Everything Was Possible

by Ted Chapin

  The task at hand was to see that everything worked musically. Does the orchestration work? Does it fit with the singer? Does it fit with the performance? Is the balance between orchestra and singer okay? Accustomed to a usually out-of-tune piano, everyone got swept away by the excitement of the violins, flutes, trumpets, and all the other instruments making the songs suddenly sound like real music. The energy in the room was palpable. As each song was played, the group listened intently and responded enthusiastically. The up-tempo dance numbers and the songs with a specific period sound were clear crowd-pleasers. Everyone loved “Who’s That Woman?” And when the full orchestra kicked in, MGM-style, after the last refrain of “Beautiful Girls,” everyone cheered. The solo violin playing the melody of “Broadway Baby” was also a big hit. Ethel, needless to say, couldn’t help herself and performed the song for the orchestra. “One lady violinist was looking at me every time she didn’t have to look at her music! And all the musicians were laughing,” she said afterward. Naturally, when “Ah! Paris” came along, Fifi tried to top Ethel. She couldn’t. The response to some of the present-day songs, such as “Waiting for the Girls Upstairs,” was more cautious. Some of the ballads were less showy. Everyone noticed and loved the cacophony of whistles and noisemakers throughout “Buddy’s Blues,” the Burt Bacharach brass in “The Right Girl,” and the wa-wa trumpets in “Uptown, Downtown.” The dancers tended to find an empty corner and mark through the dances as they were being played. The general feeling was very upbeat indeed. Some songs, including “Losing My Mind,” weren’t yet finished.

  Follies was the third Broadway musical for which Jonathan Tunick had sole orchestrator billing. The other two, Promises, Promises and Company, were contemporary stories with contemporary scores that relied, to differing degrees, on electronic instruments and modern percussion. Promises, Promises was the first Broadway show to use pit singers and a true sound-mixing board, necessitated by the style of Burt Bacharach’s music. Company’s orchestra was based around a Roxi-chord, a state-of-the-art synthesizer keyboard capable of a percussive and slightly rock-and-roll sound. Follies, by contrast, was a show for acoustical instruments, both for the distinctive references to styles from the past—what Steve called “pastiche”—as well as for the songs in the present, which were very much in Sondheim’s own theatrical style. Jonathan’s task was, therefore, somewhat different this time.

  Following the sitzprobe, it was time for the entire company to move into the theater. Dressing rooms had been assigned by the stage managers, with great care, of course, since billing plays a key role in who gets which dressing room. Each theater is different, and while the setup is never the same, there are always star dressing rooms, though never the same number. At the Colonial, there were two at stage level, and they went to Dorothy and Alexis; all the others were up a central staircase leading to five floors, each of which had seven rooms, providing more than enough space, even for a company this large. The stage managers took a room as an office on the topmost level. Below stage were two large rooms, one used for the chorus and another already commandeered by the wardrobe department.

  Barbara Matera adjusts one of the ghost costumes for

  “Who’s That Woman?” Marti Rolph is in the costume,

  and Hal Prince watches.

  The actors found their assigned dressing rooms, dropped off their belongings, found their way to the stage, and wandered around. Partly they were reconnecting with something known, but everyone had to become familiar with a variety of new traffic patterns—how to get from the dressing rooms to both sides of the stage, where the crossovers were, etc. Mary McCarty walked down to her “Who’s That Woman?” perch, saw that it was, as she had feared, just inches from the fifteen-foot drop-off into the orchestra pit. She took a deep breath and sighed. Fifi D’Orsay was praying as she found her way out onto the stage, which seemed even more terrifying than it had been in the Bronx.

