Backstage Pass To Broadway

by Susan L. Schulman

  He told the Shuberts the production HAD to go forward immediately to fit into the narrow time slot of availability between his opera commitments. When Roger Stevens, the wealthy head of The Kennedy Center, and another of the show’s producers, agreed to guarantee THE MERCHANT’s run at the Kennedy Center against any losses, Dexter prevailed. He convinced the Shuberts to continue this seemingly doomed production even though their reason for producing it had just died in Philadelphia.

  The role of Shylock needed a commanding, charismatic actor who could dominate the stage as well as move us to tears. Danny Kaye was approached, but Sir John Clements refused to share a stage with him due to some unpleasantness early in their careers. Unfortunately, Dexter had no one waiting in the wings. Scott, Olivier and Quinn were never mentioned again. Instead Dexter promoted Z’s understudy, Joseph Leon, to the leading role of Shylock.

  Joe Leon was a talented, workmanlike character actor who didn’t stand a chance of replacing the larger-than-life Zero Mostel. Dexter had Leon wear Z’s costumes and duplicate his comic shtick on stage. Zero Mostel’s name was printed inside the yarmulke Leon wore at every performance. At no time was he allowed to ‘make the role his own.’ Watching the play weeks later I thought, “Boy, I bet Zero would have been great in this part.” The ghost of Zero Mostel was now hovering over the production.

  Rehearsals began again in New York for the engagement at the Kennedy Center, now starring the totally unknown Joseph Leon. The shell shocked cast was relieved to be together again and cautiously optimistic about the future of the production. Sam Levene was so traumatized by witnessing his old friend’s death, he quit the show and Dexter told colleagues he was happy to see him go. Sam’s role was re-written and greatly diminished and he was replaced by John Seitz. Character actor Boris Tumarin replaced Joe Leon in the small role of Abtalion. We now had three new actors in three roles — one newly top billed.

  Girding my loins, I asked Dexter when we could schedule a new photo call. “WHY?” he sneered.

  “Because we have a new actor in the leading role and the rest of the cast has changed as well.”

  “I don’t care — use the old photos.”

  Obviously we couldn’t use photos of a famously dead actor to promote THE MERCHANT. Finally Dexter grudgingly agreed to a new photo call but only if we used British theatre photographer Zoe Dominic, and only if she shot from the last row of the top balcony of the Eisenhower Theatre at the Kennedy Center. Dexter said he would stop the photo call if he heard a single click of her camera.

  Zoe was the English equivalent of our top American theatre photographer, Martha Swope, so we knew she would be fine IF I could find her. It was a big IF. I spent an entire day searching for Dominic with no luck. No one in London knew where she was. I finally crawled back to Dexter, timidly admitting I had been unable to locate Ms. Dominic. He glared at me, reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a scrap of paper with Dominic’s telephone number in America. He’d had it all along.

  She flew to Washington, photographed the show from the last row of the balcony, and produced full stage shots of teeny, tiny indistinguishable actors. Dexter was right — it didn’t matter who was playing which role. No one was identifiable in Dominic’s photos. But the Jews were on the right side of the stage.

  Between the closing in Philadelphia and the opening in Washington, Dexter and Wesker continued cutting the play to a more audience-friendly length. The Shuberts wanted the play to be at least an hour shorter before it reached Broadway. Production Stage Manager Brent Peek and some of the actors also suggested possible cuts. Then Arnold Wesker returned to England for two weeks, sending Dexter a postcard refusing to make any further cuts in his play. While he was away, Dexter cut several major scenes which Wesker had previously insisted on keeping. In addition to violating Wesker’s Dramatists Guild contract, Dexter’s actions ended the 20 year friendship and working partnership between these two English theatre pros, who first gained fame together at the Royal Court Theatre in the late 1950s with Wesker’s CHIPS WITH EVERYTHING, THE KITCHEN and CHICKEN SOUP WITH BARLEY. Dexter and Wesker never spoke again after THE MERCHANT.

  THE MERCHANT poster designed by Frank ‘Fraver’ Verlizzo prior to Mostel’s death. This shows the original billing and theatre — all of which changed by the time the play finally opened on Broadway. A collectors’ item. (Courtesy of Frank ‘Fraver’ Verlizzo)

  After earning lukewarm reviews at the Kennedy Center, the slightly shorter production limped into New York. In addition to the changes in the cast and billing, the play also moved into a different Broadway theatre than the one we’d originally announced. Instead of the 1,400 seat Imperial Theatre, the Shuberts put the play into their smaller, and slightly less desirable, Plymouth Theatre, which had 1,000 seats. It was not a vote of confidence.

