Colored Lights: Forty Years of Words and Music, Show Biz, Collaboration, and All That Jazz (13 page)

BOOK: Colored Lights: Forty Years of Words and Music, Show Biz, Collaboration, and All That Jazz
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EBB: He didn’t know when to come in.
KANDER: So we finally had to have the chorus sing, “I sniff at a woman,” and then count out loud, “One, two, three …”
EBB: But I tell you, outside of that, he was perfect in that part.
KANDER: Oh, he was fabulous. He really believed that was who he was.
EBB: He was Zorba. Zorba who had no rhythm. I think actors who came head-to-head with him had some difficulty because he could be a bully at times. The guy who played Nikos—who has practically nothing in the show but scenes with Zorba—had his problems with Quinn.
KANDER: Quinn thought he was lovable. Zorba is lovable, and I am Anthony Quinn and I am Zorba, therefore I am lovable.
EBB: He had a problem thinking that anybody could disagree with him.
KANDER: If I have the story right, the guy who was playing Nikos quit.
EBB: Robert Westenberg.
KANDER: Robert gave himself a Christmas present that year by quitting. As I remember him describing it, he went to Quinn and became rather ferocious. “You want me to love you? I can’t love you! You’re not lovable!”
EBB: Half the company was listening at the door because they wanted to hear him get ahold of Quinn. Basically, he was saying, “I can’t act this part because there’s no reality in it for me. I don’t care about you the way Nikos should care about Zorba.” It was too bad we had to lose Robert because he was a fine actor.
KANDER: I thought Quinn was terrific in the show. His curtain call was breathtaking.
EBB: Astonishing, and he did it every night. You would pay just to watch him take a curtain call. He held a flower and he came from all the way upstage peaking from behind the balustrade, like
Mourning Becomes Electra,
peeking out, as if to say, “Do you want me to come forward?” Of course they were cheering on their feet, and he would take that flower and walk slowly, humbly up to the apron of the stage, then stand there
with the flower, and just bow slightly. Then you knew he was going to throw that flower, and every woman in the audience wanted to get it.
KANDER: Middle-aged women wet themselves when he was on. They really did.
EBB: And finally, he threw it. I’ll always remember that, Quinn bowing.
KANDER: There were elements in that performance which were really stunning because they came from him.
EBB: It did wonderful business, and nobody walked out of the theater disappointed in him.
KANDER: They adored him.
EBB: When you have that kind of power, you know it, and I think he played for that.
 
 
70, Girls
, 70 was a show that allowed Kander and Ebb to deal with relatively light material one of the few times in their careers. The songwriters have a special affection for this fanciful tale about a group of elderly but spry New Yorkers who embark on a life of crime. Ebb co-wrote the libretto with one of his pre-Kander collaborators, Norman Martin. The cast included Mildred Natwick, Lillian Roth, Lillian Hayman, and Hans Conried. Overshadowed that season by Stephen Sondheim’s
Follies
, the show opened at the Broadhurst Theater on April 15, 1971, and lasted only thirty-five performances, the shortest run of any Kander and Ebb musical.
 
