A Legend is Hatched: I Meet Bernadette Peters (part 1)
Some of you are probably surprised by the cold logic of my thinking here to which I say: don’t worry!
About a month ago, I met with Money Manager and he told me that my finances are dwindling. I told him that if that was the case, it seemed like he wasn’t doing his job. He told me I shouldn’t talk about things I didn’t know about like jobs or careers or working. So, naturally, this summer I have decided to focus on my singing career. After all, they say if you do what you are passionate about, you will never have to work a day in your life.
I have been practicing my singing a lot, and I think I am improving. In the last few weeks, my neighbors haven’t complained once about what they call “that screeching noise.” They seem to be enjoying listening to my singing so much that they haven’t left their apartment at all—when I went into the hallway the other day, I saw their newspaper and mail piled up outside their door.
Given that my singing was now clearly superb, I decided to start putting together a set list for my upcoming cabaret act. I have been planning my cabaret act since I was 14, so I got out my childhood notebook and looked at my original set list, which included many songs covered by Bernadette Peters and a monologue from The Seagull. This seemed like a good place to start!
While googling the pig-Latin lyrics of “We’re in the Money,” I decided to take a break and look at my apartment building’s message board. I like to post things on my building’s message board because I think it’s good for building morale. It was while scrolling through the message board, trying to figure out if replies to my post about putting a hot dog cart in the lobby had somehow gotten hidden, that I noticed a post authored by a name that seemed familiar. But why was this name familiar? Luckily, I have an excellent memory for remembering anything that might be useful to me, and that’s when I recalled that this person was the producer of an upcoming Broadway show starring Bernadette Peters. Clearly, this was a sign that it was finally time for me to become friends with Bernadette!
I have always thought I should be friends with Bernadette Peters. Yet, despite our vocal similarities, I have never even met her. I once saw Bernadette Peters outside of a tiki bar on the Upper West Side. I realized it was her when someone said, “Look, Bernadette Peters.” This did not lead to us meeting. But now I was finally getting my chance! Why if I hadn’t been looking at my old set list, searching for the lyrics, deciding I needed a break, and scrolling through the message board on a Sunday, this never would have happened! This is the kind of serendipity which Money Manager says is usually almost completely mostly legal. Erway inay the onymay!
Having someone producing a musical of Bernadette’s in my building seemed like the most logical way to get an introduction. Some of you are probably surprised by the cold logic of my thinking here to which I say: don’t worry!
(This person will, henceforth, be known as The Producer under the advice of Money Manager who told me it’s always best to not leave a paper trail. I thanked him for the advice and told him—to quote from that less-than-hit musical The Goodbye Girl—“you’re really awfully happening for an Anglo-Saxon.”)
My task now was to meet The Producer. I was prepared for this as, according to many of my friends and acquaintances, I have a lot of experience stalking people.
To meet The Producer to meet Bernadette, I first had to find out which apartment The Producer lived in. It seemed like the easiest way to do this was by stealing one of her packages from the mail room because as the saying goes: it’s not the money; it’s the stuff. But bafflingly, the building keeps the mail room locked.
I was left with no choice but to go door-to-door until I found The Producer. However, I was quickly thwarted by ConEd who, apparently, due to the heat, cut back on electricity in the entire city making it so there wasn’t enough power for the building’s elevators to run.
I decided perhaps it was best to let The Producer come to me and let her suggest making an introduction to Bernadette. Like most problems, this seemed best solved by putting on a show. And so, I decided to stage a solo version, in my apartment, of my favorite Bernadette musical: Annie Get Your Gun. After all, I have the rare distinction of being the only person to have her copy of the 1999 revival cast recording of Annie Get Your Gun stolen at gun point along the Zambezi River.
I decided that it would be best if I did a semi-condensed version of the show. This would a.) take care of the parts of the show that have “not aged well” and b.) be in the same vein as the mini-musicals that my local musical theatre camp used to perform, and where I notoriously was not cast as Annie Oakley, but then simply sang louder than the girl who was until they had no choice but to give me the part. I have always been my own best amplification system.
I let my production be guided by the principle of “If I remember it, that means it’s the right thing.” Like how I remember doing a successful cabaret show and winning an Oscar.
So, on with the show!
I enter wearing a cowboy hat.
Annie Oakley is usually played with an Appalachian accent, but I find that to be incongruous with my hair, so I decided to do a British accent instead. It’s long been one of my philosophies that you can fix questionable scenes in American musicals by setting them in England (this is my plan for updating the book for a Mame revival, which I have not been hired to do, but no one else had been hired to do either so I think I am still in the running).
So, I enter with a cowboy hat and British accent!
My first number is “There’s No Business Like Show Business,” which is what I tell Money Manager all of the time and then he says that I am “misinterpreting that for god’s sake!” and that the only words he hears are “no business.”
Next, “Doing What Comes Naturally.” Indeed, I was!
I faced a problem—this being an American production—when the issue of guns came up during “You Can’t Get a Man with a Gun” I decided to replace all the guns with Super Soakers. This has the added benefit of giving the production a real “summer in the city” feel.
Personally, I think my rendition of “I Got the Sun in the Morning” is especially moving. The song really speaks to me as I also “got no mansions” and “got no yachts” because I keep being accused of trespassing.
“An Old-Fashioned Wedding” was the scene of my summer camp triumph. That other girl really didn’t stand a chance, since only one of us had a fortune teller say she’d be married more times than Elizabeth Taylor.
Some of you might be thinking that “Anything You Can Do” would be a real change to do as a solo. But, for me. it was perfect. I assume this is what my therapist has been trying to tell me when she says my greatest challenge is myself. It really made for a great finale!
Despite my production going off without a hitch—other than some water damage caused by the Super Soakers—and being a real display of my lung capacity, The Producer failed to appear. I went out into the hallway and there was not a soul to be seen. Finally, I bumped into my Doorman collecting my neighbor’s mail, and when I asked him why he was doing that, he told me they were out of town. Then he told me, in fact, I was the only resident in town that weekend.
What can I say, my entire show was an Unexpected Song that only I was hearing.
Stay tuned for my next attempt to meet The Producer to meet Bernadette!
Victoria
Footnotes
I am working on my singing career! Although, for some reason, when I tell people this they keep on asking if that means I can sing.
I do have a childhood notebook that outlines a set list for a cabaret show and possible Ohio restaurants that could be used as a performance venue.
“We’re in the Money” in pig-Latin was performed by Bernadette Peters at her Carnegie Hall and is, subsequently, on the live recording. It was originally performed by Ginger Rogers.
I did once see Bernadette outside a tiki bar on the upper west side. She was walking by. I was at the tiki bar.
I do have a neighbor who is ostensibly the lead producer on Bernadette’s next show (I am being slightly vague on her exact title for reasons of privacy). I have never met this neighbor. However, if anyone reading this knows who I am talking about and wants to make an introduction, please feel free.
“It’s not the money; it’s the stuff” is from The Jerk.
Like many girls of a certain age, seeing Bernadette in Annie Get Your Gun with a very important theatrical experience for me and I maintain she was great in the part.
I do have the rare distinction of being the only person to have her copy of the 1999 revival cast recording of Annie Get Your Gun stolen at gun point along the Zambezi River.
I did force them into giving me the part of Annie Oakley at summer camp by singing over the girl who was supposed to be in the part. I really do come with my own built-in amplification system.
There have been some murmurs of a Mame revival, and if there is one, I should be the person hired to update the book. I have an actual plan of how to do it. So, everyone just take my word on that, and advocate on my behalf!
