Civilian

 

The new hotel that opened in Hell’s Kitchen on 24 November 2021 is special in many ways (as you’ll shortly see).  Nothing about this enterprise, owned by hotelier Jason Pomeranc (b. 1971), designed by Gene Kaufman (b. 1958), with architect and award-winning Broadway set designer David Rockwell (b. 1956) as the interior designer, is more peculiar than its name: Civilian. 

First, I haven’t been able to learn why it’s called Civilian.  Pomeranc is designated “Creator of the CIVILIAN brand,” but I don’t know what that means.  Are there more Civilian hotels around?  Will there be?  And, still, why “Civilian”?

When I first came to New York City, I took classes at HB Studio.  One of my teachers there was director Aaron Frankel (1921-2018), who used to call non-theater people “civilians”—sort of like “muggles” . . . but somehow I doubt that Pomeranc or Rockwell picked up on that.

The closest I can come to some kind of invocation of a point to the inn’s name is the statement on its website that “CIVILIAN gives outsiders the chance to mingle with the who’s who of Manhattan’s creative scene.”  It’s not all that revelatory, but I suppose it’s a clue.

(There are also a couple of references such as one to a bar in the hotel as “a place for ‘civilians’ to mingle,” but I still don’t know what Pomeranc might mean by the word in his context.)

Even leaving the connotation of the name aside—and I don’t really want to because it’s too curious a choice—what to call the hotel is apparently in doubt.  Among the various write-ups I read, some call it “the Civilian” (or even “The Civilian”); others call it “Hotel Civilian,” “Civilian Hotel,” or “Civilian NYC.” 

(Pomeranc did promise, “We’re actively working on sites in several major U.S. cities.  We believe this concept is the new frontier of hospitality from an industry and guest perspective.”  He didn’t indicate, however, that any new hotel based on the same model will also be named Civilian.)

The source of the decisive answer to what to call this new hostelry should be its own website (www.civilianhotel.com); I believe in letting people, countries, communities, and companies decide for themselves what others should call them.  Civilianhotel.com chooses “Civilian”—no “the,” no “hotel,” no “NYC,” just plain “Civilian.” 

I find that a little awkward, at least while it’s new—but that’s the little dear’s decision.  Anyway, if the hotel works out and becomes a popular spot to stay, eat, or just hang out, it can call itself whatever it wants, and no one will carp (much).  So, let’s wait and see.

Civilian is the undertaking of Pomeranc’s Sixty Collective and the Rockwell Group.  Located at 305 W. 48th Street (west of 8th Avenue), it has 27 stories and 203 rooms.  Civilian’s main entrance on the north side of 48th is a black canopy protruding over the sidewalk from the red brick façade, emblazoned with the name of the hotel.

The 303-foot tower above the brick façade is clad in a mixture of floor-to-ceiling glass and opaque, dark gray paneling covering up the blank concrete walls.  The lower part of the structure, which, constructed of reclaimed bricks to look like a restored older building, is five stories, with the four upper floors pierced by four tall, slim, open arches. 

Above the ground floor, the structure’s façade sits several feet in front of the actual front wall of the brick building, which is set back from the street outside for a feeling of retreat.  On the other hand, the front wall of the first-floor restaurant and lounge has a huge, multi-paned window that encourages street-scene watching and opens onto a sidewalk terrace furnished with potted trees, dining tables, and lighting fixtures.

“I look at the hotel’s design very cinematically,” emphasizes Pomeranc; “I like to create vignettes and little reveals behind each corner.”

According to several architectural reports, the Civilian building covers over 73,000 square feet of area, with more than 59,000 square feet devoted to guest rooms.  (That leaves about 14,000 square feet for mechanicals and service areas as well as guest amenities.)

I don’t know how that stacks up against other New York City hostelries, but Pomeranc has asserted that “the rooms are more petite than what we’ve done in the past.”  That seems to mean 150 square feet for what Civilian designates a “Cozy” (“small yet luxurious,” furnished with a queen-sized bed or two twins) and 260 square feet for a “Spacious” (with a king, queen, or two doubles).

Several reviewers of the new inn have called it a “boutique” hotel, but I’m not sure what that signifies.  I gather the definition is flexible.  Wikipedia defines one as “a small hotel which typically has between 10 and 100 rooms in settings with upscale accommodations and individualized unique selling points (USPs).”  Civilian, of course, is over twice that maximum capacity, but fits the other criteria.  (We’ll see about the USP‘s momentarily; I’m saving them for later in the post.)

The website Les Boutique Hotels, which admonishes, “There is no strict definition when it comes to describing boutique hotels,” says a boutique hotel is “a small, stylish hotel, usually located in a fashionable location in the city’s urban district.”  That fits more-or-less . . . if you accept Hell’s Kitchen as a “fashionable location.”  Wiktionary, however, just says one’s a “small hotel in settings with upscale accommodations and individualized unique selling points,” which covers Civilian.

The interior of the brick structure features exposed, used red brick, like the exterior, and wood paneling.  In general, the look is that of the backstage areas of an older theater—a mainstay of the decorative theme for Civilian that I’ll get to shortly.

Next to the entrance on the ground floor is a lounge and bar and outside in the rear is a “secret” garden.  (The press report says the garden’s “accessed only from a concealed entry point”—but didn’t say from whom it’s concealed.) 

Above the lounge is a second-floor terrace and the Rosevale Restaurant & Cocktail Room, specializing in comfort food.  It’s a modern interpretation of a classic Theatre District diner, featuring a curved, ribbed leather ceiling with mirror panels, red leather banquettes, and brass accents.

There’s also a roof-top deck with a second, enclosed bar and lounge on the 27th floor of the tower with panoramic views of Hell’s Kitchen and New York City’s West Side all the way to the Hudson River down to Hudson Yards at 41st Street and the West Side Highway.  It’s inspired by “the whimsical rooftop gardens of historic Broadway theatres where summer shows were held.”

(Roof-top garden theaters became common at the turn-of-the-century Gilded Age in New York City, meant to replicate the garden theaters of Europe.  There was no space for garden theaters in Manhattan, however, so theater-owners decided to move them up to the theater’s rooves.  Thus was born the roof-top garden where entertainment seekers could find acrobats, Russian swans, monkeys, and cows appearing amidst grottoes, waterfalls, duck ponds, vine-wrapped arches, and pagodas.

(They started with the Casino Theatre, built by Rudolph Aronson at 39th and Broadway, which opened in 1883 and went on to include Stanford White’s Madison Square Garden on 23rd Street, opened in 1892, and Oscar Hammerstein I’s Olympia Theatre, an entire city block at 44th and Broadway, which opened in 1896, and his Paradise Roof Garden, 42nd Street and Seventh Avenue, which opened in 1901.)

The hotel’s room sizes notwithstanding, Pomeranc declares, “CIVILIAN is about bringing affordable luxury to the next generation of business and leisure travelers.”  The hotelier insists, “The quality level should not diminish because of the room size.”  The inn’s website touts: “At CIVILIAN, we believe luxury design should be for everyone.”

“I don’t believe that the guest should have to sacrifice anything on a visual or textual experience, whether it’s the rich velvets from the fabrics or the tile in the bathroom or the quality of sheets and linens and pillows,” says Pomeranc.  

The guest rooms are decorated in “darker tones and tactile surfaces like lacquered woods and velvet to create a New York ambiance,” says Pomeranc.  They have “hand-painted details, four-poster beds, [and] upholstered benches.”  The bathrooms have glazed porcelain sinks and are equipped with heated floors.

Room prices at Civilian range from $160 a night up, depending on the date(s) booked and the amenities and extras a guest selects.  The new hotel offers what it dubs “Customization” for the guest’s stay: “Everything you want and nothing you don’t need.”  The “Basic,” “Essential,” and “Inclusive” tiers allow guests to choose their preferred way to stay, with the addition that they can always add extra amenities based on their needs.

(It may interest prospective guests that Civilian is also pet-friendly and offers several levels of pet accommodation.  Check the website for details: https://www.civilianhotel.com/faq.)

And, now those USP’s—the “unique selling points”:

This is what caught my attention—and why this article is posted on Rick On Theater—when I saw the news report on WCBS-TV (Channel 2 in New York City) at the end of its 5 p.m. broadcast on Wednesday, 2 March.  It was a segment on the CBS 2 News feature “Broadway and Beyond.” 

