The final scene of March of the Falsettos & Falsettoland at Hartford Stage, 1991 (Photo by T. Charles Erickson)

When I speak about it with people who saw it, the phrase that comes up most often is, “It was life-changing.”

When I speak about it with people who have read about it, but didn’t see it, the question that inevitably arises is, “What was the ‘coup de theatre’?”

When I speak about it with people who knew nothing of it, they profess surprise that it existed.

I’m speaking of the Hartford Stage production of March of the Falsettos & Falsettoland, the first time the two shows were produced as a single evening. Directed and choreographed by the marvelous Graciela Daniele, the shows were playing exactly 25 years ago as I write this, in a 41 performance run in Hartford Stage’s 489 seat theatre in October and early November of 1991. At most, 20,049 people saw the production; it was at least a few hundred less because, to the best of my recollection, the previews weren’t sold out.

I was the theatre’s public relations director at the time, and it was one of the more ecstatic times in my career. From the moment that artistic director Mark Lamos informed us we would be doing the show, I was thrilled. Though I did not see the original March of the Falsettos in 1981, I played the vinyl cast recording (owned by one of my college roommates, in those pre-digital days) incessantly in my junior year (1982-83), almost as a nightly ritual. When Falsettoland debuted at Playwrights Horizons in 1990, I made sure not to miss it.

I have to credit Bill Finn and James Lapine’s musicals with helping to form my perception of gay life. I was a straight, cisgender kid from a Connecticut suburb in an era and area when one didn’t encounter adults who were out, let alone high school students. I don’t remember any particular fear of or enmity toward gay students on my part, and I hope my memory is correct, but I also don’t ever remember the topic coming up until I got to college.

The humor and sincerity of March, from the opening of “Four Jews in a Room Bitching” to the simple closing of “Father to Son” left me wanting to march along with Marvin and Whizzer and Jason (and Mendel and Trina and Cordelia and Dr. Charlotte) because love, as far as I was concerned, was love. I sang that message over and over in my off-campus room, embedding it in my everyday life as I came to know and love gay men and lesbians as my world expanded through theatre. I should probably give a small shout out as well to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which broke down barriers about sexuality and gender fluidity for straight suburban kids as much as anything we encountered in the late 70s.

It may be difficult to understand today, but producing a musical about a man who leaves his wife for another man, yet attempts to retain family ties, was still an edgy step outside of a major city in 1991. The politics of “outing,” naming someone as gay in the media even when they had not declared themselves to be so, was hotly debated. Gay-Straight Alliances hadn’t really reached northern Connecticut, only 120 miles from New York City, though AIDS certainly had: my first landlord in Hartford died from it in the late 80s.

In marketing the show, the direction I was given was not to confront the subject matter directly, but only to entice people enough to want to see it, and allow the story to reach them once they were in the door. It didn’t hurt that at the time, subscription tickets filled some 75% of the total seating capacity for the run. A lot of people were coming no matter what I did.

Because we had begun using marketing tag lines, aping film advertising, I cobbled together something to the effect of, “It’s about parents, children, love, sex, baseball and bar mitzvahs.” Our graphic imagery in ads was utterly abstract, saying nothing overt at all. Because this was in many ways an experiment, the show’s title remained the unwieldy March of the Falsettos & Falsettoland; the condensing came later.

I knew something special was going on when I would visit the rehearsal hall, whether to track down an actor for a program bio or to accompany a journalist who was doing an interview during a lunch break or at the end of the day. What struck me most was that whoever was in the room during a rehearsal was, as far as Graciela Daniele was concerned, part of the rehearsal. I remember her calling out questions to me as I sat on the sidelines; curious about bar mitzvahs, she became the only person to ever listen to the audio recording of my own bar mitzvah (including me). There were no barriers in Grazie’s space – only inclusion.