  Their concerns about the play’s limited audience appeal and lack of star power were confirmed by the universally poor reviews from the New York drama critics. The New York Times noted, “The dramatic structure is weak and its dramatic impact fitful and uncertain.” THE MERCHANT lasted five previews and four post-opening performances on Broadway. At the end of the final performance, the cast came out for their curtain calls. Just as they took their final bows, the heavy asbestos fire curtain broke free of its chains and came crashing down onto the stage floor. Several of the actors saw it falling and managed to pull everyone upstage to safety just before it hit. It seemed like the hand of God striking down the show. A shaky Roberta Maxwell said it was Zero having the last laugh. The other shoe had loudly and publicly dropped. The black cloud won.

  After THE MERCHANT, Dexter’s surly behavior seemed to finally eclipse his talent and his career floundered. In 1988 he had one final success with M. BUTTERFLY despite published reports of rebellion among the cast members. In 1990 John Dexter died in London at age 64. The New York Times obituary, written by theatre critic Mel Gussow, quoted Dexter’s long-time colleague, set designer Jocelyn Herbert, who said his “public reputation is one of a brilliant theater and opera director, but a difficult one to work with. His acerbic wit and biting tongue were often cruel and hard to bear.”

  In 1999, Arnold Wesker published The Birth of Shylock and The Death of Zero Mostel based on a diary he had kept during the production of THE MERCHANT. He detailed the torturous rehearsal period, before and after Mostel’s death, Dexter’s cruelty to the actors, his betrayal of their long-standing friendship in the interest of commercial success, and what Wesker considered Dexter’s rape of his play. He also included every single word and scene that Dexter had cut from his play. In his book Wesker recalled several conversations with me after scathing encounters with Dexter had reduced me to tears. Ironically, Arnold Wesker dedicated his book, about the creation and destruction of his play, THE MERCHANT, to John Dexter.

  In my copy of the book, Arnold wrote the following inscription:

  Dear Susan: This is what it was like from my end. You’ll have a different perspective. One day we’ll meet again and get to the middle of it all. Affectionately, Arnold Wesker New York 2.VI.99.

  Actress Gloria Gifford later called Dexter’s treatment of the cast “picking at a sore. He found the buttons and he went after them — ostensibly to get the performance.” Recently Julie Garfield told me, “Dexter’s cruelty killed every instinct I had as an actress.”

  More than 35 years later, this extraordinary production remains a strong bond and a painful memory to all involved. It also proves that sometimes the show should not go on.

  ACTORS

  I love actors. I think they are incredibly brave. In my world, talent is a given. Everybody on or near Broadway is incredibly talented. There are at least 50 well trained, experienced, extraordinarily gifted actors qualified to play every single role in every single show on Broadway. Most of the people in that deep talent pool, often with many Broadway credits, get rejected day after day.

  Yet they keep studying to hone their craft and keep auditioning. In addition to talent, actors need
steely drive and tunnel vision to succeed in this tough, competitive business. A good actor needs to be open and sensitive enough to find the truth of his or her character and strong enough to expose that vulnerability to criticism. The very qualities an actor needs to find the truth in a character — sensitivity and vulnerability — are the direct opposite of the toughness and drive they need to succeed.

  Sometimes, when there is a choice between two equally talented actors, the deciding factor comes down to commerce — who is more famous and might sell more tickets.

  Karen Ziemba and Jodi Benson were both up for the female lead in the Broadway production of the new Gershwin musical CRAZY FOR YOU. Both gave fabulous auditions, sang, danced and acted well and had good chemistry with leading man Harry Groener. But Jodi had sung the role of Ariel in the hugely popular Disney film The Little Mermaid, and the producers believed she had the Disney publicity machine behind her. She got the role on Broadway and Karen (known as KZ) starred in the national company of CRAZY FOR YOU before eventually replacing Jodi on Broadway.