The anchor, Maurice DuBois, introduced the report:

When you think of Broadway, maybe you imagine taking in a great show and a dinner, with a stroll through Shubert Alley.

CBS2’s Dave Carlin has more on a new hotel where you can immerse yourself in theatricality.

Civilian, in fact, is inspired by the neighborhood in which it’s located: the Theatre District.  It’s steps from Times Square with the Theatre Development Fund’s TKTS discount booth (in Duffy Square, the triangle formed by W. 47th, Broadway, and 7th Avenue) and up 48th Street from the Walter Kerr Theatre (Hadestown – 2019 Best Musical) and the Longacre (Macbeth with Daniel Craig and Ruth Negga, directed by Sam Gold – previews start 29 March, opens 28 April).  The décor is thoroughly Broadway-themed.

Civilian, writes Rebecca King on northjersey.com, “is a celebration of old-time Broadway, dressed by Broadway insiders.”  I described the entry to the hotel as a canopy, but it’s really a miniature theater marquee.  The hotel’s name flashing from it is the “theater’s” designation.  The entrance resembles the stage door of a vintage theater.  King dubbed it “the most Broadway of Broadway hotels.”

Inside the stage-door entry is the hotel’s lobby, which looks like a classic theater’s back of house (except spiffier), a feeling that’s enhanced by the marquee-style lighting in the ceiling.  The lobby’s all dark-stained wood and there are even old-style wooden theater seats against the walls for guests waiting to register. 

A spiral iron staircase leads up to the second floor just like one back stage that might go up to the second level of dressing rooms.  The stairway is dramatically draped in a curtain that could have covered the proscenium opening of a Broadway house.

The guest rooms are reminiscent of dressing rooms in a theater—except better appointed.  (They are painted, for instance, in either deep blue or wine-maroon with hand-painted details—not features of most theater dressing rooms.)  

The pillows on the beds are covered in fabrics imprinted with abstract patterns by costume designers Jeff Mahshie (Tony-nominated for 2016’s She Loves Me) and David Zinn (Tony-nominated for 2018’s SpongeBob SquarePants, 2017’s A Doll's House, Part 2, 2015’s Airline Highway, 2015’s Fun Home, and 2010’s In the Next Room).  The walls are adorned with framed costume and set renderings.

The wallpaper in the elevators has also been created by costume designers such as Isabel and Ruben Toledo (After Midnight, 2014 Tony nominee) and William Ivey Long (Hairspray, 2003 Tony winner, and Beetlejuice, 2019 Tony nominee) from abstractions of their costume creations. 

There are theater photographs everywhere in Civilian, including in the lobby where are displayed the opening-night portraits of Little Fang (the professional name of Manchester, New Hampshire-based husband-and-wife photographers Lindsey and Adam Brisbine).

The art in the hallways of Civilian is grouped around a different theme on each floor.  On the fourth floor, for example, are rehearsal photos of Michael Bennett (1943-87) at Dreamgirls (1981-85; 6 Tonys and 7 other nominations, including Best Musical) and the cast of Miss Saigon (1991-2001; 3 Tonys and 8 additional nominations).

Elsewhere in Civilian, including the main bar, all the hallways, and each of the guest rooms, are other theater memorabilia and ephemera.  This is the Olio Collection, a curated display of works by theatrical artists that Rockwell assembled with Tony-winning Hamilton costume designer Paul Tazewell.  Contemporary artifacts come from shows like Hamilton (replica guns and a crown), Cabaret (a pink “shrug”), Wicked, and Kinky Boots (the iconic thigh-high red boots). 

(In addition to the 2016 award for Hamilton, Tazewell was nominated for Tonys for Ain’t Too Proud, 2019; A Streetcar Named Desire, 2012; Memphis, 2010; In the Heights, 2008; The Color Purple, 2006; and Bring in ’Da Noise, Bring in ’Da Funk, 1996.) 

The collection represents over 350 pieces of art, including sketches, models, photos, costume pieces, and props from a century of theater history, such as historic photographs of the Stage Door Canteen (1942-46) and posters for the Stage Women’s War Relief (founded in 1917, the predecessor of the American Theatre Wing).

In Rosevale are set models from shows such as Hadestown (scenic design by Rachel Hauck, 2019 Tony), Slave Play (scenic design by Clint Ramos, 2020 Tony nomination), Moulin Rouge! (scenic design by Derek McLane, 2020 Tony), and Chicken & Biscuits (scenic design by Lawrence E. Moten III).  Rockwell intends to work with emerging and established “makers” of theater, the design artists, costumers, photographers—the folks among whom he’s worked in productions—to create a rotating exhibit of theater artifacts with new displays being swapped out for previous ones.

Pomeranc even hired a Broadway press firm, Rick Miramontez’s DKC/O&M, to help build a connection to the theater industry.  (The current Broadway productions for which Miramontez’s company handles publicity and press relations are Plaza Suite, The Music Man, MJ The Musical, Company, Hadestown, Dear Evan Hansen, and To Kill a Mockingbird.)  “We know our Broadway colleagues will find [Civilian] a worthy and wonderful new clubhouse,” says Miramontez.

In the restaurant are featured 41 round wall sconces decorated with sketches of Broadway houses by set designers such as Derek McLane (Tonys for Moulin Rouge! and 33 Variations, 2009; Tony nominations for A Soldier's Play, 2020, Anything Goes, 2011, and Ragtime, 2010), Es Devlin (Tony nominations for American Psycho, 2016, and Machinal, 2014), Scott Pask (Tonys for The Book of Mormon, 2011, The Coast of Utopia, 2007. and The Pillowman, 2005; nominations for Pal Joey, 2009, and Les Liaisons Dangereuses, 2008), Tony Walton (Tonys for Guys and Dolls, 1992, The House of Blue Leaves, 1986, and Pippin, 1973, and nominations for Uncle Vanya, 2000, Steel Pier, 1997, She Loves Me, 1994, The Will Rogers Follies, 1991, Grand Hotel, 1990, Lend Me a Tenor, 1989, Anything Goes, 1988, The Front Page, 1987, The Real Thing, 1984, A Day in Hollywood/A Night in the Ukraine, 1980, and Chicago, 1976), Mimi Lien (Tony for Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812, 2017), and Rockwell himself (Tony for She Loves Me, 2016, and nominations for On the Twentieth Century, 2015, You Can't Take It With You, 2015, Kinky Boots, 2014, Lucky Guy, 2013, and Hairspray, 2003).

(British-born Tony Walton, b. 1934, died earlier this month at 87.  In addition to his set designs, he also designed costumes—he was nominated for costume Tonys for Anything Goes in 1988 and The Apple Tree in 1967.  Married to actress Julie Andrews, his teenage sweetheart, from 1959 to 1968, he was nominated for a 1965 Academy Award for his costumes in the Andrews vehicle Mary Poppins.  He was nominated for several other costume or set-decoration Oscars and shared the award for set decoration in 1980 with three other artists for All That Jazz.  Walton also shared an Emmy for art direction with two others in 1986 for Death of a Salesman.)

The bulk of the Olio Collection (I don’t know where the name comes from) is displayed in large vitrines set in walls of the second-floor Library, also known as the Blue Room because of the royal-blue leather upholstery on the chairs and banquettes and the wall-covering of the same hue.  (The Blue Room is also available for business meetings for clients of Civilian.)

Says interior designer Rockwell,

The Olio Collection is a visual celebration of Broadway and the theatrical art form . . . .  I’ve been lucky enough to work with an incredible team of co-curators, all Broadway designers of different disciplines, to create this vast and ever-changing collection.  The Olio Collection was our way of ensuring that a layer of authentic theatricality was incorporated into the hotel’s DNA from a design perspective.  One of the things that makes the theater so special is how ephemeral it is.  A performance only exists for a single moment in time; once a show closes, it’s gone forever.  I really like the idea of giving all of this work a bit of permanence.

“Part of the intention is to bring in the theater community, the makers,” says Rockwell.  He’s talking about the artists and craftspeople who do the physical work of “making” the show, not the ones who perform in it.  “I knew that that’s what I wanted to do for a living,” recalls the designer-architect.  “I wanted to create places that brought people together,” he continues.  “I was more like the person who made the show.  I wasn’t as interested being . . . in the show . . . .”

