Al Hirschfeld was that rarity in the communities of both Art and Theater: Admired by all, disliked by no one. As I found when I spent a day "posing" for him a few years back, he was a delightful, avuncular gent…but, even before that, I loved him through his work. He was not a cartoonist; at least, he didn't think of himself as one. He was a theatrical reporter and, in a way, the most important critic of them all. When he attended a Broadway opening (and going to most was a serious "perk" of his position), he was no less dedicated to capturing what he saw on stage than were any of the newspaper people present. Drawing in the dark as that task required, he nurtured and cultivated the most amazing, functional line in the time-honored craft of Caricature.
Its very simplicity maddened those who tried to imitate him. He always knew precisely how to lay it down, and how to contour and bold it just so, the better to denote not only the look of his subject but some perceptive, vital quirk of personality or posture. That he could see this in people — even strangers, up there on stage or screen — was a function of the man, himself. Others could and did draw like him, but they could only draw what they saw, and Hirschfeld saw more than any of them.
Last September, it was announced that the Martin Beck Theater in New York would be renamed for Mr. Hirschfeld on his 100th birthday. The rechristening seemed logical since no one remembers Martin Beck and everyone in the Broadway community knows and loves Al. But as many of us commented at the time, it seemed odd to make a 99-year-old man wait for such an honor. A 99-year-old man shouldn't have to wait for anything, but I suppose they (whoever "they" are) figured that there was no rush; that Al Hirschfeld would always be around.
And in at least one sense, of course, they were right.