I Got the Show Right Here by Cy Feuer & Ken Gross

Author:Cy Feuer & Ken Gross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: SOC035000
Publisher: SIMON & SCHUSTER
Published: 2003-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

There have been many Adelaides over the years, some very good, but no one could duplicate that angelic vulnerability of Vivian Blaine. In recent years the show was revived on Broadway with Faith Prince in the role, and while Faith Prince is many things (including large and brassy), she is definitely neither sweet nor vulnerable.

None of this helped “If I Were a Bell,” which was stuck in a rut. Finally, we all concluded that it had to be Isabel who sang that song. Frank had done everything in his power to bring it out of her (including the slap, for which he was only partially forgiven), but nothing worked. Finally, I had an idea. How about if she sings it when she’s drunk? After all, Sky has been feeding her liquor, disguised as flavored milk. If she’s drunk, she can unleash the hidden passions and feel like a bell.

And that was the key to the song.

* * *

By the end of the run at the Shubert, we needed another week. So we moved into the Erlanger Theater for eight more performances. The male chorus had to go over “The Oldest Established Permanent Floating Crap Game in New York.” Frank had rehearsed the singing for two days, which, as I was aware, was always at the highest pitch. Then Michael Kidd had to stage the number. I was fearful that the chorus boys were going to blow out their voices, so I tried to make it easier for them. “We’re gonna have a long morning and a performance tonight, so save your voices while we block this,” I cautioned them.

They were walking through the routine when Frank came tearing down the aisle. He seldom arrived at any other pace. “What the hell is going on here?” he is yelling. “Goddammit, we rehearsed all day yesterday and now what do I hear? Nothing!”

He was on fire. Mike started to explain, but Frank cut him short. “You stay out of this. You take care of the dancing.” Then it was my turn. He pointed at me: “And you’re Hitler!”

I laid low—he was hot. “I want to hear the goddamned song the way I rehearsed it. And I want to hear it now!”

The poor guys in the chorus sang their hearts out. Mike stayed down and so did I. Frank started to back out of the theater, listening to the chorus boom out his song, which lends itself to a loud, throat-threatening treatment. He made it to the lobby and turned and left. I followed him. He turned right and disappeared into a candy store. When he came out he was holding a vanilla ice-cream cone. He was heading back to the hotel, eating the cone and listening to the male chorus, which you could hear very plainly from the street.

There was one other reason we needed an extra week. We were waiting for the costumes for the “Take Back Your Mink” number. They arrived on Friday and we only had three performances to test them out: Friday night, Saturday matinee, and Saturday night.

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