Only in Miami: Part One

We received an odd call in the Producer's office one day.

A couple in Miami was planning their daughter's wedding. They wanted the Broadway company of Fiddler on the Roof to come down and perform at the reception. They did not care that the production had been closed for a few months. Money, apparently, was no object. The kicker: it was going to be a surprise. The daughter had no idea this was going to happen.

The couple would pay for airfare, hotel for one night, transportation to and from the airport, costume shipping and salary for performers, stage manager and company manager. Sure, why not? I would act as stage manager. The Mormon would be my company manager. We would spend Memorial Day weekend in Miami. Yes, things were strained between us but I was hoping a weekend away might provide a little spark or bring us back together. Back? Together?

There wasn't really all that much for us to do. The Mormon and I drove up to Goodspeed to pick up costumes for the nine or so cast members who would come down with us. We scheduled one New York rehearsal with the associate conductor and the dance captain. We had a four or five hour rehearsal in which we reviewed the numbers to be performed: Matchmaker, Sunrise/Sunset and and the Wedding Dance.

I thought it rather odd, at rehearsal, that a wealthy family (albeit Jewish) wanted a group of New Yorkers to come to Miami dressed as peasants from the shtetl to perform at a wedding but, whatever. They were paying pretty good money.

We flew jetBlue to Ft. Lauderdale and the weather was absolutely perfect. We arrived early in the morning and our rehearsal with the five piece Jewish band wasn't until later in the afternoon. We had a quick continental breakfast in the hotel and the Mormon and I headed off to the beach.

My first mistake was thinking we were close enough to walk. We were not. It was hot and we were sweating our asses off by the time we got about a mile from the hotel with no beach in sight. I broke down and called for a car service that quickly came, rescued us and took us to the ocean. The sunny skies immediately clouded over but the day remained hot and the water was the temperature of bath water. We were on the beach in Hollywood, FL and it was wonderful. We grabbed some lunch at a rundown, almost deserted seafood shack on the bay and then grabbed a cab back to the hotel.

We pulled the costumes together and met the cast in the lobby to cross the street to the big hotel where the wedding was taking place. As we were a surprise, our presence had to remain an absolute secret. TWO wedding planners greeted us at the back door of the reception area. They were frazzled and carried headsets, cell phones and walkie talkies. This was a BIG wedding, over 500 people. We stored the costumes in what was to be our green room/dressing room and made our way into the reception hall to meet the band.

I was nervous about the band. They were the first band of the night and, as I said, the Jewish contingent. They assured me that they were familiar with the score of Fiddler and I had to take them at their word but if they weren't...we'd be in deep trouble. How would we dance? Sing? I had sent them a cd of the music from the show so that they could practice alongside that. Our trusty dance captain put his head together with the leader of the band and they worked their way through the numbers once, twice, three times.

As I stood there watching this -- three young girls with wired mics singing Matchmaker, nine young men and women singing Sunrise/Sunset, and five men performing the Bottle Dance -- I thought, this is fucking ridiculous. The bride is going to be pissed off. I would be. And we weren't even in costume yet. We were given our call time and we all went our separate ways.

Meeting back at the hotel later that evening meant walking into even more madness. By this time, the wedding festivities were in full swing. The bride was having her picture taken all over the hotel so we were sequestered to our room. The women vocalized. The men stretched and joked with each other. I paced nervously back and forth and yearned for a cigarette or a drink. The Wedding Planners (two men) would check in on us intermittently to give us an approximate time check. We were their favorite entertainers because we were half naked and made them laugh.

When they finally came to get us, we were dressed in our finest rags. To avoid the wedding ceremony we had to travel the back routes of the hotel like steerage on the Titanic. We must have looked quite the sight parading through the hotel's kitchen on our way to bring real, Broadway, peasant Jewish life to that Hollywood, Florida ballroom.

The cast took their place behind a curtain and I watched as the father of the bride -- a hulking, balding, giant of a man -- took the stage. He spoke in broken English and glowed at his daughter as he built up the surprise he had in store. I could see her face, a mixture of surprise, uncertainty and then hope (did she think he was going to tell her he had bought them a house? a mansion? a yacht? a brand new car) slowly turned to fear as the words "Broadway", "cast", "Fiddler on the Roof" escaped his lips. There was no turning back now. A slight smattering of applause and then my Jewish peasants took their places.

The girls launched into a rousing rendition of Matchmaker. The bride and groom sat, at the center of the dance floor, stunned. But my girls sold it. The men came out and joined the girls in a moving, too long version of Sunrise/Sunset. The older Jews in the crowd were moved to tears, the younger were bored. The bride glared at her parents. Our Jewish peasants grabbed their bottles and put them on their head and did a rousing version of the Bottle Dance. This, actually, geared the entire crowd up. It would have been much better if we had cut Matchmaker and Sunrise and just done this but...you had to give them their money's worth. And they were paying in cash so...

The Bottle Dancers grabbed men and women out of the audience and led the beginning of the Hora. Pretty soon the dance floor was filled and I told the Mormon to take the cast back to the hotel and I would settle with the father. Finding the man, in the middle of the throbbing crowd, was not easy. But I finally did. I introduced myself and explained that we needed the money now as many of the cast were leaving first thing in the morning. He was surrounded by a large group of equally hulking men who I though at first were body guards but later learned were his sons. He was very drunk already and unhappy with my request. He said he'd have to go back to his room to get the cash. I said that would be fine and I would wait. Then one of the sons whispered in his ear and his eyes lit up. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope with $25,000 in cash. Handed it to me and dismissed me.

You're welcome.

I walked the perimeter of the dance floor and watched as the newly married couple were lifted up on chairs and given a white handkerchief to hold between them. The groom was drunk and delirious with joy. The bride. The bride had a look on her face that said I'd rather be anywhere but here. And I wondered what her story was. Why marry this man? Was he the safe choice? Was he a doctor who would provide her with a nice house, twice yearly vacations, an abundance of jewelry and a houseful of kids? Did she have another love? Was he here tonight? Was she wishing he was on the other end of the handkerchief being tossed in the air, on a chair, beside her?

I pondered this as i clutched the envelope full of cash tightly in my pocket and rushed through the dark night back to our hotel. If anyone knew what I was carrying I was the easiest target.

I got back to my hotel room about 45 minutes after the actors fled the waiting. I had numerous texts from the Mormon saying they were restless and wanted their money and to leave. Well, it's not like I was sitting down with a bowl of Matzo Ball Soup at the wedding and yucking it up with the father of the bride.

I shut myself in the bedroom with the Mormon and we counted out the cash, in hundreds, for each performer. They went from restless to thrilled as I handed them each a wad of cash. They went on their merry ways and I, exhausted from the release, passed out in bed immediately without even taking off my clothes.