  Since then, KZ, who has starred in many Broadway musicals, has been nominated for four Tonys and won the Tony Award® (as well as every other major theatre award) for CONTACT, while Jodi continues to record for Disney and never returned to Broadway. There is a reason it is called Show BUSINESS. If you put on a play and no one comes to see it, it is literature.

  Successful actors must find the delicate balance between the desire for fame and the need for privacy. By the time people come into my immediate professional world, they have achieved a fairly high level of success. They have learned their craft, probably worked all over the country in regional theatre, played smaller roles in big productions on or off-Broadway, and are now on the cusp of stardom. They have been cast as a lead or featured role in a Broadway or major Off-Broadway show in New York City. They are ready to play in the big leagues, surrounded by the very best talent, on stage and off.

  As their personal press agent, I help them prioritize the demands of the press, personal appearances, and teach them that NO is also an answer. I will take them to top designers’ showrooms to select gowns to wear on opening night plus the borrowed jewels to go with them. I will even answer their fan mail if needed. If they are already famous, my protective instincts kick in even more strongly. I have seen up-close how difficult it is to be watched ALL THE TIME.

  Betty Bacall used to lament how fans of her late husband would interrupt her dinner dates with comments about how, “They don’t make ‘em like Bogie anymore,” thus demoralizing her current escort and possibly dooming her romantic evening. You can’t have a bad hair day. You can’t show-up at interviews looking like you just rolled out of bed. It is disrespectful to the interviewer and diminishes you.

  Fans intrude innocently (or not) on family outings and both professional and amateur photographers feel you are fair game. Paparazzi often provoke celebrities to capture their irate reactions for the ‘money’ shot. The gentlemen’s agreement between celebrities and the press, which used to shield them from unwanted public scrutiny, is over. The unspoken rule that kept newspapers from publishing shots of FDR in his wheelchair or Jackie Kennedy smoking (or for that matter, JFK with any of his girlfriends) no longer exists. As Britain’s Royal Family has learned, nothing is off limits. Mitt Romney’s off-the-record 47% comment was captured on a waiter’s cell phone and seen and heard around the world. If you say or do anything dumb in public (and often in private), it will show up in print, on YouTube, Twitter or TMZ sooner or later.

  So press agents step in and try to act as the buffer between the ‘talent’ and the media. We broker the terms of a truce: my star will smile and pose in return for some private time later. He or she will do an interview as thanks for a previous kindness from an editor or writer. It’s tit for tat and, in the world of the theatre, it usually works. The Broadway community is very small and we all know each other. If you are good to me, I’ll remember. But if you screw me or one of my clients, watch out. I have a really good memory.

  PUBLICIZING A FUGITIVE: ABBIE HOFFMAN

  In early December, 1978, my client, writer/director/actor Peter Masterson — creator of the hit Broadway musical THE BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE IN TEXAS, and husband to Tony Award®-winning actress Carlin Glynn — called to say he was optioning fugitive Abbie Hoffman’s autobiography for development into a film or TV movie. The rights to Abbie’s bestseller, Soon To Be A Major Motion Picture, had been difficult to secure as Abbie lived underground and had to be contacted through complicated and devious means. Messages had to be left; collect calls had to be accepted from pay phones all over the country. It wasn’t easy, but it was Abbie’s way or no way, so everyone played by his rules.

  Abbie Hoffman, a former Vietnam War activist, had been arrested in 1973 for selling cocaine. He jumped bail and had been living under an alias ever since. When Pete’s deal was finally signed, Abbie, the master media-manipulator, suggested we taunt the press and hype the project by taking a publicity photo in Carlin’s backstage dressing room at WHOREHOUSE.

  Abbie concocted the following scheme to protect those of us who were not supposed to be consorting with a fugitive. The story was that ‘a fan’ had appeared backstage at Carlin’s dressing room bearing roses, asking to take a photo with her. She obliged and only later learned that the ‘fan’ was the illusive Abbie Hoffman.

  Abbie, his girlfriend Angel, Carlin, Pete, Pete’s assistant Ellen Chenoweth (now an important casting director), and I met in Carlin’s dressing room after an evening performance. Abbie brought a huge bouquet of long stemmed red American Beauty roses. I set up a photo of Carlin perched on Abbie’s lap with the roses obscuring most of his face. Angel’s photography skills didn’t inspire confidence. At one point I asked if she preferred the bright dressing table lights turned on or off for the photo. She replied, “I don’t know.”

