GYPSY - A Musical Fable
The idea for a stage musical based on Gypsy Rose Lee's successful auto-biography first came up as a mutual project between producer David Merrick and Broadway star Ethel Merman. Jerome Robbins expressed interest in the project as choreographer if Merrick would agree to bringing Leland Hayward in as co-producer. Merrick then approached Arthur Laurents to come on board as the show's Director, but he was reluctant at first until it was decided the show would be seen from the mother's point of view.
Betty Comden and Adolph Green were the first ones to be given the rough outline of the book to set to words and music, but they quickly turned it down saying it was too difficult to construct. Irving Berlin was the next one to turn it down, according to Arthur Laurents, being "amazed that we got anything out of that book." Cole Porter was asked to come out of retirement, looked at the project and also turned it down flat. In no time everyone got wind of the show being planned and Stephen Sondheim submitted three songs which he had written for the upcoming show A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum to give the team an idea of his talent. Laurents loved the songs and was keen to have him on board, but.... one problem. One very BIG problem. Ethel Merman. She was NOT going to take a chance on an unknown composer. She would be happy to have him do the lyrics, but she absolutely wanted Jule Styne to take care of the music. Together they were able to take an unused song from Styne's show High Button Shoes called "In Betwixt and Between" and it became "Everything's Coming Up Roses".
Jerome Robbins, Stephen Sondheim, Gypsy Rose Lee, Arthur Laurents and Jule Styne watch the final rehearsals of Gypsy.
The writing of the music and lyrics and the book flowed quickly and everyone was excited. Raoul Pene du Bois was signed to take care of the costumes, the settings and lighting were handed to Jo Meilziner and the orchestrations and dance music to Sid Ramin, Robert Ginzler and John Kandler.
Songs came and went. A song Styne wrote for another show but was never used was "Why Did You Have To Wait So Long?", co-written with Sammy Cahn. This would become "You'll Never Get Away From Me." What Styne had forgotten was that he had already reused the melody for the television musical Ruggles of Red Gap in a song titled "I'm In Pursuit Of Happiness" with lyrics by Leo Robin, which had gone to air on the NBC network in February 1957! OOPS!
The original concept of "Rose's Turn" was to present it as a ballet with all of the characters she mentions, Louise, June, Herbie, her own mother, appearing in and out during the number. This proved too hard to construct and, after trying to work on this concept and failing, it was decided it should be done purely as Merman's big eleven o'clock song.
Jack Klugman had a solo written for him, "Nice She Ain't", but due to Klugman's incredible anxieties about doing a solo number, it was dropped after he appeared at rehearsals one day and said, "Take the song and shove it up your ass!" The song was removed and never mentioned again.
Another deleted song was to have been sung in counterpoint to a reprise of "Small World" with Baby June and Baby Louise sitting above the stage looking down on Rose and Herbie but one of the girls was so terrified of heights it was also removed. Its title was "Momma's Talkin' Soft". Other songs which were removed were "Mother's Day" which was to be part of Baby June's act, "Smile Girls", which was sung by Rose to the Toreadorables in Act Two, "Who Needs Him?", sung by Rose after Herbie walks out in Act 2 and "Three Wishes for Christmas" which was a grand burlesque number, performed as the finale to the strip sequence. This was a very short ten bars of music before Gypsy's final strip. A most elaborate number for a mere few bars of music. Seven extra girls were employed in the original version of the show for this number alone, the other showgirls also being the Hollywood Blondes from earlier scenes. Subsequent productions dropped the "Christmas" theme altogether and it became "Minsky's Salute to the Garden of Eden".
The original production was nominated for a Tony Award eight times: Best Musical; Best Direction: Jerome Robbins; Best Performance by an Actress in a Musical: Ethel Merman; Best Performance by an Actor in a Musical: Jack Klugman; Best Performance by an Actress in a Featured Role: Sandra Church; Best Costume: Raoul Pene du Bois; Best Scenery: Jo Meilziner; Best Musical Direction: Milton Rosenstock. None of the nominees went home with an award. The original cast recording did, however, win a Grammy Award for Ethel Merman, for the Best Musical Theatre Album.
The critics were unanimous in their reviews of the show, hailing it as one of the crowning achievements in musical theatre and to be one of the greatest American musicals ever written. Critic Ben Bantley wrote, "what may be the greatest of all American musicals". Frank Rich wrote, "Gypsy is nothing if not Broadway's own brassy, unlikely answer to King Lear!" "Gypsy is one of the best musicals", wrote Clive Barnes.


The final moments of the show. "Funny how we can wear the same size." "Especially in mink!"
REVIVALS.