  The call was 7:30 P.M. for a full costume dress parade, onstage. By then, all the finished costumes had been hung in the dressing rooms by the wardrobe staff, along with the accessories—shoes, hats, gloves, coats, handbags. Most actors had more than one outfit, and the idea was to see everyone in every outfit during the costume parade. Dressers were in place to assist the actors when necessary, and to make certain all the accessories were put on correctly. Wigs were also to be worn, and it was the first time many of them would be seen. Hal, Steve, Michael, and Jim were out in the house with Flossie and a couple of Barbara Matera’s assistants armed with yellow pads. Barbara was down in the wardrobe room working on some of the late additions to the Loveland costumes. Every actor had had a minimum of three fittings at the shop in New York, so their clothes were not supposed to be a surprise to them. And some changes had already been made along the way, occasionally to suit an actor’s specific concerns: Alexis’s original outfit, for example, was sleeveless, but after she made it clear, with a smile, that she really didn’t think Phyllis would come to an evening like this in something without sleeves, they were added. The bust on Yvonne’s dress kept being changed in order to “get a good separation.” But no one had seen anyone else’s costume, and none of the actors had spent any appreciable time wearing their own. None, to be sure, had worn them through the staging and dancing, all of which, by necessity, was created long after the designs had been approved.

  Before the glamorous costumes that everyone knew would come in Loveland at the end of the evening, came the party clothes. The party was a reunion, and the guests represented a variety of social and economic strata, which their clothes reflected. Only one couple was clearly well off, Ben and Phyllis, and they were dressed elegantly in royal colors—purples and reds. Many of the others may just have pulled an old dress from their closet, or made it themselves, or merely dressed as well as they could, given their circumstances, which were probably modest. The women now lived all over the country, so their sense of fashion would not be the high urban fashion of the day. Some might be inspired to wear clothing that echoed, or relived, the past. The palette had been decided early on: present-day clothes were all going to be in colors—dark, bold, or subdued; the ghost figures would be in black and white; the Follies sequence would begin in pastels. But no one had seen what all the present-day colors were and how, or if, they were going to work together.

  Mary McCarty was the first out onstage, in an aqua-blue, long-sleeved, unwaisted dress; it had half of a beaded brown sunburst emanating from her left hip and going up, down, and across her ample front. The hem was uneven and slightly ripped—by design. There was also some beading at the end of the sleeves. She wore a wide-brimmed hat of a matching color with a pillbox center and blue feathers lying flat around the brim. Beneath her hat she was wearing a carrot-colored Betty Boop wig. The look on her face was matched by the one on Hal and Michael’s faces. Within a moment, the wig was gone, never to be seen again, and the hat would be worn only at the very beginning of the show. Yvonne’s dress was knee-length, sheer dark purple over silver, with mink trim along the bottom of the skirt and six-inch mink tails hanging off her sleeves. Alexis’s outfit was bright red, one-piece, fitted, backless, and looking rather like a pantsuit, beads carefully and discreetly stitched throughout to give it some texture, with sweeping strips of fabric drooping down her back from the neck to the small of the back. Dorothy’s frumpy dress had a skirt with lots of petticoats; pink, sleeveless, and full of flowers, with a stiff bodice ending in two hard points at her bare shoulders. Ethel Shutta stalked out in a little-old-lady suit of metallic green. She was pulling and tugging at everything, hardly disguising her disgust. Fifi came out in a high-necked, long-sleeved, powder-blue dress; beaded, sequined, and with a skirt of puffy blue feathers, the impression it gave was that of a giant feather duster. Her hat was the same color, small and round, with two long, dyed peacock feathers jauntily stuck in one side. Sheila Smith wandered onstage in a dark rosy-red, very long, very full, floor-length bias-cut dress made out of heavy fabric, with a large red feathe
red hat similar to the one Mary McCarty wore. Her wig was enormous and shockingly blond. Sheila was fair-skinned with very dark hair and features, so this get-up struck everyone as highly peculiar. The costume really was so oversized that it was hard to find the actress underneath.

  The men were in suits of slightly different styles and different colors—John McMartin’s was stylish, eggplant-colored, and double-breasted, while Gene Nelson’s was single-breasted, medium blue, and plain. Other guests were dressed in various shades of dark burgundy, brown, olive, and blue. Waiters were in almost black trousers and white shirts, waitresses in short dark skirts and white tops.

