A SOLO-ISH BROADWAY VISIT

I see a lot of theatre by myself.

From the moment I moved to New York City 20 years ago at the age of 18, I realized that on any given night I could walk down to Times Square and see a Broadway show. And most often I did that alone. There was no better feeling than sliding into that velvet seat, poring through my Playbill, and waiting for the lights to go down. I might have entered that theater by myself, but within minutes of a show starting, I felt connected to all those around me, ready to be transported as a group of individuals to another world onstage. 

Inevitably, most likely spurred on by the fact that I was alone, another theatre-goer nearby would usually strike up a conversation with me at intermission, wondering why I had attended the show alone. If you know anything about me, you know that I love theatrical conversation, so I was more than happy to engage! 

Fast forward to last Sunday. I had two tickets to see the 7 pm preview performance of Peter Pan Goes Wrong. At the last minute, I learned that my girlfriend wouldn't be able to attend, so I found myself with an extra ticket. After texting my staff to see if anyone could race to Times Square to take my ticket and being met with a lot of "I can't make it in time" responses, I headed to the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, extra ticket in hand. As I walked up to the security line, I noticed an older gentleman off to the side with a handwritten sign that said: "looking for 1 extra ticket". If I was looking for "a sign" for whom to give my extra ticket to...here, literally, was a sign. 

When I mentioned to him that I did, indeed, have an extra ticket, he grinned from ear to ear. 

"I'm Tim."

"I'm Tony."

Once past the security team, we got our tickets scanned by the Barrymore Theatre Team under the watchful eye of the Sam S. Shubert portrait that hangs in the lobby. And then in we went, ready for some British farce. 

My favorite question to ask tour-goers is: "What was the first Broadway show you ever saw?" I find that it instantly transports people back to the moment that they fell in love with Broadway. Tony's response? "1946. Majestic Theatre. Carousel. John Raitt. The moment my 13-year-old self saw the pieces of the carousel come into view on that stage, something changed within me. I haven't been the same since. I'm 90 years old, and I still get excited every time I sit in a theater." 

Come to find out, Tony has seen a LOT of theatre. 77 years worth of Broadway shows, in fact. And while he admitted that he didn't remember every show he's seen, he could always remember where he'd seen each show. His first trip to the Ethel Barrymore Theatre was to see Marlon Brando in the original Streetcar Named Desire when HE WAS 14. His favorite show? Billy Elliott. We chatted about the 1982 demolition of theaters and his time spent seeing shows at the Morosco and the original Helen Hayes Theatre before they were bulldozed. As we were talking, he noticed that I knew the names of all of the theaters. And not just the current names but the previous marquee titles as well. "The Jacobs, but when it was called the Royale." "The Schoenfeld, but when it was the Plymouth." I mentioned that I had a company with a mission to dig up Broadway's past and connect it to the present, and he smiled. 

At the end of the performance, as the lights came up, Tony turned to me. "You're the youngest person I've ever met who actually cares about these theaters. I see a lot of myself in you, so I'm glad this ticket brought us together for these few hours at the Barrymore." 

And with that, we parted ways. 

I'll admit to you that by March 2020, I now realize that in certain instances, I was taking the opportunity to see a show for granted. I had transitioned from seeing shows so I could bask in the glow of someone's art to seeing shows so I could make sure that I was up-to-date on the current Broadway season and to have educated conversations with you tour-goers. Seeing Broadway shows had become my job. (A tough job, but someone's gotta do it!)

There's nothing like a global pandemic that bars you from entering a theatrical space for over a year to make you appreciate that time in a darkened room with strangers. Every time I step foot in a theater it's a chance to connect with the art and magic that's been conjured by the cast, crew, creatives, and musicians. But it's also a chance to connect with fellow theatre-lovers in the velvet seats. The Tonys of the world. Here's to hoping that I get to rub elbows with all of you in a Broadway theater sometime soon!