“I’m always amazed when I work on a project and there’s a moment in the show when you realize 25 people touch that moment to make it work,” he explains.  He calls those people, the costume and set designers, prop-makers and wig-makers, the scores of professional fabricators, “makers.”  “So,” says Rockwell, “in some ways, this is a chance [for outsiders] to be exposed to all of those different people.”

(I want to note here that on ROT I’ve made a practice of spotlighting many of those same professionals—along with other theater pros who do jobs that few theatergoers know about or even see.  I’ve run articles on a wig-maker, costume designers, set designers, sound designers, lighting designers, and a theater photographer.  I won’t cross-reference them here, but readers can look them up with the blog’s search engine.)

Rockwell, who aside from accolades as a scenic designer is also responsible for the ambience of many restaurants, clubs, hotels, theaters, and other projects around the country, acknowledges, “This hotel links my two greatest passions, which is theater and hospitality.”  

Civilian’s interior designer “envisioned a new home and ad hoc clubhouse to serve the needs of New York’s creative corps of performers, designers, directors, producers, and writers,” promises the Rockwell Group’s website.  “It’s also a place where outsiders in the know can rub shoulders with those who inspire them, and immerse themselves in Broadway and all of its micro-worlds.”

Civilian plans to donate a portion of its revenues to the American Theatre Wing, the nonprofit organization that supports theater and, with the Broadway League, presents the Antoinette Perry Award for Excellence in Broadway Theatre, more commonly known as the Tony Award, to help in its mission of support for the creatives affected by COVID. 

The hotel is looking to forge a long-term partnership with ATW, which supplied many of the historic photos from its archives.  ATW President and CEO Heather Hitchens declares, “A place for theater people to gather that also showcases and celebrates the work of those who don’t always get the attention they deserve” is sorely needed.

With the guidance of Hitchens and Miramontez, Pomeranc is hoping to make Civilian a spot for members of the theater community to gather for photo shoots, interviews, and parties.  The hotelier wants theater folk to think of Civilian as their place, recommending it to other theater people when they come to New York City.  From this description, advisedly the product of DKC/O&M’s efforts, it sounds like Pomeranc and Rockwell have made a good start, but we’ll have to wait a while to see if they succeed.

"Design & Tech: The Magic Of Design," Articles 8 & 9

 

[The final two articles on the AT series on stage design and technology are largely about recognition and invisibility—and both use Broadway’s Tony Awards as the context in which to examine these issues. 

[In her article, Pamela Newton spotlights costume designers, though her points, and those of the artists she interviewed, can clearly be applied to set, lighting, and sound designers as well.  John Gromada has a somewhat different point to make with respect to sound designers, and I’ll have more to say about his article below. 

[As I have throughout this series, I suggest that ROTters make a point of going back and reading the foregoing seven articles in this collection.  None of the nine pieces depends on any of the others for comprehension; they all cover different aspects of the arts and techniques of theatrical design of production. 

[The result, though, is that the Special Section of the AT design and tech issue taken as a whole provides a panoramic view of stage design and tech, one of the least-well understood facets of play production among most theatergoers.  (I have already admitted that theater tech has always eluded my grasp.)  This is a good opportunity for readers who haven’t been following along to see what the design and tech fields are all about nowadays.

[To remind you all, Articles 1 through 7 were posted on 9, 12, 15, 18, and 21 September.  You can read the five posts in any order.]

“THE BROADWAY SEASON WAS DIVERSE OFFSTAGE TOO, NOT THAT YOU’D NOTICE”
by Pamela Newton 

[Newton’s report, which wasn’t published in AT’s print edition, was posted in the website on 7 June 2016 as part of the feature “Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion,”]

The invisibility of stage designers cuts both ways: They lack for recognition (see this week’s Tonys [Sunday, 12 June 2016]), but they can also build diverse careers—if they get the chance.

NEW YORK CITY: The Great White Way has never been as ill-fitting an appellation for Broadway as it was this past season. Shows all along the district have presented a wonderfully diverse range of voices and experiences, from The Color Purple [10 December 2015-8 January 2017] to Allegiance [8 November 2015-14 February 2016] to On Your Feet! [5 November 2015-20 August 2017]. And this is all happening under the giant shadow of Hamilton [Broadway: 6 August 2015-Present], with its rapping founding fathers and a cast that is almost entirely African-American, Latino, and Asian.

Amid a panoply of directors, playwrights, and performers of color, it is easy to overlook that this [2015-16] is an unusually diverse season for designers as well. Emilio Sosa, who is black and from the Dominican Republic, designed the costumes for On Your Feet! Riccardo Hernandez, who is Latino, did the costumes and sets for the Gin Game [14 October 2015-10 January 2016] revival starring James Earl Jones and Cicely Tyson. Toni-Leslie James, a black costume designer, channeled the 18th century for Amazing Grace [16 July-25 October 2015], the short-lived musical about slavery and the eponymous Christian hymn. And this season there were two costume designers of Asian descent at the helm of high-profile shows: Anita Yavich for the revival of Sam Shepard’s Fool for Love [8 October-13 December 2015] and Suttirat Anne Larlarb for the Sara Bareilles-composed musical Waitress [24 April 2016-5 January 2020].

You may not see this backstage diversity reflected on Sunday’s Tony Awards broadcast, though, since only two designers of color employed this season were nominated for Tonys: Clint Ramos for Danai Gurira’s Eclipsed [6 March-19 June 2016] and Paul Tazewell for Hamilton, both for costume design. (Ramos also designed the set for Eclipsed.)

[Ramos won the Tony for Best Costume Design of a Play and Tazewell won for Best Costume Design of a Musical.  All the 2016 winners and nominees are listed on the Tony Award website at https://www.tonyawards.com/nominees/year/2016/category/any/show/any/; there’s search engine at the top right that allows you to go directly to the various design categories.]

Tazewell, a black costume designer for whom this represents a sixth Tony nomination, is excited not only about his nomination, but also about what shows like his say about the current state of Broadway.

“The possibility has opened up for a new way of telling a story, presenting an idea, presenting a musical,” he says. “It’s no longer as interesting to see a Broadway musical served up in the usual way.”

This is Ramos’s first Tony nomination, and even as he celebrates the diversity among this season’s design pool, he bemoans that designers aren’t more visible to the theatregoing public.

“There were quite a number of designers of color this year, but you don’t see us,” says the designer, who is of Filipino descent. “It’s hard for us to get any attention. A lot of people ask, ‘Where are the designers of color?’ And I always say, ‘We’re out there! We’re just as busy as other designers!’ But we work behind the scenes, so we can’t get as much attention as the people onstage.”

Although it is par for the course that designers of all backgrounds stay out of the spotlight—and many of them prefer it that way—Ramos thinks this invisibility exacerbates the diversity problem in design. Though there has been no demographic study about designers on Broadway specifically, a recent study from the NYC Department of Cultural Affairs, which surveyed 1,000 cultural nonprofits, found that out of 346 theatre designers polled, 81 percent were Caucasian (the percentage was the same for the 1,676 technical/production staffers polled).

“There is a dearth of young artists of color going into design for the theatre,” says Ramos. “And part of that is because they don’t see themselves in it. I never saw people who looked like me. I was never exposed to them. I had to seek them out.” It creates a vicious cycle, he explains. “How can we address the problem when we can’t attract young artists of color into the design field?”

The answer may be to start at the institutional level. Cecilia Friederichs, the national business agent of United Scenic Artists, a union for designers and scenic artists, says that the stage design field is having a conversation now not only about racial equity but gender disparity as well. Apart from the category of costume design, women are woefully underrepresented in all categories of USA’s membership. And according to a study released last year by the League of Professional Theatre Women, men Off-Broadway outnumber women in all backstage disciplines save for costuming and stage management. The union has formed a diversity committee this year to address both gender and racial equity in theatrical design, and plan out action steps to promote both.

Still, on the production end, small changes can be made to highlight more of the creative team beyond just the directors and writers. Ramos believes that designers’ names should be included in the publicity materials for shows.

“It’s important that people see my last name there,” he says. “Because I think young artists will see a last name like that and think, ‘Oh, there could be a place for me there.’” He cites a trend about 20 or 30 years back that saw some female lighting designers using only their first initials and last names to increase their chances of getting hired in a male-dominated field. “I understand. They wanted to even the playing field. But I think it also didn’t serve a lot of women designers because it masked the reality.”

