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[0:00] Robert W. Schneider: Well, friends, our movie is on its last reel. Yes, our final episode this season is coming soon, but don't fear, as Season 2 will be coming out in September of 2024. Yes, 10 episodes, just like Season 2, and we will reveal the theme later in the summer. But make sure to stay subscribed, as every once in a while, between now and then, I'll be dropping little treats along the way. That sounds so disgusting. I just simply meant, like, episodes. I need to proofread. I need to proofread. I NEED EIGHT BURROWS.

[0:39] Robert W. Schneider: Fade In. The exterior of the majestic theater. 1966. America's sweethearts Mary Tyler Moore and Richard Chamberlain look on as producer David Merrick rips down their headshots from the lobby, throws it in the gutter, and storms away. What happens when the world's greatest doctor becomes his own patient? Can he be saved, or do we let him go quietly? What if we perform a life-threatening operation, and then we find out in the end, no operation was even necessary? Calling Dr. Kildare. Actually, we're not only calling Dr. Kildare, but we're also calling the biggest names in entertainment in the 1960s, like Mary Tyler Moore, N.A. Burroughs, and Edward Albee. Why did what worked so beautifully on screen fail on stage? Well, you see, what happened was, well, we're going to let James Burroughs and Carolyn Kirsch tell you on this week's episode of Broadway Bound, the musicals that never came to Broadway.

[1:38] Robert W. Schneider: Welcome to Broadway Bound, the musicals that never came to Broadway, the podcast. We are looking today at a musical that is notorious, called Breakfast at Tiffany's, and somehow got itself a two-CD set eventually in its lifetime, thanks to producer Robert Scheer. What is Breakfast at Tiffany's? Well, fade in on Truman Capote. Yes, before his life was the property of Ryan Murphy, Truman Capote was one of America's most fascinating writers. In the 1940s, he was a short story writer of renown, a great raconteur and society patron, and by the 1950s, he was starting to branch out, and he did musicals like House of Flowers, the movie Beat the Devil, and countless TV appearances. But it was in 1958, Capote, or Capote, depending on how you want to stutter it, would really make a name for himself, because it was in that year that Capote published a book. The book was called Breakfast at Tiffany's, a short novel and three stories.

[2:49] Robert W. Schneider: Breakfast at Tiffany's was a novel that created one of the most iconic characters in history, Holly Golightly, and Capote created a prose style that was so revolutionary, the original publishers, Hearst, tried to censor it, so Capote took it over to Random House. Of the book, Capote said, "I've had two careers. My second career began, I guess, it really began with Breakfast at Tiffany's. It involves a different point of view, a different prose style to some degree. Actually, the prose style is an involvement from one to the other, but a pruning and thinning out to a more subdued, clearer prose. I don't find it as evocative in many respects as the other, or even as original, but it is more difficult to do, but I'm nowhere near reaching what I want to do, where I want to go.

Presumably, this new book is as close as I'm going to get, at least strategically." And everyone loved it, with Norman Mailer calling Capote, quote, "the most perfect writer of my generation." And like all things successful, Hollywood will come knocking.

[3:45] Robert W. Schneider: But what was this incredible book even about? Well, it's 1943, and an unnamed narrator befriends a young woman named Holly Golightly, not a prostitute, an American geisha is what he calls her. She's from the country, has rich men wine and dine her, and buy her nice gifts in exchange for her time. So, yeah, not a sex worker. They meet when she crawls through his window one night when she is fleeing from one of the men who came home with her. She's kooky, eccentric, rattles on that the narrator looks like her brother, and she gets $100 every week for visiting a prisoner named Sally Tomato. Come on, this is a musical already? And what's a musical without some colorful characters, and they are mostly the men that are running through Holly's apartment for, you know, company.

Eventually, a guy named Doc shows up, and Doc was Holly's husband. Her real name is Lula Mae Barnes. He even tells her that her beloved brother died in the war. And to make matters worse, Sally Tomato was running a drug ring out of prison. So before she spends her life in prison, she decides to start a new life in Brazil, and she goes off.

[5:02] Robert W. Schneider: Now, the movie. This is the 1950s. Is Hollywood really going to put a sex worker on film, and who would play her? And how would Capote tailor his novella to movie audiences' sensibilities? Well, it wasn't his problem because he sold the movie rights to Paramount, and it was now screenwriter George Axelrod and director Blake Edwards' problem. And they found ways in. The unnamed narrator is a sweet guy now named Paul, who meets Holly not when she's climbing through his window to escape from a john. He now gets locked out of the building and needs to be buzzed in. That's a meet cute, and she is cute. The film even opens with her going to Tiffany's looking incredible with her breakfast. And they bond.

He is a poor writer, and she's saving money to send her brother overseas. That's very sweet now. And the husband shows up, but she was just 14 and didn't know better, and the marriage was annulled. How can you hate her? Holly and Paul go on madcap adventures, she gets her heart broken by jerky men, and Paul says he's right there. Why go after jerky guys? I'm a good guy. Marry him. And she runs after him, and they embrace. And that's the end of the movie. It's not necessarily a faithful retelling of the novella, but this'll do.

