by Anne Edwards
As far back as December 1991, she had told Tom Shales of the Washington Post that she was considering doing a tour for financial reasons. ‘I actually am running out of money, because I don’t work very often,’ she told him. ‘I’ve bought all this land [California beachfront property] and I can’t sell my other land [the Malibu ranch], so I might have to go out and sing just to pay for my house.’ The ranch was proving to be a tremendous drain on her resources. The taxes were exorbitant and the maintenance, with the vast grounds and the five houses on them, was enormous. Also, the estate had served its purpose in her life. The decoration of the houses had each been like making a movie. Once finished, she wanted to go to the next project. Art deco and art nouveau were no longer her passion. She wanted money to buy primitive and Early American art as well as furniture of the arts and craft period. Negotiations were begun with Christie’s auction house for a public sale of some of the contents of the ranch’s houses.
In August 1993 Kirk Kerkorian, the owner of the new $1 billion, 5,000-room MGM Grand in Las Vegas, unaware that Streisand was even considering a return to the concert stage, called Erlichman and, thinking he might lure her with the offer, proposed to donate $3 million to her favourite charities if she would make a one-time appearance – New Year’s Eve – at his hotel less than two weeks after the opening of the world’s largest hotel-casino project. The offer came at a propitious time. Her movie projects were at a temporary standstill, ‘plus’, as she says, ’the show was to be on New Year’s Eve. I hate New Year’s Eve. It is a very lonely night for me ... never a happy time. There is such an obligation to be happy. So, I thought: What a great way to escape New Year’s Eve ... doing a show.’
Kerkorian’s offer was the perfect opportunity for Streisand to initiate a live concert performance. She did not, however, intend to appear without private compensation. Erlichman offered Kerkorian a deal whereby she would perform at the MGM Grand for two nights, 31 December and 1 January, which could earn Streisand close to $10 million for each performance;2 additionally, the shows would be filmed (the best performance of each song being used) for television. Kerkorian, who knew that Streisand’s appearance could well be the entertainment coup of the decade, swiftly agreed to the new terms. Other name acts such as Paul McCartney or Michael Jackson might well draw the crowds, but their appearance – since they had toured widely in recent years and had been seen on cable television – would not be as newsworthy.
Everything else in Streisand’s life was put on hold as she began work with the Bergmans on the concept for her appearance. Her idea was to make the concert an autobiographical trip through her life and career using music and film clips as the milestones. Not only would she write most of the script, she would also direct, but she wanted to be surrounded by people whose judgment she could trust – Erlichman, Cis Corman, the Bergmans, Dwight Henion, who had produced so many of her television specials.
She approached Marvin Hamlisch, who twenty-one years earlier had worked with her on The Way We Were, to take on the job of conductor. Since they had made The Way We Were, for which he had won two Oscars, Hamlisch had received a third Academy Award for his adaptation of Scott Joplin’s music for The Sting, won four Grammys, a Tony, three Golden Globes and had composed the music for the Pulitzer Prize-winning show A Chorus Line, as well as of They’re Playing Our Song and The Goodbye Girl.
‘I didn’t need the job,’ he says, ‘but I would never have said no to it. I thought it was the right thing to do. I also thought it would be a very historic kind of event for her to come back to the stage after twenty-seven years and I wanted to be part of it. I just thought I was made to do this. When I was asked to think over the situation – conducting for Barbra – to me that was a privilege. We are talking about a great voice ... a great lady.’
Tickets went on sale for two New Year’s concerts at the MGM Grand in early October. Erlichman claims that the telephone company did not want the Las Vegas tickets to be on sale during the week – they were afraid incoming calls would overload the system. Over a million requests were clocked in the first Sunday they chose, only the earliest callers being able to purchase tickets. Streisand was overwhelmed with the response. An idea brewed now that Las Vegas could be the launch for an international tour, although she was petrified of the enormity of such an undertaking, of the possibility that she would suffer terrible stage-fright, of forgetting her lines and lyrics.
