The CATS Issue

Happy May! It’s been a crazy few weeks. Dan is on the Tony nominating committee, so I’ve been seeing a lot of shows with him, including the new revival of Cats. Which got me thinking: in two and a half years of writing Between Flights, I’ve never written about my own experience doing Cats on Broadway.

So... welcome to The CATS Issue.

It’s a doozy, so I thought it would be fun to record it in case you’d like to listen. (see above)

I played Grizabella on and off for five years, from 1992 to 1998. It started as a three-month replacement job when Laurie Beechman took a break to get married, and then turned into something much longer and a truly wonderful chapter of my life.

A confession: I wasn’t a huge fan of the show when I first saw it. I loved the dancing (especially The Jellicle Ball) and I loved “Memory,” but I kind of didn’t get it. So when my agent called to say they wanted me to audition, I was a little hesitant. Then he told me what Laurie was making. I said I’d LOVE to audition. 😊

But here’s the thing: I fell in love with the show the moment I started doing it. And playing Grizabella—getting to sing one of the greatest theater songs written in the last half century, eight times a week, was an extraordinary gift.

I actually auditioned for the original Broadway production back in 1982. I got a callback and sang for the director Trevor Nunn, but I was way too young for the part. I hadn’t lived enough. In the meantime, I started singing “Memory” as a singing waitress. So the song and I go way back.

My first performance was surreal. This was my first time replacing someone in a show. When you replace someone in a long-running show, you’re the only person who’s nervous. And boy, was I nervous.

One of my favorite things about doing Cats was the opening number. When I was a little girl I wanted to be a dancer, but, alas, I’m what you’d call a “singer who moves.” Not a dancer. However, in Cats I got to be in the opening as another cat entirely, whom I named Mahoovna. I worked very hard on my dancing so as not to embarrass myself. When my friends came to the show and couldn’t pick me out in the opening number, that was the biggest compliment I could get.

At the beginning of my run, it took me about an hour to get into full Grizabella makeup each night. Then one Sunday I got stuck in traffic and arrived at the theatre fifteen minutes before curtain. Turns out I could do my makeup in ten minutes—and it actually looked better when I wasn’t trying to be so precise!

I always felt a little guilty at the end of the show. Our incredible dancers had been out there for two and a half hours giving everything they had, and then I’d waltz out, sing one song, and get the most applause. Didn’t seem right.

As much as I loved doing the show, I also loved the cast, crew and orchestra. We had a ball on and off stage. And many of us are still close. I met Ron Tierno, my drummer on many of my shows and albums, doing Cats!

I practically raised Nicholas backstage at the Winter Garden. I had maybe twelve minutes of stage time, and my wonderful agent, Steven Unger, negotiated that I could bring him to work with me—something not many Broadway moms get to do. My dresser Sue would watch him when I was onstage. My *dressing room had a bathtub, which came in handy. When I wasn’t on the floor playing Thomas the Tank Engine trains with him, I was sometimes giving him a bath. Nicholas celebrated several birthdays at the theatre, and we always had a special cake made for the occasion.

Nicholas became obsessed with the show and invented his own character: Tamcandle. He even wrote his own solo line: “You can't see sticks in the snow.” Thursday was our day off, and every Thursday he would say 'Mommy, let's play Cats!' We'd put on the cast album and act out the opening number. Over and over.

Perhaps this was payback in advance for making him a Jets fan...

People ask me this all the time. I say “I have a really nice house.” Which is a joke. But not really.

The truth is, the producers were incredibly generous. Not only could I bring Nicholas to work, but they gave me time off to do other projects—two weeks to do Sibling Revelry at Rainbow and Stars, a week here and there to record songs for Anastasia in Los Angeles or The Swan Princess in Salt Lake City. This was only possible because it was a long-running show, and I had an excellent understudy. I was very lucky.

As for the house—Cats is literally why I own one. There's a New York Times piece from 1996 where I talked about this. When Dan and I were house hunting, a mortgage broker expressed some doubt about our financial stability after I listed my occupation as "actress." He perked right up, though, when I explained I was in the now-and-forever production of Cats. "This was very impressive to a mortgage broker," I told the reporter.

On May 23, 1996 I was at Grand Central Station, ready to take the train home. I had a little time, so I checked my answering machine. I knew something was up when it rewound for a long time. Then came a series of messages: “Dan, I just saw the NY Post, are you OK?” “Oh my God, I just saw the NY Post.” “Dan, are you there? I can’t believe the NY Post article…” And so on.