Tazewell believes that a big part of the burden for fostering diversity falls to the people at the top. “It will take forward-thinking producers and directors asking designers [of color] who are just great designers period,” he says. “Inviting them to design Shakespeare, inviting them to design Ibsen, inviting them to design a musical that’s all showgirls and sparkles.”

Tazewell’s résumé also includes a number of African-American-centered productions, which he is proud to have been involved in. But to him one of the great frustrations for designers of color is being told that they “should be working on a production that is specific to a diverse story.” It’s ironic, considering that audiences never see the designers. “There is no reason for Broadway or commercial producers to distinguish between designers of color and white designers,” Ramos says. “Unlike with casting, we have the benefit of the fact that it doesn’t really matter what we look like. If the design is good, it doesn’t matter.”

In this sense, Ramos suggests that the invisibility factor goes both ways: It may be harder to see designers of color than actors, but it’s easier to hire them based on skill—that is, if you can find them.

Over at United Scenic Artists, the diversity committee is working to address the disparity by urging established designers of all backgrounds to hire and mentor assistants from a more diverse pool. Explains Friederichs, “We’re interested in getting involved in encouraging people to choose assistants in a way that fosters a growth of diversity.”

There are also hopeful signs on the national level. Crowded Fire Theater in San Francisco, for example, provides grants and professional development to Bay Area designers and technicians under the auspices of its Ignite Fund, described in its official wording as having “an eye toward supporting the plurality of race, culture, class, gender, and age in our local design and technical community.” And Arena Stage in Washington, D.C.[,] has an internship and fellowship program for designers, technicians, and administrators, named after Allen Lee Hughes, a black lighting designer who has worked at the company since 1969.

Ramos also cites the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival as two companies that, in his experience, have made it part of their core mission to attract diverse theatre artists. The Guthrie offers internships and a job fair for artists on and offstage. OSF offers a fellowship and residency program, called FAIR, for theatre practitioners, including designers.

In spite of the headway being made on Broadway and beyond, though, it remains to be seen whether this season was an inspiration or aberration. There have certainly been other years when Broadway has offered daring fare and showcased underrepresented groups: Take 1996, when the proto-hipster musical Rent [29 April 1996-7 September 2008], August Wilson’s Seven Guitars [28 March-8 September 1996], and George C. Wolfe’s black history musical Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk [25 April 1996-10 January 1999] (with costumes by Tazewell) were all up for Tonys, and many thought it heralded a new age. But the next year it was back to the safety (and predominant whiteness) of A Doll’s House [2 April-31 August 1997], Chicago [14 November 1996-Present], and Titanic [23 April 1997-21 March 1999]. (Notably, there was a Broadway revival of The Gin Game that year as well, starring white actors Charles Durning and Julie Harris [20 April-31 August 1997].)

Both Ramos and Tazewell maintain a cautious optimism toward the current moment. “I think if you asked people of color, most of us have a guarded sort of stance,” says Ramos. “We think of it as a blip, something that may not happen again.”

“I am hopeful that this is the direction we’re moving in,” says Tazewell, “but history has proven that there’s a pendulum. The pendulum I think will start to widen, start to open up more possibilities, but it is bound to shift back, because that is the nature of the beast.”

Ramos pointedly cautions that the work is not over. After all, this has been a notably diverse season for designers only in relative terms.

“We’ve certainly made strides in terms of diversity on Broadway,” he says. “but for designers and people who work backstage, it’s still not as diverse as we want it to be.” For him, the key is to take the present momentum and keep on moving forward. “If we in the American theatre are really invested in diversity and the breadth of human experience, then it is imperative that we populate our industry with more designers of color who, just by the nature of who they are, offer a different worldview, with a different body of experience.”

[Pamela Newton is a freelance writer and college writing teacher living in New York City. 

[I don’t know if the diversity issue had progressed among theater designers in the ensuing five years since Newton wrote her report, but it occurs to me, reading “The Broadway Season Was Diverse Offstage” that the same points the author and the artists to whom she spoke make above are equally valid with respect to artists with physical handicaps—and I’d bet that they meet with the same discrimination and invisibility that women and artists of color have.]

*  *  *  *
“TONY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
by John Gromada

[Gromada’s article, published in the “Opinion” feature of the print issue and posted on 6 June 2016 on the website, is a protest, born of disappointment. The Tony Awards on Sunday, 12 June 2016, omitted the contributions of sound designers.  The absence screamed loudly for Gromada, who had campaigned to have sound design added to the award categories; it was included in the 2008 awards.

[Gromada was nominated for the award himself in 2013 for Horton Foote’s The Trip to Bountiful, but the next year, he saw the Tony committee yank the award away again.  What he couldn’t know when he wrote his article, though, was that the Tony Awards Administration Committee would relent and on 24 April 2017, would announce that the sound design awards would be reintroduced for the 2017-18 season.

[I’ve decided to run Gromada’s argument anyway, even though the reinstatement renders his main point out of date, because the article is still an important examination of the problem theater design artists have fought since stage design became part of the theatrical landscape: lack of recognition.  As you’ll read, the work of designers is either overlooked entirely or considered the realm of technicians and craftsmen, not artists.

[That’s just among other theater pros like producers and directors; among theatergoers, the work is often not even noticed.  (I read a lot of reviews when I write my performance reports and it’s clear the review-writers don’t know what to say much of the time when it comes to the designers’ contributions.  If the reviewers mention them at all, it’s a few words at the end of the notice, almost as if they felt obligated to say something.)

[I said at the start of this series that I took several design classes in grad school in order to learn more about that part of the business.  That put me in a position later as a director to appreciate what designers do for a production—which goes far beyond making pretty pictures or sounds.  They also solve problems, smooth over glitches, and enhance the drama—or comedy—of the production in ways that actors, directors, and even playwrights never could on their own.

[And I never made the mistake of feeling that what they do is anything less than an art.  So John Gromada’s other point is right on target.  As Linda Loman said in another context in Death of a Salesman: “Attention must be paid.”]

The absence of sound design categories at the Tony Awards screams louder each year.

This year marks the 30th anniversary of my professional career in the theatre, where I’ve had the good fortune to make a life designing sound and composing music for numerous productions, many of them on Broadway. I have been privileged to receive one of the highest accolades in the theatre for my work: In 2013, I was nominated for a Tony Award for designing the sound for Horton Foote’s The Trip to Bountiful [23 April-9 October 2013].

Unfortunately, I am one of the few sound designers who have been recognized, or might ever be recognized, by the Tonys for their work; the following season was the last the awards were given. That’s because the American Theatre Wing announced that they were eliminating the Tony cate­gories for sound design, relegating any recognition in that area to the occasional special Tony.  [The Tony Awards Administration Committee made the announcement on 11 June 2014.] The reasons were enumerated in The New York Times: “Many Tony voters do not know what sound design is or how to assess it; a large number of Tony voters choose not to cast ballots in sound design categories because of this lack of expertise; and some administration committee members believe that sound design is more of a technical craft, rather than a theatrical art form that the Tonys are intended to honor.”

Suffice to say, the decision was an incredible blow to me. And I was far from the only one: The afternoon of the announcement, I started an online petition asking the Tony administration committee to reconsider, thinking that if I could get 1,000 signatures, it might persuade the committee to change their minds. In an hour, I had 1,000 signatures; in a few hours, the numbers grew to 5,000, then 10,000. In a week, more than 30,000 people from around the world signed the petition—including luminaries like Hugh Jackman, Stephen Sondheim, [director] Diane Paulus, and Lin-Manuel Miranda.

People from all disciplines expressed shock and dismay. What the Tony committee saw as a simple administrative adjustment demoralized thousands of people around the country who felt as if their role in the theatre had suddenly been invalidated. For so long we had fought for respect and recognition for our art. After many years of lobbying, we were able to get Tony categories for best sound design—one for plays and another for musicals—established in 2007 and implemented for the 2008 ceremony. It seemed that the battle was over. The Tony Award was the last of many hurdles our profession had faced in gaining respect, visibility, and the potential to make an adult living. Or so it seemed.

Getting sound design recognized as a legitimate career and art form has been a long and arduous process. In the late ’90s, we were able to convince United Scenic Artists [the union for artists and designers in the entertainment industry] to represent us, marking a major step for our profession. For the first time, working sound designers were able to have employer-based health insurance and could look forward to a pension upon retirement. And we began to close the pay gap between the fees we received and what other designers made, meaning that to make a living we no longer had to do twice as many shows as our colleagues just to get by. We could spend more time, energy, and thought on any given production, and maybe, just maybe, even think about supporting a family while engaged in this business we love.