[6:09] Robert W. Schneider: And you add in this cast, and it's even better. The master of comedy, Blake Edwards. Very sexy George Pappard as Paul. Brilliant supporting turns by Buddy Epson as the jilted husband. Martin Balsam as the kind-hearted agent. And of course, Mickey Rooney as Mr. Yanoshi. And I just, I can't, I really can't, I don't even want to talk about that part anymore. And Holly, who could be this woman that was an amalgam of so many women from Capote's life, including Joan McCracken, Gloria Vanderbilt, and Ona O'Neill, and live up to the character the readers had created in their minds. It's hard when you have to physicalize that problem, like in Lolita, which will be a future season. Capote wanted Marilyn Monroe, but her acting teacher said it wouldn't be a good idea, so they cast Audrey Hepburn.

Everyone loves Audrey Hepburn, but as a kooky schemer? Actually, this would be the movie that would solidify Hepburn as a genuine actress, not a star in Actress. Plus, Henry Mancini is gonna give you a song. Oy, what a song, here it is.

[7:24] Robert W. Schneider: The movie debuts in 1961, and it's a hit. I mean a big, old, fat hit. Everyone loves it, except Capote. And it's a movie that everyone knows. Hepburn's image is everywhere, Tiffany's is everywhere, and like when Hollywood ran to the successful book, Broadway is gonna run to the successful film. In the 1960s, there was one producer who owned Broadway, literally owned it, the abominable showman himself, David Merrick. We remember Merrick today for his publicity stunts, like announcing the death of Gower Champion on opening night of 42nd Street, or getting people with the same names as New York critics to give glowing reviews to Subways are for Sleeping. But that overshadows his legacy of hits in the golden age of Broadway.

Look Back in Anger, The Entertainer, Carnival, Oliver, Hello Dolly. One day in 1964, while sitting on an airplane with Bob Merrill, the songwriter behind Carnival, he suggested turning Casablanca into a musical. Merrill, no dummy, said that no musical could compete with the memories of the movie. That's a hint, Bob. But looking across the aisle, pointed to a man reading Breakfast at Tiffany's, and said that book would be a better idea for a musical. Merrick and Merrill shook hands, and that was that. Merrill was ecstatic. He would write a score that leaned into the darkness of Breakfast at Tiffany's. An adult musical. It wouldn't be whimsical like the movie where Holly was just a professional virgin. No, this was realism and truth, something Merrill would try the rest of his career to get on stage.

[8:53] Robert W. Schneider: First thing they needed to do was get a book writer, so they went after Nunnally Johnson. That's a name, so I betcha he knows Sally Tomato. And they both agreed they would not sentimentalize Holly. This was, for lack of a better term, a young girl who was devoured by the city, not a kooky girl in a tiara eating pancakes at a jewelry store. This was the ending that Nunnally Johnson came up with.

[9:19] Robert W. Schneider: Act 2, Scene 11. Gates of Heaven, a synopsis. To celestial music, the joyous and triumphant music of Easter, and a choir of happy angel voices, like those that back up a TV baby talcum commercial, the great double gates of heaven, as light as filigree, as coruscating as an old-fashioned tinsel Christmas card, swing open to disclose the facade of Holly's heaven, Tiffany's. Then this view gives way, too, to the interior of the store. If we say that this Tiffany's is a happy blending of that grave and mellow store, and a child's concept of the hereafter, we are about as close to the idea as we can make it at this point. It is a place where every prospect pleases, and not even man is vile, for when the clerks, all those kind men in their nice suits, turn upstage, we see that each wears wings, not the large, showy kind that might be all very well for Macy's or Gimbel's, but small, well-trimmed little wings, the only kind that Tiffany's would care to be associated with.

When Holly enters, to the sound of trumpets, she wears the grave, brave smile of a martyred saint, beautiful but scarcely enviable. Bravely, too, she sits at a Tiffany's table downstage center, which, when it is opened by two of the kind men angels, is revealed to be a celestial breakfast, coffee steaming from a diamond-encrusted carton and ruby-studded doughnuts. As she takes a dainty nibble of the doughnut and a token sip of the coffee, we all hope you'll be very happy here, Miss Golightly. Thanks, doll. Would you like to bring your coffee with you while we take a look at your cloud? May I leave a message here? Of course. I'm expecting a friend, a Mr. Deke Conroy. Will someone give me a buzz the minute he checks in?

I'll take care of it myself, Miss Golightly. Is there anything else? You have only to ask, you know. I was just wondering, may I have a little change for the powder room? She is instantly deluged with thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars, and now she smiles happily. Curtain. End of play.

[11:38] Robert W. Schneider: So Bob Merrill wrote tons of songs embracing the tone to fit Nunnally Johnson's book. They send the script to Josh Logan, who says the book is too hard. I'm sure his one note was, can the Tiffany sellers be shirtless? And Johnson leaves the project, then Logan leaves to do a surefire hit, Hot September. Definitely shirtless guys in that one. So who can they go to next? They're looking for a book writer. They're looking for a director. Who could understand the New York that David Merrick wanted to evoke? A glamorous New York. Cactus Flower was a sophisticated hit. It was a play and one that had the right tone Merrick was looking for, and it was written and directed by one of the great musical comedy minds, Abe Burroughs.

