Dreams Don't Die, So Keep an Eye on Your Dreams
Got home from work last night. Bruce was just pulling up. Ran in to change and get myself ready for Encores! at City Center. Ed and Bruce are getting in the car. I realize that we forgot the binoculars and run back in for them. While I’m rooting around for them, I hear Mike’s email from that afternoon in my head telling me that I am fated to meet Sondheim again. I grab the Company and Merrily CD covers and stuff them in my coat.
On the way in, we are discussing something and the topic of creepy actresses comes up. Ed mentions Amanda Plummer. As we leave the parking garage, we pass a Starbuck’s on 58th Street and there in the window getting ready to step out onto the street is Agnes of God herself, Ellen James from Garp, Miss Amanda Plummer. Odd. But fun. She picks up on us noticing her and heads across the street. Wise lady.
We stop into a Ray’s Pizza and Howard Kissel gets in line behind us. Minor spotting. Very minor.
At intermission, we leave the thin air of the Gallery at City Center and head down to a more reasonable atmosphere. I think about bringing the camera and my CD covers but decide it is too much of a hassle to dig them out of my coat.
Down on the orchestra level, John spots Marge Champion. I stop her and tell her how terrific she was in Follies. Then I spot Erica Slezak (Vicki Buchanan from One Life to Live). We see Ben Brantley in the lobby. We also see Howard Kissel for the second time.
John and Bruce disappear, but Ed and I stay down on the orchestra level. And here he comes again. Sondheim! For the third time in 10 days. Amazing. And I don’t have the CD covers. They’re in my coat in my Gallery seat hundreds of feet above us. I want to kill myself. Ed calls over to him, “Stephen!” (Stephen!? I cringe. Such impertinence.) Ed says that this is the fourth time this week that we’ve seen him. Sondheim says something like, “I don’t see how since this is only my second time out this week.” Ed tells him that we saw him at Ars Nova on Monday and at the CD signing at the O’Neill last week. Okay. Thanks. And then the great man heads outside (to have a smoke?). I want to slit my throat because I didn’t have the CD covers on me and because I didn’t speak to him.
After the show, we are out on the sidewalk after the long trek down from the heights of Mount City Center. As we stand on the street collecting ourselves, Sondheim comes out the doors with a young man and heads right across the street. He is moving fast and not making eye contact. I start to go after him and then stop. Then I do the math of the last 10 days and figure that the stars won’t align like this again. In all our years in the city, I had only seen Sondheim twice before (in the audience at the Merrily We Roll Along anniversary concert and at a Times Talk event). Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor. I decide to go for it. I dart across 55th Street and see Sondheim and his friend/nephew/protégé heading up a cut through to 54th. I follow and catch up with them on a deserted 54th. The young man looks over at me and then turns back to his conversation with Sondheim. “Excuse me, Mr. Sondheim?” “Yes.” “I just want to thank you for all the years I’ve enjoyed your work.” I extend my hand and he shakes it. He thanks me. “I’ve been carrying this around for a couple of years in hopes of running into you someday,” I say as I pull out the Company CD cover. “Would you mind signing it?” He lets out a little noise of surprise when he sees what I have. “Certainly not. What’s your name?” I tell him and he writes “To Bill – Stephen Sondheim” on the Company CD cover right between Elaine Stritch and Barbara Barrie. “Thank you. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening. It’s a great honor to meet you.” I shake his hand again. “Thanks. Good night,” he says. And I trot back over to 55th.
I am tempted to hold the autographed CD cover over my head in a victory walk as I walk back over to the guys. But I’m too humbled by meeting him. I’m enjoying the satisfaction of it all. I’m glad I took the chance and am so pleased that he was kind and cordial. I slow down to savor the moment a little longer by myself. I think of all the things that I would have liked to tell him about: Taking the cast album of Pacific Overtures out of the library when I was 13 and being so shocked at the traditional Japanese drumming as the score starts and then falling in love with the music. Starting to look for everything written by Sondheim and discovering Company, A Little Night Music, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, Gypsy, and, (my God) Follies. Hearing “I’m Still Here” for the first time and playing it over and over. Asking my mother about some of the references in the song and having great conversations with her about her connections with the things mentioned in the lyrics. Reading excitedly about the new show Merrily We Roll Along that was opening when I was in high school. Plotting a trip into the city to see it and then feeling crushed when it closed so quickly. Getting my hands on the recording and falling head over heels for it and trying to figure out how something this clever with such great music could close. Rewriting the lyrics to Gypsy with my friend Joe to make fun of the crazy people we worked with at Friendly’s Restaurant. Seeing Into the Woods on stage and absolutely loving it. Endless conversations with my buddies John and Peter with frequent references to Sondheim shows dropped in. A great first date at a production of Follies. Meeting my friend Mike over our shared interest in Sondheim’s work. Driving to Virginia to the Signature Theatre with an “All Roads Lead to Follies” sign in the back window. Spending two glorious weekends in DC enjoying the Sondheim Celebration in 2002. The revelation that was the DC production of Sunday in the Park with George and how the end of the first act was one of the most moving and cathartic moments I ever experienced. The terror and chills of seeing Sweeney Todd performed in DC even though I knew how it would end. My deeper connection with the Sweeney music in its pared down version in the current revival. And Passion and Assassins and Anyone Can Whistle and on and on. And suddenly I’m glad that I kept it short. I would have raved like a mad man once I got started.
I feel like a certain chapter of my Broadway stalking life has ended. I found the Holy Grail. I achieved Nirvana. I briefly consider that this will be the end of all the craziness. I will go home and frame the Company CD.
But wait! I can still get Teri Ralston to sign it someday. She’ll do something, somewhere. And why didn’t I go wait for Charles Kimbrough when he was doing that Gurney play The Fourth Wall Off-Broadway in 2002? How did I let Pamela Myers slip by me after the Showstoppers concert at Avery Fisher Hall in October of 2004? Why did I miss her at the Into the Woods revival? And I see Donna McKechnie around often enough, how come I’ve never had her sign it? And I bet I’ll bump into Merle Louise and Beth Howland someday.
My work is far from finished…
..but still, it was Sondheim. And he asked me my name. And I got to thank him for it all.
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