For years she had been accustomed to scripted dialogue filmed in short pieces and of knowing that if she mis-spoke it could be reshot or edited later. Finally, she agreed that if she was superbly prepared and if she could use some kind of tele-prompter system large enough for her to see from the stage that would help, but the musicians, technicians and venues had to be the very best. Erlichman went off on a lengthy trip to view the arenas and concert halls in some of the major cities that he thought would prove the most viable for her and she went into rehearsals on the largest soundstage at Columbia Pictures, the same one on which she had recorded the songs for Funny Girl and Funny Lady.
Her first ambition was to have the sound for her live performances controlled as perfectly as it was when she was in a recording studio. For this task she hired one of the top acoustical technicians in the country, Bruce Jackson, who had worked for six years with Elvis Presley and ten with Bruce Springsteen. ‘I had heard that she was impossible to work with,’ Jackson said. ‘She definitely kept everyone on their toes. If you disagreed you had to stand your ground. She would listen and try to rattle you. If you showed you were rattled and gave up ground, you were dead. She was demanding, but I found if you give her what she wants, she is in fact a great pleasure, very stimulating.’
‘She knew what she wanted, but she didn’t know how to get there,’ said Tom Gallagher of Aura Systems, the company which was manufacturing a special speaker system for the concerts. ‘It was our job to keep experimenting until we got it right.’
Streisand wanted an intimate, controlled sound and in the size of the arenas where she would be singing, this would not be easy to achieve. After many ideas had failed, Jackson finally came to her with the suggestion that carpet be laid on the floor and heavy drapes hung on the walls of the concert venues. ‘I knew this would be hugely expensive, but when I mentioned it to Barbra and Marty, they both said: “Yes, do it.”’
She was to be backed by a 64-piece orchestra. Donna Karan was designing the two gowns she would wear in the two sections of the concert so that she would not only look marvellous but would be able to move largely unrestricted by them. To keep herself as calm as possible she listened to meditation tapes when she was not needed. The entire effort was as concentrated and as carefully choreographed as a Broadway show. The rehearsals at Columbia were her out-of-town try-outs. Nothing was left to chance. Every comment she was to make on stage was drilled over and over to achieve near perfection.
‘Barbra would tell me these stories [about her life],’ Hamlisch recalls, ‘and I would say, “Put it in the show.” She has a wonderful way of putting the truth out there almost with a little bit of whimsy, and that way you realise she is one of us. She is this person who has this great talent, but she is talking to us like she really cares. A very important thing about the concert was to have her fans see her as she is.’
The last few days before the first show, Friday night, New Year’s Eve, 1993, were mayhem. The immense MGM Grand Hotel’s Grand Garden arena seated over 13,000. All the doors except one leading into the arena were sealed for security reasons, but this meant that 13,000 people would have to line up single-file, airport-style and pass through metal detectors (specified VIPs were ushered through a rear door). Tickets were astronomically priced from $50 to $1,000, with 4,000 of the seats at the top level, the average price per person being more than $500, and some fans had paid brokers three and four times face value for choice seats. Would they now be in a rage at having to stand in line for up to an hour to take their seats? And would this create a disgruntled audience who would
be difficult to woo in the first few songs of her programme? Streisand weighed all sides of the question and dedded that she could not appear unless she felt secure and therefore would take the risk.
Wild expectation spread through the crowds as they waited to pass through the security check and enter the arena on New Year’s Eve. The performance had been scheduled for 8 p.m. Around half-past eight numerous white stretch limousines drew up to the kerb. As each celebrity stepped out cheers went up from the crowds. There were Liza Minnelli, the President’s mother (an inveterate gambling and Las Vegas enthusiast), Coretta Scott King, the widow of slain dvil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr, Prince, Quincy Jones, Michael Crawford, Alec Baldwin, Kim Basinger, along with Streisand’s former directors Peter Bogdanovich and Sydney Pollack. No one appeared disgruntled that the luminaries did not have to wait in line. ‘Never in my life did I think I would see her live,’ one woman who had paid $500 for her ticket and had been waiting since 6 p.m. said. Another agreed. ‘I had to be here. What if she doesn’t feel comfortable on stage and decides to never do another concert?’