Abe Burroughs wasn't just the man who made audiences all across America laugh with his radio show Duffy's Tavern, or the man who wrote the book to Guys and Dolls or directed How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. No, he was one of the most sought-after play doctors, a man who could come in, wave a wand, and turn a flop into a hit. Get me Abe Burroughs, was the cry across Shubert Alley in the Golden Age. Would he want to do Breakfast at Tiffany's? Well, he did, and an early 66 Breakfast at Tiffany's, now called Holly Go Lightly, was underway. Well, half of it. You see, Burroughs was a great toastmaster, and he went around the country working giving toasts and speeches, and then he had horrible dental problems, so when the show went into rehearsal, it didn't have most of a second act.

Honestly, it did not have a second act. And the first act wasn't sophisticated, but why worry? This is Abe Burroughs. Surely he can fix his own play. He fixes everyone else's. So what if the outline lists 11 songs for Act 1, but only 4 for Act 2, and that first one is titled An Opening Song? Clearly someone would need to get Merrill to either change his pre-written score to fit Burroughs' sense of style, or Burroughs would have to bring the world more to Merrill's score. But we can fix it.

[13:35] Robert W. Schneider: And somebody who had a front-row seat to all of this was the assistant stage manager on Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Abe Burroughs' son, 10-time Emmy winner, revolutionary television director James Burrows. James?

[13:53] James Burrows: He wrote it. Not, you know, not his best work. He went into rehearsal with a first act, not a second act. He was also directing, so he would direct in the day and go home and write at night. It was not his best work. And I was the assistant to the assistant stage manager. I was in charge of two people. I was in charge of Laura Petrie and Dr. Kildare, Mary Tyler Moore and Richard Chamberlain.

[14:20] James Burrows: And it was my job to make, because they were from California, so I was there to guide them around, help them anyway, get in line with them, get food for them. Mary liked hamburgers from Gallagher's. On March 21st, 1966, William Morris sent Abe Burrows a list of people they wanted to consider for Holly and Jeff. The top choice was Richard Chamberlain, beating out George Maharis, Jack Jones, Ron Housman, Merv Griffin, Dean Jones, and George Hamilton. For Holly, the list ran the gamut, from Barbara Harris to Barbara Cook, Connie Stevens, Susan Watson, and Linda Lavin, but someone else had their sights set on Holly. On March 24th, 1966, a letter arrived from William Morris letting David Merrick know that the Dick Van Dyke show would not be continuing and that Mary Tyler Moore was looking for a play to do in the fall.

This is Richard Chamberlain. Then this musical came up, Breakfast at Tiffany's, with Mary Tyler Moore, and I was thrilled that that happened, which turned out to be the biggest flop that ever hit Broadway, but it was really fun for a while. Oh, she was wonderful. She was absolutely wonderful, and we had a good relationship as far as I could tell, and I didn't realize the show was headed for the rocks. The gypsies all knew, and the people, other people knew. I mean, it was being directed by and written by Abe Burrows, who was one of the greats, and in Boston, we had played Philadelphia, and in Boston, it finally got through to me that we were in trouble, and certainly to everybody else, and they brought in Edward Albee to rewrite the show.

Well, you know, that was a very strange choice, and he did, and it made a very sort of dark musical out of it, and we closed for a couple of weeks and opened to previews in New York, and this dark musical, man, nobody had ever seen a dark musical before, and the audience just hated it. They hated it. They'd shout at us. They'd walk out. They really hated this, and Mary used to go off stage and weep. It was just an awful, awful, awful experience, and we closed. David Merrick closed the show after four previews with an enormous advance sale, gave all the money back, and we closed, and it sort of broke my heart. Even though Bob Merrill said Mary Tyler Moore looked like a prudential employee, not a sex worker, they went with her anyway.

She was America's sweetheart as the beautiful, loving wife Laura Petri, and Chamberlain was a sex symbol, sort of a George Clooney TV doctor, the two biggest TV stars starring in a David Merrick musical written by Abe Burrows and Bob Merrill, and the source material was everyone's favorite movie. You couldn't get to the box office fast enough. This was going to be the sellout hit of the 1966-1967 season, and in early August, casting notices went out for the Ensemble for Breakfast at Tiffany's, and one of those auditioning was Carolyn Kirsch. I had just done Skyscraper for Michael Kidd, and I replaced in Skyscraper one of his favorite dancers, Suzanne France, who was wonderful, and I was in Skyscraper maybe the better part of a year when I heard this new show choreographed by Michael Kidd, who had won all of these Tonys, you know, a choreographer at that point, and I went and auditioned, and Michael remembered me from having replaced in Skyscraper, and he hired me, and that was it. We rehearsed, and we went out of town forever.

[18:01] James Burrows: Well, rehearsals start, and they're aiming for a December 26, 1966 opening. Its competition would be The Apple Tree, Cabaret, I Do, I Do, and Walking Happy. These shows are going to be happy to still be standing once Breakfast at Tiffany's comes into town. To talk a little bit more about the rehearsal process, here's James and Carolyn again.