 
KANDER: My memory is that every show we did only had to do with whether we wanted to work with that material. We were certainly aware of everything that was going on around us, but in
terms of our work, I don’t remember us ever having a conversation in which we decided now is the time to deal with this subject.
EBB: The closest we ever came to that was with
70,
Girls, 70, when one week that year on the covers of Time and
Newsweek
there were stories about geriatrics. That seemed to be the outside world peeking in and saying, “Hey, this would be a good time to deal with that subject.” I remember being conscious of that when I wrote the book. The story was about a group of elderly people and one feisty lady in particular who becomes a Robin Hood and forms a gang with her fellow inmates in an old folks’ home, which was actually a rundown hotel. They robbed places like Bloomingdale’s and gave the money to the elderly and to the home where they lived. At the end, the leading lady dies—
KANDER: And ends up sitting on the moon.
EBB: She teaches them about living life to the fullest every day, and the piece ends with them singing, “Life keeps happening ev’ry day / Say yes.”
KANDER: That show didn’t go very far. It was a very blue collar, Off-Broadway, backyard piece that should not have been on Broadway, or at least not in a large theater.
EBB: We were duped into putting it on Broadway, our own fault. Ron Field, with whom I had a long relationship and for whom I felt great affection, decided to do it and talked us into making it a Broadway show. When we finally did go that route, he quit.
KANDER: He didn’t want to deal with old people.
EBB: He said, “I can’t come in every morning and see a lot of old people standing around scratching and farting.”
KANDER: For a show that ran only three weeks, we had wonderful times with it. It was one of the few shows that I’ve ever gone to night after night. Usually, once a show opens, it’s over for us.
EBB: I loved that show like a father loves his weakest child.
The score was audience-pleasing, but I had no idea how to beat the first twenty minutes of exposition. I wrote that very clumsily. To this day I don’t know how to make those first twenty minutes work, and I wish I did because I’m still fond of that show. Our director was not so wonderful and couldn’t help me.
KANDER: We started with Paul Aaron and ended up with Stanley Prager. They were okay. I don’t think it was anybody’s fault.
EBB: Paul couldn’t get the show up in time, so we missed our opening night in Philadelphia. We opened on a Wednesday matinee, which was very peculiar.
KANDER: We had an extraordinary cast. Everybody but one kid, Tommy Breslin, was eligible for Social Security. Some of them were in their eighties.
EBB: One day one of the eighty-year-old men was sitting next to me watching the rehearsal of a musical number. “That’s a swell number,” he said to me. I said, “Well, you better get the hell up there. Aren’t you in it?”
KANDER: David Burns was one of the greatest clowns in the world, and he actually died onstage while we were in Philadelphia. He did a scene in the last act, dropped to the floor, and got a laugh.
EBB: The premise of the scene was that these old people had committed these robberies, and with the cops coming they were frightened. So they were pretending to be infirm, acting like they had no notion of reality. Davey’s eyeglasses were way down on his nose, and he was shuffling along.
KANDER: He had a line where he had to come up from behind a desk and go to the center of the stage to deliver it. It was a laugh line and got a big laugh, and then he went back and came out for another line—
EBB: And crumpled to the floor.
KANDER: Since the last time he had been out there he got a big laugh, when he crumpled, the audience howled.
EBB: They thought he was pretending he couldn’t walk to throw off the cops.
KANDER: Davey was the perfect example of what the show was about. On that same day he died, we had a rehearsal. He was sitting on a side seat, and Lillian Roth was sitting in back of him. He had his hand up her skirt, saying, “Lillian, one quick schtup with me will straighten you right out.” That night he was dead, having gotten a laugh. Talk about living your life right up until the end.
EBB: I remember speaking at his memorial and the only thing I could think to say was: “How perfect for him that the last sound he ever heard was laughter because he lived for that.”
KANDER: At the memorial, Carol Channing told us a marvelous story about a scene when she and Davey were out of town with
Hello, Dolly.
Gower Champion had the whole cast assembled and was reading them the riot act in the most terrible way. Davey was standing behind Carol Channing and said, as only he could, “Carol, let me tell you about my vasectomy.” That got her through the rest of the meeting.
EBB: A wonderful guy and very funny. Only never put your hands behind your back when Davey is coming—he’ll open his fly and put his dick right in your hand. He did that all the time.
KANDER: The experience with that show was a real lesson. I’m eligible to be in that show now, but those people, who were mostly in their seventies, were so full of positive energy. There was a seventy-four-year-old tap dancer named Bobbie Tremaine, and she came to us and said, “Look, I know this show is going to run a long time, but after it closes, is it all right if I use some of the songs in my act?” These people really lived as if they were going to live forever. We heard from them for years with their cards and memories. I think they’re all dead now.
EBB: Sometimes we write a piece that closely expresses our own philosophy. “Yes” was one of those songs in
70
,
Girls
,
70
. It meant a great deal to me personally at the time because
it really was very much how I felt and how you felt as far as its message:
 
Yes.
Say “Yes.”
Life keeps happening ev’ry day.
Say “Yes.”
When opportunities come your way
You can’t start wondering what to say
You never win if you never play.
Say “Yes.”
There’s mink and marigold right outside
And long white Cadillacs you can ride
But nothing’s gained if there’s nothing tried.
Say “Yes.”
 
