In days long before Watchfire Music was ever even a dream, I was a composer for the Broadway Theater.  While in my early 30s I had had some success as the guy people turned to when they wanted to add a score to their play, much like one might for a movie.

I had already been nominated for the Tony Award for my work in Joseph Papp’s production of Much Ado About Nothing and also had done the similar style scoring for productions like Lincoln Center’s Trelawney Of The Wells and James Lipton’s production of The Mighty Gents with Morgan Freeman on Broadway.

I was offered the opportunity to work with the legendary Neil Simon on his play about Anton Chekov called The Good Doctor. As a young man, I was very excited to work on this wonderful show with the cream of the crop on Broadway.

I also had the opportunity to collaborate with Mr. Simon who wrote his first lyrics for 4 or 5 songs that I composed for the show as well as over an hour’s worth of underscoring and a pre-show “band concert”.

The cast was led by five seasoned Broadway stars – René Auberjonois, Barnard Hughes, Marsha Mason, Frances Sternhagen, who won the Tony Award for her work in the play, and Christopher Plummer who played Anton Chekov.

Tony Walton,  set designer, and Tharon Musser, lighting designer, were two of Broadway’s legendary stars of the theater as creative artists.  Both were people who I was simply in awe of, both consummate professionals.  Neil Simon, Broadway’s most successful playwright, would work with the best.

I loved this show and the entire experience, but like any other show, it had its difficult moments.  When I think back on the experience, one night and a great life lesson jumps out at me.

We were out of town in New Haven at the Shubert Theater.  We were in rehearsal, and working on the set in the theater between previews.  We were having trouble with one of the songs that Neil and I had written for Christopher Plummer.

The year before, Christopher had won the Tony on Broadway singing the lead in the musical, Cyrano. He was also an accomplished pianist.  So when he auditioned, he was not required to sing – only to act in his audition.

Because the show was a play and not officially a musical we would be going, not into a Broadway musical house, but rather a playhouse.  This meant that there would be no orchestra pit down front.  So in keeping with the traditions, we put the small orchestra backstage and cordoned them off from the noises of the backstage activity where they played the scoring of the show on mic and on camera.

Instead of a live conductor standing in front of the stage conducting, there was a television monitor approximately where the conductor would stand with the conductor of the orchestra conducting on TV shot from his back stage position.  This, though it’s used all the time now, was a new technique at that time and very confusing to Christopher.  He really missed a live person conducting out front.

Also, to say this as nicely as possible, Chris was, shall we say, somewhat rhythmically challenged.  This is a superbly talented man; make no bones about it.  He was wonderful in the show and a major force in the theater.  He was also a strong personality with a most confident sense of self.

I was frustrated because he, in performance, kept getting off from the orchestra.  He was used to the orchestra following him instead of the necessary opposite.  Because of the set-up, he had to sing with the band, not vice versa.  For several nights now, we had had train wrecks during the number where the two, band and performer, ended up doing the song off from each other.

In short, Neil and I had written a beautiful song for Chris that we knew would work – that worked beautifully when Chris rehearsed it backstage standing in front of the orchestra – but in performance separated from his conductor, the song would fall apart.

The scuttlebutt was that the song might be cut.  This raised the tension level of the rehearsal because the rehearsal had been called specifically to figure out the problems and we were not coming up with the solutions and the more we rehearsed, the worse it got.  I could see the cut coming.

I knew at the time that the song could be easily done and, in fact, got out on the stage in rehearsal and sang it myself just to show Chris that our idea could work.  Rather than showing him that it was possible, I’m afraid that it just showed him up.  The tensions grew worse and as he tried again and failed to stay with the band, we both snapped.

We both got into a bit of a screaming argument there in the middle of rehearsal on the stage of the Shubert Theater.  It was late, we were tired, I could see this number about to be cut, frustrations were high and there was no solution in sight.  We both blew.  There I was, this young “kid”, having a screaming match with the star.  Not pretty.  Not cool.

At one point during the argument I turned downstage and looked out into the empty audience and there were my heroes, Neil Simon, Tony Walton and Tharon Musser sitting together in the front row watching rehearsal, watching Chris and I carrying on.  They were calm professionals simply watching the children act up.

I instantly got it.

I was waaaaay out of line.  This argument was not helping the situation one iota.  I was being totally unprofessional.

Let me say that the theater experience is full of emotions.  That’s what it’s all about.  Actors are highly volatile people – almost of necessity.  Tensions can run high in multi-million dollar productions and creative artists can and do blow up and go off.  I had seen it happen often and was just following suite.

But I was wrong.  And as I stood there looking at these three Broadway legends calmly and curiously looking up at me from their seats, I just suddenly got it.  I stopped shouting mid-sentence, became calm and professional, turned to Chris, apologized to both him and the rest of the cast and then turned back to Neil and said, “I think we should cut the number.  It’s just asking too much of Chris.”  We cut it then and there and all went home.

I never lost my cool in the theater again in my career.  I got it so completely in that moment that I was never even tempted to blow again.  I became a professional in that moment – taught by the best of the pros.  It was a lesson I never forgot.

That kind of behavior has no place in the professional theater – no matter what happens, no matter what the problem.

I was crushed that the number had to be cut.  As it turned out, two other numbers that Chris sang ended up being cut for the same reason.  That was very hard for me to go through.  They were beautiful songs that perfectly fit the moments, but in the end result, we couldn’t get them to work.

As it was I was nominated for the Tony Award for my music and The Good Doctor has gone on to have thousands of performances world-wide.  The royalties from that show alone have made life easier.

But what I really got out of the experience was the lesson of that night.  Never lose your cool in the heat.  Maintain your professionalism at all costs, because the cost of losing it is far too great.