Apart from the 1974 revival with Angela Lansbury, which has its own featured article here, other notable revivals were:
1989. At the St. James Theatre in New York with Tyne Daly as Rose, Jonathan Hardy as Herbie and Crista Moore as Louise. Directed by Arthur Laurents it won the Tony Award for Best Revival of a Musical and for Tyne Daly as Best Actress in a Musical.
2003. The Schubert Theatre in New York, Bernadette Peters as Rose, John Dossett as Herbie and Tammy Blanche as Louise. Sam Mendes directed and choreographed.
2008. Directed by Arthur Laurents yet again, Patti Lupone played Rose this time with Boyd Gaines and Laura Benanti. All three performers won Tony Awards in their respective categories.
2015 saw the West End revival with Imelda Staunton in the lead role and Peter Davidson and Lara Pulver in the support roles. The Laurence Olivier Award went to Ms. Staunton and Ms. Pulver as well as for the Best Revival of a Musical. The show was directed by Jonathan Kent.
2024. Currently on Broadway is another revival, this time with Audra McDonald as Rose and Danny Burstein as Herbie and Joy Woods is playing Louise. Directed by George C. Wolfe.
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“Let Me Entertain You”
A personal reminiscence of Gypsy by Lane Bradbury
It’s been over 65 years since I did GYPSY, but I will never forget that last performance in Philadelphia before opening in New York. I had some “real” trouble remembering a bit of staging with a teapot, which Jerry Robbins turned into a “real” tempest. And much to my chagrin, the now infamous “Teapot Story” made its way back to New York almost before we did. I was horrified.
The first time I visited New York I was 13 years old. I came with my ballet teacher, Miss Dorothy, and 12 students. In the day time we went to ballet class, but at night we went to the theatre.
The first show we saw was CAN-CAN, with the magical you know who: Gwen Verdon. She just plain jumped off the stage and into my life, and CAN-CAN up opened my world and love for everything French.
Looking back at all those magnificent shows... PAJAMA GAME, CAN CAN, THE KING AND I, MY FAIR LADY, WEST SIDE STORY… That was indeed the Golden Age of Broadway, but of course I didn’t know that at the time. None of us did. It was our job 8 shows a week.
One morning during the run of GYPSY I stepped into the elevator of my apartment building, and I was staring into the bright blue eyes of Paul Newman. I knew him vaguely from The Actors Studio, and he was playing in SWEET BIRD OF YOUTH.
“Oh, good mornin’.”
“Mornin’.”
“It’s a really nice day out there, huh?”
“Yep.”
“I reckon you’re goin’ to your matinee?”
“Yep.”
“Me too.”
Silence.
“Would you like a lift to your theatre?”
“Oh, sure, that’d be good.”
I hopped on the back of his motorcycle, and as I wrapped my arms around his waist like he was mine, I wondered how did I, this little Southern debutante from Atlanta, Georgia, end up on the Great White Way? I was an ugly, unpopular teenager growing up among the southern society of the 1950s. But the only place that I really felt at home was in my imagination. It was just so easy for me to get completely lost was in the woods that I could see waiting for me outside my classroom window. I was born into this culture of privilege and high society, but try as hard as I might, I just couldn’t seem to fit in.
And I began to realize my imagination could be used for something positive. Thank goodness, because school certainly was not working out. I didn’t get a high school diploma, they gave me a certificate so they could just get me the hell out of there. My parents had somehow gotten Stevens College in Missouri to accept me. If I went to Stevens, I would not only get to study dance, but I would get to take my Five Gated Grand Champion Saddle Bred Horse, “Stonewall’s Golden Quest” to school with me.
But I said “No. I’m not going.” I’d finally figured out where I could fit in. “I’m going to New York”.
My parents enrolled me in a pantomime class at Columbia, so they could tell their friends – truthfully – they had sent me to New York to study at a top university. It was there that I met Tom Wheatley, a gifted actor who became my best friend – no hanky panky – and my mentor. At one point, Tom said, “Lane, would you like to audition with me for The Actors Studio?”. “What's that?” “It's an acting workshop where Marlon Brandon, Jimmy Dean, Montgomery Clift, Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward go to work out as actors.” “Oh, that sounds like a good place.”
Rehearsals for the Actors Studio Audition were so much fun because Tom always brought a suitcase full of things for me to discover and use in the scene. He found out that I had an insatiable love for chocolate covered cherries, so unbeknownst to me, on the night of the audition, he hid a box of chocolate covered cherries in his suitcase. Before the audition, he whispered to me, “Lane, after you come in, I want you to sit in it that black armchair until I tell you to get up.” “Okay.” But, Tom said it again. “Lane, promise me you will not get up until I give you the signal.” “Okay.” I said my first line and went and sat in the armchair.
Tom opened his suitcase and took out the big box of chocolate covered cherries and placed them on a small table on the opposite side of the stage. As the scene continued, I kept waiting for Tom to give me the signal that I could get up and get a chocolate covered cherry, but he never did. I don't know what I did in that chair, but it must have been something because the next morning Tom called and said we had both passed the audition and were now lifetime members of The Actors Studio. In fact, I was the youngest member they had ever accepted at the time.