I immediately went to a newsstand and picked up a copy of the Post. And there was this headline:

I couldn’t believe it. I called Dan, who was at a college graduation in Pennsylvania with his parents, and read him the headline and the article. He later told me his mother’s reaction: “You’ve always wanted to be in the newspaper — but this isn’t good, is it?”

The truth behind the Cats commercial.

The production company had reached out asking if Nicholas could be an extra in a commercial they were filming before a Wednesday matinee. Dan and I talked it over and said sure. Dan brought Nicholas to the theatre early. Our drummer Ron Tierno also brought his son Max, a playmate of Nicholas’s. Nicholas loved Ken Prymus, who played Old Deuteronomy, and went off with him—so Dan ended up looking after Max.

Dan was holding Max when a camera person came up and, much to his surprise, started interviewing him on camera. He asked how many times Dan had seen the show. Dan said 9 times. He asked why. Dan said, 'Because my wife plays Grizabella.'

They edited that part out.

Dan was a good sport about it, but I was furious—partly because the reporter got the facts wrong. He wrote that Dan was holding Nicholas. He wasn’t. He was holding Max. Ken Prymus was with Nicholas. If you’re going to throw my husband under the bus, at least get your facts straight, buddy.

After the brouhaha, the NY Post did something almost unheard of: they changed the headline in the late edition from “The Great White Fake” to “The Great White Lie.”

”

The Cats commercial ran for a long time, and much to Dan’s amusement, he got recognized constantly. Once he was dropping off dry cleaning and the owner held up a twofer for Crazy For You and asked, “Is this a good show?” Dan said, “I guess so. Why?” The owner said, “Cause you would know.”

Because you can find everything on YouTube, here is that famous Cats commercial. If you watch closely, you can spot Nicholas giving Ken Prymus a kiss.

This story has a happy ending: both Nicholas and Max received residuals from the commercial for years. It helped pay for their college educations!

I had some very cool press opportunities during my Cats years, including singing Memory at the halftime show of the NBA All-Star Game at Madison Square Garden and on The David Letterman Show. My Mom recorded the Letterman appearance on her VCR, and this issue gave me an excuse to digitize it!

Perhaps most exciting was doing a photo shoot and interview for People magazine with Betty Buckley. I have this framed.

More recently, I was included in this Playbill piece featuring nine Grizabellas talking about singing “Memory.” Good company to be in.

I still sing Memory in my concerts. I sang it throughout my 30s on Broadway, but it’s one of those songs that deepens with age—the older you are, the more you can bring to it. Back in 1982, I was too young for the role—I hadn’t lived enough. Having just turned 65, that’s not a problem now.

I’ve recorded Memory on two of my albums: The Essential Liz Callaway, an acoustic version with Alex Rybeck on piano, and Passage of Time, where Alex made a beautiful arrangement pairing it with “The Perfect Year” from Sunset Boulevard.

And speaking of Alex—some great news: after three weeks in the hospital and three weeks in rehab, he’s finally home! He won’t be joining me for my Stephen Schwartz concerts in San Francisco this weekend, but we’ll be reunited for other gigs this summer.

I'll be racking up frequent flyer miles the next few months! Here's where you'll find me, with more dates to be announced.

May 8-9 SAN FRANCISCO, CA The Wizard and I: Liz Callaway Sings Stephen Schwartz

May 11 WASHINGTON DC Library of Congress Burt Bacharach concert

May 17 NEW YORK, NY Drama Desk Awards

June 21-28 BULGARIA TO BUDAPEST Playbill Cruise

July 5 ELDRED, NY The Wizard and I: Liz Callaway Sings Stephen Schwartz

July 15-18 NEW YORK, NY Boom! (with Ann Hampton Callaway)

July 24-26 LONDON The Wizard and I: Liz Callaway Sings Stephen Schwartz

Aug 18 FLUSHING, NY National Anthem Mets vs Padres

Aug 21 HAWLEY, PA Broadway and Beyond

CLICK HERE FOR MY FULL SCHEDULE

I almost forgot—over the years I've had the joy of performing Memory all around the world. But nothing will ever top a private event in Vancouver, where I first met Johnny Mathis—and even got to sing a duet of “Chances Are” with him. I’ve written about my friendship with him here and here, but in more recent news: I sent him my new CD, and last week got an email with this photo. I’m definitely framing this, too!

That’s all for this issue of Between Flights.

Have a wonderful week. And go Knicks!

xoxo Liz

*Fun fact: my dressing room at the Winter Garden Theatre was Barbra Streisand's when she did Funny Girl. Well, half of it.

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