  The Young Four (Young Ben, Buddy, Sally, and Phyllis), as per the concept, were dressed in whites and grays—and were wearing powdery white makeup. The clothes looked quite good, but the makeup made the actors look as if they were in a freak show. There was much discussion about trying the makeup in at least one performance. When Harvey and Kurt came on in two very large and very white overcoats, Hal remarked: “I don’t ever want to see those coats on that stage again.” The costumes for the ghost figures with specific modern counterparts had interesting references. Young Hattie, the Broadway Baby, for example, had a dress with piano keys across the bust. Young Vanessa, played by Graciela Daniele, had an all-white full floor-length dress with multiple underskirts. Young Heidi Schiller had a short ruffled skirt with a large black hat with long white feathers. Young Stella was dressed in a dancer’s tutu that flared out from the waist, a diamond-patterned bodice, beaded headdress, and gauntlets—all covered with small mirror chips for “the mirror number.” For the Prologue, several of the chorus girls wore identical black or white scanty but feathered costumes with strategically placed beaded patches.

  And the wigs. For some reason, Joe Tubens, the wig and hair designer, seemed to have gone completely over the top. He had been to rehearsals several times to discuss hair with the actors and with Hal and Michael. Some actors, it was decided, would use their own hair, while others needed wigs. As the rehearsals progressed, Tubens had sent some of the actresses to have their hair dyed or cut. But what came out onstage during the dress parade seemed excessive on almost every count. Both Alexis and Dorothy were to have wigs for their numbers in the Follies sequence—for Alexis, cascades of long, dark red Rita Hayworth hair, falling on one side to the shoulder; for Dorothy, a wavy, platinum-blond Jean Harlow wig. Young Phyllis and Young Sally had enormous concoctions on top of their heads, white-blond for Sally and dark-brown for Phyllis. They seemed as plainly wrong as Mary McCarty’s carrot-colored wig and the blond one for Sheila Smith. Most of the wigs were quickly cut or modified, but both Dorothy and Alexis wore their Follies-sequence wigs in a run-through documented by Bill Yoscary and Martha Swope.

  Dorothy Collins— first attempt at a costume and wig for “Losing My Mind. ” Jean Harlow.

  Alexis Smith-first attempt at a costume and wig for “Uptown, Downtown.” Rita Hayworth.

  Then came the black-and-white ghost Follies dresses, to be worn by the showgirls and a few of the taller dancers throughout. They were as fantastic and spectacular as anyone could have hoped, each one a near replica of showgirl costumes as seen in photographs in several books on the Ziegfeld Follies, some Erté-like in long, glamorous lines and totally fanciful. Although black and white was the rule, each of these was vastly different in look, in texture, even including variations of shades of gray. They were covered with beads, feathers, sequins of all sizes and shapes—shimmery, iridescent, and stunning. Ursula Maschmeyer, six feet two inches tall, walked out to create what would be the first living image seen by the audience at the very opening of the show—in a floor-length dress of white and black beaded fabric with two bold inverted “V” stripes of long black beaded fringe, patterns of black and white beads in circles and rectangles around the bottom, and a large headdress of black ostrich feathers rising from a beaded crown, cascading down her back. She was wearing platform heels, so she would top off at almost seven feet. Kathie Dalton, one of the taller dancers, came on in a white halter top, floor-length, flared-leg costume with an elaborately beaded neck and a fan headdress of white peacock feathers six feet long each, fanning out of a beaded brim framing her face and giving her somewhat the appearance of the show’s poster. Margot Travers was all in black—a tight fitting, floor-length beaded black halter-top dress, turban, long gloves, and feather boa draped around her shoulders, both ends falling to the floor. Linda Perkins had a huge fan attached to the rear of her waist rising up above her head. Suzanne Briggs had a black-and-white beaded dress with enormous butterfly wings and a headdress with butterfly antennae rising straight up. Everyone in the company was astounded and overwhelmed. The women who had to move in them, however, found them somewhat challenging.

