KISSING THE DAY GOODBYE

So far this week, the theater community is feeling a huge loss:  first the passing of Mark O'Donnell, the Tony award winning book writer for  the HAIRSPRAY and CRY BABY musicals, followed by the news of  the passing of Pulitzer Prize winning,  Emmy, Grammy, Golden Globe, Oscar,  and Tony award  winning,  Marvin Hamlisch.  I will admit that I did not know much about Mark O’Donnell, until after the fact. HAIRSPRAY remains on my list of top 20 favorite musicals.  I remember being a naysayer when I heard they were turning the John Waters’ classic into a musical.  However, Mr. O’Donnell along with Thomas Meehan and that amazing creative team transformed the film into a magical experience.  Although his Broadway résumé is limited, his impact is great.

Marvin Hamlisch’s passing is the one that hits me deep in my memory bank.  It is amazing how the truly famous people that knew him well are all over social media and the press with such great remembrances and tributes.  I certainly do not think of myself as someone in their league, but there are moments that all of us "regular folks" hopefully have.  It may not be as fancy as sharing an after show drink with him while enjoying his delicious sense of humor after he conducted the symphony, but he certainly was at the forefront of what I know was my gay destiny. 

Growing up in Galveston, Texas, Broadway Musicals were such an elusive, elitist experience.  My neighbor, Ms. Wylie, was the one person who had an infectious love of musicals.  She used to talk about the magic of the movie musical.  She always talked about going to the great movie houses in Galveston to see them as a child.  Her daughter, Vicki and I were eventually sucked into the joy.  Long before the VHS tapes and DVD’s, we watched all of the musicals on Channel 13’s Million Dollar Movies as they aired.  Our Elementary school music/piano teacher, Miss Howard, filled in the rest.  THE WAY WE WERE was constantly played on the radio, and she told us about the magic of Hamlisch.

As we got older, Vicki and I moved through our teen angst with the theater weirdoes, band geeks, and choir nerds.  We would watch the Tonys, and Ms. Wylie would always talk about her desire  to go to NYC and see all the shows. Galveston was very limited, but when you wanted to do something “fun” at night, riding the ferry across to Port Bolivar and then racing to make it around to catch the same ferry to return to Galveston, always seemed like one of the safer things to do, especially with some fast food in tow.

 A Chorus Line  would be blaring in the car’s cassette player over and over, and Vickie and I would sing every song off of that Original Cast Recording at the top of our lungs. How many young black men in Texas during the late 70’s and early 80’s found joy in the comfort of a show tune?  I am sure now there were many others, but at that time, it felt like only me.  How I did not know that I would turn out gay is still beyond me. Ms. Wylie was one of the first people that I told about being gay, before my parents. She never judged me.  It was followed by, “like I didn’t know!”

After I moved to NYC, she continued to talk about coming and doing that theater run.  She never made it. Having never met either Mr. O’Donnell or Mr. Hamlisch, I know that their contributions will never be forgotten.  Yet, without the influence of Ms. Wylie, I may have never found the joy of the musical.   May they all rest in peace.