Alan Jay Lerner: A Lyricist's Letters (46 page)

    
April 12, 1979

    
Dear Irving,

    
It was so sweet of you to think of me on opening night.

        
Unfortunately, it turned out to be an occasion that required more courage than humility. However, fool that I am, I will be at the post soon again.

My affection always,

Alan

    
If his confidence was knocked by the obvious disappointment of
Carmelina
, Lerner was soon to be comforted by yet another nostalgic event. On May 14, a benefit for the Theater and Music Collection of the Museum of the City of New York brought together a stellar cast for by far the biggest celebration of Lerner and Loewe’s talents that they would ever witness. Julie Andrews and Rex Harrison performed numbers from
My Fair Lady
and danced together for the first time since they had left the original London production; the other
participants included Louis Jourdan, Hermione Gingold, John Cullum, Alfred Drake, George Rose,
⁴⁴
Kitty Carlisle Hart, and Reid Shelton. The evening closed with Lerner reading from
The Street Where I Live
and performing three numbers with Loewe at the piano: “If Ever I Would Leave You,” “They Call the Wind Maria,” and “Camelot.” The gala was extraordinary for Lerner, who admitted that “I would be lying if I did not say I was touched and honored.…But the special occasion for me is to be on stage with Fritz Loewe again after all these years.”
⁴⁵

    
The lyricist wrote to thank all of the participants personally after the night: reproduced below are his letters to Douglas Fairbanks Jr. (who performed “Thank Heaven for Little Girls”), Julie Andrews, Agnes de Mille (who restaged and introduced two dance numbers from
Brigadoon
), and Anna Sosenko, who was responsible for putting together and producing the entire evening. Sosenko had hired Lerner as a radio scriptwriter at the very start of his career, so it was particularly appropriate that she should be in charge of this tribute almost four decades later.

    
To Douglas Fairbanks

    
May 17, 1979

    
Dear old chum,

    
How can I ever thank you for helping to make Monday evening the most memorable night of my life?

        
Aside from the charm and artistry of your performance, there was that special affection, tempered by years and years of friendship that came over the footlights and gave me that extra warm feeling that—well, I might as well say it—brought tears to my eyes.

        
I don’t know or understand why you did not receive the letter I sent you after the opening night [of
Camelina
] thanking you for both your telegrams. It will probably turn up one day. I remember saying that it was unfortunate that the opening night turned out to be an occasion for courage and not false humility.

        
It was so nice for Fritz and me to be able to spend a little time with you and Mary Lee at Irene’s on Tuesday night and I look forward to our lunch in June.

        
I only hope that Fritz remembers he lives in Palm Springs and finds his way home.

        
Thanks again, old boy. It was a special evening because of special people like you.

Devotedly,

Alan

    
To Julie Andrews

    
June 11, 1979

    
Dear, dear Julie,

    
Forgive me for not writing you sooner, but I left for Europe a couple of days after that evening that you helped to make so memorable.

        
I suppose in many ways it was the most moving night of my life—in fact, it was like seeing half my life all over again.

        
You were as lovely as ever and my only regret is—as I said in my book—that you are not in the theatre where I could see you as often as I wished.

        
Thank you for the effort and the joy. My blessings are with you always.

        
Love to you and Blake [Edwards].

Aye,

Alan

    
To Agnes de Mille

    
June 11, 1979

    
Dear, dear Agnes,

    
Forgive me for not writing you sooner, but I left for Europe a couple of days after that evening that you, more than anyone, made so memorable for me.

        
I cannot tell you how moved I was, not only by the fact of your being there, but the words you spoke. Fritz and I were sitting together at the rear of the theatre and I found myself clutching his arm to keep from making a slobbering ass of myself.

        
No one knows better than I how much you contributed to Fritz’s and my career, and if I never told you before how grateful I am to you, let me do so now.

        
Oh Agnes, dear Aggie—I don’t mind getting older, but I do miss the beginnings.

        
Bless you and thank you.

Much love,

Alan

    
To Anna Sosenko

    
Dear, dear Anna,

    
Little did I think, when I left your employ way back in the 16th century to hurl myself into “la vie du theatre” with Fritz, that it would be you who would sum up our career and give me the most rewarding, moving, beautiful night of my life. For there’s no doubt that what you did for us on the stage of the Winter Garden Theatre was all of that and more. How can I ever thank you?

        
When you told me months and months ago what you intended to do and the galaxy of talent you intended to corral, I did not think it would be possible. I guess I had forgotten what a determined, incredible lady you are and what a fantastic theatrical flair you have.

        
It was a stunning night, one I will never forget, and one for which I will always be in your debt and humble at your feet.

        
When can we do it again?

        
Bless you and thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Much love,

Alan

    
Lerner also alludes to the gala in the following letter to J. W. Fisher, one of the co-producers of
Carmelina
, who had written to Lerner in the hopes of resurrecting the show, perhaps in London. It is clear from Lerner’s response to this suggestion that he was angry at not having been heeded more during the tryout period, and that he felt the show could have been improved and turned into a success with his guidance:

    
To J. W. Fisher

    
May 17, 1979

    
Dear Bill,

    
I’m so sorry for the delay in answering your letter. It was so touching and filled with so much hope and good will that it deserved an instant
reply. Unfortunately, I was in the hospital for a week (nothing serious—a bad infection in my leg that had to be drained) and the moment I was released from medical bondage I was thrown into the preparations for the Tribute to my dear old partner Fritz Loewe and me that took place at the Winter Garden Theatre last Monday night for the benefit of the Museum of the City of New York. It was one of the most memorable evenings of my life and I dearly wished you had been there.