As soon as she stepped out on the stage at the MGM Grand she would hear the thunderous roar of the crowd and know that making movies might be her passion but the stage was the only means she had of getting immediate gratification. And she was to come face to face with the reality of her life. There was no one in the entertainment world to equal her, not Frank Sinatra, Michael Jackson or Madonna. She was no longer just a superstar. She was a living icon.
Footnotes
1 Jack Valenti, President of the Motion Picture Association of America Inc. immediately wrote a letter to the editor of the Washington Post in Streisand’s defence. ‘Barbra Streisand has read deeper and absorbed more about what ails this society than most of the bureaucrats who inhabit the higher reaches of our government,’ he stressed.
2 The $20 million estimate included the expense and payroll of producing the concerts, which would be deducted from that amount as well as the $3 million Streisand still planned to turn over to her foundation for charitable distribution. Kirk Kerkorian rightly gambled on the fact that she had rarely performed in public for more than twenty years and that the two concerts would be quickly sold out.
31
SHE STOOD OUTSIDE her dressing room, distanced from the backstage mayhem that existed in the last few minutes before her show was to begin. Her black gown with its deep-cut neckline gracefully framed her slim, curvaceous figure. Around her neck was a glittering display of diamonds. Her shoulder-length light brown hair, streaked blonde, was loose and softly styled. With a small wave of her left hand she motioned the three members of her staff who hovered close by, still tending to her hair, make-up and gown, to move away. The gesture was regal, immediately obeyed. For a brief moment she stood poised, alone, the famous chalky white undulating hands – lithe fingers like those of a Shiva goddess, elongated nails blushed with lacquer – were clasped tightly before her, the only outward sign of her nervousness.
The stage manager, a tall, broad-shouldered young man in a business suit and a dark-haired pony tail, moved to her side. He carried a walkie-talkie, held close to his mouth. ‘Give the houselights a flash,’ he said into it, a signal that the star was ready to appear. People would now be rushing to their seats. A minute later the house lights were ordered dimmed.
‘Two minutes,’ he told Streisand.
She stepped forward. The young man at her elbow handed her a lighted cigarette and she took a quick puff as he guided her cautiously across the cable-strewn area to the bottom of the backstage staircase that she would have to ascend to enter the unusual balcony set. Several members of the staff were clustered at the foot of the steps, one held out a paper cup filled with cold tea as she approached. She leaned in close and sipped from it with a straw. The overture was nearing the end. The 64-piece orchestra, conducted by Marvin Hamlisch, was situated on her right where it could be seen by her and the audience, although a curtain concealed the area where she stood. Hamlisch looked over to her and she nodded that she was ready. The music swelled.
This was the moment she had feared. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, lifted her chin as though struggling for air.
‘To one side, please,’ Streisand’s pony-tailed escort called to the crew as he helped her up on to the rather steep flight of stairs that led to the upper level of the set. ‘We’re on our way to the stage,’ he said in his walkie-talkie.
Out front the audience was wild with enthusiasm. Applause filled the air. The orchestra was playing the opening bars of Streisand’s great standard, ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’. She paused for a moment and then continued up as the assistant helped to straighten the skirt of her long gown behind her so that she did not take a mis-step as she ascended to the top.
‘Ready?’ he asked as she stood poised to enter.
‘OK,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’ came to a rousing finish. The curtain was drawn aside and Streisand, head back, a wide smile on her luminous face concealing her inner fear, stepped out to a thunderous ovation.
