Free Everything Was Possible: The Birth of the Musical Follies (Applause Books) by Ted Chapin
Authors: Ted Chapin
there, smiling, with his hands in his pea coat, looking somewhat sheepish. When asked how old he is he says: “Twenty-two, twenty-three in February,” to which Hal replies, “No. Didn’t hear that. You’re twenty-two.” Kurt seems somewhat dumbstruck. “Well,” says Hal, “I hope to see you . . . in rehearsal!” “Ah, really, thank you very much.” Then Kurt beats his own hasty retreat. As he leaves, a toothbrush falls from his pocket. The atmosphere this time is decidedly upbeat. A good and successful audition can energize a room. The truth is that everyone in the room wants every audition to be great. It’s just that so few are. Kurt Peterson is hired to play Young Ben.
The four principals were taught their signature song, “Waiting for the Girls Upstairs.” Michael began to rough out some staging, with Hal sitting close by. It was the first time I had seen them together. Their relationship seemed carefully crafted. They had clearly enjoyed working together on Company, a joyous experience for everyone. Michael had his sights set on directing, and he was looking for the right opportunity. Hal was in transition, clearly preferring the artistic challenge of directing to the business drudgery of producing, and he wasn’t about to hand the direction of this show over to anyone else. Michael knew that the fluid nature of the show would require him to do a lot more than just create isolated dances, so he saw it as an opportunity to move one step closer to directing. Both men realized that this show would be important to their careers, so they had agreed on the almost unprecedented notion of codirecting. Basically Michael was responsible for all the dances and the movement, which in Follies was a prominent part of the direction. Hal directed and staged the book scenes, which were, by nature, episodic and short; very few were traditional in structure, and they tended to involve ghost figures and crowd movement in addition to dialogue. But, to the credit of these two artists, the end result looked seamless. The actions of these first few days, however, were indicative of how things would progress: Michael was using every second of the time allotted to him, while Hal would work with any actors who were free on any scene in which they were involved. (Hal seemed to have a lot of time on his hands.) “Waiting for the Girls Upstairs” was a song that landed right between both men’s responsibilities, and it was Sondheim’s favorite song. He made it known that he wanted to see how it was to be staged as soon as it was on its feet. By week’s end, enough of it had been blocked out for him to be summoned for a run-through. He was pleased, but afterward he called a brief meeting out of earshot of the actors to explain just what liberties he would allow within the melody and rhythms—and which ones he would not.
As the week went on, preparations for the first day of full company rehearsals took focus. The scripts had been prepared by Studio Duplicating, a firm that specialized in scripts for Broadway shows. Everyone used them, and their style was distinctive. The process was by mimeograph, in which each page had to be typed onto a stencil that would then be placed on the drum of the printing machine, inked, and printed, copy by copy, on 8½” x 11” paper with two holes on the left-hand margin. The process was repeated for each page, and then the collated scripts would be bound in specially coated covers fixed with little brass screws. The covers were distinctive; no other copying establishment had them. And they were available in a vast array of colors. Follies’ was orange, but there had already been earlier versions in green, red, and light blue. The title was embossed in the center in a single, no-nonsense typeface. Because the mimeograph process was time-consuming, once rehearsals began it would become my responsibility to type out individual pages with changes and make enough copies to go to those who needed
The four principals were taught their signature song, “Waiting for the Girls Upstairs.” Michael began to rough out some staging, with Hal sitting close by. It was the first time I had seen them together. Their relationship seemed carefully crafted. They had clearly enjoyed working together on Company, a joyous experience for everyone. Michael had his sights set on directing, and he was looking for the right opportunity. Hal was in transition, clearly preferring the artistic challenge of directing to the business drudgery of producing, and he wasn’t about to hand the direction of this show over to anyone else. Michael knew that the fluid nature of the show would require him to do a lot more than just create isolated dances, so he saw it as an opportunity to move one step closer to directing. Both men realized that this show would be important to their careers, so they had agreed on the almost unprecedented notion of codirecting. Basically Michael was responsible for all the dances and the movement, which in Follies was a prominent part of the direction. Hal directed and staged the book scenes, which were, by nature, episodic and short; very few were traditional in structure, and they tended to involve ghost figures and crowd movement in addition to dialogue. But, to the credit of these two artists, the end result looked seamless. The actions of these first few days, however, were indicative of how things would progress: Michael was using every second of the time allotted to him, while Hal would work with any actors who were free on any scene in which they were involved. (Hal seemed to have a lot of time on his hands.) “Waiting for the Girls Upstairs” was a song that landed right between both men’s responsibilities, and it was Sondheim’s favorite song. He made it known that he wanted to see how it was to be staged as soon as it was on its feet. By week’s end, enough of it had been blocked out for him to be summoned for a run-through. He was pleased, but afterward he called a brief meeting out of earshot of the actors to explain just what liberties he would allow within the melody and rhythms—and which ones he would not.
As the week went on, preparations for the first day of full company rehearsals took focus. The scripts had been prepared by Studio Duplicating, a firm that specialized in scripts for Broadway shows. Everyone used them, and their style was distinctive. The process was by mimeograph, in which each page had to be typed onto a stencil that would then be placed on the drum of the printing machine, inked, and printed, copy by copy, on 8½” x 11” paper with two holes on the left-hand margin. The process was repeated for each page, and then the collated scripts would be bound in specially coated covers fixed with little brass screws. The covers were distinctive; no other copying establishment had them. And they were available in a vast array of colors. Follies’ was orange, but there had already been earlier versions in green, red, and light blue. The title was embossed in the center in a single, no-nonsense typeface. Because the mimeograph process was time-consuming, once rehearsals began it would become my responsibility to type out individual pages with changes and make enough copies to go to those who needed