Don’t say “Why?” say “Why not?”
What lies beyond what is,
Is not.
So what?
Say “Yes.”
 
Yes, I can.
Yes, I will.
Yes, I’ll take a sip.
Yes, I’ll touch.
Yes, of course.
Yes, how nice.
Yes, I’d happily thank you very much.
Yes.
Oh, yes.
There’s lots of chaff but there’s lots of wheat.
Say “Yes.”
Yes! Yes!
You might get mugged as you walk the street
But on the other hand, you might greet
That handsome stranger you’ve longed to meet.
Say “Yes.”
Yes!
 
Don’t say “Why?” say “Why not?”
What lies beyond what is,
Is not.
So what?
 
You can’t look back on a chance that’s lost.
Say “Yes.”
Yes!
The dice mean nothing unless they’re tossed.
The throw is usually worth the cost.
The hope of summer denies the frost.
Say “Yes.”
 
Yes, I am.
Yes, I’ll be.
Yes, I’ll go.
Oh yes!
Yes!
 
EBB: What’s life-affirming about our work, when that survival theme is there, stems from the story and the characters’ need to affirm life, to go on, to be brave. We don’t impose that. It’s there in the material and we translate it in some way, as in that song.
KANDER: We’ll never get to the end of this conversation, but there is an area in which we agree in terms of what we tend
instinctively to want to work on, our taste and choice of material. I know in my case, to get psychological, it comes from the fact that I was brought up with the idea that things are supposed to be all right. If life is terrible, that’s unnatural. I’m paraphrasing my folks and they would hate to sound like this. But the natural way of things by implication is that the good stuff is just around the corner waiting, and that’s where you are supposed to be heading.
EBB: I’m nowhere near that, to my way of thinking.
KANDER: But you have the same attitude—
EBB: I like to believe that, but it certainly didn’t come from my family upbringing. No one in my family ever encouraged me to believe that.
KANDER: But you focus on the idea of surviving so things will get better.
EBB: You have to. Doesn’t everybody want to survive? At the end of
70, Girls, 70
, if a lady who is dead comes back to encourage her old friends to go on with their lives, why wouldn’t she say yes? That comes right out of the needs of that plot. Personally, I also happen to believe in that survival theme. Come to the cabaret and make the most of it. If you look at our shows, there’s a statement like that in most of them. Things are funny; things are tough; things are sad; but we survive.
KANDER: You may disagree with me, Freddy, but I think that is something that you may comment about in retrospect, but I don’t ever remember us having a conversation and saying, “This is a show about survival so we’re going to do it.”
EBB: We don’t go into a project thinking that.
KANDER: It just so happens that it is a theme that runs through our shows.
EBB: And whenever we can find that thread in a show we’re writing, it’s heartening.
KANDER: But it wasn’t consciously there at the beginning.
EBB: You don’t look for it, but you find it. It’s fortuitous.
KANDER: I think we’re both probably attracted to that kind of material. It may be a spiritual longing or belief that we share. At the end of
Kiss of the Spider Woman
, after these terrible things have happened to the window dresser, Molina, he actually becomes a movie star at least for a split second. That ending really moves me, that somehow some spirit of life is still there. Even Molina has his way of surviving before he dies.
BOOK: Colored Lights: Forty Years of Words and Music, Show Biz, Collaboration, and All That Jazz
6.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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