  This is where it all began, the famous shot of Gloria Swanson standing

  in the rubble of the Roxy Theater, as published in Life with the caption:

  “Swan Song for a Famous Theater ”

  Both Time and Newsweek were planning to do cover stories of the show. However, they never liked to run the same “soft”-news covers, so when Time went forward with theirs, Newsweek canceled, but not before this cover was designed.

  Here is the poster by David E. Byrd, this one from Boston and signed by the company. And here’s what Forbes did to it for an article on Hal Prince.

  Color finally arrived when the show was transported back in time. Here are the ghost counterparts to the four lead characters, singing of youthful love in Loveland. Kurt Peterson, Virginia Sandifur Harvey Evans, Marti Rolph.

  The showgirls from the past come fully to life with their “love”-themed costumes, each one depicting a different type of love.

  The cool Phyllis finally lets down her hair and struts her stuff:

  Alexis Smith and the ensemble in “The Storry of Lucy and Jessie”—

  red from one side of the stage to the other:

  This was taken on the grand staircase of the Colonial Theatre, Boston, for the

  Look article on Hal Prince, which ran with the title “A Prince and His Follies.”

  Here Prince is surrounded by several of the ghost showgirls, dressed in

  black-and-white, who haunted the stage throughout the evening .

  The final moment of “Beautiful Girls, ” as the stars from yesterday

  lined up downstage, with gold Miss America—style banners revealing

  the year they were Follies girls: Mary McCarty, Fifi D’Orsay,

  Alexis Smith, Yvonne De Carlo.

  This was taken as the cover shot for Time. The editors decided to go with a solo shot of

  Alexis Smith, and relegated this shot to the lead photograph of the story inside.

  “Loveland—”three of the showgirls (Linda Perkins, “Spirit of Romantic Love”;

  Suzanne Briggs, “Spirit of True Love”; Kathie Dalton, “Spirit of First Love”)

  and behind them, Dorothy Collins, Victoria Malloiy,,7zilie Pars.

  When those same dancers and showgirls changed from their black-and-whites to their “Loveland” costumes, everyone was blown away once again. The six dresses were entirely in pastel colors, with the hoop skirts so large that they had to be attached just offstage before the girls made their entrances. Each dress was themed with the spirit of a different kind of love—First Love, Young Love, True Love, Pure Love, Romantic Love, and Eternal Love—each of which was referred to, variously, in the song. Appropriate props were attached to each hoop skirt—cherubs, celestial instruments, violets, hearts, birds, and jewels. The skirts were open in the front, so that you could see beautiful legs underneath. The rest of the chorus were in eighteenth-century maiden and lad outfits, also pastel-colored, with large white shoes and hats with white wigs attached. They looked like something out of a Fragonard painting.

  The costumes for the rest of the Follies sequence were paraded as well. Young Ben had an electric-blue sailor suit with cap and Young Buddy a bright-orange tailored military suit and hat. Gene Nelson
came out in a bright-blue blazer and outrageously loud yellow-and-blue-plaid trousers. For “Live, Laugh, Love,” John McMartin was dressed head to toe in white—tailcoat, trousers, bow tie, and top hat. Dorothy had a yellow bias-cut, floor-length dress with a low-cut, inelegantly draped front. Alexis had a pink, form-fitting bathing-suit top with spaghetti straps, and, hanging from her waist, two-inch-wide, foot-long straps ending in little points. The front of her costume had what looked like a Christmas tree in sequins sewn on, and there were beads down the straps. For “Uptown, Downtown” and “Live, Laugh, Love” the chorus had bright-red outfits: red tailcoats, red pants, red top hats, and red shoes for the former, while for the latter the women stripped down to red hot pants and white vests and bow ties.