Sound design is now such a necessity that most major theatre graduate programs in the country offer sound design MFAs, turning out scores of young bright designers looking to make a living in this field.

Meanwhile, most of the other major awards, in New York and elsewhere, have added sound design categories. When the Tony Awards joined in the trend, it was a monumental validation. As a nationally recognized and televised event, the Tonys finally gave us access to the highest level of visibility available to a theatre artist, and the potential to turn that visibility into a sustainable career. A designer with a Tony, or even a nomination, can command higher fees and respect, and use the honor to leverage all sorts of opportunities.

Now that opportunity for recognition is no longer available to us. The manner in which the categories were eliminated, and the way it was explained in the press, gave the impression that some kind of mistake had been made in adding sound design categories in the first place, as if previous sound design winners didn’t truly deserve their awards because, after all, Tony voters never knew how to judge what we do. I was told that many people on the Tony administration committee believed that sound design was nothing more than a matter of “Can I hear them?” and that to justify the continuation of the categories we would need to change that perception.

Of course, we had already jumped through all of those hoops back in 2006 and 2007 during the process to establish the categories—a process that included months of lobbying, education, and gentle persuasion. In 2006 after a preview of Lisa Kron’s Well, which I had designed sound for, producer Liz McCann [1931-2021; she died this past 9 September] came up to me and said, “John, I love so much what you’re bringing to this production. I think you should win a Tony Award!”

I responded that many in the theatre community shared her opinion that there should be a sound design category. She then offered to begin a process to make it happen. The conversation expanded to include several of my sound design colleagues, representatives of our union, and members of the American Theatre Wing who valued sound design and understood our place as partners in the process. Our allies on the committee shepherded the idea through the byzantine and opaque political process that shapes Tony Awards policy. They arranged for an education session in which David Budries, head of the sound design program at the Yale School of Drama, spoke to committee members and Tony nominators about what we do, and what to look for in judging sound design.

What Budries told them is that sound design is a discipline that defies concrete definition, and that it’s often best when it’s not noticed. Still, any perceptive theatregoer is equipped to vote on excellence in sound design. All it takes is simply to think a bit about what you’re listening to. It doesn’t take any more special knowledge than it takes to judge lighting design or orchestration or even costume design. Listen to the design and think: Does it serve the play and production? Is it distinctive in some way that is unique while helping tell a story? How does what you’re hearing make you feel?

Admittedly, we generally aren’t used to thinking about the sounds we hear, because sound is processed in a very different part of the brain than visual stimuli. Sound works on the unconscious, animal parts of our brain; we’re often not aware that it’s happening or what kind of effect it’s having on us. That’s why it’s both so potentially powerful as a design element and yet so easy to overlook.

Some heard and understood what Budries said, but others reportedly found it hard to break out of the traditional notion of what constitutes theatrical design. To them, design is what they can see, not hear, and sound design, as far as they could tell, was simply about making things louder. Still, after more than a year of work lobbying and gathering endorsements from theatre industry leaders around the country, we had enough support that when a vote was finally taken to establish the sound design categories, it passed in 2007.

I clearly remember that day; a producer on the committee called me excitedly with news that the motion had passed. There was no better evidence that sound design had finally come of age than the American Theatre Wing recognizing our art with a Tony Award.

For us sound designers, being considered for a Tony Award was a long-awaited vindication of an essential concept: that we were an integral part of the theatre world, and have been making invaluable contributions as artists to productions on Broadway and across the country for a very long time.

I first learned this myself 30 years ago in 1986, when I made my professional and Broadway debut designing the transition sound and music for Jonathan Miller’s production of Long Day’s Journey Into Night, starring Jack Lemmon and Kevin Spacey. I was 22 years old and a senior at Duke University, where producer Manny Azenberg had brought the production to try out. I had spent nearly four years at Duke doing this thing called sound design, inspired by Jeff Storer, a charismatic teacher/director who had thankfully steered me away from acting and into this relatively new discipline, where I could perfectly combine my musical ability and my love of theatre.

That semester I was doing an independent study in music composition that included work with one of the very first samplers—an expensive and rare instrument that few had access to. While in rehearsal with the show, Miller discovered that he needed some kind of music or sound to tie together the different scenes in his production and indicate the passage of time, and there was no time to bring someone in from New York to execute it. Friends who were interning on the production steered him to me, and I soon found myself in a room with Miller, who hummed for me examples of the tone-like music that was in his head. Overnight I composed a little sound score of pieces that pleased the director; they made it into the production and onto Broadway. Though a modest contribution, it was part of the glue that held the entire piece together. And I actually received a paycheck for it.

After Miller trusted me to compose transitions for his productions, I arrived in New York at a time when directors were just beginning to clue into the possibilities of sound, and there seemed to be a shortage of sound designers approaching productions as artists. I found myself working with forward-thinking directors—JoAnne Akalaitis, Michael Greif, Anne Bogart—and veteran designers, including [scenic designer] Ben Edwards [1916-99], [lighting designer] Tom Skelton [1927-94], [costume designer] Jane Greenwood [b. 1934], and [lighting designer] Jennifer Tipton [b. 1937]. They treated me as an equal member of the design team and understood how my work complemented theirs and how aural elements could be used to tell a story. And my skills were enough in demand that I was able to cobble together a living among Off-Broadway nonprofits, resident theatres, and a Broadway production or two most seasons.

In 1990, I found a home at the Public Theater during Joe Papp’s last year, where I composed the sound score for Grief’s landmark production of Machinal [25 September-25 November 1990] and won an Obie for it. I’ll never forget the thrill of being at my very first awards ceremony, feeling surrounded and embraced by a community of theatre artists. At that ceremony, and the others that followed over the years, I felt like I was part of a family of people all trying to make a go of it in this crazy collaborative business. What these awards have said to me is: We value you. You are part of the family. We understand and appreciate the hard work you are putting into our art.

That’s why in 2013, after having designed sound or composed music for 35 Broadway productions, it was so satisfying to finally gain validation for all those years of work from the Broadway community in the form of a Tony nomination for my work on Michael Wilson’s fine revival of The Trip to Bountiful. I understood the Tonys as a high-visibility marketing tool, but still thought that at their core the awards were about recognizing excellence within the Broadway family, a family that I have long felt a member of. As I partook in all the Tony events leading up to the ceremony, I sat at luncheons and cocktail parties with actors and producers and other designers with whom I’ve worked for years, and listened to members of the American Theatre Wing and Mayor Michael Bloomberg [in office: 2002-13] talk about how important theatre artists are to the life and economy of the city.

Most importantly, I felt I was part of a community. Had I won that year (my colleague Leon Rothenberg won for his sound design on The Nance [15 April-11 August 2013]), this is part of what I would have said in my acceptance speech: “Thank you to all of you out there for embracing me and my work as part of this Broadway family for so many years. I feel most privileged to have been able to make a life of this, creating art with you all. Thank you for listening. And thank you for your continued support of sound designers as part of the Broadway community.”

A year later, after learning the categories were taken away, I was speaking with a colleague on the Tony administration committee, asking him how this could have happened. He told me, “I’m so sorry. You guys were just beginning to come into your own.”

Just beginning? I thought. Haven’t you been paying attention to what we’ve been doing all these years? We’ve been here for decades. A sound designer’s job isn’t just to set the volume on the microphones. It’s to convey the world of a play or musical to the audience’s ears; it’s creating and structuring sounds that underscore text, choosing or composing music to facilitate a scene transition, or making the orchestra and singers sound as good as they can, even to the rear mezzanine.

And when sound designers are not recognized at the Tony Awards for our efforts, it sends a very clear message: that what we do isn’t creative, that we’re not true theatre artists, that we are a disposable member of a production’s team. All because a group of people won’t take the time to understand the creative and necessary work that we do. Somehow the voters for other notable awards—the Drama Desks, the [Lucille] Lortels [New York Off-Broadway], the [Laurence] Oliviers [professional theatre in London], the Jeffs [Joseph Jefferson Awards, for theater produced in the Chicago area], to name a few—have figured out how to determine excellence in sound design. Tony voters, of which there are more than 800, sell themselves short when they think they’re not equally equipped.