Once the show was in the theatre, audiences responded very favorably, with cheering and weeping. If there were letters of complaint over the subject matter, I either never knew of them or have long forgotten them. One staff member, while out to his friends and co-workers, was so moved after seeing a preview that he promptly came out to his family, as he proudly told us all. On matinee days, many of us would slip into the theatre at certain times for particularly memorable moments: we were often there together as Barbara Walsh, as Trina, nailed “I’m Breaking Down” in March; we were there for the final moments of Falsettoland, perpetually moved as Adam Heller, as Mendel, sang, “Lovers come and lovers go/lovers live and die fortissimo/this is where we take a stand.” We endlessly laughed over the anecdote told by Evan Pappas and Roger Bart, as Marvin and Whizzer, of a student matinee when the lights came up on the pair in bed and one student announced rather loudly, “Ooh, they’re gonna get some.”

The whole experience became heightened when Frank Rich, then the chief theatre critic of The New York Times, rendered his verdict.

“It was a secret, until now, that the two ‘Falsetto’ shows, fused together on a single bill, form a whole that is not only larger than the sum of its parts but is also more powerful than any other American musical of its day.

For this discovery, audiences owe a huge thanks to the Hartford Stage. Under the artistic direction of Mark Lamos, it has the guts to produce these thorny musicals together at a time when few nonprofit theaters are willing to risk aggravating dwindling recession audiences by offering works that put homosexual passions (among many other passions in the ‘Falsetto’ musicals’ case) at center stage.”

With unstinting praise, he went on to note:

“She [Daniele] has brought off an inspired, beautifully cast double bill that is true to its gay and Jewish characters — and to the spirit of the original James Lapine productions — even as it presents the evening’s densely interwoven familial and romantic relationships through perspectives that perhaps only a woman and a choreographer could provide.”

Of course, the box office exploded, selling out the remainder of the run within a day. House seats, which I instituted as a practice a Hartford Stage for the first time when I came to the theatre and were only rarely needed, were in high demand. And the talk began of Broadway.

That talk continued for several months, but without going into what were protracted and emotionally trying times, the Hartford production, as we all know, did not go to Broadway. It was Lapine’s original that returned to New York, with the core original cast members – except that Barbara Walsh, our Trina, joined that production. As a result, the Hartford Falsettos became the stuff of legend, and regional theatre legends tend to fade with time. But over lunch with Evan Pappas a few weeks ago, our first in quite some time, he noted that 25 years on, he still meets people who saw the show in Hartford, and tell him stories about how it changed their lives.

I suspect productions of March, of Falsettoland, of Falsettos, have been changing lives for a very long time, whether directed by James Lapine, Graciela Daniele, or any of the many other directors who have brought that story to the stage. I was privileged to have seen Grazie’s production as often as I wished; I’ve seen the previous Lapine productions several times and will see the new one in a couple of weeks.

I couldn’t be happier that it’s back on Broadway, though the show will always echo in my head with Grazie’s vision, with Evan, Barbara, Adam, Roger, Joanne Baum, Andrea Frierson and the twins who shared the role of Jason, Etan and Josh Ofrane. I only wish that Fun Home were still running, because how marvelous would it have been to have two stories on Broadway about family life, love, and pain, set in roughly the same era but written years apart, exploring the thrill of first love and the need for absolute acceptance of gay parents and children.

Oh, the “coup de theatre’? I haven’t forgotten. I saved it for the end, just as Grazie did, though I tipped my hand with the photo at the start of this essay.

The term, as applied to the Hartford production, comes from Frank Rich’s review. He wrote, “For her finale, Ms. Daniele exploits the spatial dimensions at her disposal with an overwhelming coup de theatre (not to be divulged here) that first reduces an audience to sobs and then raises it to its feet.”

After a quarter century, let me divulge.

