For the last few years, Stephen Sondheim and New York Times writer Frank Rich have been appearing here and there around the country for little conversations that, I gather, don't vary a lot. Mr. Rich asks Mr. Sondheim about Jerry Robbins and Ethel Merman and Company and other topics that trigger great anecdotes, and Mr. Sondheim responds in kind for about 90 minutes. Last night, they took their dog 'n' pony show to Royce Hall up at UCLA, and Carolyn and I were there…in the worst seats in the house but it almost didn't matter.
Most of the stories weren't new to anyone who's seen or read the few recorded/published Sondheim interviews, and large chunks of the man's oeuvre went unmentioned. Still, there was something enlightening about being in his presence, hearing him talk in such an unaffected manner about his work and all the brilliant folks who participated in it. He's really quite an amazing thinker and as much as I enjoyed hearing him, I wished Mr. Rich was challenging him in even the slightest manner, getting him to furrow his brow a bit and perhaps improvise a bit.
Which is not to say I didn't have a great time. My favorite story, which I've heard several times before, was as follows. It was during the creation of Gypsy that he and Jule Style were invited to play some of the score for Cole Porter, who was retired and unwell. Sondheim was singing "Together, Wherever We Go" and he came to the release which goes…
Wherever I go, I know he goes
Wherever I go, I know she goes
No fit, no fights, no feuds and no egos
Amigos!
Together!
When he hit the word "amigos," he heard Porter say "Ahh" in an approving, surprised way. It was very typical of Porter's work to surprise the listener with a foreign word like that and as Sondheim put it, "He hadn't seen the fourth rhyme coming and it delighted him." Sondheim was about 24 years old at the time and he still calls it the proudest moment of his life.
At the end, the evening's host (the gent who'd introduced Sondheim and Rich) came out to announce that Stephen's birthday is coming up — it's March 22nd, I see — and Los Angeles had to have its opportunity to sing "Happy Birthday" to him…so out came a cake and we all stood and sang a tune that Mr. Sondheim probably hears and thinks, "Gosh, that song's sung more often than all the songs I've written, put together." Or maybe Sondheim, who spoke of loving to have order in his life and of his one-time longing to be a mathematician, was thinking it was a bit premature to be celebrating. Whatever was on his mind, he didn't seem all that thrilled with the effort, but he probably understood that everyone in the audience loved him. Which was pretty much what the evening was about.