I’ve had the great pleasure of working with some pretty amazing performers in my life – both stage and concert hall.  My chosen spot has always been to watch (or work) from the back of the house – usually just about as far from the stage as one can get.  After a short, but most successful career as an actor, the lead in Hair on Broadway, the lead in my own Salvation Off-Broadway and a leading role in TV’s soap, As The World Turns, I decided that acting was not my thing and retired to the more comfortable confines of director/composer.

There, I had the opportunity to watch both my own work and the work of some pretty fabulous performers over the years.  There, from the back of the house.  The greatest of stars figuratively pull those in the back of the house on to the stage – their magnetism or charisma is so great that you feel that you’ve got the best seat in the house no matter where you stand.

But occasionally, when someone gave a performance that was so electrifying as to just bowl me over, I have snuck around backstage, where as a composer or director I was always permitted, and watched, up close and personal, from the wings.

Very early in my career, just out of college, I spent two summers working as a chorus boy of the St. Louis Municipal Opera, probably the largest summer stock theater in the country.  For one one-week run they brought in Nureyev and Fontaine, at the time, the two most popular ballet dancers in the world.  I, with two years of ballet under my belt and at least knowing first position from second position, was asked to be an extra in their famous productions of Swan Lake and Romeo and Juliet.

One of my claims to fame was that I was actually pinched on the butt by none other than Rudolph Nureyev on stage.  Seems I got too wrapped up in my role as dice player far up-stage and did not see Mr. Nureyev behind me trying to make an entrance.  Rather than push me out of the way, he simply reached down and gave the surprised young extra a sweet pinch.

But already I stray from my point…

At the end of each performance I would rush around after the company bows and stand enchanted in an isolated spot in the wings and watch Nureyev and Fontaine take their bows.  It was there that I learned the purpose of bows and got a terrific lesson from the masters on just how to perform ‘the bow’.

First of all their grace was magnificent.  On top of that, their bows were choreographed – two great ballet dancers still dancing long after the performance was over.  But what I most remember was their love for the audience.  Not only did they absolutely adore the applause, but they let it lift them to new character.  They simply knew how to take the applause with humility and great appreciation and love.  And the more they loved the applause, the more the audience applauded.  And the more the audience applauded, the more Nureyev and Fontaine loved it and loved back.

They created a circle of love with the audience and nurtured it and let it grow and grow until all were exhausted and completely fulfilled.

They were the masters of the bows and I got to watch them sweat and preen and joy and love from about 10 feet away.  It was better than Swan Lake.

Early in my career as a composer on Broadway I scored and wrote songs for Richard Wesley’s play with music, The Mighty Gents.  In this production there was a young, unheard of actor playing the role of a totally down-and-out street junkie.  His name was Morgan Freeman and he was so riveting in this role, that in his big scene each night, I would rush from my place at the sound booth in the back of the house to another isolated wing off-stage and watch him do his ten-minute monologue.  I completely fell in love with this young actor then and have loved his work ever since.

In the performance he so climbed inside the character of this wasted man that each night I relived the power of his performance over and over.  I laughed, I cried, I stared in amazement as he went through just about every human emotion possible.  It was my first up-close experience with a great actor and I couldn’t get enough of it.

For this role, this young previously unheard of actor got his first national recognition as he was nominated for the Tony Award as Best Supporting Actor that year.

I also had the same type of experience this time with a whole company of actors who worked together as a great ensemble in Joseph Papp’s Trelawny of the ‘Wells’ at Lincoln Center with Meryl Streep, John Lithgow, Mandy Patinkin, Michael Tucker and Mary Beth Hurt and directed by A.J. Antoon.   I had the privilege of writing the music for this production and, once again, found myself, in certain scenes, standing in the wings, spellbound, as these young actors tore up the stage with their natural sense of comic timing and stage know-how.

I wrote a song for the production called Ever Of Thee I’m Fondly Dreaming which would be sung each night by all the above mentioned people (all extremely musical actors) as Meryl both sang and played the piano on stage.  I would stand in the wings and sing along adding my voice to the moment though not my stage presence.  It was always a sweet moment and often John Lithgow would give me a wink from the stage to the wings as the audience burst into applause at the end of the number.

These moments of learning the artistry of performance up close and personal shall always be indelibly printed in my memory.  They are the perks of my experience far beyond the money made or the awards given.  They are the reminders of why I keep trying – trying to get a grasp on greatness – trying to see deeply into the moments of perfection and understand better how they came to be.

If you’re enjoying these memories as much as I am, stick around for Part 2…  coming in my next post.