March of the Falsettos & Falsettoland at Hartford Stage, 1991 (Photo by Jennifer W. Lester)

Grazie and set designer Ed Wittstein chose to completely open up the vast stage at Hartford to its walls, using no set pieces other than interchangeable cubes – and a bed. The lyrics were scrawled randomly on the entire floor (visible due to the theatre’s arena-like seating), and across the Broadway theatre-sized back wall. To be honest, in shades of black, grey and white, they largely disappeared, allowing audience members to concentrate wholly on the handful of people singing intimate stories, with no distraction.

But at the very end of the show, as Mendel intoned the final lines, a small square suddenly appeared through the drop that masked the rear wall. On it was simply the name: “Whizzer.” Then the drop was revealed to be a scrim as the entire back wall dissolved into a ghostly section of the AIDS quilt. A lever was tripped, rather loudly, and the front drop wafted slowly to the floor, fully and clearly revealing the quilt for just a moment before the lights went out, and the show ended.

While the quilt at Hartford Stage was not part of the real quilt, it replicated panels from that extraordinary expression of loss that once covered the National Mall in Washington. Because members of the company had been asked if they had family and friends who they had lost and wished to see included, audience members who worked in theatre quickly discovered they knew people on the Hartford quilt facsimile. While much of the audience was in tears, those who saw the names of those they loved and lost were often overcome.

Beautiful, sad, simple, funny and transcendent. That was the Hartford March of the Falsettos & Falsettoland. I have always understood and accepted that I am spending my life in a world that is forever fading into memory. But if I could ever go back in time to see just one more performance of any show I worked on, it would be March of the Falsettos & Falsettoland. At least it’s still playing in my head 25 years on, and once again, I’m in tears over its beauty as I write, and proud that I had a connection to it. I wish you’d seen it, and if you did, I suspect you know exactly how I feel.

There’s been a great deal of discussion in the past couple of months about the rights of playwrights, the legal protections of copyright and licensing agreements, the prerogative of directors to freshly interpret a writer’s work and so on. But none of this should suggest that writers are the only theatre artists whose work is to be respected and protected. This holds true, variously on legal and ethical grounds, for all creative artists in theatre.

The cast of Bell Book & Candle at TheatreWorks New Milford (Photo by Richard Pettibone)

This is brought to the fore currently by a production of John van Druten’s supernatural comedy Bell, Book and Candle at the company TheatreWorks in New Milford, Connecticut, running into January. Theatreworks is a non-Equity company that pays its actors a stipend for appearing in productions; whether they are a community theatre, semi-professional or professional non-Equity is subject that could be debated, but that’s not where my focus is fixed.

Instead, I’m looking at photos of Bell, Book and Candle, and though I haven’t seen the production at TheatreWorks, the photos seem strangely familiar. Why? Because the set appears to be a fairly slavish recreation of a production of Bell Book and Candle that was co-produced by Long Wharf Theatre and Hartford Stage three years ago. That production was directed by Darko Tresnjak and designed by Alexander Dodge. Incidentally, it is 30 miles from New Milford to Long Wharf, and 40 miles from New Milford to Hartford Stage.

Kate MacCluggage in Bell, Book and Candle at Long Wharf Theatre (photo by T. Charles Erickson)

The similarities are striking, and having discovered that I’m connected to many of the creative team and cast of the Long Wharf/Hartford Stage production on Facebook, I can say that they think so too. Indeed, while I don’t think it’s appropriate to publish people’s Facebook posts when I can’t be sure what’s private and what’s public, I will quote simply the first word of Tresnjak’s initial post on this subject: “Grrrrrr.”

There is no copyright protection for the work of directors (though the ethics of replication should be taken into account by all theatre artists), but designs can be copyrighted, and so the appropriation of Dodge’s work (created in collaboration with Tresnjak for his production) by TheatreWorks director and designer Joseph Russo without permission has crossed a line. While the costumes in the New Milford production are reminiscent of those designed by Fabio Toblini for the prior Connecticut production, they are not replicas. Anyone undertaking a Google search will also discover another set of similar photos from a Bell, Book and Candle at The Old Globe in San Diego in 2007, but that’s understandable: it was also directed by Tresnjak and designed by Dodge.

