My Favorite Easter Memories

Broadway:
A “Religion” of Its Own

Permit me to explain.

My Dad was an aspiring Broadway actor, singer and director, while my Mom was a set and costume maker, dancer and choreographer. They were both lineal descendants of a great Jewish “Vaudeville” performing tradition. You see, as immigrants in the early 20th century, Jews weren’t permitted to enter many white-collar professions, or work as union laborers, but they were welcome to be entertainers - - musicians, singers, actors and comedians. In college, my father had acted and sang in numerous stage shows and even won second place in a national collegiate public speaking competition (the winner, of which became a U.S. Senator from Oregon!). My Dad’s cousin, Pearl, had starred as a featured dancer in the Ziegfield Follies. My mother had appeared as a youngster in the children’s theatre on the Steel Pier in Atlantic City (the only big town near us, where she was born and raised) and she later danced in Vaudeville shows produced off-Broadway by Lou Walters (yes, Barbara’s father!). My Mom had even participated as a contestant in the Miss America Pageant! Both my parents had performing in their blood.

Despite the fact that both my parents worked more than full-time, my Dad as an attorney and Mom, as eventually a very busy mother of five, they had found the perfect outlet for their performing talents and dreams, producing off-Broadway musical shows in my tiny hometown of Vineland NJ, as fundraisers for our local Temple. I was only faintly conscious of this at the time of our first “Easter Pilgrimage” to New York City. I was aware that my brother, David, two years my junior, had sang and acted in a few bit parts of their shows. But, as the first-born son, my full-time job, as my parents would recite to me like a mantra, was to “keep my head in my schoolbooks”, “stay busy studying”, and “get straight A’s”.

However, as our first New York trip unfolded, it soon became apparent to me that the reason for our family’s trip to New York City was for my parents to study the greatest Broadway performers and productions of the time, in hopes of replicating them and spreading their magic dust over countless audience members who could never afford the time or expense to attend a show on Broadway. (By the way, as a lawyer, I do want to assure you my parents did receive proper legal permission from the Broadway producers!) I came to think of my parents as Broadway “evangelists”. In the early 60’s, there was only an occasional theatrical “number” from a Broadway show that appeared on TV (usually on the Sunday night “Ed Sullivan Show”). There were no videos available then, only original vinyl records of the “original cast” sound. Mom and Dad had to attend shows live in order to learn the intricacies of the individual acting and singing parts, as well as to visualize the stage productions. Going to Broadway was for them like attending an advanced level performing arts school!

There Was a “Method to Their Madness”

There was a definite process of steps involved in this ritualistic journey to NYC.  First, we all had to be properly attired.  In those days, people got dressed up to go to the theater, the men wearing suit, tie and hat and the women wearing an appropriate fancy dress, shoes, handbag and hat.  I, my brother age 8 and my sister age 6 were all expected to sport similarly stylish outfits for 1962.  As my Dad once said (I think), “to be important, you gotta look important!” My brother and I wore shiny fabric, tight-fitting Sinatra suits and hats.  My sister Francine wore a striking Jackie Kennedy suit and a “pillbox” hat.

Fittingly, this whole dress-up routine now reminds me of a line in a “Hello Dolly!” song: “Put on your Sunday clothes, there’s lots of world out there!”

The next step was the relentless, seemingly never-ending car drive.  (Actually it took about 3 hours but, to kids who had never been in a car for more than 45 minutes and were cramped into the back seat, it felt like forever!)  The NJ Turnpike was long, flat and forest-lined on both sides, with nothing much to see, which quickly led to an extreme health-threatening condition we kids called “boration”.  Then, when it seemed things couldn’t get worse, suddenly the road dove down into a very dark forbidding hole (the Holland Tunnel)!  Little did I realize that, in just a few minutes, I would experience one of the most indelible moments of my life, as we emerged upward from the darkness to the spectacular, sparkling, neon lights of Times Square and Broadway!  It was as if we had endured the trials and tribulations of following the yellow brick road and had our first awe-struck glance of Emerald City!  (Many years later, on my coast-to-coast car ride to re-settle in California, I once again experienced that same pulse-pounding emotion when just after dusk I came through the Mulholland Pass and viewed the expanse of glittering LA!)