As Lin-Manuel Miranda said in a recent Rolling Stone article, “Set designers sculpt with physical materials, lighting designers sculpt with light, and sound designers sculpt with sound. They are responsible for your aural experience at a Broadway show,” adding that we create “literally the sound of Broadway.” It’s about time Tony voters learned how to listen.

[John Gromada (b. 1964) is a Tony-nominated sound designer and composer. He has designed 37 shows on Broadway and numerous works Off-Broadway and regionally.  He’s won many awards both in New York City and around the country.  Gromada also works in film, television, and radio.]

"Terrence McNally's lifetime award speech at the Tonys was ignored — but it was the most important of the night"

by Chris Jones

[The playwright Terrence McNally  (1938 -2020) died on Tuesday, 24 March, at 81.  

[On Sunday, 9 June 2019, McNally had been honored at the 73rd Annual Tony Awards with a Special Tony Award for Lifetime Achievement in the Theatre.  The award citation reads:

Terrence McNally has had a remarkably far-ranging career, including at least one new work on Broadway in each of the last six decades.  A revival of his play Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune begins performance on Broadway on May 4, starring Audra McDonald and Michael Shannon.  In 2018 he was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters.  He is a recipient of the Dramatists Guild Lifetime Achievement Award and the Lucille Lortel Lifetime Achievement Award.  He has won four Tony Awards for his plays Love! Valour! Compassion! and Master Class and his musical books for Kiss of the Spider Woman and Ragtime.  He has written a number of TV scripts, including “Andre’s Mother,” for which he won an Emmy Award.  He has received two Guggenheim Fellowships, a Rockefeller Grant, four Drama Desk Awards, two Lucille Lortel Awards, two Obie Awards, and three Hull-Warriner Awards from the Dramatists Guild.  In 1996 he was inducted into the Theater Hall of Fame.  He wrote the libretto for the operas Great Scott and Dead Man Walking, both with music by Jake Heggie.  Other plays include Mothers and Sons; Lips Together, Teeth Apart; The Lisbon Traviata; A Perfect Ganesh; The Visit; The Full Monty; Corpus Christi; Bad Habits; Next; The Ritz; Anastasia; It’s Only a Play; Where Has Tommy Flowers Gone?; and The Stendhal Syndrome.

[On 12 June, Chris Jones, a Chicago Tribune theater reviewer, published the following article.  I’m running it on Rick On Theater as a belated tribute to the dramatist the New York Times called the “Tony-Winning Playwright of Gay Life.”  ~Rick]

“Lifetime achievement,” said the writer Terrence McNally at the Tony Awards last weekend. “Not a moment too soon.”

That dry opening joke by the 80-year-old author of such dramatic masterworks as “Master Class,” “Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune” and the criminally underappreciated “Mothers and Sons,” not to mention the books to the musicals “Ragtime,” “Kiss of the Spider Woman,” and “The Full Monty,” and the libretto to the opera “Dead Man Walking” and countless other screenplays, teleplays and other works, was about the most awkward gag of the night.

Why? Clearly the ever-impish and self-aware McNally was acknowledging his own mortality. And in America, at this moment, nothing seems to make an awards show crowd less comfortable. It’s hard to come out in your fancy clothes and roar for youth and change, to take down the old guard, when the old guard is not necessarily looking so good.

McNally had taken a while to walk out on stage, leaving the award’s presenter, Karen Olivo, to nervously stare at her monitor. And he came out with attached breathing apparatus, tubes dangling, as if with a certain intentionality. In play after play, McNally wrote about gay Americans confronting early deaths that could have been avoided, had people outside the theater industry given more of a darn. His own appearance put that back in mind. Broadway artists love to complain about the grip of the patriarchy. But an inconvenient truth is that the patriarchy — if you mean straight, white, WASP-ish men — never gave two shakes about the theater. This industry was never banking, or even Hollywood.

Broadway always was the home of outsiders. In fact, Broadway largely was the creation of outsiders, especially gay men. They were the ones who composed most of the musicals, choreographed most of the dance numbers, wrote a whole lot of the plays. They ran things, too. And they were most of the critics. (They still are).

This remarkable community, often under duress, sometimes working while dying, built a stable, billion-dollar industry for the rest of America and, as the now-cliched Tonys speech about the kids watching at home goes, in the process made a lot of people in the hinterlands feel less alone.

They taught us all how to love. And, yes, how to die. For, as Tony Kushner once said to me, we only learn how to deal with grief and loss by hearing the survival stories of others.

It’s fair enough to argue that much must now change for all kinds of good reasons, that opportunities must be broadened, but the lack of gratitude to these forefathers expressed by many young progressives is nothing short of breathtaking. There is a chronic misunderstanding of history. The Broadway establishment has always been composed of rebels and outcasts — without whom, the misery of the era of AIDS would have been so very much worse. These gay men saved lives.

But back to McNally, a lifesaver himself.

Many an outre fashion statement was photographed and breathlessly described at the Tonys. But nothing shuts people up like a breathing tube. No one wants to tweet about that. Almost no one did. Especially since McNally appeared in stark contrast to an image of the writer that had shown up a few weeks earlier in a glossy New York Times Style Magazine shoot, which had made him look 20 years younger.

Now you might well have watched the Tony Awards on Sunday night (assuming you weren’t part of the 14 percent of viewers of last year’s ceremony who had dropped away) without seeing what I am describing. McNally’s award, and thus his speech, did not appear in the broadcast portion of the evening, which tells you right there how much we value lifetime achievement these days.

Of course, lifetime achievement awards are complicated for artists. Upon receiving one, David Mamet once said to me: "The idea of life achievement only means one thing to the artist. ‘Don’t you think that’s just about enough?’ The healthy artist would respond, ‘I’ll be the judge of that. At some point, I’ll leave. But you’ll have to kill me.’"

Mamet was exactly right.

But I found what McNally had to say (I was watching it live) to be far and away the most powerful part of the evening. He did not quip like Mamet; clearly, McNally had decided this was the moment to define his life.

The speech was little more than three minutes. Yet this was the most beautiful recounting of one of this nation’s most distinguished artistic careers.

“Theater changes hearts,” he said, struggling to fully breathe his way through his words. “That secret place where we all truly live.”

McNally found time to speak of early failure and how John Steinbeck told him to get back on his horse: “If you ain’t been throwed, you ain’t rode.” He recalled how much the artists of a previous generation had meant to him as a small boy. He revealed that his father, after watching “Death of a Salesman” and seeing a traumatic vision of what happens to so many of us later in an American life in an American business, had quit his job and struck out on his own.

He talked about his pride in “softening the hearts” of unforgiving parents, which is about as noble a quest for an artist of any one could imagine. He told young artists that he was part of a writing club with open admission: “The only dues are your mind, your soul and your guts. All of you.”

“The world needs artists more than ever,” McNally said, “to remind us what truth and beauty and kindness really are.”

And he finished with a quote from the last act of “The Tempest,” Shakespeare’s late, great world of personal legacy: “O brave new world that has such people in it.”

I thought at first McNally was talking about the theater in the self-congratulatory way theater people often do.

But no. He had a broader purview.

“Shakespeare was talking to all of us,” McNally said. “No one does it alone.”

Right. Whatever you do.

What an achievement. What a life.

[Terrence McNally was born on 3 November 1938 in St. Petersburg, Florida, but raised in Corpus Christi, Texas (the setting—and one level of the title-reference—for his controversial 1998 play, Corpus Christi).  He moved to New York City in 1956 to go to Columbia University (class of 1960, Phi Beta Kappa). 

[He went to Mexico after graduating to work on his writing, returning to New York when a play he’d submitted to the Actors Studio was rejected for production but attracted the Studio’s attention to his potential. 

[Openly gay, he began a personal and professional association with Edward Albee and later actor Robert Drivas.  (McNally married Thomas Kirdahy, a public-interest lawyer, in 2010, following a seven-year civil union.) 

[What would have been the writer’s first major project was the book for the 1968 musical Here's Where I Belong (based on John Steinbeck’s novel East of Eden), but McNally had his name removed from the credits.  (The show closed after a single performance.)  He gained critical attention for his Off-Broadway plays like Next (1969) and The Ritz (1975), and became recognized as a presence on the American stage with 1987’s Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune Off-Broadway (and the successful 1991 film adaptation starring Al Pacino and Michelle Pfeiffer).  In 2002, the play was revived on Broadway for 243 performances.

