over, pick up the squealing pig by one of its hind legs and carry it around. For reasons none of us understood, this calmed the pig. It would instantly fall into a silent slumber. Then we would try again.

  John taping TV commercial in Des Moines, with unhappy piglet. Susan pretends to play the piano.

  (From the author’s photo collection)

  In addition to screaming, the pigs were so upset by show business they also peed and threw-up on poor John. He was a trouper, and just kept singing while everyone off camera fell over laughing. In the middle of one of the many ruined takes, a crew member standing off camera asked, innocently, if there would be a live pig on stage in STATE FAIR. Without missing a beat, both John and I swiveled our heads and responded loudly, in unison, “NO!” John Davidson never mentioned having a live pig in the show again.

  Prior to starting rehearsals for STATE FAIR, John Davidson had been headlining at his own theatre in Branson, MO. He enjoyed the Branson tradition of greeting the audience after every performance and signing autographs. He asked me to put a note in his Playbill bio that he would be doing that after each performance of STATE FAIR. I said, “Are you sure you will want to do that after EVERY SINGLE performance for nine months on the national tour?” He said, “Yes” and encouraged other company members to join him. He felt it was good for the young actors in the cast to understand an actor’s responsibility to fans. The autograph sessions were a reflection of John’s warm relationship with his fans who had demonstrated their affection and loyalty to him throughout his long career.

  STATE FAIR continued to earn mostly rave notices and attract large, happy crowds on the road. The cast, especially John and Kathryn, were a press agent’s dream. They were ready, willing and definitely able to beat the drum for the show. I organized petting zoos, pie eating contests, ‘Most Beautiful Pig’ contests and other events across the country to help local presenters sell tickets and the cast was always amused to hear what crazy thing I’d thought up for them to do. Sometimes we invited local dignitaries or radio personalities to appear on stage during a scene at the fair or during the curtain calls. In other cities we ran contests with the winner earning a walk-on role in the show. We carried extra costumes in various sizes for these publicity stunts. John and Kathryn would get up at the crack of dawn for morning TV shows or show up at local state fairs to present Blue Ribbons. In almost every city, someone in the company had a friend or relative who hosted a party for the cast and crew. In San Francisco, Kathryn Crosby invited all of us to her majestic home where we took pictures holding Bing’s Oscar, and making mock acceptance speeches. The acrobatic Scott Wise entertained us by walking down a flight of stairs on his hands. STATE FAIR was one of those touring companies where everyone seemed to genuinely like each other and continued to do so to the end of the nine-month tour. Many of the co-producers (including Sonny Everett, Bonnie Nelson Schwartz, Matt Garfield and Ron Kumin) sporadically joined the company on the road and were made to feel welcome and part of the team.

  David Merrick and his much younger Chinese companion, Natalie Lloyd (hereafter known collectively as The Merricks), saw the show in Philadelphia and offered to buy it, lock stock and barrel, from the Theatre Guild. After much discussion and many late night phone calls, Robert Franz and Philip Langner decided to reject their offer. They were warned repeatedly by theatre colleagues that they would be ‘getting into bed with the devil’ if they allowed Merrick to buy his way into the show. However, after a few less than lucrative weeks on the road, the Theatre Guild’s finances became shaky. Robert Franz, who had trained as an agent in the shark tank of Columbia Artists, felt he could handle Merrick. He was wrong. David Merrick was invited to invest approximately $1 million in the production. The billing changed to DAVID MERRICK presents The Theatre Guild production of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s STATE FAIR.

  Dubbed ‘The Abominable Showman’ by Howard Kissel (the late, well-respected drama critic of the New York Daily News,) David Merrick was the greatest theatrical producer in the modern American theatre with hundreds of Broadway productions to his credit. His shows had earned 12 Tony Awards® and more than 100 Tony nominations. During a career spanning four decades, Merrick once has six productions running simultaneously on Broadway - he was creative, smart, sneaky, devious, deceitful and brilliant. He was despised and admired at the same time.

  Merrick had suffered a severe stroke in 1983 and by 1995 was wheelchair-bound and unable to speak. In recent years he had been virtually invisible on Broadway, except for occasional reports of an on-going feud with his not quite ex-wife Etan over their contentious adoption of two young children.