Thank goodness for The Actors Studio. I was starting to get noticed as an actor. Elia Kazan cast me as the small part of Jolly Adams in a play called ‘JB’. My first Broadway show! I had 7 lines. And it was during the run of ‘JB’ that I got an audition for a part in a new musical starring Ethel Merman, with lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, book by Arthur Laurents, music by Jule Styne, and being directed and choreographed by Jerome Robbins. Ah Mon Dieu! I knew I needed an audition song that I was really comfortable singing. Gwen Verdon of course. “Maidens Typical of France”, her song from CAN-CAN.
I didn't get the part. But after GYPSY had been in rehearsal for 6 weeks, my agent called. “Lane, they’re gonna fire the girl who is playing 'Dainty June'. You got the part.” Over the next three days I had to learn 3 songs, 2 dances, a whole lot of dialogue, how to do the time step, and twirl batons. They were already out of town in Philadelphia, so they sent someone back to New York to rehearse with me at the 45th street studio. Learning the time step and to twirl batons is not easy. A couple of batons wound up going out the studio windows because I was so frustrated knowing I had to be on stage in 24 hours.
That first night in GYPSY, all I remember was people yanking clothes off of me, putting other stuff on me, and then shoving me toward the stage entrance hoping I’d at least get some of the show right.
Since I went into GYPSY so fast, I was constantly trying to catch up. But Ethel Merman, on the other hand, had her performance all mapped out. It never changed. She would never look me in the eyes. She would only look at my forehead. Here I was learning all these incredible things at The Actors Studio but Ethel Merman wouldn’t even look me in the eyes? I found this fascinating because she could always tear up during “Rose’s Turn.” I used to stand in the wings every night and watch her, wondering how could this performer who wouldn’t connect with me at all on stage be so emotionally available during her song. It didn’t make sense. But then nothing made sense to me at the time.
Ethel Merman and Jack Klugman in the Chinese restaurant. "You'll Never Get Away From Me"
So, do you want to know the rest of the Teapot story? In one scene I was supposed to move this little teapot so Miss Merman could sweep silverware off the table and into her purse. But, in order to make a clean sweep so the joke would work, I had to move the teapot. It was simple, really, but I forgot to do it. So I got a note about it, and then I forgot to do it again. And I got another note. Then there was an announcement the next day: “There will be a teapot rehearsal for Lane Bradbury at 4 o'clock in the lobby.” At 4 o’clock I went out to the lobby, and the stage manager and I worked on the scene. He would say Jack Klugman’s line “Rose, did it ever occur to you there might be somebody in this world who doesn’t like Chinese food?,” then I would move the teapot. He would say the line again, I would move the teapot again. This went on and on for over half an hour. That was all I could think about in GYPSY. Then came our last night in Philadelphia before going back to New York for our one preview and opening night. I went on stage thinking to myself, “Remember to remove the teapot, remember to remove the teapot.” Well, I was concentrating so much on remembering to remove the teapot that I didn’t hear Jack say the line and I forgot to move the damn thing. I came off stage, and as I was going up to my dressing room, Jerome Robbins was standing in the curve of the stairs staring down at me. “You f***ing little bitch!” I had to go past him to get to my dressing room and get back on stage for the ‘Broadway’ number.
That night as the number was drawing to a close, I went back to the train caboose to get my batons for the big finish. But they were not there. I went running off stage and asked the stage manager, “What happened to my batons?” Jerry Robbins stepped out from the shadows. “I stole them to teach you a lesson.”
Lane Bradbury, Ethel Merman with 'Caroline' and the Farmboys
After the show that night, he took me to Miss Merman’s dressing room. “I’m sorry, Miss Merman. It won’t happen again.” She didn’t say anything. She just looked at my forehead and closed the door.
The saddest thing about the whole experience for me, though, was that I was working with Jerry Robbins, a man I had idolized since childhood, and it all went so terribly wrong. But we can't hold onto the pain from our past forever.
I did have one more experience with Jerry Robbins. I was riding a horse named Tangerine, that Burgess Meredith loaned me, around the back roads of Nyack, New York, and one of these roads ran up a mountainside and ended at a very old graveyard.
One Sunday after galloping up the mountain, I walked Tangerine around the tombstones while she caught her breath. When we turned to leave, Jerry Robbins was standing at the entrance of the graveyard. I had to go past him in order to get home. As we approached, he recognized me, I heard him say, “Can you do pirouettes yet?” I froze. I don't remember if I said, “I'm working on them,” or if I simply lied and said, “Yes.” He said, “I'm getting ready to do a musical called 'Fiddler on the Roof.' I'm auditioning next week.” I didn't bother to audition for “Fiddler.” That would have been mental suicide. This strange meeting in the graveyard had been unsettling enough. I knew I had to move on and know that.... “Everything’s Coming up Roses.”