        
Seeing Rex and Julie Andrews, Louis Jourdan, Hermione Gingold, Alfred Drake and all the people we have worked with over the years on one stage made for a joyous and emotional reminder of how wonderful the theatre can be. After strolling over the hot coals with me for all those weeks it would have given me such pleasure to have been able to share the evening with you.

        
As for the future of
Carmelina
, I have too much respect for you not to be completely honest. I only hope that in doing so it will not be misconstrued as egomania.

        
I have never known a musical where the fixing was as possible and the doing as impossible. Unfortunately, the same impossibility still exists. As long as the management refuses to look at the track record and decide whom to bet on, there is no way of making
Carmelina
the musical experience that it was inches away from being.

        
Let me be more precise.
Carmelina
was not a traumatic, shattering experience for me. It was a frustrating and aggravating one. It was my 14th musical. I have won Drama Critic’s Awards, three Tony Awards and three Academy Awards. Of the seven musical films that have ever won Academy Awards, I have written three of them. In the theatre, had someone invested in every show I have ever written, he would have made 42 times his investment. I have produced and/or co-produced four musicals, including
My Fair Lady
and
Camelot
. Yet all that experience was equated by the producers with that of a man of glaring emotional instability, who has only written three shows in his entire life, one of which was
Carmelina
. I suddenly found myself regarded as part of a team of “tempermental nuts.”

        
When it became apparent there was an obvious stalemate between the librettist and the composer, none of the producers looked at the track record and made what would have seemed to me an inescapable decision of whom to follow. If the composer refused to co-operate, a request to the Dramatist Guild would have settled the matter once and for all and the composer would have been sent home. In other words, had I been you, I would have told Mr. Lane to either co-operate or leave.

        
I have no idea what lies in the future for
I Remember Mama
, but—parenthetically—it is interesting to note that the morning after it opened out of town, when a difference of approach between the composer and the lyric writer became apparent, it did not take the producer very long to make a judgment. He did not send Richard Rodgers home. They replaced the lyric writer, Martin Charnin.
⁴⁶

        
A show is fixed as follows: Find the trouble spot. In our case, it was the first ten minutes. And write immediately. When Fritz and I were uncertain, we would try one way, then another way, then another way, until a solution was found. Out of town with
Paint Your Wagon
, 6 songs were written in 10 days. Two were discarded, four were retained. In
Camelot
, with Moss Hart, our director, in the hospital, I rewrote the entire play from scene two to the penultimate scene in the second act. Moss Hart sent word from his oxygen tent that he wanted no one to direct the play but me, so I did as I was bid. Two new songs were added. One was dropped. A new set was built and all the work was accomplished in four weeks. True, it was never a perfect play, but I can assure you it was far closer to the mark than
Carmelina
. In the case of
Camelot
, there was no problem with the management because Moss, Fritz and I were the management. The second week we were in Washington, Jose Ferrer wanted to quit. He told me so. The reason for his discouragement was the creative stagnation and because he himself had no strong opinion that might have tilted the scale.

        
Can
Carmelina
be rewritten until it realizes its obvious potential? My God, yes! Joe and I could probably do it in a week—if proper musical assistance was brought in, not necessarily to write any new songs, but someone with enough musical knowledge to fill the theatre with Neapolitan street music instead of those zippy 1928 orchestrations.

        
But none of this will happen. I know it. And therefore I cannot help but be pessimistic. I love
Carmelina
. It should have been an enchanting evening. It could have been, but it never will be.

        
I think that
Carmelina
would fare even worse in London than it did in New York. The essential element in the musical theatre today is style.
Sweeney Todd
is a brilliant triumph of style over content. In England there is an acute awareness and appreciation of style, even more so than here. The man who could have given
Carmelina
the style it required was
the director Frank Dunlop,
⁴⁷
who did
Scapino
so brilliantly in London and then New York. He heard
Carmelina
, loved it, understood it and wanted to do it. He was rejected by Mr. Lane.

        
No, dear Bill, my suggestion is to leave it alone and hope that Ernie Martin, who seems to love it so dearly, will decide to schedule it as part of the Los Angeles Civic Light Opera season next summer.

        
I’m sorry I cannot be as enthusiastic as I know you would like me to be. It is not a role I come by easily or naturally. But as I said in the beginning, I felt I owed you my honest opinion.

        
You are a wonderful man and the theatre needs more like you. I dearly hope that this experience will not discourage your continuing participation.

Faithfully,

Alan Jay Lerner

    
The lyricist had decided to move on. Since nostalgia rather than innovation was the order of the day, Lerner was fully supportive of the suggestion of reviving
My Fair Lady
with Rex Harrison and
Camelot
with Richard Burton—the return of the original leading men to Lerner’s two most successful stage musicals.
Camelot
was slated for 1980, with
Fair Lady
to follow the next year. Lerner was plainly thrilled at the thought of Burton returning to the role of Arthur in particular, and never hid his opinion that the actor was definitive in the part. When the possibility of the
Camelot
production arose in June, he wrote to Burton with the theater and movie scripts and explained that he proposed to tighten the piece if the actor agreed to appear in it: