Okay, so I do have a least one good story from my less-than-grandiose career in the performing arts, and that story involves Bea Arthur, RIP.
About 10 years ago, the Auditorium Theatre in Chicago produced a season of concert-version musicals, similar to what New York's City Center does with its Encores Series. Ovations at the Auditorium lasted just one season.
Ms. Arthur was hired to be part of the cast of the Gershwin show Strike up the Band and spent a week in Chicago rehearsing and performing the show. I was hired to be the "Bea-keeper". Basically, I would show up at her hotel 15 minutes before the hired car was due to take her to the theater and make certain that she left on time. I would phone up to her suite and rouse her into action which was fortunately never very early in the day. I also got her to fittings, some press interviews and the airport. And it is the trip to the airport as she was leaving town that is the setting of my story.
After the final matinee performance of Strike up the Band, the company--including Ms. Arthur and myself--went to a restaurant for a celebratory dinner. Ms. Arthur was flying back to California that evening, so we only had about 45 minutes' time at the restaurant before I needed to get her into the hired car and off to O'Hare. Well, in that 45 minutes, she ate very little of the dinner buffet, but downed three gin and tonics. While she had a little nap in the car on the way to the airport I had to figure out how to get her to her gate in O'Hare's remote terminal--a long schlepp for anyone, let alone a septuagenarian with a good buzz on.
When the car dropped us off at the curb, we checked Ms. Arthur's bags with the Skycap and I escorted her into the terminal, where we sat down. Fortunately, it was late enough on Sunday evening that the departure lines were not long, and doubly fortunately a (presumably gay) ticket agent at a closed first-class counter noticed her come in. I went over to the ticket agent and said I had a VIP first-class passenger and I wondered if he could help get her checked in and convince her that calling for wheel-chair assistance to the remote terminal was the most expedient option.
Well, where would this world be without helpful, over-zealous gay men? The ticket agent did the trick, got Ms. Arthur checked-in without her having to get up from the chair she had landed in upon arrival, and with more than a little fawning convinced her that he should call for an assistant to get her to the gate.
Bea agreed to the wheel-chair on one condition; during the ride through the terminal and to the gate, I had to apologize to her (frequently) for tripping her at the theater that afternoon, which of course hadn't happened, but was her excuse for not making the walk herself. So off she rolls, pushed by a slightly mentally challenged adult wheel-chair assistant with me hold Bea's hand saying things like "I just feel awful that this happened" and Bea saying things like "Now, it's not that bad, just a little twist, I'll be fine by the time I land in Los Angeles." The highlight of this little improv scene was when she pulled my ear down to her level in the chair and whispered "Now who's the best actress you know?"
Bea, you were definitely one of the best actresses I knew. I lift my g & t to you. You will be missed.
About 10 years ago, the Auditorium Theatre in Chicago produced a season of concert-version musicals, similar to what New York's City Center does with its Encores Series. Ovations at the Auditorium lasted just one season.
Ms. Arthur was hired to be part of the cast of the Gershwin show Strike up the Band and spent a week in Chicago rehearsing and performing the show. I was hired to be the "Bea-keeper". Basically, I would show up at her hotel 15 minutes before the hired car was due to take her to the theater and make certain that she left on time. I would phone up to her suite and rouse her into action which was fortunately never very early in the day. I also got her to fittings, some press interviews and the airport. And it is the trip to the airport as she was leaving town that is the setting of my story.
After the final matinee performance of Strike up the Band, the company--including Ms. Arthur and myself--went to a restaurant for a celebratory dinner. Ms. Arthur was flying back to California that evening, so we only had about 45 minutes' time at the restaurant before I needed to get her into the hired car and off to O'Hare. Well, in that 45 minutes, she ate very little of the dinner buffet, but downed three gin and tonics. While she had a little nap in the car on the way to the airport I had to figure out how to get her to her gate in O'Hare's remote terminal--a long schlepp for anyone, let alone a septuagenarian with a good buzz on.
When the car dropped us off at the curb, we checked Ms. Arthur's bags with the Skycap and I escorted her into the terminal, where we sat down. Fortunately, it was late enough on Sunday evening that the departure lines were not long, and doubly fortunately a (presumably gay) ticket agent at a closed first-class counter noticed her come in. I went over to the ticket agent and said I had a VIP first-class passenger and I wondered if he could help get her checked in and convince her that calling for wheel-chair assistance to the remote terminal was the most expedient option.
Well, where would this world be without helpful, over-zealous gay men? The ticket agent did the trick, got Ms. Arthur checked-in without her having to get up from the chair she had landed in upon arrival, and with more than a little fawning convinced her that he should call for an assistant to get her to the gate.
Bea agreed to the wheel-chair on one condition; during the ride through the terminal and to the gate, I had to apologize to her (frequently) for tripping her at the theater that afternoon, which of course hadn't happened, but was her excuse for not making the walk herself. So off she rolls, pushed by a slightly mentally challenged adult wheel-chair assistant with me hold Bea's hand saying things like "I just feel awful that this happened" and Bea saying things like "Now, it's not that bad, just a little twist, I'll be fine by the time I land in Los Angeles." The highlight of this little improv scene was when she pulled my ear down to her level in the chair and whispered "Now who's the best actress you know?"
Bea, you were definitely one of the best actresses I knew. I lift my g & t to you. You will be missed.
3 comments:
And the one time we saw her on stage, in her solo act, she actually had tripped and hurt her foot and couldn't walk, but the show went on. That was about 9 years ago. She must have had a premonition, or else you were following her around waiting for an opportunity.
Awesome story, Michael. And I'm totally jealous you got to meet her! The closest I've gotten is having my friends elect me the Dorothy Szbornak of our little group...
Michael, if you'd like to send me a picture of you in Dorothy caftan, I'd be happy to post it.
Jeff and Joe, Ms. Arthur did have foot problems, as I recall. She refused to wear "real" shoes and basically performed in flip-flops and was often bare-foot, which really pissed off the theater management.
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