Bernadette Peters, Elaine Stritch and Mister Sondheim. AT LAST.

Much has been written online about the recent decision to cancel the closing of the Broadway revival of A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC. This show, one that I have loved from the moment I saw it, was due to close with the departure of its' stars, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Miss Angela Lansbury. It was an assumption on everyone's part that the reason for the closing was that there simply wasn't a replacement cast great enough to warrant the continuation of the production.

Not so.

The chatteratti all had ideas about who would make a good Desiree Armfeldt and who would be a good match as her mother, Leonora. Everyone had an idea and everyone had an argument. My best friend Brady and I joined in on this fun speculation, in private. It's a fantasy. It's a game. Among our discussions we liked Donna Murphy as Desiree but hadn't a thought for a good Madame Armfeldt. We liked Marion Cotillard as the younger Armfeldt and Leslie Caron as the older. We, especially, liked Michelle Pfeiffer as Desiree and Julie Christie as her mother. Pat's dream casting was Julianne Moore and Julie Andrews as mother and daughter. It's all a fantasy.

Well, the fantasy has become a reality.

For two weeks it was rumoured; then, finally, it was announced that two Broadway legends would be taking over the roles.

Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch will be on the Broadway stage together for the first time.

That is, indeed, the most thrilling bit of casting to hit the Great White Way in a very long time.

And the chatteratti are up in arms about it.

These people who complained that Catherine Zeta-Jones was too young to play Desiree can, now, only complain that Bernadette Peters is too old. Or their complaint is that she is "wrong" for the part. Or their complaint is that Elaine Stritch is tough hard edged for her part. It is just one (stupid) complaint after another.

Yes. I said STUPID.

I can't believe that these inane people want to argue about this instead of focusing on the joy of the occasion. Here we have two LEGENDARY Broadway talents going into a LEGENDARY Broadway musical by a LEGENDARY Broadway composer. That is reason for all of us to jump for joy. Some people have never seen these two ladies perform. Some may have seen one, some may have seen the other; now we can all see them TOGETHER. Not only that, they are probably the two most visible, the two most popular, the two greatest interpreters of his work; and neither of them has actually been in a Sondheim show in decades (approximately two for Bernadette, three for Elaine). I don't want to dismiss Barbara Cook or Angela Lansbury as great interpreters of Mister Sondheim's work. Neither do I want to pass over all of the other artists who have done bangarang jobs of singing his songs... BUT it is difficult to deny that when you say the name Bernadette Peters, you think of Stephen Sondheim. She originated roles in two of his most important, most beloved works and has continued to perform his songs in concert, these last twenty years, since her appearance in INTO THE WOODS, her last Sondheim show. And who can deny that Elaine Stritch is, in fact, what you think of when you hear the name COMPANY. Oh, sure. We also think of Pamela Meyer and Raoul Esparza for their work in versions of that musical... But if you say COMPANY, people think of The Ladies Who Lunch and THAT has Elaine Stritch all over it. Then there is her performance of the song Broadway Baby from the FOLLIES concert - another one that people always remember. I have actually never seen Miss Stritch's club act, so I cannot say whether or not she performs any Sondheim in it; but she did in her Tony win AT LIBERTY. It cannot be denied and it must be said: these two women and Sondheim belong together. Now, they are all together at the same time.

I'm not sure about this, either; but I think this might be the first time either of them have replaced on Broadway. Significant. I mean, imagine the scene. There is all this talk about who will replace CZJ (as Miss Jones has come to be known on Broadway) and Miss Lansbury. No replacement can be found. Closing notice is announced. A brilliant actress ( on tv, her GREY'S ANATOMY episode still haunts me; on film, please consider her amazing SLAVE OF NEW YORK ) and savvy business woman says to herself "call them". That's what the rumour around town is. It was widely circulated that a "major star has contacted the producers of A Little Night Music about replacing CZJ". So can you picture that? Here is a major star, a great actress and one of the most beautiful women OF ALL TIME calling up to offer to do replacement work - and I bet they never even considered her because they figured she wouldn't do replacement work. Here is a legendary talent and beauty who is (admittedly) older than the role should be played... we might never have had the chance to see her brilliance in the role, just as she might never have had the chance to play the part. Now, because of IMDB, no celebrity's age is private anymore. We all know how old Glynnis Johns was when she played the part. Ditto, CZJ, ditto Elizabeth Taylor, ditto Judi Dench, ditto Jean Simmons, ditto Amy Irving, ditto Lois Nettleton, ditto Judith Ivey, ditto Leslie Uggams, ditto Betty Buckley, ditto Christine Ebersole, ditto Blair Brown, ditto Sally Ann Howes... the list is endless. There has been artistic liscence taken with the age of Desiree Armfeldt and always will be, as long as there are lovely and talented actresses who want to play her and as long as there are audiences who want to see them play her. At least this time we have an actress playing her who may BE older than Desiree is but who LOOKS like she is exactly the right age. I mean, let's face it: Bernadette Peters has not only not aged in 30 years, she has gotten more beautiful. I believe she is youthening, as we all age around her.