It is incumbent upon directors to produce a script according to the approved version by the playwright, yet it is also incumbent upon them to create their production anew, through their own conception, their cast and their design, to name but a few key elements. Now to be fair, there’s a blurry line when it comes to iconic shows, often musicals. Productions of A Chorus Line rarely stray far from the original, particularly Theoni V. Aldredge’s costumes, and as an avowed Sweeney Todd fan, every production I saw for years was in some way an homage to the Hal Prince directed original, and to Eugene Lee’s scenic design, until John Doyle broke the mold with his Watermill production that eventually came to Broadway.

But unless both Joe Russo and Alexander Dodge either have vivid personal memories of the original 1950 Broadway production of BB&C and/or they both lifted their ideas from photos of George Jenkins’s original Broadway designs (which likely were only photographed in black and white), it’s pretty safe to say that Russo took “his” design ideas from Dodge, without permission. That’s not an homage, that’s copying.

Given the online conversation over the past 11 hours, word of concern has reached Joseph Russo and Theatreworks. At 10:30 this morning, the following was posted to Theatreworks’ public Facebook page:

Dear friends of TheatreWorks: we’ve been receiving several comments on Facebook and in a recent review by OnStage Critics Circle, that our production design for “Bell, Book & Candle” was inspired by The Hartford Stage production of 2012. This is correct, and the oversight to credit director Darko Tresnjak and designer Alexander Dodge occurred in our rush to open the show last weekend. We are crediting both Mr. Dodge and Mr. Tresnjak in our program, on our website, and any other communications involving the production. We thank you for your kind attention to this, and we apologize for any misunderstanding. What’s more, we appreciate you raising this issue with us and for supporting TheatreWorks New Milford.

This statement misses the point entirely. It’s not that Tresnjak and Dodge should have been credited – their work should never have been taken in the first place. That Russo acknowledges the debt his production owes to the Long Wharf/Hartford Stage original confirms exactly how he came by his directorial and design concept, but his statement neither excuses or resolves the issue. I suspect unions have already been contacted by the artists involved in the source production.

Chronicling this incident is not meant to demonize TheatreWorks, who are at least in the process of owning up to what they’ve done. They still must go farther than their statement, which glosses over the issue and ignores the essential problem. How Tresnjak and Dodge choose to settle this issue remains to be seen, and they deserve satisfaction for any claims that may be forthcoming; that their original work was done at major theatres, and the copying was at a small one, should be irrelevant to the conversation. TheatreWorks has hopefully learned an important lesson, and through them, perhaps others will as well.

This does provide an excellent example about respect for every creative element in every production, and while examples don’t often come to light, there has been litigation over the appropriation of key elements from Urinetown (the original Broadway production) by another company, to name a prominent precedent, demonstrating that this practice is not confined to small, quasi-professional companies, but to professional productions as well.

To those who have expressed to me in recent weeks their concern that in directing productions they don’t want to be hamstrung by excessive faithfulness to published scripts, and therefore original productions, this is a perfect example of why doing so isn’t in anyone’s best interests. Respecting an author’s intent is not the same as creating a Xerox copy – or a 19^th generation copy – of the original or another notable production. It’s about how does every director and their team at every level – academic, amateur and professional – imagine a play anew without subverting the playwright’s wishes (unless permission is granted to do so), making their own discoveries along the way.

Update, December 9, 2:30 pm: The Facebook post from TheatreWorks referred to above was online as of 11:30 am as this post was being prepared, but was subsequently removed. However, the same post still appears, for the time being, in the comments section of a review of the production on the Facebook page of the online On Stage magazine.