[McNally’s gone on to win acclaim for both the books of musicals (The Rink, 1984; Kiss of the Spider Woman, 1993; Ragtime, 1998 ) and non-musical scripts (The Lisbon Traviata, 1989; Lips Together, Teeth Apart, 1991; Love! Valour! Compassion!, 1995), winning four Tonys (in addition to the Lifetime Achievement Award) and three Drama Desks, among many other kudos; McNally even won a 1990 Emmy for Andre’s Mother, an AIDS-related tale broadcast on the PBS series American Playhouse. 

[Then in 1998, the playwright stirred up a storm of protests and counter-protests with Corpus Christi, his contemporary retelling of Jesus’ birth, ministry, and death in which Jesus and his disciples are all depicted as gay. 

[The Catholic Church condemned the play, death threats were sent to McNally (who even received a fatwa from a British imam) and the Manhattan Theatre Club, the company producing the première, and anyone connected to the production. 

[Right-wing pundits and commentators wrote against the play—without ever having seen or even read it—and leftists defended it on principal, also before any public performance or the publication of the text.  (I have written about this incident in “The First Amendment & The Arts” on ROT; see 8 May 2010.)  

[The theater postponed the presentation, but First Amendment advocates and theater artists across the country objected to the cave-in and the play was rescheduled.  Subsequent productions of Corpus Christi attracted similar controversy, including legal action to prevent public money from being spent on them at institutions that receive federal or state subsidies.  (Some suits were defeated by the productions’ backers and others succeeded.)

[McNally won, in addition to the Tonys, the Obies, and the Emmy, many other awards, including Lucille Lortels and Drama Desks.  He was also nominated for a 1994 Pulitzer Prize for A Perfect Ganesh. 

His last Broadway project was the revival of Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune last June and July.  He also wrote the book for the musical Anastasia, which ran for 808 regular performances and 38 previews in 2017-19.  Off-Broadway, McNally last wrote Fire and Air in 2018, premièred at the Classic Stage Company.

[McNally survived lung cancer in the late 1990s and suffered from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) from that time on.  He died at Sarasota Memorial Hospital in Florida on 24 March from complications of the coronavirus.

[I saw six McNally plays or musicals and appeared in one of his one-acts as a grad student.  The only two, however, for which I have reports, both on ROT, are The Stendhal Syndrome (2004), posted on 15 June 2019, and And Away We Go (2013), 5 December 2013.]

“Tony Season: Equity Is Fighting For #Everyoneonstage”

By Doug Strassler

[Frequent readers of Rick On Theater will have noticed recently that I’ve reported on a number of plays which I labeled “ensemble productions.”  Ensemble casts and ensemble acting is among the interests I have about performance and acting; I even posted one of my earliest articles on this blog on the subject: “Ensembles,” 9 August 2009.  In that article, I observed: “Those astonishing performances that come out of the ensembles, the startling virtual reality they can create and draw you into, are addictive.  Once you’ve had a taste, you want more of that.”  Recognizing that accomplishment, in a way, could spur more of it on American stages.  The Actors Equity Association, the stage actors’ union, seems inclined that way and is campaigning to initiate an ensemble Tony; below is AEA’s plea for support, originally published in Equity News, the union’s  member magazine (vol. 103, number 2 (Spring 2018).]

“Why isn’t there an ensemble award?”

Harvey Fierstein posed this question while accepting his 2003 Tony Award as Best Actor in a Leading Role in a Musical for Hairspray. And he had a point.

That isn’t the only time a Tony winner has expressed such a sentiment. In 1978, Richard Maltby, Jr., Best Director of a Musical for Ain’t Misbehavin’, similarly extolled the virtues of his show’s ensemble: “Someday I would like the Tony committee to find some way to honor what I consider to be the highest achievement in theatre: the collective effort of an ensemble of actors.”

It is clear that there is a history of widespread support for the performers who comprise the choruses and ensembles of Broadway musicals and plays. Yet so far, they remain the one segment of stage performers to never win a Tony – not because they are not deserving, but because there aren’t categories to recognize them.

Actors’ Equity has taken a bold step to try and rectify that. On April 11, Equity announced the launch of a new campaign called Everyone On Stage, which seeks to create two new categories at the Tony Awards beginning with the 2018-2019 Broadway season: Best Chorus in a Musical or Play and Best Ensemble in a Musical or Play.

With the inclusion of these two categories, all Equity performers who appear on a Broadway stage would finally receive award recognition – appreciation of the valuable contribution they provide that would be visible throughout the entire industry.

“It’s not an exaggeration to say that the ensemble is frequently the hardest-working group on the stage,” said Kate Shindle, President of Actors’ Equity. “Today, the Equity members who work in the chorus or ensemble are often expected to do it all: act, sing, dance, even play one or more instruments.”

This push was kicked off when Equity sent an official letter of request to the American Theatre Wing and the Broadway League, the two bodies that produce the Tony Awards. At launch, this campaign included a new website, EveryoneOnStage.com, which includes a look at famous choruses and ensembles of the past, a hypothetical look at what certain productions would have looked like without the contributions of its full chorus and, most importantly, a petition for supporters to sign, committing to their championship of this cause.

“These new Tony Awards Categories can be a win for everyone, from the performers to the producers,” said R. Kim Jordan, 2nd Vice President and Chair of Equity’s Advisory Committee on Chorus Affairs (ACCA). “It's not too soon to start thinking about the next Tony season and how we can ensure that the chorus and ensemble members who are such an important part of bringing a Broadway production to life can be recognized for their invaluable contributions.”

Other bodies have, in fact, honored these talents. The campaign points to a precedent of similarly-minded awards created at other voting bodies in both regional theatre (e.g. Chicago’s Joseph Jefferson Awards, Washington, D.C.’s Helen Hayes Awards) and at SAG-AFTRA, which created ensemble acting awards for film and television at their annual televised awards ceremonies more than two decades ago.

It was while watching a telecast of the SAG Awards that Jordan brainstormed the two new categories. She feels that this recognition is unquestionably deserved for all performers, and that their inclusion also paints a more accurate picture of the team spirit it takes to ensure success onstage.

“While I was watching, I noticed that the award that got the most enthusiasm was the ensemble award,” Jordan said, “and I get it. This is the equivalent of when a sports team wins their conference. On the team that wins, each contributor gets recognized. It’s a ‘you make me better’ thing.”

ACCA was among the first groups to decide that Broadway choruses deserved award recognition; they began handing out their Outstanding Broadway Chorus Award in 2007. This honor is currently the only industry award specifically designed to recognize the contributions of the original chorus of a Broadway musical.

Reaction to this campaign was quick and overwhelmingly positive. “Having proudly spent a large part of my career as a member of the chorus, I support Equity’s effort wholeheartedly,” said Eastern Chorus Councillor Kirsten Wyatt. “We are triple (sometimes quadruple and quintuple) threats, and I think it is recognition that is long overdue.”

“For generations, members of the Chorus have been the unsung heroes of Broadway’s musical legacy,” said Joanne Borts, Eastern Principal Councillor. “Can you imagine West Side Story, Oklahoma! or Fiddler on the Roof without the singers and dancers of the chorus? Or modern-day musicals like Kinky Boots and Hamilton without the women and men who help to tell these vibrant stories? It’s impossible – these performers are truly the backbone of the American musical: the people who make theatrical magic happen.”

Jenn Colella, a member in the Eastern Region, echoes that sentiment completely. Colella is currently in the breakout feel-good musical Come From Away on Broadway, and was the one member of the cast to receive a Tony nomination, as Best Featured Actress. Still, “It would have been so incredible to have shared that nomination with my family at Come From Away last season!” she said. “I am wholeheartedly in support of the Tony Awards honoring the chorus and the full ensemble of Broadway shows. I truly hope that this comes to fruition.”

Eastern Principal Councillor Stephen Bogardus certainly knows a thing or two about awards selection. He has been a Tony Award voter as well as a nominator, and understands that certain principal roles lend themselves to nominations. “There are certain arcs, certain things people are asked to do, that you say, ‘That’s a Tony kind of role,’” he said.

