In March of 1994, a revival of the musical Damn Yankees opened at the Marquis Theater where it played for 519 performances, though not continuously. At one point, it closed for two months while the show was retooled to bring in a new star. I wound up seeing it four times, which I believe beats my record for seeing a Broadway show on Broadway more than once by about two times. Two of those times were on consecutive nights.
It was one of those revivals that changed the original a lot…in most cases for the better, I thought. Starring initially were Jarrod Emick as Joe Hardy, Bebe Neuwirth as Lola and Victor Garber as Applegate, aka The Devil. They were all sensational. So, but in different ways, were their replacements who I saw the fourth time I saw the show.
I shall now attempt to explain why I wound up seeing it four times. This article is mostly about TIME #3.
TIME #1 was just to see it. This was very shortly after it opened and I liked it a lot but did not leave the theater with any particular yearning to see it again.
A couple months later, I was back in New York on business and TIME #2 occurred because I was dating a lady who lived in that fine city and she wanted to see it. No, let me amend that: She really wanted to see it. No, let me amend that further: She really, really wanted to see Victor Garber, who had been on some TV show or something she'd loved. I decided if it would please her that much, I could sit through it again so I got tickets for a certain night and we arranged to meet at the J.R. Steakhouse for dinner at 6 PM before the show.
When I got to the restaurant that evening, the hostess had a message for me from My Date. She was very sorry but there was a family emergency…a dire family emergency. She could not meet me for dinner or the show. Okay, these things happen. But I had the tickets and nothing else to do that evening so I decided to go anyway.
I remembered that my friend Jerry Beck was then living and working in New York…working out of an office about a block (literally) from the Marquis Theater. I called him there and asked if he wanted to see Damn Yankees with me. He did and we wound up having dinner first — not at the very expensive J.R. Steakhouse but at the cheapest place in the world to get what purported to be a steak…a chain that was then in New York called Tad's. Anyone who ever ate at a Tad's is now chuckling over the very mention of its name.
When I got back to my hotel that evening, there was a message to call My Date. She had just gotten home from a hospital where a close relative was in serious trouble and she apologized over and over for standing me up. I forgave her for doing that…and I was really good at it because in my dating life, I'd had a lot of experience being stood up. At that, I was a seasoned pro. She asked me if there was any way I'd be willing to get another pair of tix to Damn Yankees and she swore that no matter what, she'd be there. She would even reimburse me for the tickets, she said.
I agreed and that brings us to TIME #3. We'd meet at 6 PM the next night at the J.R. Steakhouse, just as we hadn't the night before. Oh — and I need to explain here that the lady I'm referring to as "My Date" was very active in the comic book business. You'll see in a second why that's relevant to this story.
The next day, I procured the tickets and that afternoon, I had lunch with a longtime editor at DC Comics, Julius Schwartz. If will surprise no one who knew Julie that he insisted we go to a particular diner that he frequented, not so much for the food but because of the waitresses. They were all pretty cute and they liked to engage in a certain amount of flirting with the customers…or at least didn't mind it if the tips were generous. This was 1994 and that kind of thing was a little more acceptable then than it is today.
Julie knew that while in New York, I liked to go to Broadway shows and asked me if I was going to one that evening. I thought but did not say out loud, "If I tell him yes, I have tickets for one this evening, he's going to insist I tell him who I'm taking and it's really none of his business." I wasn't sure that My Date wanted others to know we were going out, even though it was just dinner and a show, nothing more. So I fibbed a bit. I said, "I might if I can find someone to go with."
Longtime readers of this site are probably aware that my life abounds in weird coincidences. Julie said, "Hey, I know who'd just love to go out with you tonight!" and he mentioned the name of My Date. That's right: It was the lady who'd stood me up the night before and was promising to show up that evening. Before I could say anything, he called over to one of the waitresses, "Bring me a phone" and began thumbing through a little address book he always had with him. It contained contact info for damn near everyone in the industry.
This diner had phones that could be plugged in at any table if a customer wished to make a call. In half an instant or less, he had My Date on the line and he said to her, "I'm sitting here with Mark Evanier. How about going to a show with him tonight?"
I could hear a little of her end of the call and she sounded confused but said, "Well, I really want to see Damn Yankees!" Julie turned to me and said, "She wants to see Damn Yankees. Do you think you can get tickets for Damn Yankees tonight?" I — sitting there with tickets to Damn Yankees that night in my pocket — said, "I can probably arrange that."