[18:23] Carolyn Kirsch: Well, we were kind of, you know, dancers in my day didn't talk too much, you know what I mean? Now they do, but we didn't. We were like, we were the movers, and then the singers, and the actors were, you know, and so we didn't, we were shy. Dancers were shy unless they were moving. So, you know, we would see Mary come in and kind of smile and nod, and she was always very gracious, very nice, and Richard would come in. He would watch the dancers warming up, and I remember one day we were kind of kidding him because he would go, super, you're just super with a British accent, and we all thought, why is Richard speaking with a British accent, you know? Little did we know that his career was very much headed that way, you know?

[19:10] James Burrows: Yeah, yeah.

[19:11] Carolyn Kirsch: But they were very, they were charming. They were certainly approachable, and it was just kind of exciting to be around these two major stars. My whole career was around major stars, quite frankly, and it was always exciting for me. Abe was, you know, he's really, he was a king of comedy, and he liked to crack jokes, and he'd hang out a little bit and kind of do little funny stuff and everything, and then a director once said to me, okay, I want all the talkers in this room and all the jumpers in that room, and I took great umbrage at that because I did not consider myself a jumper. I really thought, oh no, I don't like that. Okay, but in those days, the talkers went into one room, and the jumpers went into another room, and the singers went into another room. So we were separate for a long time until they started putting it together, and then we would be around them more.

[20:14] James Burrows: My dad, since he was a writer-director, he would, he had a way of making the actors all feel comfortable, taking any suggestions they have, trying to incorporate them, and then if not the suggestions that he would put in of his own, he made the actors feel like that was theirs. So he had that great skill about doing that. He wrote a lot on his feet. You know, he had, his secretary was always with him in rehearsal and would, when Abe would come up with a joke, she'd put it in the script and stuff like that. He was very kind to the actors. He worked well with Michael Kidd, who did the choreography. It was a seamless process. Bob couldn't play the piano. He couldn't, he would write on, I think, a xylophone.

[21:05] Carolyn Kirsch: Yes, yes.

[21:06] James Burrows: I think that's true.

[21:08] Carolyn Kirsch: He did, yes, he did. He had a guy named Phil Dellaplena, I think that was his name, who would put chords in. But Bob wrote the melodies, Bob wrote the lyrics, and on Breakfast at Tiffany's he wrote the melodies, and he would do it on a xylophone. On Funny Girl, Julie Stein wrote the, wrote the music, and Bob wrote the lyrics. Bob was an incredible lyricist. But on this one, he wrote music and lyrics, and he had a guy who put the chords in.

[21:44] James Burrows: Well, my father did, he did a number of shows with David. David was a great producer, but he was tough. He was tough. He was, you know, he was opinionated, and you had to listen to him because David was incredibly successful. And I, yeah, I knew him. He was gruff. He had a mustache. And, but, you know, he knew what he wanted, and he was successful. So sometimes you have to do that. Sometimes you have to, you know, if you like the project, you have to deal with, you know, somebody who his demeanor is not very friendly, but he's got good ideas.

[22:24] James Burrows: Now, everywhere you look, there is Holly Golightly material everywhere. It's in newspapers, it's on television. The Saturday Evening Post, it's the cover story with Merrick saying, quote, our next big musical comedy star, Mary Tyler Moore. Who do we have now in musical comedy? Barbara Harris can't sing, and Streisand you can't get. Now, while David Merrick is out there beating the drum for the show, Bob Merrill is reading Abe Burrows' script, and he says, this is too nice, and David Merrick agrees. And so Abe Burrows, one of the most brilliant comic minds, is being told to find a different kind of humor. Then why hire him? You knew what you were getting. Bob Merrill said to Abe Burrows, quote, I haven't known you well, but by reading your script, I can tell you are one of the sweetest men breathing. Only the treatment is no good. You've softened up, Holly, and I'm concerned that the lyrics and music would sound discordant with your conception. And Abe Burrows agreed.

[23:19] James Burrows: So off to Philadelphia for three weeks at the Forest Theater, and there they get mixed reviews. It doesn't know if the show wants to be serious or funny or drama or comedy. It doesn't know what it wants to be. And of course, who do you blame for this at this time? Well, David Merrick blamed the set designer, Oliver Smith, who created this beautiful impressionistic painting of Tiffany's. And Merrick said, no, he wanted the real thing. So they actually had to build Tiffany's department store on stage. Apparently, the impressionistic painting wasn't good enough, and the reviews are not very good. The audience boos the actors at the curtain call. They boo Mary Tyler Moore. And here's a little bit more from James Burrows and Carolyn Kirsch talking about this experience.

[24:06] Carolyn Kirsch: The pity of watching Mary was that she was wonderful at the beginning, that spontaneity and that smile. And she came in not scared. She came in ready to do the job. And as the rehearsal progressed, the rehearsal process progressed, she became more and more insecure. You could feel it. You could smell it. It was like she just was nervous and rumors were flying, you know, I mean, that Merrick was not satisfied with her and whatever was going on behind the scenes that we were certainly not privy to, but she became like a bundle of nerves. And, and that was sad to watch.