Too Much Food, No Tickets

Once we arrived at the hotel, located right on Times Square, there was a well-planned and orchestrated itinerary of things to do and places to see, even before we got around to visiting Broadway.

The first “order of business” was getting us all something to eat after this long voyage. Dad proclaimed, “Let’s go to an automat!”  I immediately asked, “What’s that?”  “A place where you get to choose whatever you want to eat and you get it right away,” he said.  “Daddy, I like this automat thing!” It was fun grabbing food out of windowed compartments (like from a vending machine) at the “Horn and Hardart”. However, once I tasted the warmed over, bland food I was no longer thrilled.  Fortunately, that was it for automats and the rest of the time we mainly ate at some fabulous Jewish delicatessens.  I recall being dumbstruck by not only the size of the yummy sandwiches, but all the signed sketches of famous stage performers cluttering the walls (I tested whether Dad knew whom every one of them was and, remarkably he did!).

After sufficient over-eating, Dad immediately hunted for show tickets. (“We came all this way without tickets?”, I thought.)  But Dad knew what he was doing. We walked along Times Square from one funny looking, one-person hut (or now known as a kiosk) to another, looking for “two-fers” (2 for 1 discounted tickets). As far as I knew, we always got them for all the shows Mom and Dad wanted to see.  It didn’t matter that much where the seats were located because the theaters were all small, the seats were close to the stage and the acoustics were miraculous (the performers, without individual  “mikes” in those days, belted out their songs so loudly we could hear them in the last row of the mezzanine!).  

There Are Sights to See in New York City Other Than Broadway?

After ticket shopping, the usual next stop was not to Broadway but rather to Radio City Music Hall with its monumental, oversized, hypnotically lit marquis. Dad said this was a reward for us kids, as thanks for our patience on the long drive (and during his excessive ticket haggling).  We did have a great time there, enjoying all the singing, comedy, and dancing, particularly of course the Radio City Rockettes with their long legs highkicking above their heads while they were stuffed into over-the-top, flamboyant outfits!

Finally, after a break back at the hotel, it was usually time to saunter off to nearby Broadway.  But not always.  Just in case we got confused or bored at the shows, or there was a lot of time between them, Dad interspersed some fun outings to The Big Apple’s most famous tourist attractions.  I remember the first time we went to the then-tallest building in the world, the Empire State Building.  It was so incredibly mammoth in size that it blacked out the sun blocks before we even got there!  I was so full of questions.  “Dad, how high is it?”  “I don’t know, Philco (his pet name for me).”  “Dad, how many floors does it have?”  “I don’t know, Philco.”  “Dad, when was it built?”  “I don’t know, Philco.”  Exasperated at not getting any answers, I blurted out, “Dad, am I bothering you with all my questions?”  To which he responded, “Not at all, son.  If you don’t ask any questions, how will you ever learn anything?”  At that moment, I wasn’t sure if Dad, as he often liked to do, was telling a joke (but I think I did hear this punchline later, from someone called George Burns or was it Phil Silver?).  Once inside the building, we got to ride the ear-popping elevator, then step gingerly outdoors and onto an open deck and gape at the spectacular 360-degree views from the 86th floor (and believe it or not, in those days, we walked right to the edge and there was only a short fence that you could lean over, not a high fence or glass!).

We Get to See (And Climb!) Miss Liberty

Another, off-Broadway outing I recall vividly was our trip to the Statue of Liberty.  We had to go on an old, slow-chugging ferry boat across the Hudson River to the island in the middle of huge New York harbor.  The ride was “a gas”, with the wind blowing our hair into new, wild-looking shapes.  Then, when we disembarked, the real fun began.  I and my brother decided to walk the winding staircase inside, all the way up Miss Liberty’s arm to the windows in her torch (or was it to her head and the windows in her crown?).  The view was amazing when we finally got there, a just reward for all our strenuous effort. However, we then realized, with great trembling, that we had to walk back down. (When we had walked up our attention was skywards, but when we now had to head down, we saw how rickety the circular staircase was and that it was completely open except for the handrail, plus we could look through the barely suspended stairs!).  Walking down was like submerging into a great black abyss, as the light from the windows at the torch faded behind us.  We were both instantly frozen with fear but somehow managed to keep placing one foot in front of the other until we reached solid ground.  Hallelujah!  (I later heard that the staircase was condemned as unsafe and permanently closed!)

