Broadway: the great American musical

"... The musical theater pieces staged in these few blocks have mirrored nearly every social phenomenon that ever has swept the nation.... No matter what is happening in America, it is reflected back in the stories acted out upon those stages."

THE IDEA FOR a documentary series on Broadway hit me while I was riding in a cab zig-zagging through Times Square. It was 1992, and the theater district was very much in the doldrums. Although a much anticipated renaissance had just begun, trash in the gutter, three-card monte games, and drug dealers on the comers reminded me of all the times I had heard people insist that "Broadway is dead." Yet, as I whizzed past the stubbornly optimistic marquees and still-brilliant lights of the Great White Way, I realized that, in spite of everything, Broadway was as relevant and intriguing as ever. Them, in that taxi, I understood that the story of Broadway's extraordinary 100-year history and its relationship in 20th-century American life was the story I needed to tell. "Broadway: The American Musical" (airing Oct. 19-21 on PBS) is the result.

Ultimately, it was an exhausting and exhilarating ride. By the time the six-part series was completed--after nearly 10 years work--my production team had conducted 65 interviews with a Who's Who of American musical theater. Along the way, we pored over thousands of hours of archival footage, including newsreels, private home movies, and rare television and audio clips. We dug through innumerable boxes crammed with still photos, diary excerpts, and personal letters, much of it long buried and almost forgotten. We ultimately selected 1,000 clips that span a century of Broadway history. As for the music--the veritable heartbeat of the series--each 55 minute segment contains 40 minutes of music. How do you start? How do you possibly end?

The first thing I decided was what I did not want to make--a "'That's Entertainment!" for Broadway; a catalogue of great clips and reminiscences. Of course, I would include George Gershwin's legendary score for "Porgy and Bess," Fanny Brice performing "My Man," and Ethel Merman's "I've Got Rhythm." At the stone time, though, I was determined to go beyond the "best" and confront the "why." Why did the musical spring up in New York, and not London or Paris? Why is it considered a uniquely American art form?

Ever since the 18th century, Broadway has been home to theater in New York. The longest street in Manhattan, it has been given nicknames like "The Main Stem," "The Hardened Artery," and "The Great White Way" (on account of its brilliant lights). The theater center steadily worked its way uptown along Broadway from the base of the island, finally settling into its permanent home around Times Square at the turn of the 20th century. Since then, this small area of the city has attracted the greatest, most ambitious talents in the world, and the musical theater pieces staged in these few blocks have mirrored nearly every social phenomenon that ever has swept the nation: prohibition: world war; the advent of television: civil rights: the sexual revolution: AIDS: etc. No matter what is happening in America, it is reflected back in the stories acted out upon those stages.

The songs are inescapable. Music penetrates our lives in a myriad of ways, even when we barely are conscious of it, whether we are singing "A Bushel and a Peck" to lull our children to sleep or belting out "I'm A Yankee Doodle Dandy" on the Fourth of July. Broadway's songs are everywhere in American culture, from wedding standards to television commercials. When I looked at the work of just one composer, Irving Berlin, and considered the significance of his songs to America at pivotal moments in history. I knew that a documentary on Broadway was an idea worth pursuing.

"Songs are the pulse of a nation's heart. A fever chart of its health. Are we at peace? Are we in trouble? Are we floundering? Do we feel beautiful? Do we feel ugly? Listen to our songs." notes Yip Harburg, who wrote the lyrics for "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" as well as the classic Depression-era anthem, "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?" His quote is essential to the concept of this series. "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?" offers a more acute understanding of the Depression than any unemployment statistic or Dust Bowl photo ever could. To grasp the 1960s. just listen to "The Age of Aquarius." It is in the songs--Broadway songs.

Now that we had our "why," we found ourselves looking at a great, big "how." To apply tier grants and hire employees, a new production company had to be created. I called mine Ghost Light Films, after the single light that is left burning onstage after everyone has gone home, The light, an old theater tradition, is supposed to keep evil spirits away. So far, it has worked. When Ghost Light Films partnered with Thirteen/WNET New York, it was a huge step--my little production company merging with the most watched public television affiliate in the country. No commercial enterprise would dale risk the expense, or take on the burden of obtaining all the necessary rights and clearances. Only public television could be passionate enough about such a project to dedicate itself and its resources to ensuring the success of this idea.