Stro, Tom, Glen, and I were considering canceling the backers’ audition, but since we had everything lined up except for now needing producers, we went ahead. We got on the phone and called every producer, theater owner, and theatrical investor we knew. Believe it or not they all showed up. So there at Nola Studios on Fifty-fourth Street on Sunday April 9 we gave the world its first glimpse of a brand-new Broadway musical comedy, The Producers.
When we arrived at Nola Studios I looked out through the window and saw huge white snowflakes. Wow, how unusual. It was snowing in New York in April! I didn’t know if it was a good omen or a bad omen or maybe no omen. It didn’t last long; the big white snowflakes melted as soon as they hit the ground. Anyway, everything on that fateful day stuck in my head, even the snow in April. So I thought I’d mention it.
For the reading we assembled a cast that included Nathan Lane, Gary Beach, Cady Huffman, Mario Cantone, John Schuck, Nick Wyman, and Evan Pappas. The backers’ audition went beyond our wildest dreams. At the end of the first act our audience broke into cheers and applause. Before we could start the second act, we were besieged by an avalanche of Broadway producers who all wanted to be involved in the show.
The most exciting offer was from Rocco Landesman, who since 1967 was the president of the Jujamcyn Theater Group. He was so excited at the end of act I, he said, “If I can be one of your producers, you have the St. James Theatre if you want it.”
Wow, the St. James! One of the most sought-after theaters on Broadway. So many memorable Broadway musicals had played there like Oklahoma!, Hello Dolly, The King and I, The Pajama Game—just to name a few.
I said, “It’s too good to be true!”
Then Tom brought me down to earth. He said, “Never go by the reaction of audiences that consist of family and friends, and especially people that haven’t paid to get in. That is one of the most important rules of the theater.”
But still, the St. James Theatre! My spirits were soaring. We were on our way.
In addition to getting our producers and our backers, the reading also showed us where the show needed tightening up. Stro was really invaluable in that. I had created these characters, but she knew there was more about them in my head that I hadn’t revealed yet. The big lesson I learned was that Max and Leo have to sing and dance about their wants, needs, and dreams rather than do it just through dialogue. The music drives the emotion. That was a huge revelation. And in the musical more than the movie, you root for their friendship and their success as failed producers because the emotions are being heightened by the music. Stro showed me what the audience wants from a musical comedy on Broadway. It has to sing. It has to dance. It has to have beautiful girls. It has to look splendid. It has to be funny. It has to be rich. And always entertaining. She showed me all of that. It has to really thrill the audience for two hours. So together we worked toward thrilling the audience.
For example, I wasn’t so sure about a tune I wrote called “Along Came Bialy.” It’s about how much Bialystock meant to his bevy of little old lady show backers. I told Stro that I really wasn’t happy with it and I wanted to throw it out and start from scratch with another tune.
Stro said, “No, no, no! I have a good idea for that song.”
“A good idea” was putting it mildly. She had a brilliant idea. She put the little old ladies in walkers, and they did an amazing tap-dancing routine with them singing their hearts out with love for Max Bialystock. A song I was going to throw out became one of the real high points of the show.
Another time, I confessed to Stro that I was very unhappy that we couldn’t show the audience that great overhead shot from the movie of the dancers in Alan Johnson’s amazing original “Springtime for Hitler” choreography rotating in the shape of a swastika. I knew it was impossible onstage. Two days later Stro came back with a perfect solution. She got a huge mirror and tilted it at a forty-five-degree angle above the stage and presto! Now the audience would get to see that incredible overhead shot of the dancing swastika.
So you might say I was taking a crash course in musical theater at Susan Stroman University. We were all working to make sure that the musical was at least just as good as the movie and, if possible, even better.
Tom and I came up with a great idea for the book. In the musical we would take the character of Roger De Bris, our flamboyant director, and because of an accident on opening night Roger has to step in and play the role of Adolf Hitler in the show within the show. I came up with a song for Hitler’s big Broadway entrance that really stopped the show. It was called, “Heil Myself.”