She stood on the balcony area to stage left of the giant proscenium, the orchestra visible behind her through tall, mock windows of the palatial, columned, two-storey living-room set. A fireplace flanked one end, the balcony the other. Chairs, tables, sofas – in the French style – and magnificent sprays of white flowers decorated the stage. She seemed pinned in the brilliance of the aureole spotlight. Someone in the audience yelled, ‘Come on, Barbra!’ and, still smiling, she stepped closer to the balcony rail. The vastness of the Grand Garden arena was awesome. People were still applauding and calling out to her. She remained poised, gracefully composed as she looked out to the sea of blurred faces. Hamlisch raised his baton and as the soft opening bars of ‘As If I Never Said Goodbye’, were heard, silence cloaked the arena. All eyes were focused on her as she stood bathed in light, her nervousness evident, a hesitation in her manner. The entire audience seemed to lean forward as though to let her know that they were reaching out to her.
‘I don’t know why I’m frightened,’ she sang in clear, pure tones, Don Black’s rewritten lyrics seeming to express her own thoughts.
‘I know my way around here,
The band, the lights, familiar sights,
The sound here.
Yes, a world to rediscover,
But to stop my heart from pounding
I may need a moment.
She grasped the microphone tightly and breathed into it.
Why, everything’s as if I never said goodbye.’
Cheers rose from the audience at these last words but she did not allow them to intrude on her pacing of the song.
‘I’ve spent so many evenings
Just trying to resist you.
I’m trembling now
Just thinking how I missed you–
Missed the fairy-tale adventures
In this ever-spinning playground.
We were young together.’
With infinite grace, she slowly started down the steps to the main area of the stage. The emotional response of the audience to the words she sang was almost tangible. People were caught up in thought, remembering. For some, Barbra Streisand had been a presence almost all their lives; others recalled the thirty years that had passed since she had burst like a meteor on to the public scene. They had been through a lot with this off-beat, original, feisty Jewish lady both in her life, the country’s and their own. It is difficult to believe that once she had been perceived as homely. She was beautiful in most of their eyes. Her talent made her glow.
She had reached the bottom of the staircase and walked to centre stage.
‘I’ve been in the wings too long,
All that’s in the past
Now I’m standing centre stage
I’ve come home at last.’
An amazing thing happened then. Tremendous, tumultuous cheers greeted this declaration and the audience shot to its feet. Shouts of ‘We love y
ou, Barbra!’ rang through the great arena. Streisand was visibly moved. She took a short breath and grasped the microphone tighter as she waited for about thirty seconds for the cries to subside. When they did not, she raised her hands and motioned for the audience to sit down – and as they obeyed, as if royally commanded, she continued her voice clear and strong, filled with passion.
‘And this time will be bigger
And brighter than we knew it.
So watch me fly,
You know I’ll try and do it...
Yes, everything’s as if we never said goodbye!’
Her voice swept up to a thrilling end note. There was a moment of stunned silence and then frenzied applause, bellowing cheers, a standing ovation. She looked out at the ocean of faces and tangle of arms outstretched towards her. Her nervousness had begun to evaporate. The roar of the crowd washed over her. The careers of other stars who were her contemporaries had come and gone and come and gone again. She, alone, had sustained her popularity. At this moment of such tremendous adulation she could not help but know that this was true. A smile skimmed her face.
‘Aren’t you nice. What a wonderful audience,’ she said in a slow, deliberate voice, so well-milked that her words were distinct to the people at the farthest reaches of the cavernous arena where the cheering continued. The Donna Karan dress she wore was split to the knee on one side and as she walked across the stage, a shapely leg was exposed. She glanced down over the footlights to the front row and introduced the President’s mother, Virginia Clinton Kelley, and Coretta Scott King. Then she continued on with her performance, in essence a one-woman Broadway show, using autobiographical material – her childhood dreams, relationships, family ties and social positions.
The concert format employed the off-stage voices of various fictional analysts, male and female, allowing her to travel back in memory to her childhood in Brooklyn, her love affair with movies – and with Marlon Brando. On a giant screen his image was projected in a scene from Guys and Dolls looking young, vital, gorgeous. Utilising film special effects technique, Streisand aged eleven replaced his leading lady, the enchanting Jean Simmons, in the clip and sang with him the engaging Frank Loesser song ‘I’ll Know’.
