Saying Goodbye

When you've been working somewhere for nearly 25 years, inevitably you're going to lose people whom you hold dear.  Over the course of the pandemic, two such people, two bright lights of humanity, have left us.  I was privileged to be in the rooms when their amazing lives were celebrated.

Most recently, dear sweet Micki Grant left us.  Hers was a career that was truly groundbreaking - I'm embarrassed to admit that when I first started at my job, I didn't really know the breadth of her accomplishments, I just knew her contributions to one of my favorite musicals, Working (the link is my post on the most recent Off-Broadway revival of the show).  But even though she was a trailblazer, she was also down-to-earth, kind, supportive, and loving.  And a real mentor to anyone who needed her.  I once produced an evening that was a conversation between Micki and another glorious writer and Micki was terrified that she wouldn't have anything interesting to say; she begged me to sit in the front row and throw her suggestions when she ran out of ideas.  I don't think I need to tell you that I was completely unnecessary and the two of them had a thrilling conversation about what it means to be a woman, specifically a woman of color, in the theater.  It was my privilege to be there.  It was my privilege to know her.

I was also fortunate enough to have a seat at her recent memorial/celebration service.  It was done safely, COVID-wise, by having a minimal number of people in each row of the stunning Riverside Church, so I felt comfortable sitting (at a social distance) with a couple of friends who also adored Micki and hearing remembrances from many who knew and loved her.  There were songs, dances, hymns, and readings.  All of them were performed with the generosity of sprit that Micki exemplified.  Plus, hearing from her family members was a true gift.  I knew Micki as a writer, mentor, friend, and colleague, but to hear about her as a cousin and aunt and childhood friend was a blessing.  I can only hope my life touches as many people as Micki's did.  Of course, I haven't written musicals that will be done now and until the end of time.  I guess I should get on that.  Let's put out into the ether that Micki's work needs to be revived SOON and OFTEN.  In a Broadway season that is finally finally giving Alice Childress and Adrienne Kennedy their Broadway debuts, having Micki's Don't Bother Me, I Can't Cope back on Broadway would make the perfect trifecta.

At the beginning of the pandemic last year, only a couple of weeks after Broadway shut down, the horrible tragic news came that we had lost one of American theater's great writers, Terrence McNally.  Not only was he a gifted and remarkable dramatist, but he was also a kind and caring man.  I treasure the last email I received from him, about six months before he died.  It was such a beautiful note about how much MY work meant to HIM.  I'm crying just typing about it.  Of course, it was his work that meant so much to me.  I went back to look at old posts and found a review of The Visit and Mothers and Sons.  I don't know why I couldn't find others; I wish I could find what I wrote about the transcendent experience I had seeing Richard Thomas in The Stendhal Syndrome.  That is on the short list of favorite/most exciting performances I've ever seen.  Oh well.  OH, and everyone needs to see the beautiful documentary about his life, Every Act of Life!  It's incredible!  Even Terrence's writing about other writers was beautiful - he wrote a lovely forward in the Playbill for the recent revival of Lanford Wilson's Burn This.  Gorgeousness.

Terrence's memorial was open to the public; I think only the speakers were given reserved status, everyone else had to wait in line.  I felt pretty lucky I got there early when I saw a big time Broadway producer and a big time Broadway actress walk past me to get in line behind me.  The line was long and they were checking people's vaccination card and IDs before letting them in.  There was a big reserved section for the speakers and their guests, but my co-worker and I got a good seat on extreme house left of the Schoenfeld Theatre.  We were maybe ten rows back and had fine views of everyone, even though we were off to the side.  The memorial was jam-packed with amazing talent who were all genuinely heartbroken at the loss of Terrence.  I was surprised at how choked up Nathan Lane was throughout his tribute.  But, really, everyone was fighting tears the entire time.  Especially me.  All of the words were so lovely and so true; I could identify with all of them.  Seeing Terrence's brother walk out for a tribute was surreal, he looks so much like Terrence and their laugh is exactly the same.  We all laughed heartily at the image his brother painted of the childhood bedroom they shared - apparently, the photos on Terrence's part of the wall were Maria Callas, James Dean, and Shakespeare.  Perfect.

photo credit: Douglas Gorenstein

Hearing small sections of his plays only made me want to see all of them again (or for the first time - I've never seen Corpus Christi!) - someone somewhere must want to produce a festival of his work.  His work would be a balm right now, his characters are all so humane and his dialogue is so witty, funny, and true.  Let's put THAT idea into the universe, too!   We need his work, that way he will continue to live for us all.  And we will miss him, but remember him, and rejoice in his gifts.  He also touched, and changed, so many lives.  I found this beautiful photo of Terrence and Micki from one of the work events I produced.  I think you can see the goodness they radiated - we'll not see their equals anytime soon, we can just all try to be worthy.