Update, December 9, 8 pm: Earlier today, several hours after this piece was first posted, I spoke briefly with Darko Tresnjak, who I know casually. He spoke of being “freaked out” at discovering the remarkable similarities between his production of Bell, Book and Candle and the nearby production in New Milford. Tresnjak noted that it had come on the heels of discovering that a Swedish production of A Gentleman’s Guide To Love And Murder (Tresnjak won a Tony for directing the Broadway production) had copied Linda Cho’s costume designs, noting they replicated specifics which were in no way indicated in the text and must have been gleaned from photos and videos online. He also described to me particular choices he had made with his designers on BB&C, which were quite distinct from the show’s original Broadway production and in no way indicated in the printed script.

“I don’t want to be petty, but I’m upset,” said Tresnjak. He said he was speaking out because, “It’s just not right. If you let it happen, it will happen.”

Update, December 10, 9 am: TheatreWorks has canceled performances of Bell, Book and Candle until further notice. It was announced on their Facebook page at midnight.

Update, December 17, 4 pm: Bell, Book and Candle is now scheduled to resume performance tomorrow night at TheatreWorks, according to the following letter which appears on the company’s website:

Dear Patrons and Friends of TheatreWorks,

We want to express our sincere apologies for the cancellation of some of the performances of Bell, Book & Candle.

As most of you know, TheatreWorks New Milford is almost 50 years old. We are a small, not-for-profit, non-professional theatre and our mission is not to make a profit, but to provide a service to the community of New Milford and surrounding areas. Our Board of Directors are all volunteers. We therefore must place a good deal of trust in our directors and designers to provide the best possible productions.

Joseph Russo, the director of this production, has directed a number of productions at TheatreWorks in recent years. He indicated that he saw the production of Bell, Book & Candle at Hartford Stage in 2012, which inspired him to stage it at TheatreWorks.

In his zeal to mount this production, Joe designed and built a set which contained major elements that were extremely similar to those used at Long Wharf/Hartford Stage. He was unaware that these actions constituted an infringement. Those of us at TheatreWorks who are responsible for the artistic decisions were unaware of these similarities until we received notification from Long Wharf Theatre and Hartford Stage.

The Board of Directors of TheatreWorks takes full responsibility for this oversight, and we have taken the following actions:

1) Our production has been completely re-staged and re-designed, under the direction of actor/director Matt Austin and will reopen on Friday, December 18th for an 8PM performance.
2) Mr. Russo has voluntarily resigned from the Board, and has sent an apology to Hartford Stage, Long Wharf Theatre, Alexander Dodge and Darko Tresnjak, the latter two being the respective designer and director of The Hartford Stage/Long Wharf production of Bell, Book & Candle.
3) TheatreWorks has also personally apologized to all of the aforementioned injured parties.
4) We are putting in place a new policy to review all of the design elements and staging of every future production before the production begins rehearsals.

The Board would like to extend a special thanks to our cast of Bell, Book & Candle, who were integral in the re-mounting of this production. In addition, we would like to thank Mr. Dodge, Mr. Tresnjak, Michael Stotts, General Manager of Hartford Stage, and Joshua Borenstein, General Manager of Long Wharf Theatre for their graciousness, understanding and forgiveness throughout this situation.

Again, we are very sorry for this incident. It has been a hard lesson for us, yet we are very grateful for having learned it. We are also grateful for all of your patience, support and kindness throughout.

Thank you again, and we hope you can join us as we re-open Bell, Book & Candle on December 18th as a humbler and wiser organization.

Respectfully,
The Board of Directors of TheatreWorks New Milford

Correction: An earlier version of this post misidentified the designer of the original production of Sweeney Todd. It now appears correctly in the text.

Howard Sherman is director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at The New School College of Performing Arts.

Bell Book and Candle at Long Wharf Theatre (Photo by T. Charles Erickson)

There’s been a great deal of discussion in the past couple of months about the rights of playwrights, the legal protections of copyright and licensing agreements, the prerogative of directors to freshly interpret a writer’s work and so on. But none of this should suggest that writers are the only theatre artists whose work is to be respected and protected. This holds true, variously on legal and ethical grounds, for all creative artists in theatre.

