Free On Making Off: Misadventures Off-Off Broadway by Randy Anderson Page A

first crawled into its darkness last fall. Yet somehow, it wasn’t unfamiliar. I had visualized this moment so many times in the past eight months that seeing it for real felt oddly repetitive.
    It turns out it’s not hard to make a 30-seat theater look full. And with a cast of 10, family and friends fill the place quickly. Only a few seats remained. Lolly had placed a stool for me next to the booth, and I greeted people as I walked up the aisle. Then, I took my seat.
    Looking out over the audience, I became instantly addicted to the feeling of putting on a show in the East Village. I loved seeing my co-workers from Blah-Blah Big Bank settling into their seats, drinks in hand, taking in the bohemian experience. I listened for a minute to strangers talking about what they knew about the show or whom they knew in it. And then the house lights dimmed, the conversations quieted, the programs settled, and my little story about success began.

PEACH PASTRIES
     
     
     
    After the short-but-sweet success of Testing Average , The Beggars, as we now called ourselves, began meeting on a regular basis. Realizing I could no longer do all the work myself, six of us—Lolly, Bobby, Andrea, Deborah, Kathy, and I—banded together to create a company of producers. One of our favorite places to assemble was the Hungarian Pastry Shop. Nestled on the Upper West Side, it’s a cozy café filled with excellent coffee, yummy pastries, and Ivy League students discussing Nietzsche.
    Lolly and I, the first to arrive at 10 a.m. on this particular Saturday morning, secured a table in the back, ordered coffee, tea, and a dozen peach jelly–filled pastries.
    “ So, I think we have an idea for a great show,” Lolly started with excitement.
    “ Let’s hear it,” I replied.
    But Lolly wouldn’t divulge anything until the others arrived. Lolly is at her best when she’s coy. She squints her eyes and gets a smirk on her lips that signals fun. Bobby stumbled in past the front counter.
    “ I need some coffee!” he said too loudly to the woman behind the counter. She politely took his order and told him to have a seat. Seeing our waves from the back, he stumbled his way to our table.
    “ Why are we meeting so fucking early?” He hadn’t come home the night before, so he was obviously sleep-deprived.
    “ It’s 10,” Lolly said. “It’s not early. You just went to bed too late.”
    “ Ha! What makes you think I went to bed?” Bobby said with a laugh. “Where are The Girls?”
    We’d taken to calling Andrea, Deborah, and Kathy “The Girls,” as Lolly aligned herself more closely to us boys.
    “ They’ll be here soon,” I replied. “They’re all coming from Queens.”
    “ Fucking Queens,” Rob exclaimed.
    “ Fucking Queens,” Lolly repeated. “Who the fuck lives in Queens anyway?”
    “ I don’t know, a couple million people, maybe?” I said.
    We definitely had a bias against the boroughs. As if cued, The Girls paraded into the café, settled into their seats, and our powwow began.
    The Girls and Lolly immediately launched into their idea for a play based on the life of Zelda Fitzgerald, wife of writer F. Scott Fitzgerald and, as The Girls quickly pointed out, a writer in her own right. She had written a posthumously published book, they reported, called Save Me the Waltz . After they confirmed Zelda’s own artistry, they turned to the details of her glamorous yet tortured life.
    Every bit a southern belle, Zelda agreed to marry Scott only after he published his first novel, This Side of Paradise , and then, only if it was a success. Once his promising career was established, they wed and immediately took New York by storm. Riding on the tops of cabs, jumping into fountains, dancing and drinking the nights away, they quickly became the king and queen of the roaring ’20s.
    Bobby and I asked questions, and books piled up on the table. Lolly and The Girls spared no detail of their extensive research. The Fitzgeralds spent far