  After our little photo session, the Mastersons invited me to join them for dinner at Joe Allen’s, a popular theatre hangout. People kept dropping by our big round table to say hello. There was a lot of grinning and nudging. It seemed our dinner companion, the highly visible Mr. Hoffman, whose face had been altered by plastic surgery, was the worst kept secret in NYC. I sensed that Abbie had grudgingly accepted my presence only because the Mastersons had vouched for me. But halfway through dinner, after some wine had been consumed, Abbie suddenly turned to me, smiled and responded to a question I’d asked two hours earlier. I had fugitive approval.

  A few days later the 8 x 10 color photos mysteriously appeared at my office in a plain envelope.

  Carlin Glynn and Abbie Hoffman

  (From the author’s photo collection)

  I went to work placing the story and photo. Who wouldn’t want a photo of the mysterious Abbie Hoffman and a Broadway star? A publicity comedy of errors began.

  I offered the photo exclusively to the Associated Press — they were not interested. So then I tried the editor of the ‘Newsmakers’ section of Newsweek — he loved it. He had just closed the section for the following week’s issue but said he would bump something for the Hoffman photo. I spent the weekend well pleased with my publicity skills, only to open Newsweek on Monday morning to find no photo. I next offered it to New York Times theatre writer Carol Lawson, who was starting a new theatre column the following week. After consultation with her editor, the gracious and knowledgeable Sy Peck, they decided the item was too lightweight for Carol’s kick-off column. Next I approached Albin Krebs and Clyde Haberman who wrote the Times’ ‘People’ column. They turned it down because they had recently run an Abbie Hoffman item and felt they might be suspect if the New York Times ran too many items about the outlaw.

  Next on my list was Time Magazine’s ‘People’ column which was similar to the ‘Newsmakers’ column. They, too, were entertained by the photo and story. Time agreed to break the story the following Monday when Pete called and said Abbie was coming out of hiding that Friday and turning himself in to the authorities. As my fluffy human in
terest item would instantly become old news on Friday morning, I needed to break it immediately (it was now Tuesday.) So I called well-respected gossip columnist Liz Smith, then nationally syndicated in the New York Daily News, and gave her the photo and item with the understanding that it would run in her column and on her NBC-TV News segment on Thursday. This would pre-date Abbie’s turning himself in on Friday but would, unfortunately, kill the Time item. It was a reasonable solution to my problem.

  Thursday morning I tore open the Daily News — no item in Liz’s column. But luckily, in the meantime, Abbie’s deal with the Judge had fallen through — he was not going to give himself up on Friday after all.

  A few days later the photo of Carlin and Abbie ran in the Liz Smith column along with the amusing little item about the fan who turned out to be Abbie Hoffman. The next day a reporter from the Associated Press called to cover the story for the wire syndicate. Yes, the same AP that had turned me down flat only one week earlier. The AP carried the photo and story on its international news wire and it ran all over the world. Abbie did not turn himself in.

  Fallout: Carlin felt manipulated by Abbie, although she had been a willing participant and had pulled me into the conspiracy. I began getting calls from the FBI wanting to know how they could reach Abbie Hoffman. I, of course, had no idea, but was a bit shaken. I began to hear clicks on my phone and suspected it was being tapped. I was a little creeped out, but eventually decided I was being paranoid. Several years later I learned that, as a result of this little escapade, I DID have an FBI file. I obtained a copy but found most of the copy was blacked out and unreadable. Abbie Hoffman died in 1989. I wonder if anyone remembers Abbie Hoffman. He remains my only fugitive.

  WHO IS THAT PERSON IN THE CORNER OF THE PHOTO?

  In the opening moments of the Tom Cruise film, Jerry McGuire, he shows a photo of his star athlete with one face partially obscured in the corner — it is the athlete’s devoted agent, Jerry McGuire. That partially hidden face is the perfect symbol of those who work behind the scenes to make others look good. As press agents, we are often called upon to set up photos of our clients, either alone or with other celebrities. It’s our job to see that they look good, that all their clothes are arranged properly, that trees do not appear to be sprouting out of the top of their heads, and that they are not holding a cigarette, a drink or a large purse. These photos are usually cropped for use in publications but occasionally they run unedited and you can catch a glimpse of a press agent lurking in the background, pointing or schlepping or pushing someone else out of the shot.