Oh, and one more thing about that teapot! After we opened in New York, that bit with the teapot was cut.
Sandra Church as 'Louise', Jack Klugman as 'Herbie', Lane Bradbury as 'June', Ethel Merman and Peg Murray as 'Miss Cratchitt' in the Grantziger office.
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The original Vaudeville act
June and Louise Hovick with the Newsboys, all starting to show their age.
Dainty June with the boys in the original act. Raoul Pene du Bois reproduced the boy's costumes for the Broadway musical..
A Memoir’s Progress
GYPSY ROSE LEE
Gypsy Rose Lee. noted ecdysiast, television personality, actress and writer, wrote her memoirs "Gypsy", published by Andre Deutsch Ltd. They subsequently were converted into the musical. The article here was written in 1959, when the musical was first produced. Gypsy Rose Lee died in April 1970.
I really wrote "Gypsy" for my son, Erik, so he would stop asking so many questions. We spend so much time together that we would always get around to talking about my past. You must know we have a house in New York. It has twenty-six rooms, a marble floor in the drawing room, a pool in the patio, an elevator and seven baths scattered about, but we don't spend much time there. We're usually on the road. I try to arrange my bookings so that we spend Christmas at home but that is rare.
Last year we celebrated our Christmas before we left for the West Coast. We had arrived in Chicago the next day and went to town between planes. The cab driver asked, "Where to, lady?”
"Henrici's," I replied almost from force of habit.
Erik's face lighted up at the name. "Isn't that where you had your birthday party when you were in the Ziegfeld Follies?"
I tried to remember.
"It was when you hurt your foot and had to do the act sitting down," Erik said. My son has a memory like mine, sharp and clear for the trivia; but unlike me, he remembers names and dates. Next to Jules Verne, his favourite literature is my scrapbook. The family history is very important to him.
After lunch, Erik and I walked, stopping from time to time to glance into a window; and then suddenly the street seemed to change. I looked around expecting to see the Oriental Theatre and others that I had played in. I didn't see any of the landmarks but I knew the street. It was as familiar to me as home is to other people.
The Grant Hotel was there, with burned-out electric lights, a crooked, old sign, dingy net curtains and green shades that used to roll up suddenly and flap against the pane; the same noisy El train roared by, and I remembered how it used to shake the bed when my sister and I shared the room with Mother and the six little boys in the act slept in the room next to ours. I almost expected to see Mother leaning out of the window, yelling to me to be careful when I crossed the street.
"I used to live in that hotel," I said to Erik. "A long time ago when I was a little girl."
Erik held his hands to the side of his face, the way I did, and peered into the lobby. "You lived here?" he asked, a note of sympathy and disbelief in his voice.
"It was nicer in those days," I said, but as I said it I wondered. I saw again the washbasin in the corner of the room, the bare electric light bulb hanging from the ceiling and the big spot on the carpet the chambermaid had tried to blame on Mother's dogs.
"Is this the hotel where you met the man with the suitcase filled with pickled babies?"
"No dear. That was the Brevoort in St. Louis. This is where my pet monkey burned his hand on the Christmas-tree candle."
"And where Auntie broke her front tooth kissing her doll? And where your Mother booked the act at an Elk's smoker by mistake?"
We had taken a long streetcar ride, the boys carrying the costumes, and when we finally arrived the head Elk wouldn't let us go on. "I had no idea it was a kid act," he kept saying. "This is a smoker. A stag party. This is no place for kids!"
"I don't care what it is," Mother said. "I have a contract, and you either play us or pay us." We got paid. Mother made sure of that.
"I wish I'd been in the act with you," Erik said. "But I guess your mother couldn't have found a place for me. I can't sing or dance or do anything. "
"I couldn't sing or dance, either, " I said, "but she found a place for me."
"Your mother," Erik said, "must have been a very nice woman."
I couldn't help smiling at the word. Mother had been many things, but she had never been ‘nice'. Not exactly. Charming, perhaps, and courageous, resourceful and ambitious, but not nice. Mother, in a feminine way, was ruthless. She was, in her own words, a jungle mother. The jungle was vaudeville of the 1920s and we were her brood. She knew too well that in a jungle it doesn't pay to be too nice. "God will protect us," she often said. "But to make sure," she would add, "carry a heavy club. "
From life to book to musical is the way "Gypsy" has gone. The memoirs have come a long way. A whole cast of actors, singers, dancers, vaudevillians, strippers and other players are recreating the life that once I led.
I almost wish that I could be in the act.
Gypsy Rose Lee during rehearsals with Sandra Church and Ethel Merman.
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