  Natalie acted as if Merrick was still the most powerful man on Broadway, and expected everyone to do the same. It wasn’t hard for me — I was thrilled to be ‘working’ with Merrick. I’d grown up seeing Merrick shows and was excited the day he arrived in my office to discuss Natalie’s billing as a co-producer.

  The reclusive producer wore a slightly crooked jet black toupee, a black suit and white gloves as he sat slumped in his wheelchair. Sometimes his eyes were bright and alert, at other times you felt no one was home. With the Merricks seated opposite me across my desk, it was hard to know whether to address him or her. When you asked Merrick a question, he would mumble two or three totally indistinguishable words. Then Natalie, in heavily accented English, would say, “Mr. Merrick feels....” and would talk for 10 minutes. I’d think, “Gee, she got all of that out of those three garbled words — amazing.”

  I showed the Merricks two possible layouts for the show’s revised billing — now including Natalie as one of the co-producers. Both layouts were contractually correct, but one gave Natalie’s name a more prominent placement. They each looked at it — Merrick pointed to the better layout. If anyone knew about billing, it was David Merrick. Natalie, who had little experience in the refined art of billing, seemed to choose the other version just to annoy Merrick. He continued to thump choice A, she wanted B. He thumped, she ignored him. Natalie prevailed but actually lost out because the layout she selected downplayed her position in the production.

  As Merrick could not speak, Natalie presumed to be the mind and voice of the legendary producer. She had read Howard Kissel’s book The Abominable Showman and knew by heart the famous publicity and marketing ploys Merrick had used to call attention to his shows. She proudly gave me a 1989 Vanity Fair Magazine feature on David Merrick entitled “Scrooged.” Written by Leslie Bennetts, the boldface lead for the article read: “He was the Abominable Showman, the most successful and hated producer on Broadway until a stroke deprived him of his power of speech in 1983. Then, last April, the miserly multimillionaire ran away with his lawyer’s Chinese receptionist and soon announced he was backing a show called GOLDDIGGERS. Is it a farce or is it a tragedy?”

  The Vanity Fair piece detailed Merrick’s stroke, decline and increasingly erratic behavior in recent years. Merrick’s longtime secretary Helen Nickerson was quoted saying, “He has alienated everyone who ever cared about him.”

  During his long career, Merrick delighted in thumbing his nose at critics and everyone else in the theatre. He was an aggressive and shameless self-promoter. The Vanity Fair article stated: “All his life Merrick prided himself on being the meanest son of a bitch in town. ‘It is not enough for me to succeed,’ he liked to say. ‘It is also necessary for others to fail.’” The Vanity Fair article also pointed out that Merrick considered liti
gation a form of recreation.

  Natalie seemed oblivious to the fact that the Vanity Fair article painted Merrick as vicious and sadistic and Natalie as manipulative and callous. I felt the article, while factually accurate, was insulting and degrading to both of them. I assumed she gave it to me for background. I never referred to it again, nor did Natalie.

  At one point New York Times reporter Peter Marks, who had earlier joined us in Des Moines and Omaha for a Sunday Times Arts & Leisure piece on touring shows featuring STATE FAIR (October 8, 1995), requested an interview with Merrick in New York City. Natalie arranged for me to bring Peter to the rooftop space of the Galleria building on East 57th Street where they lived. Peter and I arrived at what appeared to be a totally deserted former restaurant, giggling nervously in the large, dark, empty room. Eventually Natalie and Merrick materialized out of a private elevator with an entourage of associates and former employees Natalie invited to surround him at occasions like this.

  We sat on large couches near the windows in the stark, dimly lit room. Peter would ask a question. Merrick would mumble and gesture emphatically. Natalie would interpret and ramble. Peter and I did not dare look at each other. At one point, Merrick struggled out of his wheelchair and slowly staggered a few feet to a couch across the room. It appeared to be a stunt the Merricks had rehearsed to prove to the New York Times that he was still DAVID MERRICK. In fact, it created the opposite effect — Merrick seemed like a slightly disoriented, severely handicapped man performing for the media. Peter graciously chose not to include the incident in his New York Times feature.

  Merrick had always been known to be secretive and paranoid. As his surrogate, Natalie adopted those characteristics. Natalie felt SHE was now, for all practical purposes, “David Merrick.” And, as she was perched on top of his seemingly limitless pile of money, she WAS.