COVID the musical

My close personal friend and RoundSeventeen raconteur Rich Siegel is currently on the uphill side of his first case of covid. He writes about it here.

Which got me thinking (eventually something had to), now that the world has emerged, relatively, from the wrath of covids' heyday, it’s time to look at what we’ve been through in a different light. Many articles have been written about the pandemic, and with each new variant that rears its ugly head, every winter surge and every new booster shot comes an entirely new crop of articles.

I wanted to take a different approach. Instead of dry, medical journal ramblings, I feel the world is finally in a good place, done blowing their nose and ready to tap their toes. So, with that in mind, I’m happy to announce rehearsals will be starting soon for Broadway’s next theater event of the season: Covid Tonight!

You’re in your seat, the houselights go down, the curtain comes up. Spotlights hit the stage as singers belt out the opening number.

Did you hear? Did you hear? It’s getting very near.
Before you can say “vaccination” it’ll already be here
Did you hear? Did you hear? There’s nothing to really fear
The president said it’ll just go away, it’ll just disappear!

Well, we all know how Cadet Bone Spurs prediction worked out. But I digress. Like any great show about a deadly disease, Covid Tonight! will have something for everyone. There’ll be a lot of show-stopping numbers as we travel back down covid memory lane. Like this slow, poignant number speaking to the cure that was in front of us all along.

It’s the guest no one wants, it’s the gift to be returned
It’s the illness that haunts, it’s a cause for great concern
And if you can’t escape it, and at the door it knocks
The cure is already in your laundry room, in a bottle called Clorox

Ah, the good old days when IQ45 told us all we needed to do was pump some bleach into our veins to kill the covid virus. If only he'd taken the lead and shown us how.

As all shows do, the curtain must fall on Covid Tonight! Will it end on a happy note? A caustic warning? An optimistic view of the viral future?

Now the virus has seemingly run its course, at least its that way for now
And Pfizer and Moderna have turned it into a cash cow
We're happy that it's rarer these day, in fact let's raise a cup
But before we celebrate too much let's remember to mask up.

T-shirts, hats and soundtrack CDs are available in the lobby.

Goodbye Joe

Even though the year is still young, we’ve already lost some of the greats. Christopher Plummer. Cicely Tyson. Cloris Leachman. Hal Holbrook. And today we lost another, although famous in a different way.

Joe Allen died today.

Joe was a restauranteur whose Broadway restaurant in New York became the pre and post show place to dine. Civilians and celebrities alike came for the stellar menu, which changed daily, and the casual yet pampering service that just made you feel special.

Adorning the exposed brick walls were posters not of the hit plays New York audiences and tourists enjoyed, but the flops that opened and quickly closed—often on the same night.

When the wife and I were in NY a few years ago waiting to see Noel Coward's Present Laughter with Kevin Kline (who won the Tony for it), as usual we wanted to have our pre-show meal at Joe Allen’s. We didn’t have reservations, but we thought we’d give it a shot.

While we were waiting to speak to the host, it became obvious the person in front of us didn’t have reservations either. When he was told he couldn’t be seated he got quite irate and asked the host for his name.

The host said his name was Elizabeth Montgomery

The man left the restaurant, and when we walked up to the stand the first thing I said to him was, “Miss Montgomery I just want you to know we’re big fans of yours.” He gave me a wink and said, “Two? Right this way.”

For years there was a west coast Joe Allen’s on 3rd Street in Los Angeles. It was always one of my favorite restaurants for dates, meetings or just hanging out. I remember having lunch there on the patio with my friend Kevin Nealon years ago, and he started telling me about this sketch he and Dana Carvey had come up with about two Arnold-like bodybuilders named Hans and Franz.

So as you can imagine, I left the lunch feeling pretty pumped up.

Anyway, even at 87-years old, closing night came too soon for Joe. But we find some comfort knowing his restaurant will go on being a Broadway institution. And you can be sure my wife and I will always be there whenever we’re in town.

And on the lookout for Elizabeth Montgomery.

Start spreading the news

Even though you could probably guess, I'll say it anyway—I love New York. It's the best city in the world, and it vibrates with talent, creativity and possibilities.

As a theater arts major, the fact there's a city where I can go to a Broadway play or two every day is a little bit of heaven on earth for me. I'm always looking for reasons to hop a plane and go there. Fortunately, over the past few years, I've had a couple very good reasons to visit.

The first was to see my friend Holland Taylor perform at the Vivian Beaumont Theater at Lincoln Center in ANN, the play she wrote and starred in about former Texas governor Ann Richards. It was a master class in acting watching Holland literally inhabit the spirt of Ann Richards.

Now you say, "Oh sure, of course he'd say that. He knows her." Just to be clear, she received a Tony nomination for Best Performance By A Leading Actress In A Play for her performance, so apparently I wasn't alone in my thinking.

This past April, the family and I hopped a plane to NY to see Hamilton. We'd had the tickets for a year, and even though it was coming to Los Angeles, we wanted to see it on Broadway. It's one of those rare plays that transcends the massive hype around it—for all you've heard, it's even better than that.

This October, I have yet another reason to head east. I don't know if you know this, but there's this singer from New Jersey I like quite a bit. Come to find out he's doing an 8-week residency on Broadway at the Walter Kerr Theater. It will be a night of stories, music, with just him, the guitar and piano. It's a 946-seat theater, the smallest venue Bruce has played in 35 years. And I'm going to guess at that size, there are no bad seats.