This is brought to the fore currently by a production of John van Druten’s supernatural comedy Bell, Book and Candle at the company TheatreWorks in New Milford, Connecticut, running into January. Theatreworks is a non-Equity company that pays its actors a stipend for appearing in productions; whether they are a community theatre, semi-professional or professional non-Equity is subject that could be debated, but that’s not where my focus is fixed.

Instead, I’m looking at photos of Bell, Book and Candle, and though I haven’t seen the production at TheatreWorks, the photos seem strangely familiar. Why? Because the set appears to be a fairly slavish recreation of a production of Bell Book and Candle that was co-produced by Long Wharf Theatre and Hartford Stage three years ago. That production was directed by Darko Tresnjak and designed by Alexander Dodge. Incidentally, it is 30 miles from New Milford to Long Wharf, and 40 miles from New Milford to Hartford Stage.

Bell Book and Candle at Theatreworks New Milford

The similarities are striking, and having discovered that I’m connected to many of the creative team and cast of the Long Wharf/Hartford Stage production on Facebook, I can say that they think so too. Indeed, while I don’t think it’s appropriate to publish people’s Facebook posts when I can’t be sure what’s private and what’s public, I will quote simply the first word of Tresnjak’s initial post on this subject: “Grrrrrr.”

There is no copyright protection for the work of directors (though the ethics of replication should be taken into account by all theatre artists), but designs can be copyrighted, and so the appropriation of Dodge’s work (created in collaboration with Tresnjak for his production) by TheatreWorks director and designer Joseph Russo without permission has crossed a line. While the costumes in the New Milford production are reminiscent of those designed by Fabio Toblini for the prior Connecticut production, they are not replicas. Anyone undertaking a Google search will also discover another set of similar photos from a Bell, Book and Candle at The Old Globe in San Diego in 2007, but that’s understandable: it was also directed by Tresnjak and designed by Dodge.

It is incumbent upon directors to produce a script according to the approved version by the playwright, yet it is also incumbent upon them to create their production anew, through their own conception, their cast and their design, to name but a few key elements. Now to be fair, there’s a blurry line when it comes to iconic shows, often musicals. Productions of A Chorus Line rarely stray far from the original, particularly Theoni V. Aldredge’s costumes, and as an avowed Sweeney Todd fan, every production I saw for years was in some way an homage to the Hal Prince directed original, and to Eugene Lee’s scenic design, until John Doyle broke the mold with his Watermill production that eventually came to Broadway.

But unless both Joe Russo and Alexander Dodge either have vivid personal memories of the original 1950 Broadway production of BB&C and/or they both lifted their ideas from photos of George Jenkins’s original Broadway designs (which likely were only photographed in black and white), it’s pretty safe to say that Russo took “his” design ideas from Dodge, without permission. That’s not an homage, that’s copying.

Given the online conversation over the past 11 hours, word of concern has reached Joseph Russo and Theatreworks. At 10:30 this morning, the following was posted to Theatreworks’ public Facebook page:

Dear friends of TheatreWorks: we’ve been receiving several comments on Facebook and in a recent review by OnStage Critics Circle, that our production design for “Bell, Book & Candle” was inspired by The Hartford Stage production of 2012. This is correct, and the oversight to credit director Darko Tresnjak and designer Alexander Dodge occurred in our rush to open the show last weekend. We are crediting both Mr. Dodge and Mr. Tresnjak in our program, on our website, and any other communications involving the production. We thank you for your kind attention to this, and we apologize for any misunderstanding. What’s more, we appreciate you raising this issue with us and for supporting TheatreWorks New Milford.

This statement misses the point entirely. It’s not that Tresnjak and Dodge should have been credited – their work should never have been taken in the first place. That Russo acknowledges the debt his production owes to the Long Wharf/Hartford Stage original confirms exactly how he came by his directorial and design concept, but his statement neither excuses or resolves the issue. I suspect unions have already been contacted by the artists involved in the source production.