Oh, Yeh, The Shows

Okay, I’m getting to the shows now.  Yes, amidst all this other activity, we did attend several Broadway shows on each trip.  Those years, 1962 through 1969, were the heyday of the Broadway musical. Nothing I had ever experienced prepared me for the overwhelming, intoxicating lights and palpable buzz of anticipation in the air emitted by the crushing crowds on Broadway!  I was hooked and I hadn’t even seen a show yet!  Over time, I saw lots of them.  I was fortunate enough to see many of the great classic musicals (with their original lead performers) - - My Fair Lady (Julie Andrews), Westside Story (Rita Moreno), Funny Girl (Barbara Streisand), Cabaret (Joel Grey, Liza Minelli), The Sound of Music and Peter Pan (Mary Martin), Hello Dolly! (Carol Channing), Oliver and Oklahoma (more of ensemble casts), and many more I can’t immediately recall.  How I wish I still had all those shows’ “Playbills”, the small size, glossy paper programs they would hand out as you were seated and contained the list of the cast, their photos and bios, descriptions of the acts, and a list of song numbers!

My two favorite shows, even to this day, were The Music Man (Robert Preston) and Fiddler on the Roof (Zero Mostel), because their leading roles were the ones my Dad was most famous for re-creating.  He garnered such incredible renown for his rendition of Tevya (the central character in Fiddler) that, for many years later, Dad was constantly beseeched to belt out his uber-dynamic song and dance version of “If I Were a Rich Man” at seemingly every wedding, bar mitzvah, or other large social gatherings we attended (much to my quiet embarrassment, but to his obvious public glee).

The Drive Home Was Better Than Imagined

After a few exciting and exhausting days, it was time to leave.  I expected that the ride home would be quiet, almost gloomy in mood after our wonderful slice of “The Big Apple” had been tasted and savored.  Instead, the travel back to our little, rural town was one big, final, exuberant celebration of our pilgrimage!  Dad sang, acapella, the best tunes from the shows, no doubt to immediately practice the parts he would be performing next.  Us kids sometimes joined in, clapped and sang along with him.  Once my parents saw how much we enjoyed the songs, they installed a home stereo system with speakers on several floors of our house (highly unusual for that time) so we could blare their “Hi-Fi” original cast records (which we did over and over, seemingly 24/7).  All us kids learned the tunes and lyrics of so many Broadway songs that I still remember many of them over 60 years later!  (Often better than I remember what I did today or had for lunch!)

My Love for Broadway Lives On

Well, all things do come to an end.  At the close of the 60’s (in September 1970, to be more exact), I left home for college, so then ended my Easter trips to New York with my family (I had far too many “better” things to do on college Spring Break!).  But, my love and passion for Broadway musicals has not waned.  To this day, I still enjoy the “limelight”, attending many shows at the Ahmanson and Pantages Theatres (which I highly recommend).  Let’s hope the next generations embrace this uniquely American art form too (although, when I recently took my grandsons to a musical they remarked, “Why do they perform this live with a real orchestra, when we could just watch a Google video or listen on Spotify?”). 

Now that I look back on all this, those trips to Broadway and the exciting, fresh allure of the Big City, were so emblazoned in my memory that they eventually drove me to LA, the land of the next breed of performing arts, TV and movies.  Not to mention, my love of theater later surfaced as a talent for public speaking, which I did at over 2,000 estate planning seminars upon which my law firm was built (which is how you’re reading this article today!).

Concluding Words of Wisdom

Anyhow, my last words here (and I suppose a little bit of advice to you) is to take a trip with your kids and grandkids and experience with them and maybe pass on whatever your passion may be.  You’ll never know where that will take them and, in any event, you’ll have a lot of fun along the way.  That’s the kind of colorful legacy that doesn’t get transmitted to your loved ones on the black and white pages of an estate plan.