[24:57] James Burrows: Well, I don't know, as we got out of town, the rumors flourished and it was rumored that Merrick had another star in a hotel across town that was learning the role and he let Mary know that. No idea if that's true or not. I have no idea, but this is what was flying around in the air. So if I heard it as a dancer in the chorus, she certainly heard it, you know? So I think it was just, you know, she didn't have, I don't think she had a caring, compassionate producer who would come up to her and buck her up, you know? And I think it showed, I think it showed. We could tell all the powers that be, the suits, they were all, they were confabbing together way too much. And we knew something was really off and we could feel it too, that numbers were really kind of awful.

And, um, we just, uh, they, they decided they would pull somebody in from New York to look at the show and check it out and everything. And that person, whoever it was, I have no idea it was or they, um, the recommendation was to fire the hairdresser.

[26:13] Carolyn Kirsch: Oh, true story.

[26:14] James Burrows: And that hairdresser got fired and the show went on just the same way it was with different hairdos. It's a madhouse because after the show you can't get, uh, you can't get down the alleyway because fans are flocking to get autographs of the two television stars. There's a couple of numbers that really work. Dirty old men is, is, is a great number. And, uh, Mary has a couple of songs, uh, Breakfast at Tiffany's song is, is wonderful. And I've got a penny. Just the show was okay. But you know, okay, was not good enough for Mr. Merrick. Now they're going to go to Boston at the Schubert theater for four weeks. Um, and the big rule that Merrick has is keep the press away. Keep the press away. It's not going to be called Holly Golightly anymore.

It's now going to be called Breakfast at Tiffany's. Mary Tyler Moore knows this is not the persona audiences want. So Abe Burrows tries to sweeten her, but to no avail and rumors are abounding that Joey Heatherton or Leslie Ann Warren or Tammy Grimes, Diane Carroll are coming in. Um, and very offensively, very offensively. The word on the street is that once, um, Diane Carroll goes into the show, they're going to change the title to Holly Go Darkly. Truman Capote in Women's Wear Daily on page one says, quote, I don't like the score or the leading lady. They followed the book more closely than the movie. Maybe they would have been better off pattering after the film. And I don't think the music is good enough.

Oh my God. Julie Stein also comes up to look around and says, Holly needs to be more lovable, more endearing, more sympathetic. And it won't come from the book. It will come from the score. Ironically Stein had envisioned a musical version of the show that opens with a montage of how Lula Mae Barnes becomes Holly culminating in her all male party. I think that's actually a pretty good idea. Burrows was asked what about bringing in a new writer to help? And, and, and Burrows could then just focus on directing. Sure. Who a Truman Capote doc, Simon, Michael Stewart. No, it was someone who never wrote a musical. Enter Edward Albee. David Merrick takes Bob Merrill to meet Edward Albee in his penthouse. And he'd been speaking to Edward Albee apparently for quite some time. And, uh, he, he told, uh, Albee a Burrows once out, which is not true. Um, and when they said, why?

[28:40] James Burrows: Take on Edward Albee, he said, this is David Merrick, he said, quote, "Why drown in two feet of water? We might as well swim out and take our chances." Albee had never done a musical. Press releases actually go out before anyone signs their contracts. A. Burrows reads the first two new scenes that Edward Albee has crafted, and he has to leave the rehearsal. And then Edward Albee sat down with Kevin Kelly of The Globe in Boston, and in a comment he thought was made off the record, Edward Albee said, "Once I'm there, we're gonna get rid of all these old corny Borscht Belt jokes," and pretty much insulted A. Burrows. This gets out. Burrows is humiliated. Burrows receives two letters in his hotel room right after the interview.

The first one is from a good friend of Burrows. Sunday. Dear Abe, I think this may be a silly way to do this. I mean, we talk to each other fairly well, so why go in for writing? But I guess what I really want to do is tell you as precisely as possible just what I think at this stage of the game. What I think is this. You should get out of the Holly-go-lightly affair and get out now. Today. You are not happy in it, that much is clear. You have never been happy in it, and unhappiness has increased since Albee entered the picture. I know the difficulties in getting out, but I also know that this is not a legal or a financial problem primarily, and this is where I think your lawyer and the W. M. Morris people fall down.

The problem is a personal one, a moral one, even, and on this I would not take the advice of W. M. Morris. I am as fond of you as I am of anyone in this world, with the exception of Vignetto. It pains me to see you at this moment doing something you do not believe in for a minute. It pains me even more to think of the position you will be in if you take this show into New York, even if it is a tremendous hit. I read Kevin Kelly's interview in The Globe with Albee this morning. I finished it five minutes ago. I think this, coupled with a great deal of troubled thinking most of the night, made me write this letter. I think you are in some danger of forgetting who you are. I think you are forgetting your own quality and your own record of achievement.