Chronicling this incident is not meant to demonize TheatreWorks, who are at least in the process of owning up to what they’ve done. They still must go farther than their statement, which glosses over the issue and ignores the essential problem. How Tresnjak and Dodge choose to settle this issue remains to be seen, and they deserve satisfaction for any claims that may be forthcoming; that their original work was done at major theatres, and the copying was at a small one, should be irrelevant to the conversation. TheatreWorks has hopefully learned an important lesson, and through them, perhaps others will as well.

This does provide an excellent example about respect for every creative element in every production, and while examples don’t often come to light, there has been litigation over the appropriation of key elements from Urinetown (the original Broadway production) by another company, to name a prominent precedent, demonstrating that this practice is not confined to small, quasi-professional companies, but to professional productions as well.

To those who have expressed to me in recent weeks their concern that in directing productions they don’t want to be hamstrung by excessive faithfulness to published scripts, and therefore original productions, this is a perfect example of why doing so isn’t in anyone’s best interests. Respecting an author’s intent is not the same as creating a Xerox copy – or a 19th generation copy – of the original or another notable production. It’s about how does every director and their team at every level – academic, amateur and professional – imagine a play anew without subverting the playwright’s wishes (unless permission is granted to do so), making their own discoveries along the way.

Update, December 9, 2:30 pm:The Facebook post from TheatreWorks referred to above was online as of 11:30 am as this post was being prepared, but was subsequently removed. However, the same post still appears, for the time being, in the comments section of a review of the production on the Facebook page of the online On Stage magazine.

Update, December 9, 8 pm: Earlier today, several hours after this piece was first posted, I spoke briefly with Darko Tresnjak, who I know casually. He spoke of being “freaked out” at discovering the remarkable similarities between his production of Bell, Book and Candle and the nearby production in New Milford. Tresnjak noted that it had come on the heels of discovering that a Swedish production of A Gentleman’s Guide To Love And Murder (Tresnjak won a Tony for directing the Broadway production) had copied Linda Cho’s costume designs, noting they replicated specifics which were in no way indicated in the text and must have been gleaned from photos and videos online. He also described to me particular choices he had made with his designers on BB&C, which were quite distinct from the show’s original Broadway production and in no way indicated in the printed script.

“I don’t want to be petty, but I’m upset,” said Tresnjak. He said he was speaking out because, “It’s just not right. If you let it happen, it will happen.”

Update, December 10, 9 am: TheatreWorks has canceled performances of Bell, Book and Candle until further notice. It was announced on their Facebook page at midnight.

Correction: An earlier version of this post misidentified the designer of the original production of Sweeney Todd. It now appears correctly in the text.

Howard Sherman is director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at The New School College of Performing Arts.

Katharine Hepburn in 1981, a decade before I met her for a single afternoon

Upon hearing of Katharine Hepburn’s death in June 2003, I wrote this piece, hurriedly, as an op-ed for The Day, New London CT’s newspaper, while I was executive director of the Eugene O’Neill Theatre Center in adjacent Waterford. They accepted it and ran it almost immediately, as Miss Hepburn’s home in Fenwick was part of the paper’s distribution area on the eastern Connecticut shoreline and her passing, while international news, held special meaning for those who lived near her for so many years.

By the winter of 1991, six years into my tenure as the public relations director at Hartford Stage, the prospect of meeting a celebrity had lost its allure.  Starting when I was in college, I had many opportunities to pass in and out of the celebrity sphere – interviewing Ian McKellen for the school paper, attending small readings by Isaac Asimov and Jerzy Kosinski, exchanging pleasantries with Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly at a fundraiser.  At Hartford, we had famous people in our shows and other famous people attending our shows.

Proximity had brought a realization: while I might stop a conversation by saying, truthfully, “Grace Kelly put her hand on this shoulder,” the story really had nowhere to go after that.  These encounters were so fleeting, that I know I didn’t register with these idols, nor could I claim any knowledge of them beyond what I knew before.  Simply meeting someone for a moment meant very little.