He even played one of those roles himself, garnering a 1995 Best Featured Actor in a Play nomination for the Terrence McNally hit Love! Valour! Compassion! He was one of three actors nominated for a play that consisted of seven actors, all of whom played substantial, demanding roles that interfaced with one another.

“I think everyone in that show would have been very honored to be recognized as an ensemble,” he said. “When you’re in a show you’re not there to get a Tony nomination; that’s the icing on the cake if you get that recognition. Look at all the August Wilson plays – the fabric of a play is that it’s an ensemble piece. Everyone makes the piece what it is.”

Eastern Chorus Councillor Jonathan Brody also believes that these categories will echo the sentiment of many in the community. “I've so often heard people say, ‘What a strong ensemble a show has’ or ‘The chorus works harder than the leads!’” he said. “There are well-known and respected performers working on Broadway who have made careers going from one chorus to another, never getting mentioned in reviews or getting the recognition of their more featured peers. They contribute so much to a show's success and often its development, it’s high time they are recognized for this.”

Among the other instant proponents of the Everyone On Stage campaign is Andy Karl, who began his career as a chorus member (he even lists his ACCA Award in his bio!) before transitioning into the role of Tony-nominated principal actor (Groundhog Day, On the Twentieth Century, Rocky).

“I’m very much in support of chorus and ensemble recognition,” he said. “I’ve had good fortune in the theatre over the years, and it has always been obvious that a great ensemble deserves special credit, never more so then when I was a principal in a show.

“The ensemble gives an incredible amount of effort to tell the story, and in Groundhog Day especially the ensemble had to produce as much storytelling as I had in the ‘lead’ role. Personally, every role I’ve ever had, either ensemble or principal, I’ve been asked to create, practice, nuance and energize my performance to make the production its best. Ensembles absolutely deserve recognition for their incredible efforts.”

According to Lindiwe Dlamini, an original chorus member of Sarafina! and the last original chorus member still performing in The Lion King on Broadway, this kind of appreciation is a long time in coming: “I’ve always felt that chorus people are not often recognized, but they do a lot of the work. They’re just as important to the show. We say in The Lion King, ‘the chorus members are the true principals of the show – we are in it from the beginning to the end;’ more than the actual principals, some of whom are only onstage for fifteen minutes! We also understudy the principal roles.”

Chorus and ensemble members clearly do a significant amount more than just fill the background of a scene. The manner in which chorus and ensemble members weave together the fabric of a narrative requires much technical aplomb. “They are the hardest-working people on Broadway,” Bogardus said. “They’re there in the background, and when they have finished a dance, they do all the work in transitioning to the next scene, and they do it with panache, with élan, enhancing the whole scene.”

These categories could also serve to demystify the notion that chorus parts are only a stepping-stone to principal roles and eventual fame. As both Brody and Dlamini referenced, it would be incorrect to assume that chorus or ensemble roles are a temporary career step on the way to principal roles or greater fame. Many performers are proud to carve out a lifelong career in such roles, which provide stability, the opportunity to employ the skills they have honed over a lifetime and the ability to surround themselves with similarly-minded professionals.

“Some of the most important and wonderful performances I have seen onstage have come from chorus members, including those who constantly understudy stars who play leading roles,” Equity Business Representative Corey Jenkins said. “They are extraordinary performers who make their lives and careers out of chorus work. They are the stabilizers onstage across the entire company.”

“Without the ensemble,” Dlamini said, “I don’t think The Lion King would be what it is. There are many people who have been with the company for a long time. They have made being in the chorus their career. I am actually surprised a decision to recognize the chorus hasn’t been made before.”

Jennifer Cody, Eastern Chorus Councillor, has appeared in the ensemble of such Broadway shows as Urinetown, The Pajama Game, Taboo and Shrek the Musical. Like Dlamini, she knows firsthand what it feels like for a hit show to be celebrated and for nonprincipal performers to feel overlooked.

“You create this new show and are such a part of developing it as an ensemble member, and all this hoopla happens,” she said, “but only the principals of the show are celebrated – they’re given gifts, they’re taken to dinner and we go, ‘We did this too!’”

Cody also points out that due to the changing economics of Broadway, choruses and ensembles have gotten smaller – making each member on a production that much more valuable. “We are now elite,” she said. “Where there were once twenty people on a show, now maybe there are eight. And we have to sing and dance and play multiple roles within a show and understudy roles too. The ensemble members take on so much more of a load than they ever have before.”

It frequently falls on the members of a chorus or ensemble to physically guide the audience’s view. They serve as a spotlight, the stage equivalent of a zoom lens, focusing attention in the direction of a certain principal or set piece and away from something else. Their ability to literally help set the stage makes it all the more bittersweet that they go unrecognized at Tony time.

“Look at the history of choreographers,” said Bogardus. “These people told stories with their dancers and they told amazing stories with their ensemble. Choreographers are recognized for their work, but what about the actor-dancers who provide the extraordinary palette and bring the picture to life with their collective individuality? It’s long overdue that they have an award that recognizes their extraordinary contribution to making a successful show.”

Perhaps the greatest value in Tony Awards for chorus and ensemble might be their literal payoff, serving as a way for producers to market their shows.

Brody agrees: “Having this recognition from the Tony Awards would certainly add cache to a show and add to the nominations and awards counts that help advertise and sell a show,” he said. “It would also help burnish the careers of countless performers.”

Such a win, of course, is also great for the individual. “Producers often undervalue the Equity chorus member,” said Ben Liebert, Eastern Chorus Councillor. “Maybe this will wake them up. If the Tonys care about the chorus, then the audience will care about the chorus, and the producers have to care about the chorus. That changes the bargaining game and could put real money in our pockets.”

The message is loud and clear: the time is now to sing a different tune at the Tony Awards – for those who comprise the backbone of a show to get some face time.

*  *  *  *

JOIN THE CROWD

Other Equity members have also sung the praises of #EveryoneOnStage. This is what they have had to say!

ARIANE DOLAN [Midwest: Young Frankenstein, Sunset Boulevard, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Spamalot, Funny Girl, Oklahoma!, Brigadoon, The Producers, It’s A Bird, It’s A Plane, It’s Superman, Crazy For You, Cats, The Tempest, West Side Story]

“The chorus and ensemble are the most versatile, hardest working actors, and are responsible for making a show fly. Recognition for them by the Tony committee is long overdue.”

FRANCIS JUE [Broadway: Pacific Overtures, Thoroughly Modern Millie, M. Butterfly; Off-Broadway: The World of Extreme Happiness, Kung Fu, Love’s Labor’s Lost, Coraline, Yellow Face, The Winter’s Tale, Hamlet, Dream True: My Life with Vernon Dixon, Pericles, Timon of Athens, King Lear, A Language of Their Own, The Tragedy of Richard II, Pacific Overtures]

“It’s time to honor the chorus with a Tony Award, to acknowledge their impact on their shows and the art form.”

SAYCON SENGBLOH [Broadway: Eclipsed, Holler If Ya Hear Me, Motown The Musical, Fela!, Hair, The Color Purple, Wicked, Aida; OB: The Red Letter Plays: In the Blood, Eclipsed, Hurt Village, Hair]

“I absolutely believe in a Tony Award for the ensemble! I was thrilled to receive my first Tony award nomination for Eclipsed — being a part of such a strong Broadway ensemble was one of the highlights of my career.”

JENNIFER SMITH [Broadway: Anastasia, Tuck Everlasting, A Gentleman’s Guide to Love & Murder, Nice Work If You Can Get It, A Tale of Two Cities, The Drowsy Chaperone, The Producers, High Society, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Once Upon a Mattress, Victor / Victoria, She Loves Me, The Secret Garden, A Change in the Heir, La Cage aux Folles; OB: White Lies, One Two Three Four Five]

“It’s beyond time that choruses and ensembles be recognized for their amazing contributions. Let's do this!”

Please let us know your thoughts about this campaign at EveryoneOnStage@actorsequity.org!

[Doug Strassler writes about the entertainment industry.  During one year, Strassler saw almost 300 plays, 200 movies, and over 100 different TV shows.  He’s the editor at OffOffOnline.com and of the New York IT Awards newsletter, and was editor-at-large at Show Business magazine.  His writing can also be found in New York Press, Back Stage, Our Town Downtown, and West Side Spirit, and on Broadway Direct, TheaterMania, TailSlate, and The Critical Condition.  In 2010, Strassler served on the special nominating committee for the Drama Desk.]