OnWARD with Peter J, Ward

Al Hirschfeld prints: Courtesy of the Al Hirschfeld Foundation ©
Carol Channing in “Hello Dolly” by Al Hirschfeld ©1964
Photos:
Peter J. Ward outside the Hirschfeld Theatre (in tuxedo): Photo by Paula Hendrixson Hirschfeld interview photos: courtesy Peter J. Ward Productions

“What’s my secret to my long life? I always had a reason to get up the next day, I always keep myself busy.” Al Hirschfeld (age 98) to Peter J. Ward March 6, 2002 NEW YORK – Throughout the 1970’s, Sunday mornings at 37 Prosper Street in New Brunswick, New Jersey were the quietest day of the week despite the fact that 13 people occupied the house. The smell of hot coffee and fresh donuts from City Bakery hung in the air as one by one, our parents would rise, followed by a slow, steady stream of 11 children. The sofa, chairs and floor in the living room were all scattered equal parts, pajama clad children and a halfdozen newspapers spread out, that dominated the space. Sunday newspapers back then were always thick with multiple sections and magazines, which made it easy for everyone to get something they enjoyed reading. Some newspapers included comics, which was a favorite of mine.

After the “funny papers”, we would grab the entertainment section of The New York Times and begin to count the number of “Nina’s” we could find in caricaturist Al Hirschfeld’s drawing. During his eightdecade career, Hirschfeld quietly rose to fame illustrating the actors, singers, and dancers of Broadway, which would appear in advance in The New York Times to accompany stories on the play’s opening. As a child, my ten siblings and I would scour the Times every Sunday looking for the “Nina’s” he would hide in his work. Hirschfeld would discreetly write his daughter Nina’s name in his work and nearby the signature would be a number, indicating how many “Nina’s” were in each piece.

In late September of 1992, I was the Director of Marketing and Public Relations, promoting The State Theatre in New Brunswick, New Jersey. The day after each show, I took great pride in walking into my boss’s office with my Excel sheet proudly displaying the audience numbers that continued to grow with each passing month.

That fall, Carol Channing and Chita Rivera were on my slate for two consecutive nights and ticket sales were booming. But one night, as I was about to take my first bite of dinner at Stage Left, a restaurant half a block from the theatre, Francis Schott, one of the owners, approached my table and told me I had a call. “It’s your boss, (Bill Wright), and he sounds upset,” Schott said.

Through the muffled noise of patrons enjoying their meals and ice cascading in glasses behind a crowded bar, I picked up the phone and before I could complete “Hello?”, “Bill launched right in to the issue. “We’ve got a problem”, he said. “Chita Rivera just left the tour and is going to do “Kiss of the Spider Woman” on Broadway.” My heart sank. I had already sold out the entire show two months earlier.

“Rita Moreno is going to take her place on tour,” he began. “That’s great, we love Rita, I can sell that out no problem” I said. “However, we have no photos or press material to promote it,” he said.

Bill liked to drop a dramatic bomb on my lap, followed by him lighting a cigarette, which over all the restaurant ambient noise, I could still hear him taking a drag as he waited for my reaction. He knew I was the having the best season in the history of the theatre, especially since I had more sold out shows in one year than the theatre had in the five years total before, and he waited for my response.

“I’ll come up with a plan,” I told him. “Don’t worry.”

I was worried. Later that night, my best friend from New Brunswick High School, Peter Rinnyk and I were brainstorming over a beer at the Melody Bar when Peter said “Well, if you don’t have a photo of the two of them and you don’t want to do a poster with them separately, what are you going to do, get someone to draw them?” followed by his booming laugh.

Except I wasn’t laughing. It was brilliant. I knew what to do. I could commission a print by Hirschfeld of the stars together and we could use it for the promotion.

The next morning, I called Margo Feidan, Hirschfeld’s representative in New York at the time, and she agreed to discuss it with Hirschfeld and call back. In the meantime, David Adler, my business manager, reminded me I had only $12,000 left in my budget, but I didn’t blink twice when Margo called back with the news. “Okay, he has a few days free, so he said “yes”, but I’ll need a check for $10,000 before it leaves the gallery” she said. “No problem” I assured her.

A few hours later, Bill was screaming for me to come to his office across the hall and as I entered the room, he was already at full volume. “Did you just spend 95 percent of your show budget on one print?”, he said. When I assured him, it would work, he begrudgingly, signed the check and placed a piece of paper with our letterhead and the words “From the Office of The President” in front of me that read in part, if the show lost money, I would personally take the financial hit. I knew he was bluffing, but I called him on it, and added a line that if the reverse happened and I sold out the show, I got a hefty bonus. We signed the paper, and a week later – the show was sold out for the entire weekend. I got my bonus.