So I was nonplussed – if not mildly put out – when my bosses summoned me to ask a favor.

Sam Waterston (pre-Law and Order) and Cynthia Nixon (pre-Sex and the City) were appearing in Ibsen’s The Master Builder and Sam had a special request.  He had a guest coming to the Saturday matinee whom he wanted to have “looked after,” but both of my bosses had immovable prior commitments.  So would I come in on my day off and attend to the needs of Katharine Hepburn?

In light of her passing this week, it is perhaps inconceivable to that I viewed this as an imposition.  Mind you, I admired Miss Hepburn as much as any self-respecting film buff would, particularly for The African Queen and The Lion in Winter.  But the fact remained that I was going to give up a whole day to say hello as she breezed into the theater, offer her a drink at intermission and make sure she got to see Sam after the matinee.  What a way to waste a Saturday.  And after all, this was the famously blunt and aristocratic Katharine Hepburn; one wrong word and she’d probably take my head off. Nonetheless, I agreed.

On the designated day, my first surprise came at 1:30, a full hour before the performance, when a member of the house staff rushed up to me to say, “She’s here.” I  hustled out to the box office just as Miss Hepburn – alone – advanced to the box office.  I quickly introduced myself.

“Who do I pay for these?” she demanded.  “I insist on paying.”

In a moment of consummate tact, I responded, “That’s fine.  We’re happy to take your money.”  So much for savoir faire in the face of celebrity.

I offered to escort her directly into the theater, where the seats were comfortable and she would not be on display for everyone who entered.  A companion joined her, and I took her to her seat.

Once she was seated, I expected our perfunctory tete-a-tete to be at an end.  But no: could I tell her about the production?  Could I tell her about how Hartford Stage was doing? What other shows would we be doing this season? And thus three-quarters of an hour went by, with her questions and my answers ending only once it was clear I was blocking seat access for other patrons.

Well, that was pleasant enough, I thought.  Now I’ve got to kill three hours until the show is over.

But at the first intermission, when I went to offer her a drink, the questions began again, specifically about Cynthia.  Who was she?  Where did we find her?  Isn’t she marvelous? Doesn’t Sam respond to her so well?

Now, to be honest, I’m charmed.  Here is this 83-year-old icon of cinema, and she enthusiastically wants to hear whatever I can tell her.  She’s oblivious to the audience around her – she’s simply a consummate fan, and we spoke until the lights went down again.

At the second intermission, she was content to chat with her guest.  Since I noticed that the audience members were leaving her alone (giving her the same respect and distance I had seen people give to John Houseman a few years earlier), I let her be.

At the play’s conclusion, the plan was to let the theater empty out, and Sam would come down from his dressing room to see her.  “Nonsense,” said Miss Hepburn, “Let’s go see him.”  And she insisted I lead her immediately to her friend.

When they connected, I watched Sam, who had been very reserved with me throughout his time in Hartford, light up with what could only be joy.  He leaned down and she kissed him, like an aunt, or even a parent.  He glowed with evident delight as she praised him and the production.  I watched as a patrician icon and an imposing actor of a younger generation basked in the pleasure of seeing each other.

For all her famous candor, her single-mindedness, her independence, her privacy, Katharine Hepburn revealed in those few short hours her vitality, her intellect and her capacity to take pleasure in plays and people.  She transformed my afternoon into a great experience, a singular encounter. And how did she insure that?

As she parted from Sam, and I walked her back to her waiting car, she was quiet, moving slowly.  But as we approached, this legend suddenly turned, took my hand, and said, “Well, you’ve been pretty goddamn nice, haven’t you?”  I imagine I smiled, beamed, grinned, just as Sam had minutes before, absorbing the full effect of her warmth. I can’t even remember replying.

Tough, feisty Katharine Hepburn thought I had been nice.  Well, who would have thought it?  So was she.  So was she.