For as hard as it is to get tickets to a regular Springsteen concert, I'm going to wish it was that easy come August 30th when they go on sale. I've already seen one estimate that said it'll sell out in 45 seconds.

While Bruce has never done a show this intimate, I imagine it will look and sound a little something along these lines, minus the farm:

I'm going to say my prayers, keep my fingers crossed, live right, and be nice to everyone I know in New York and just hope I can see this once-in-a-lifetime Springsteen show. I know, I can hear you saying, "Geez, hasn't he been to a billion Springsteen shows? When's it going to be enough?"

That's easy. Never.

Opening Night

Since the beginning of the year, both my kids have been in rehearsals for the annual production their school does as a fundraiser. It’s called Broadway Showcase, and they’ve been a part of the production for years.

I think it could also be called I didn’t think it was legal in this state to make kids work that hard.

In addition to their regular curriculum, they also have to go to rehearsals every day after school. At first, they got out at 9 p.m. But as it started getting closer to opening night, rehearsals let out at 10 p.m.

Then of course there was the President’s Day rehearsal which went on for about 10 hours. I’m sure show tunes are exactly how Washington and Lincoln wanted to be remembered.

There is also no cutting of the slack. When my kids drag their tired selves home at 10:30 or 11 from rehearsals, that’s when they have to open the books (iPad) and start on the hours of homework they’re still expected to turn in the next day.

But tonight and tomorrow night, it all pays off. The wife and I will be at the Theater for Performing Arts in La Mirada, watching our beautiful, talented kids sing and dance their hearts out to an appreciative, loving audience filled with classmates, parents and grandparents.

Safe to say it’s not a tough crowd. But they give it their all as if they were performing at the Majestic Theater on 53rd St.

History tells me that the second night will be better than the first because they’ll have gotten the nerves and the bugs out. And the second night is also closing night – it’s a short run. So there’s a looseness to the production that’s pretty entertaining.

Afterwards, they’ll have the wrap party. And then, while no one will be getting a Tony for their work, they’ll be getting something even more valuable when they get home.

Sleep.

Holland Taylor is ANN

My friend Holland Taylor is starring on Broadway in a play she wrote about former Texas governor Ann Richards. If you're in New York, go see it. If you're not in New York, get there and see it.

Meanwhile, I'm going back to my own pet project: finding out where she gets the energy to do it all brilliantly, then bottling it.

Right after my nap.

Big apple. Big regret.

New York is the center of the universe. You can argue that point, but of course why would you? You'd be wrong and you'd lose.

Pulsing with possibility, unlike L.A. or Detroit, New York isn't a one company town. Telecommunications, fashion, commerce, advertising, movies, television, theater, finance, art, publishing and more. It's all there for the taking.

One of the great rites of passage in anyone's life is their first trip to New York. The energy, the crowds, the buildings and architecture (not counting the Trump buildings), the lights - it's unforgettable.

This past summer my son got to experience it all. That's the good news. The bad news is he got to experience it without me.

I wanted to be the one to show both my kids New York for the first time. When I found out towards the end of last year that my son was going on a class trip to Washington D.C. and New York this past June, I thought it'd be great to take him there first. For starters, he'd have a leg up on his class. I'd show him things he wouldn't see with the class (get that thought out of your head). Plus he'd know his way around when he got there with the group.

And most importantly, he would have seen the city for the first time with me.

Long story short, if that's possible at this point, is like so much in life, it came down to timing. I couldn't make the days work for everyone's schedule so the family could go together. And the days we could all go, seats weren't available (I was going to cash in airline miles for the trip before the airline took them away or told me they "expired").

So he went with his class. And without me. It may not be a big deal in the scheme of things, but it feels like it. It's like someone else taught him to ride a bike or how to shave or drive a car. To me, New York is something you learn from your dad. Maybe it's because my dad was from Brooklyn that I feel so strongly about it. Even writing about it now makes my heart hurt. It kills me. I just should've poured gas on the credit cards, yanked him out of school and gone.

Would'a could'a should'a.

Rational or not, logical or not, big deal or not, I know I'll always regret not doing it.

Anyone who knows me will tell you I'm not exactly a glass-half-full guy. But, as many people have pointed out to me, after having said all this, there are a couple positive points to be made.

One is that I got to learn a lesson apparently I need to keep learning - only it sunk in deeper than ever before this time. That's if I want to do something, then do it. Find a way. Don't wait. I don't take no for an answer in many lesser parts of my life, I won't do it again on something that holds this much meaning for me.

Another thing is the trip he went on was an educational outing to those cities. The class was running around from sun up to almost midnight every night, and was actually only in the city for two days. Which means even though he did ride a subway, see a Broadway show and go to the top of the Empire State Building for the first time without me, there are still plenty of great New York experiences waiting for us to have together.

Ray's pizza.

Off Broadway. Off off Broadway.

Showing him Sparks Steak House where Paul Castellano got whacked (because what kid shouldn't know about that).

Taking him to a taping of Letterman.

Having a cannoli at Ferrara's (leave the gun, take the cannoli).

Seeing a show at and explaining the legendary history of the Apollo.

Seeing a show at Madison Square Garden, and showing him where I sat when I saw Springsteen. Twice.

There are also the many friends I haven't seen in so long, and who have never met my kids. We could fill up a week with that alone.

So, from now on I'll make a point of trying not to dwell on what could've been, and I'll start narrowing my focus to all the things I will get to show him.

And while I'm at it, I'll keep a smile on my face. Because I know exactly who's going to show my daughter New York for the first time.