I think I am making my point here. I am thrilled and excited about this news. I cannot wait to see Bernadette Peters play this part. And I disagree, wholeheartedly, with anyone who says Elaine Stritch will not make a good Leonora Armfeldt. We're talking about one of the greatest actresses ever here - I mean, I think I read somewhere that she was Noel Coward's personal favourite and THAT is NO cheap letter of reference! The thing about Elaine Stritch is that she can say or do anything she wants because she has confidence in who she is and what she is about; just like any member of the European aristocracy. A european royal can cuss and skinny dip and sit on the ground, eating a picnic lunch because they KNOW their blood is blue. Madame Armfeldt is not royalty by blood. She's an ex courtesan who married into money. She can be hard around the edges (and, indeed, I think SHOULD be) as well as being elegant. That, like The Ladies Who Lunch, has Elaine Stritch written all over it.

My friend Jose had a Facebook status message, the day that the casting was, officially, announced; it claimed that anyone who wasn't excited by the casting of Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch had no right calling themselves a theater person.

I think that says it all.

Get on board folks! It's gonna be a great, a Great, A GREAT ride.

Miss it at your peril

Please note that I found the photos in this story online. I don't know who took them.

What Becomes a Legend Most?

I have a hobby. I don't have a lot of hobbies - I mean, I have my life and that includes working out and hanging out with friends and going to the movies and stuff. When I think of hobbies, though, I think of stamp collecting and coin collecting .. that kind of thing. I do collect movie posters and lobby cards and have for years. A couple of years ago, though, I started a really fun new hobby.

I collect BLACKGLAMA ads.

Do you remember those wonderful ads that started in 1968 with a photo of Lauren Bacall wearing a Blackglama mink? I grew up looking at those ads and loving them (of COURSE - I'm GAY!). So I was thrilled to discover that the man who created the ad campaign, Peter Rogers, put out a book about the campaign and told stories about each ad. The book, WHAT BECOMES A LEGEND MOST? THE BLACKGLAMA STORY, is now out of print; but I found one and bought it and then I went on Ebay and began buying up pages torn from magazines over the years and, now, I have a really big collection in a portfolio of my own making. My friend, Chris Davis, and I spent a happy half hour one night drinking wine (well, him, not me) and looking at them and oohing and aahing. It's a collection of which I have some pride, in spite of the sin of pride. I love and value my collection to the point where I have actually left it to someone in my will.

Today, my friend Marc Harshbarger posted the Judy Garland Blackglama photo in his Facebook profile pic and I asked him if he knew the story behind the shoot. He replied he did not and asked me to tell it to him. I can share it in no other way than to copy it, directly and in its' entirety, from Peter Rogers' book (which, by the way, is wonderful and can be found on various online shopping sites - buy it!).

So, for Marc and for all who are reading, here it is:

I met Judy Garland by chance one night in a New York club. She was living in Boston at the time and agreed to do the campaign, saying she'd be in touch. She kept her word. There must have been twenty phone calls before the evening she actually arrived.

I telephoned every hotel in Manhattan trying to book her a suite and finally had to settle for the Penn Garden on Seventh Avenue -- the only hotel that would accept the reservation. I couldn't believe it!

On the day she was to arrive, I received still another collect call from Judy. She had no money to get to the airport and could not come. I'd gone this far and wasn't about to give up now. So I hired a limousine and arranged to have it deliver her to the plane.

The plane landed on time, but Judy didn't appear. Finally a crew member told me she was still on board signing autographs. The hotels may not have loved her, but the public sure as hell did, as was proved over and over during the next two days and nights.

I went onto the plane to get her and was surprised to see her in that red sequined pant suit she'd performed in so often.

At the hotel, the desk clerk claimed there was no reservation for Miss Garland. Apparently the management had had second thoughts about having her there. I sent Judy and the friend she'd brought along to the bar. In a rare fit of temper, I demanded that the reservation be honored, that I'd take full responsibility for Miss Garland's bill. She got the room.

Tony Bennett was appearing that night at the Empire Room of the Waldorf, and Judy announced that we were going. When she made her entrance, the audience went wild. She'd sent a rose and a note backstage to Mr. Bennett, and when he appeared onstage, he asked "the fabulous Miss Judy Garland" to take a bow. She did, and then took the mike right out of his hands and performed his entire show while he sat on the floor in front of the bandstand. The audience had come to see Tony Bennett, but I don't think they left disappointed.

After the show, Judy insisted we visit Mr Bennett in his suite. We were hesitant, but there was no stopping her. Mr Bennett couldn't have been nicer and seemed to genuinely enjoy Judy's company. Blossom Dearie was there, playing the piano, and some other people I didn't recognize. We were supposed to be at Avedon's at eleven the next morning, so by three A.M. I tried to persuade Judy to leave. But she wasn't budging, and I left her the car and took a cab home, worrying that she'd never make it to the shooting.

