The Lights of Broadway

... and Broadway touring companies!

My daughter just saw her first Broadway Musical. My parents decided that their graduation gift to Emily would be a Grandma-Mom-Em trip to Chicago, and that the trip would include tickets to Six. We listened to the show soundtrack on the way down to catch our train, and discussed the wives of Henry VIII so that we knew what was going on. My mom booked a hotel that was literally two doors down from the James M. Nederlander Theatre, so that we saw the marquee every time we stepped out on the sidewalk. By the time we walked through the doors on show night, Em’s excitement was at a fever pitch — and she was unprepared for the gorgeous, ornate architecture of the theater building itself. She bought candy in the lobby, refused to sample my glass of champagne (good girl!), and marveled over our seats in the dress circle. She bounced in her seat as the lights went down, and every time I sneaked a peek at her during the show, she was rapt — completely entranced and delighted at the spectacle and art of this fabulous performance. She was exactly as blown away by the experience as I had wanted her to be.

I saw my first professional musical the summer I turned 13. My mom picked me up from two weeks of theater camp at Macalester College, and that night we saw 42nd Street at Chanhassen Dinner Theater. It was an incredible show with great performances. When it was over and the lights came up, I cried. I sobbed in the car on the way home. Y’all, 42nd Street is in no way an emotional show — there was no explainable reason for me to be a blubbering mess. Such is the power of live performance: to a girl whose dream was to be a professional actor, the real-live evidence of all of these people singing and dancing and acting for their jobs was enough to overwhelm my brain.

I was raised on rock and folk music (and a little bit of old-school country), but there were also always musical soundtracks in the mix. I knew all the words to Dance: Ten; Looks: Three from A Chorus Line by the time I was eleven. Consequently, when my parents saw Les Miserables (probably in 1989) it was perfectly natural that the soundtrack joined the regular rotation at home. (My dad loved to sing “Master of the House.”) I was soon obsessed with the story and the music, and learned to play and sing “Castle on a Cloud” for my piano recital that year. I found out that the musical was based on Victor Hugo’s novel, and wanted to read it — have you seen the size of that book? My mom bet me $5 that I wouldn’t get through it. WELL. Much to the amusement of my 8th grade social studies teacher, I carried that book around for a good 3 months and did, indeed, read the whole damn thing.

Honestly, could you even be considered a theater nerd in the early 90s if you weren’t obsessed with “Les Mis?” It had everything: tragedy, romance, violence… and a song for every voice range. That show was the Revenge of the Alto, since CLEARLY the best role was Eponine — the soprano lead, Cosette, was a boring, whiny, high-maintenance drag.

Finally, FINALLY, the tour of Les Miserables came back to the Ordway Theater in St. Paul, and my mom decided to take me. My two best friends (equally obsessed with the show) were also going to go, but we were going to separate shows. Nevertheless we carefully planned the outfits we were going to wear (lots of crushed velvet, naturally), and talked of nothing else until the big day. Walking into the theater for our matinee performance, I could hardly contain the excitement of the moment — I wholeheartedly believe that no Swifty at a Queen Taylor concert could be more thrilled than I was at that point. The lights went down and I was transfixed. By the time the lights came up at intermission, I was already in tears — just from the intensity of the music and the acting and my own expectations which were met in each and every way. As we walked through the lobby, wiping our eyes and glowing with the aftershocks of the production, we met my two besties coming in for the evening show. I could barely speak to them, affected as I was.

I have seen many professional Broadway musicals since that time, and they always leave me with an afterglow of high emotion tinged with a slight bit of envy (I still kind of want that to be my job!), but no experience will ever equal that first big show — Les Miserables looms large in my core memories, and will always hold power for me.

What show was your Les Mis?

Thanks for reading.

Love, Susie