Back in the day, that would be the mid1980’s, I had my time on Broadway in New York City. OK, I never appeared on stage. I’m referring more specifically to three addresses, where I lived and worked just off Broadway, the glittering avenue which runs the length of Manhattan. The first, 99^th St. between Broadway and Amsterdam, on the Upper West Side, where I shared an apartment with a very nice man, restauranteur, and aspiring actor, Tirlok Malik. The second, my work address, 425 Broadway, at an educational software company in Greenwich Village; and third, my abode on W. 49^th St, just on the fringe of actual, theatrical Broadway. 

While not actually on stage, I spent many hours in the dark watching the dramas and musicals of the day as audience member, or usher, or ticket seller for some off-Broadway productions.  I was a theater junky; my little paycheck was hardly enough to cover the price of a ticket to a show. But there was always the half-price ticket booth on the day of performance; and I was fortunate to have a friend and roommate, Mark Ramont, who wrote reviews for a theater program company, and got comp tickets for two, which frequently included me. Lucky girl; lucky, lucky girl.

The apartment Mark and I shared on W. 49^th, technically Hell’s Kitchen, was a recently renovated four story walk-up, in a pretty marginal neighborhood. It was the very beginning of gentrification, and still not very civilized: people sleeping in the hallways of the building, occasional gunfire, and the very excited fights from the gay bar down the street. Yet, it was, for a time, heaven. Only a block, really, from some of the Broadway theaters; I could, and once did, go home to use my own bathroom during intermission. W. 49^th is home to St. Malachi’s, the church where more than one struggling artist has gone to pray for strength and a lucky break.  During my time, Big River, a musical based on Mark Twain’s Huck Finn, was running, and I often passed the lead actors in street clothes on their way to work through the stage door as I was coming hope from my job.  Celebrities, I saw a few; but oblivious as I am, I probably waited behind many in line at the deli, never recognizing them at all.

The record of this time in my life is a collection of play-bills from all the shows I ever went to, either working or watching.  Maybe not a hundred, but close to it. From the block-busters of the ‘80’s, Les Miserables, or Miss Saigon, to the intimate, obscure dramas that played once and disappeared, except from memory. 

Here, let me share some of the highlights and surprises from my collection, at random:

-         Loot at The Music Box in April 1986 with Zoe Wanamaker, and a young, slim, dark-haired, handsome Alec Baldwin

-         Precious Sons at the Longacre, March 1986, with Ed Harris (with hair), Judith Ivey, and Anthony Rapp as their young son, whom I happened to know from Dorset Theater Festival, and who went on to star in Rent

-         Cuba and His Teddy Bear, Longacre, Sept. 1986, with Robert DeNiro, Ralph Macchio, and Burt Young, all live on stage

-         Fences, 46^th Street Theatre, April 1987, James Earl Jones, Mary Alice, Courtney

-         Widow Claire, Circle in the Square Downtown, Feb. 1987, with Matthew Broderick, Hallie Foote, and a 9 year old Sarah Michelle Gellar, who went on to play Kendra in All My Children, and Buffy, the Vampire Slayer

-         Benefactors at the Brooks Atkinson, with Sam Waterston, Glenn Close, and Mary Beth Hurt

-         Burn This (a fundraiser) in Feb 1987 at Theater 890 with Joan Allen and John Malkovich.  This is where I met Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, and accidentally put my elbow in John Malkovich’s stomach (I was an usher waiting to open a door)

-         Also, Les Liasions Dangeureuses, which program I can’t put my hands on at the moment; starring the deep-voiced Alan Rickman, of Harry Potter fame.

And more, many more, of these “I saw them when…..”

In truth, I’m not certain why some actors made it big, while others, just as talented it seemed to me, did not. I do believe actors work hard for a living, and that insecurity is always around the corner. When I look through the pages of these playbills, some yellow-labeled, some blue, and see the ads and stories of the mid-80’s, it takes me back to that time, not always easy, but the thrill and assurance that there was still a place for good drama, which provoked, not simply entertained. The sets were not elaborate, the special effects almost nil, it was just the human body, and face, and voice, subject to illness and accidents.  I understand how times have changed, but I still feel the need for, and appreciation of the gathering of people in a space to recreate our human experiences.