At ten thirty I called her from the hotel lobby. She sounded extremely groggy but said to come up, she wasn't ready. I wasn't prepared for what I found. The room looked as though a hurricane had hit it -- vodka bottles everywhere, the carpet completely soaked, feathers all over the place. "What in God's name happened here?" I demanded.

"Peter, Peter, it was the pillows." Gradually I pieced it together. She and her friend had obviously gotten into a pillow fight; the evidence was hard to miss. Dismayed, I told her to shower and dress and I'd take her to the studio. Moments later there was a great crash in the bathroom, and Judy emerged with her feet cut and bleeding. She'd knocked all her perfume bottles into the shower. Fortunately, the cuts were superficial.

Somehow we got her dressed and to the car. While the stylists worked on her, I sent her friend back to the hotel to pack up and check out.

By the time we'd finished with her makeup and hair, she looked terrific and told us she was happy to be there. The photo session went beautifully. She sang along with one of her albums for an hour, as though she were on stage. Ultimately, we chose a nonperforming shot. Somehow it seemed to capture the Garland image more poignantly.

After the shooting, things changed for the worse. Once Garland realized the assignment was all over, she turned on us and became downright hostile, as though we'd let her down. She seemed to feel we'd used her, and that we were no better than all the rest.

She left with the Revillon coat she'd worn in the picture. It wasn't even lined, and I tried to persuade her to leave it behind so we could finish it properly. But it was hopeless to argue; she was determined to take it. She said it was great being in New York and in fur again, and left in the limousine for the airport. I never met her again in person, but later saw a photograph of her with her last husband boarding a plane to London, wearing the Blackglama coat, still unlined.

Eureka in the Parlour

I am in a mode of training called Suicide Training. I work out as many times a day as I can, for as long as I can, until I drop... at least, that is the theory. Some days I don't get to work out as long as I want to because, believe it or not, I do actually have a life, a job and a household to maintain. So the rest, I do with diet. It's all protein and vegetable matter; absolutely no sugar, dairy or wheat, as little fats as possible and only complex carbohydrates. All of this is because I had a back injury about eight weeks ago that required that I stop working out. During the six weeks that I wasn't working out, I decided to live a little and eat food I don't eat, haven't eaten in many years.

I am so glad that I made that choice. I had forgotten how good food is! Oh, I don't want to knock my lifestyle - I am happily back on chicken breast and brussels sprouts, turkey burgers and asparagus and lots of eggwhites. Still... Like a child, I got to enjoy a slice of pizza... a piece of cheesecake... I had a french fry or two... My friends stared in wonder as I ate a dinner roll. I ate lasagna. I had granola. It was a fun little adventure and the best part was that, right in the middle of the adventure, my husband and I got to take a trip...

To Disney World.

We took our own food with us. I prepared a cool box filled with poultry and green vegetables; but it was understood that it was to snack on late at night and to make our main meals out of during the day. It was, also, understood (clearly) that this was our vacation and we would eat something if we wanted it. It was, after all, DISNEY WORLD.

Our first night there, Pat spotted the Cotton Candy vendor. We strolled Downtown Disney eating Cotton Candy and the Peanut Butter fudge I had decided to treat myself to. The next day, at the Magic Kingdon, we had one of those gargantuan turkey legs. The following day we were at a Disney wedding, where we ate the roast potatoes on our plates and had two pieces of wedding cake. It was, though, the final day at Disney that I had what may be my biggest treat during my six weeks off from my life as a health fanatic.

Pat wanted an ice cream cone. There was a real, honest to goodness Ice Cream Parlour in Epcot. We stood in the line and waited our turn... our turn to order, our turn to pick up, our turn to pay. Standing there, I looked at the other people in those two lines; I watched them study the menu, watched them place their order, watched them step up to the counter to pick up. I turned to Pat and told him,

"Ice Cream makes people human."

"What?"

I had noticed that everyone - and I mean everyone - whether they be young or old, of varying shapes and sizes, from various races and cultures, standing on two feet or in some kind of moving chair; everyone had the same expression on their face. As each person stepped up to the counter to claim their prize, as they walked away, as they took their first bite, everyone had the same expression on their face. Everyone was absolutely happy.

There are a few things in this life that we, all of us, have in common, other than the normal basic needs of food, water, shelter, a place to rest and the need for love. Not everyone likes to read, not everyone likes music or sports, not everyone watches tv. We don't all want children or pets and we certainly don't all like to excercise. Everyone has different needs, tastes and desires. We are unique in our individuality. There must, though, be one or two things that we all have in common. Maybe there are more than one or two - at this moment I can't really think of what they are, honestly... except for toilet paper and ice cream.

These things make us human.

Especially ice cream. It makes us human and happy.

These are good things.