Julie covered the mouthpiece of the phone and asked me if I wanted to take her to dinner first. I said, "Tell her 6 PM at the J.R. Steakhouse." Julie uncovered the mouthpiece and told My Date, "And he wants to take you to dinner first." I could hear her say, "Right, 6 PM at the J.R. Steakhouse." Julie said, "Fine," and when he got off the phone with her, he said, "Wow, that's an amazing love connection. She thought of the same restaurant that you did and the same time." And then he made me thank him about fifteen times for getting me a date for that evening and fantasizing out loud about post-show recreational activities that I knew were not going to occur.
That evening, My Date showed up at the J.R. Steakhouse around 6:20 — close enough — and the same receptionist as the night before said to her, "Good, he's been waiting for you for twenty-four hours and twenty minutes." When she was escorted to our table, the first thing My Date said to me was, "What the hell was that call from Julie all about?" I explained it to her over supper and then we went to see Damn Yankees, which she loved. No, let me amend that: She loved Victor Garber. After the curtain came down, I volunteered to take her someplace for dessert but instead she said, "Take me backstage to meet Victor Garber."
I told her I had no credentials or "ins" or any way of getting us backstage but she said, "Just tell them you're in show business!" Yeah, like that was going to work.
Well, it kinda did. We went to the Stage Door and I talked with the fellow guarding it. I didn't exactly lie but I stretched a few truths and dropped a name or two…and to my surprise, we got backstage and chatted with some of the performers. One was Victor Garber, who couldn't have been nicer.
A dancer in the show asked me if I was there to meet Mr. Abbott and I gasped, "George Abbott?" If you know who George Abbott was, you can skip the next paragraph which I copied off some website…
George Francis Abbott (June 25, 1887 – January 31, 1995) was an American theatre producer, director, playwright, screenwriter, film director and producer whose career spanned eight decades. He received numerous honors including six Tony Awards, the Pulitzer Prize, the Kennedy Center Honors in 1982, the National Medal of Arts in 1990, and was inducted into the American Theatre Hall of Fame. Among the many shows for which he was responsible were Pal Joey, On the Town, Call Me Madam, Wonderful Town, The Pajama Game, Damn Yankees, New Girl in Town, Once Upon a Mattress, Fiorello! and A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.
That is a very partial list — about a third of all Mr. Abbott did — and it includes my favorite show, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, the original production of which he directed. It also includes Damn Yankees, the original staging of which he directed and he also he co-wrote the book and co-directed the film version.
The dancer invited us to come with her to a rehearsal hall where there was some sort of photo-op taking place with Mr. Abbott. He was seated in a wheelchair and she introduced me to him and told him I was "a young playwright."
If you're wondering why Mr. Abbott was in a wheelchair, there's an easy explanation. Mr. Abbott was 106 years old. And the thought did occur to me at that moment that compared to him, Neil Simon was "a young playwright."
He shook my hand and while it was hard to make out all that he was saying, I'm pretty sure he told me to keep working on whatever play I was working on and to get it in front of "hot bodies." I figured out that meant "paying customers" — people who've purchased tickets. "Until then, you never know what you've got," he said. Then he added, "Don't give up even if it takes 35 years."
I replied, "If it takes 35 years, will you still come to the opening?" He chuckled and promised to be there.
This was thirty years ago so I still have some time to finish a play…but that was my entire exchange with the legendary — and that's an adjective I don't use loosely — George Abbott. Others were waiting to meet him and I probably shouldn't have been there in the first place but I was glad I was. I was thrilled to meet him…almost as thrilled as My Date was to meet Victor Garber. (And no, I didn't take the money she offered me for the tickets.)
TIME #4 of me seeing that production of Damn Yankees was after Mr. Garber was replaced in the role by Jerry Lewis. I wrote about that trip back to the Marquis Theater — for Jerry's opening night, no less — in this blog post long ago.
Recently, I was reminded of this whole story because our friend Shelly Goldstein sent me a link to the opening number from the 1994 Tony Awards and I've embedded it below. Victor Garber — in his guise as The Devil from Damn Yankees — hosted a medley (I guess you'd call it) of numbers from that season's musical revivals.
If you watch it, you'll see him, you'll see some numbers from Damn Yankees and other shows…and at the end, you'll see Mr. Abbott, age 106. This show was telecast on June 12, 1994 — several weeks after I met him and a little over seven months before he died at the age of 107. Make sure you watch this all the way through…
P.S. because I know some of you are wondering about this: Yes, Julie Schwartz did call me the day after TIME #3 to find out if I'd gotten laid. I told him (truthfully), "No but I got to meet George Abbott." He didn't seem to think that was much of a consolation prize.
