Read Online You Fascinate Me So: The Life and Times of Cy Coleman by Andy Propst - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andy Propst
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original Almanac conceit, he gave the show the subtitle “A Musical Harlequinade,” perhaps simply so that he could justify the opulent concept he had for the opening, when all of the main company members were introduced as stock commedia dell’arte characters.
From there the revue cascaded into solo sketches for Gingold and De Wolfe, as well as ones that paired them. The other central performers had their own spots. Bean performed monologues, Belafonte was seen in three numbers, Carpenter and Dunn had spots in each act, and Bergen was deployed as a soloist throughout.
Beyond all of this, an Italian comic, Harry Mimmo, who bolted unexpectedly the day after the show’s New York opening, was showcased in each act, and then there were production numbers that were generously interspersed throughout. One was a recreation of one of Anderson’s earliest successes, a lavish musical tableau based on Oscar Wilde’s story “Nightingale, Bring Me a Rose,” which had originally been in an edition of The Greenwich Village Follies .
Another grandiose number was “Ziegfeldiana,” where the themes of love and marriage led to one bit of heartbreak during rehearsals. During the course of this sequence, the showgirls appeared as brides (Louise was “The Winter Bride”), while the female dancers paraded after them en pointe as attendants. During one rehearsal Lee Becker, the show’s dance captain and a woman who would go on to become the head of the estimable American Dance Machine, broke down.
According to Ken Urmston, a member of the dance ensemble in the show and a man who would continue his Broadway career for several decades, “She suddenly exclaimed in the middle of the number, ‘I trained in ballet all my life to hold the train of a showgirl?’ I can’t do it! I just can’t do it!’” 10 Nerves were calmed and Becker remained with the show, but the tale gives a good indication of the splendor Anderson was lavishing on each number.
He paid similar attention to Coleman and McCarthy’s contribution, “Tin Pan Alley,” although getting the tune written seems to have been somewhat of a tough assignment for its composer.
On an undated sheet with a draft lyric, publisher Jack Robbins implored: “Cy: For God’s sake please write a verse at once for the song.” Later, on Robbins’s letterhead, a handwritten note dated October 2, 1953 informed Coleman that Anderson had let him know that “Tin Pan Alley” would be a centerpiece number in the show, and again Robbins asked Coleman to rush the music. Coleman eventually submitted a gently lilting melody that is distinctly and appropriately old-fashioned for McCarthy’s lyric, which pays tribute to the legendary birthplace of a bulk of the American Songbook.
Anderson staged the number so that it unfolded in sections. Carpenter was on hand to deliver the song itself, and then the proceedings evolved into musical routines that cast a backward glance toward such genres as “Mammy Songs,” “Rhythm Songs,” “Torch Songs,” and “Patriotic Songs.” Each of these was delivered by a different set of performers wearing costumes appropriate to the song style being saluted. Eventually all of the singers and dancers came together to create a tableau tribute “observed” by cartoon cutouts of three songwriting greats: George Gershwin, George M. Cohan, and Irving Berlin.
Urmston, who performed during the first dance section of the number, remembered that it was during rehearsals for it that Anderson’s dedication to beauty flared. He watched Urmston and Ralph McWilliams perform Saddler’s choreography, which included knee slides. Urmston said that Anderson immediately asked what they would be wearing. “We said, ‘White pants,’ and Murray just said, ‘Well, they can’t do a knee slide in white pants.’ He didn’t care about the physicality of something or trying to make it work. He wanted the beautiful picture.” 11
Anderson’s attention to detail extended
From there the revue cascaded into solo sketches for Gingold and De Wolfe, as well as ones that paired them. The other central performers had their own spots. Bean performed monologues, Belafonte was seen in three numbers, Carpenter and Dunn had spots in each act, and Bergen was deployed as a soloist throughout.
Beyond all of this, an Italian comic, Harry Mimmo, who bolted unexpectedly the day after the show’s New York opening, was showcased in each act, and then there were production numbers that were generously interspersed throughout. One was a recreation of one of Anderson’s earliest successes, a lavish musical tableau based on Oscar Wilde’s story “Nightingale, Bring Me a Rose,” which had originally been in an edition of The Greenwich Village Follies .
Another grandiose number was “Ziegfeldiana,” where the themes of love and marriage led to one bit of heartbreak during rehearsals. During the course of this sequence, the showgirls appeared as brides (Louise was “The Winter Bride”), while the female dancers paraded after them en pointe as attendants. During one rehearsal Lee Becker, the show’s dance captain and a woman who would go on to become the head of the estimable American Dance Machine, broke down.
According to Ken Urmston, a member of the dance ensemble in the show and a man who would continue his Broadway career for several decades, “She suddenly exclaimed in the middle of the number, ‘I trained in ballet all my life to hold the train of a showgirl?’ I can’t do it! I just can’t do it!’” 10 Nerves were calmed and Becker remained with the show, but the tale gives a good indication of the splendor Anderson was lavishing on each number.
He paid similar attention to Coleman and McCarthy’s contribution, “Tin Pan Alley,” although getting the tune written seems to have been somewhat of a tough assignment for its composer.
On an undated sheet with a draft lyric, publisher Jack Robbins implored: “Cy: For God’s sake please write a verse at once for the song.” Later, on Robbins’s letterhead, a handwritten note dated October 2, 1953 informed Coleman that Anderson had let him know that “Tin Pan Alley” would be a centerpiece number in the show, and again Robbins asked Coleman to rush the music. Coleman eventually submitted a gently lilting melody that is distinctly and appropriately old-fashioned for McCarthy’s lyric, which pays tribute to the legendary birthplace of a bulk of the American Songbook.
Anderson staged the number so that it unfolded in sections. Carpenter was on hand to deliver the song itself, and then the proceedings evolved into musical routines that cast a backward glance toward such genres as “Mammy Songs,” “Rhythm Songs,” “Torch Songs,” and “Patriotic Songs.” Each of these was delivered by a different set of performers wearing costumes appropriate to the song style being saluted. Eventually all of the singers and dancers came together to create a tableau tribute “observed” by cartoon cutouts of three songwriting greats: George Gershwin, George M. Cohan, and Irving Berlin.
Urmston, who performed during the first dance section of the number, remembered that it was during rehearsals for it that Anderson’s dedication to beauty flared. He watched Urmston and Ralph McWilliams perform Saddler’s choreography, which included knee slides. Urmston said that Anderson immediately asked what they would be wearing. “We said, ‘White pants,’ and Murray just said, ‘Well, they can’t do a knee slide in white pants.’ He didn’t care about the physicality of something or trying to make it work. He wanted the beautiful picture.” 11
Anderson’s attention to detail extended
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