So many of the accounts of that
day start the same way: “It was such a bright, clear, beautiful
morning…” That must have been part
of the shock of 9/11, to have something so horrible
occur on a day that started out so perfectly.
When those planes crashed into the towers of
the World Trade Center, the impact sent out ripples
of sadness that affected the people of New York and
the entire nation. The Broadway community was
no exception.
That Tuesday morning I was still
asleep when I got a phone call from my wife telling
me to turn on the
TV, a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I
clicked on the set and watched as news reporters tried
to decipher the morning’s confusion. I
only watched for a short while before grabbing my video
camera and heading down to a park on the New Jersey
Palisades overlooking the New York skyline.
I joined a group of mystified people
who stared at an enormous hole in the north tower
billowing smoke. I
remember thinking, “I wonder how they’re
going to be able to get up there to fix it.” I
never even considered that the buildings might collapse.
From my vantage point the north
tower blocked any view of the south tower, so when
I saw a growing cloud
of white-grey smoke, I thought that flames were being
extinguished. Then the unimaginable happened. The
north tower seemed to sway and, as if in slow motion,
it began to dwindle in height. There were audible
gasps from the crowd around me. The tower appeared
to sink into the ground.
What I had taken for smoke earlier,
and which I now knew was the dust and debris from
the collapse of the
south tower, now doubled in size. The southern
tip of the island disappeared into the haze.
By noon the city was shut down. All Broadway
shows were canceled that evening. They were canceled
the following day as well. By Thursday there
was more information about what had actually happened
in the attack and who was responsible. The mayor
made a request to the League of Theatre Owners and
Producers asking them to reopen their theatres and
shows. He wanted the world to know that although
this tragedy had rocked New York City to its foundation,
it had not broken it.
Walking into the Imperial Theatre
that night seemed like some sort of small victory. As
I exchanged personal accounts of the past two days
with my colleagues
I found that any backstage pettiness that might have
existed only a few days earlier now seemed to have
disappeared.
The question on everyone’s mind was whether
or not anyone would actually come to the show. As
the opening strains of Les Misérables echoed
out of the orchestra pit and the chain gang shuffled
onstage you could sense the emptiness of the theatre
before you ever saw it. I never got an official
count but I’d be surprised to learn that there
were any more than 150 people there that night.
Anyone who’s ever performed knows that playing
to a small audience can be extremely difficult. A
small audience’s reactions are harder to detect
and read than those of a larger audience. And
if you aren’t getting the feedback that you’re
used to, the tendency is to “work harder”or “do
more”. But that didn’t happen this
night.
The cast seemed extremely focused
on appreciating the lives that they were living and
in sharing their
talents by telling this incredibly moving story. The
audience must have recognized this because they were
just as focused and giving of their approval of what
they were witnessing. There was a palpable energy
being passed back and forth over the footlights.
There were moments in the show
that were particularly heightened by the events of
two days prior. Never
had the danger of the runaway cart seemed so real, “One
Day More”felt like a rallying cry to the nation
and the finale’s “Do You Hear the People
Sing?”felt like it was being sung for every person
lost in the tragedy.
By the end of the show there was
a certain amount of relief at having gotten through
because even for
those people not directly affected by this senseless
tragedy there was an overwhelming feeling of loss,
an inexplicable pull towards action and a visceral
desire to help. But not everyone could be at
ground zero to assist in the efforts. That was
best left to the professionals. But we were professionals
as well and as per the mayor’s request we were
doing what we did best.
In the end it was probably just
one more show in the long and illustrious history
of Broadway, but that
night it felt like so much more. That night we
escaped death, led a revolution against terror, offered
a remembrance of those who had fallen and called for
a change for the future. I’d like to think
that it made a difference.