You are Abe Burroughs, a man who is admired personally and professionally, certainly by me, certainly by many others. It is totally beneath your dignity, both personal and professional, to accept what has happened in this show. You should be in a position to call the tune. You are not, because David has, in my judgment, panicked and done a rather foolish thing. He has chosen to go along with that foolish thing. Every day more that you choose to go along with it, you are, again, this is only my judgment, doing yourself an injury. You know what I'm saying, Abe. I know it's been in your own mind all the way. I know it's what made you so unhappy with this whole absurd assignment. But for the life of me, I fail to see why anyone of your distinction, of your pride, of the quality which puts you apart from most other people I know should submit to this five minutes longer.

I think every postponement is wrong. I think one sharp decision should be made and announced positively and without any qualification. I think you should tell David firmly that all bets are off, that this is a world you never made and you want no part of it. Use the Kelly column as the final straw if you like. I don't know. What I do know is that you have never for a moment belonged in the role in which you are now cast and that the only way out is to smash out right now. You have been talking lately about track records, about matching yours against David's or Albee's. I couldn't agree with you more. I think that, of course, you have the edge. But what you are doing is letting them force you onto another kind of track, a track where you cannot do anywhere near your best, a track where not only can you not win, but where you are certain to lose.

Don't run, Abe. Don't run a step farther. You hate it. You want out. Get out. And as soon as you do, the burden of the world will be lifted from your shoulders. As Clem would say, oh, this is a presumptuous letter, but I mean it, Abe. I mean it with all my heart. I just think it is terribly important to the man I love and admire to do at this moment, above all others, the kind of thing I have always loved and admired him for. Ed is an apology from Edward Albee. Sunday 5:30 p.m. Dear Abe, I've just come back to my hotel after rehearsal and read Kevin Kelly's piece in the Boston Globe today. I feel a combination of sick rage and disgust at what he's done, and I plan to have it out with him as soon as I'm done typing this to you.

I've known Kevin briefly, and I was a guest at his house last week for dinner, during which I made a number of remarks about the show, which were, given the informal and off-the-record, I assumed, nature of the environment, less guarded than any I have made for publication. Less guarded in the mode of their expression than in their content. I'm afraid what Kevin has done is, given what would seem to be his black bile about our whole project, to intentionally misinterpret, quote out of context, and just plain misquote. What Kelly refers to as blood lettering just never took place. I did tell Kevin that I thought it was unfortunate that the character of Holly was being played as sort of a professional virgin, and I suspect that you may agree with me.

I did tell Kevin that I thought Holly's clients were more upper-class, more upper-income types than the ones on stage now, a point where you and I may differ. I did tell Kevin that I thought Capote's book was a work of wit rather than a joke, and that the jokes were out of keeping with what I imagined the show would have been like. But that's far more of a comment on my view of things than a comment on whether or not you have been successful with yours. And I did tell Kevin I was bored a lot of the time, which I was. The first act is far too long. Not all of Bob's songs are top drawer. Some of the dance numbers seem to be in just for the sake of dance numbers. But I imagine you'd be bored with a lot I like.

I did tell Kevin that Mary Tyler Moore feels like she doesn't know the nature of the character she's playing. That's my feeling. Maybe the two of you hadn't communicated as well as you might. But the one thing I did not say to Kevin was anything of the tone he has seen fit to put down in his article. In short, maybe Kevin is after your blood. But Edward is not. I'm not, by nature, a double dealer or hypocrite, nor am I a blowhard. I have too much affection and respect for you to have carried on in the way Kevin chooses to have it. I did. I'm delighted we're working together and I suspect we'll work easily. But we will never let a small, vindictive man come between us. Rest well. Love, Edward.

[36:16] James Burrows: And Burrows does just that. He leaves, and in comes Joseph Anthony, who directed Most Happy Fellow and 110 in the Shade, and he's going to get this more grounded. Now, Albee wrote very long, long scenes saying, quote, "they've never seen an Edward Albee musical scene." Albee begs Merrick to delay so he could make the musical an Albee musical. And Albee wasn't done. He didn't want the actors facing out. He didn't want buttons for songs. And well, I went to my dad and I said, can I stay on the Titanic? And he said, yeah, sure. So I stayed on and we rehearsed in New York and then we opened for previews in New York. We didn't go back out of town.

[37:06] Robert W. Schneider: Why'd you want to stick with it?

[37:10] James Burrows: I needed a paycheck.

[37:12] Robert W. Schneider: That's a good answer.

[37:14] James Burrows: And I needed a paycheck. And I just, you know, it was literally better than, you know, I didn't know what was next for me. So and I had already had a relationship with Mary and Dick that I liked and I think they were glad I stayed on. And I just it was the best decision I ever made.

[37:39] Robert W. Schneider: I'm going to ask you about that in a second. And I have to say that your dad during this time comes off in everything that I'm reading as incredibly classy because Edward Albee makes some sort of comment to a reporter about coming in and he goes, well, when I come in, I'm going to fix everything and we're going to get rid of all those old Borscht Belt jokes. It's very diminishing. But your dad doesn't take to the newspaper to retaliate. It seems like your dad is a gentleman to the nth degree.