After the show, I went backstage and gave one print to Carol, one to Rita and they both signed one for me. Hirschfeld would add his signature, later.

The print hung in my home office, over my set of original State Theatre seats that Bill gave me as a parting gift when I left the theatre to pursue my writing career.

A decade after Hirschfeld signed it, I was co-hosting Sports Life with Michelle Beadle, a television magazine show focusing on sports at The YES Network in New York. I finally had an opportunity to profile the master himself. I pitched the idea to Feidan and she arranged the on-camera interview. I also sat down with her separately days later and recorded a discussion with her about her relationship as his rep for years.

My camera operator, Bill McCurdy, and I made our way to 96th Street in New York, and as we walked up the five flights of stairs to his studio, I flashed back to those Sunday mornings with my family.

When we reached the top floor and took the last step into his historical work space, I heard his calm voice, “Hello there,” he said. “Come in!”. There he was, seated at his drawing table, in his famous barber chair, drawing Mathew Broderick, Nathan Lane and Cady Huffman in a rendering for the Times’ feature on their Broadway hit show: “The Producers.”

I introduced myself and we shook hands. He offered me a seat, but I wanted to stand and watch him work. I took it all in. The way he held his pen, gliding it across paper like an ice skater on a smooth pond. I watched the way he would slowly turn and glance at you while drawing and having a conversation. I stood fixated as he recalled the days of his youth with other artists he started out with that were now long gone.

We talked about hiding his daughter’s name “Nina” in his work and living and working in New York. It was incredible to hear his tales of traveling around the world in the 1930’s and 40’s. He was impressive and engaging.

We both seemed to forget we had cameras rolling on us the whole time.

As we wrapped up our hourlong interview, he asked to see the print he drew for me a decade earlier. With cameras still rolling, he turned to me and said “Do you mind? It always bothered me that you can’t see Rita’s arm”. With one swoop of his pen, her arm and hand appeared, he then he signed and dated it. We continued to stay in touch and he invited me back for lunch after the piece ran on television. We became friends and really enjoyed talking and laughing at his stories about the “olden days”.

One day a friend brought a date to my house for dinner who happened to be an art expert who loved Hirschfeld. She remarked that the print “can’t be real, Hirschfeld never altered his work,” she said with a knowing smirk. Of course, I knew it was in fact was real.

I decided to reach out to the Hirschfeld Foundation to inquire just how rare it was that he would alter his work after it was printed. After sending in photographs of Hirschfeld signing the print, I received a call from David Leopold, Creative Director of the Al Hirschfeld Foundation, “It’s incredibly rare,” he said.

He agreed with my friend’s date, but said the fact that he did it on camera and there is concrete proof that he altered it after it was printed, “makes it a very rare Hirschfeld, especially since it’s signed by Carol Channing, Rita Moreno and Hirschfeld,” he said. Leopold, who curated the entire Hirschfeld collection as Hirschfeld’s archivist, before becoming Creative Director added, “Hirschfeld would never let his work leave his desk unless he considered it completed.” Recalling that the print was literally turned around in just days, Leopold added; ’This one was done quickly, and he obviously didn’t get to do everything he wanted before it left his desk. It was important to get it done and meet the deadline, because he wanted to get Carol (Channing) everything she needed,” said Leopold. “He knew that it needed something more and when he finally got the chance, he fixed it,” said Leopold.

B. Harlan Boll, a celebrity publicist in Hollywood for four decades, has a collection of more than 40 originals and prints done by Hirschfeld and worked closely with Carol Channing for more than 25 years. Boll remembered the print well. “She came home with it and had it framed, it was in the house along with a number of others. Hirschfeld loved drawing Carol,” he said. “I don’t know the exact number, but she had (Hirschfeld’s) all over the house, “he said.

Boll agreed with Leopold that Channing was a favorite of Hirschfeld’s to draw, especially after the success she enjoyed throughout her career following her run in “Hello Dolly” on Broadway.

I hope to offer the foundation a copy of my one-of-a-kind print and a digital copy of the on-camera interview I conducted, for the Hirschfeld archives. In the meantime, whenever I long for Al’s magic, I can always make my way to West 45th Street and look up at the Al Hirschfeld Theatre and remember the how he gave Rita Moreno a right arm and me the special gift of friendship I will treasure forever.