[38:08] James Burrows: Well, he could have said to Edward that Borscht Belt humor about this wonderful apartment on the Upper West Side, which is a famous Newhart. Bob Newhart, during rehearsal of the Newhart show, its first year, one of the producers went over to Bob and said, can you not stammer as much? And Bob said that stammer built a house in Beverly Hills. So, you know, and Edward, you know, I God love him. I was a huge fan. And when I was in Summerstock, I ran lights for The Zoo Story and I was blown away. And I said to my dad, when Virginia Woolf opened, can we go opening night? And my dad said, are you sure? I said, yeah, this guy seems like he knows what he's doing. So I my dad and I went opening night in New York City.

And my dad, who is Utsi, to say the least, squirming in a seat, sat there for three hours and 15 minutes, blown away by that opening night. So, you know, there's a picture of me backstage with my father and Uta Hagen and Edward. Oh, my God. And I still have and. So, you know, there was no animosity and and. You know, Edward came in and it was my job. This was before fax machines and maybe before cars. No, no, it wasn't. My job during rehearsals, other than take care of Mary and Dick, were to go down to Edward's Brownstone on 10th Street and wait for the pages. And I would get the pages, take the subway uptown. Somebody would mimeo them and they would be distributed to the cast and the respected players in each scene. And so that's you know, that's what I was doing.

[40:12] James Burrows: Edward didn't help the humor in the show at all. He the first thing he did was bring Holly's miscarriage back into the show, which, you know, you know, is it's not going to get laughs. So that was his take on it. We were told to sit in the house. There was an audience. It was a preview. We were beginning previews. So we sat in the house and watched this really weird thing happen. It was very different. And Mary was a wreck. You could tell Richard even Richard was like, where am I going? What am I doing? Kind of. And the end of that, whatever, all be set up there was from a psychosexual standpoint, it was so bizarre to watch this because do you know how he ended it?

[41:05] Robert W. Schneider: No, tell me. Did you hear about that?

[41:08] James Burrows: As Richard's character, Jeff or whatever he was called in the show, right? He was he stood center stage and ripped the page out of his notebook that he had been writing about Holly and crumpled it up and dropped it on the floor and exited stage right. And from stage left came the cat out to the piece of paper and started licking it and chewing it. As the curtain slowly descended, interesting, and I thought, oh, my God, that is so bizarre. You know, it was talk about the antithesis of an Abe Burroughs show, you know?

[41:53] Robert W. Schneider: Yes. It was pretty bizarre.

[41:57] James Burrows: And I heard on the radio that in New York that Abe Burroughs had been let go from Breakfast at Tiffany's, and my head kind of came up and I went, what? I was getting ready to go in for the matinee and Edward Albee was replacing Abe Burrows as the director. And his first move was to let all of the women in the show go, except for Sally Kellerman and Mary Tyler Moore. And now I was standing there stock still with a brush still in my hand going, I think I just got fired over the radio.

[42:33] Robert W. Schneider: Now, in New York during previews is really where Edward Albee will get to work. December 12th will be the first preview. And two weeks later, the show will open at the Majestic Theatre a day after Christmas. Oh, my gosh. I think it's important to remind us all that no matter what book was coming in for this show, Bob Marrow was not really changing the music to fit the new tone. And boy, is this tone different.

[43:00] Robert W. Schneider: I want to give you some highlights from the Abe Burrows version. In the first draft of Burrows' version, which was in rehearsal and then taken out, Jeff walks into a bar and talks with his old friend the bartender saying, "Hey, whatever happened to Holly Golightly?" And the rest of the show is in flashback as Jeff fondly sings, "Holly Golightly. Holly Golightly, Golightly Holly, Holly Golightly," and go the distance. Let's improvise some fair addition down the path of least resistance. Cause when a lady meets continual rejection, that's when the lover falls for perching introspection. I'm so delicious to curbs and squishes. Holly, I hope you last. Though if the sea brings land, my heart won't survive. But by Boston, there is a new opening that introduces us to Holly first. The curtain rises, and there she is, staring up at Tiffany's when a policeman approaches her, and she's ready to sing a song called "I've Got a Penny."

[44:29] Robert W. Schneider: Take it away, officer. Uh, lady? Hi, officer. Don't worry, I'm not a burglar. You don't look like a burglar, lady. It's just that it's three in the morning. How sweet of you to worry. My date is waiting for me down the street. I just stopped by to look. Isn't it lovely? I guess so. Enjoy yourself. You know, lady, if you don't mind me saying this, you're a very, very pretty lady. But standing in front of that window, you look kind of like a hungry kid. I am a hungry kid. I've got a penny. Just one penny. But in my mind it grows. And I want one of those. One of those. One of those. And why shouldn't I? Shouldn't I before I die? Then wild, madcap Holly crawls through Jeff's window to escape a john, with her saying, quote, "I lost my goddamned key," which I'm sure the blue haireds loved.

Remember, friends, Cabaret, the darkest musical on Broadway at this time, hadn't even opened on Broadway yet. So keep this in mind when we get to Albee's version. But I digress. Here is Abe Burrows' version of Holly and Jeff meeting cute in his apartment. Listen for the sitcom-esque tone and the one-liners.

[45:58] Robert W. Schneider: You act as though I were a mad killer. Very few girls have climbed through my window lately. You might have been a burglar. Oh, come on, darling. Look at this goddamn place. There's nothing here to burgle. I climbed up here for help. I'm a damsel in distress. And I'm a knight in shining pajamas. This is serious, darling. I've got the wildest, meanest man downstairs. He's sweet when he's sober, but when he hits the sauce, kale beast. If there's one thing I loathe, it's men who bite. Isn't that dreadful? Could you bring yourself to bite a girl? I'm not allowed to. I have rabies. Tres comique. I was pretty frightened. That's why I went up the fire escape. He thinks I went to the john. He'll probably pass out after a while or leave or something.

Darling, I know I've got a gall barging in on you like this, but the fire escape was damned cold. I nearly froze my little derriere. It looked so cozy in your little bed. Like my brother Fred. He was the only one who ever let me hug him on a cold night. Oh, Fred always took care of me. You really do look like him. Do you mind if I call you Fred? That cat will eat anything. You some kind of writer or something? Or something. I always think of writers as older men. Of course, I met some younger ones too, but they did nothing to me. Say, how old is Arthur Miller? In his 40s, maybe. That's not bad. No man can turn on me unless he's over 40. A lot of the girls tell me I have a father complex. That's just a lot of merde.

I simply trained myself to dig older men. And it was the smartest thing I ever did. How old is John Steinbeck? Late 50s. Oh, that's even better. You know, I've never slept with a writer. That's sort of like race prejudice. Want another one-liner? When referring to a police officer, Holly says, "What a nice gentleman," to which a character retorts in typical Big Julie brusqueness, "That's no gentleman, that's a warden."

[48:02] Robert W. Schneider: And Abe Burrows' musical is a traditional boy meets girl comedy in a world filled with zany subplots like Holly unknowingly being an informant for a drug kingpin named Sally Tomato. Yes, that's the name. Jeff taking Holly on a montage tour of New York. The bouncy end of Act 1 breakup between Holly and Jeff called "Who Needs Her?" Let's hear it. I heard that, buster. I heard that, goddamn you. What makes you think you're some Billy Graham? Go on to bed, sleep it off, it'll pass. You'd go on to bed if you had any class. Go on, go to bed, sleep it off, it'll pass. You'd go on to bed if you had any class. I'm just not the type of a dame to get bullied and bossed. Yeah? Yeah. Sure. That's right. Get lost.

I might. I might just do that. Who needs her? Who needs her? If I want to get my brain really scrambled, I don't need her. If I'm looking for a war, there's war in Africa. Chaos in Asia, crime in the streets. You're not the only human catastrophe. Sorry, sweets. Do I need her? Well, I just might. Hamascus meets the sadist and both of them dance all night. For picking a loser, I own the original copyright. Who needs her? Who needs her? Who needs her? Who needs her? Who needs her? And she couldn't need me less. Go on to bed. Sleep it off. It'll pass. You'd go on to bed if you had any class. Would you listen to that basket case? I heard that, buster. I heard that, you fink. What's worse than a dame that don't know how to drink?

Forget me not. I'm no good for you. You need me like a hole in the head. Like a hole in the head. That's what I said. Aren't you droll? Like a head in the hole. If I'm looking for a war, there's war in Africa. Chaos in Asia, all within reach. She's not the only human calamity on the beach. Do I need her to twist my guts? A hillbilly lacking in class and for my money off her nuts. An accident waiting to happen. You'll see that I'm right. Your butt. Who needs her? Who needs her? The outcome just has to be total catastrophe. Who needs her?

[50:25] Robert W. Schneider: And, of course, the traditional happy ending when Holly and Jeff are reunited outside of Tiffany's. How do I look to you? It's all right. I figured you'd drift by here one of these days. Just got off the plane. Where did you find this character? He was hanging around Joe's place. Hello, cat. They say they always come back if you wait long enough. I like your beard. It's just hair. Looks good on you, Jeff. Jeff, aren't you going to call me Fred anymore? No, Jeff. I think it's time I gave you back your name. And, cat, I think it's time I gave you a name. Like what? Jeff, what about if I call the cat Mag? Not bad. But don't forget, he's a he. What about calling him Rusty? I wouldn't do that to a dog.

I think I like calling him Cat. Just plain Cat. Well, that isn't his name. It is if you spell it with a K. Yeah, with a K! That's very clever. Well, I am a writer. You know, I was thinking on the way home, I could probably help you as a writer. I used to date a lot of big shots at Doubleday and Random House, and I could probably go to them. Oh, no, that wouldn't be a good idea. Say, I really do like that beard. Jeff, where are you living now? Got my old place back. That same apartment with that same little bed? Well, it can hold two people. Just barely. Are you going to be the happy bachelor with the frozen food? Got no choice. Now, if you'll take my advice.

[52:01] Robert W. Schneider: Your advice! I remember your advice last time. You told me what I needed was someone to make me a home. Some nice girl. But you said you didn't know any nice girls. I think now I know one. So where could Edward Albee take this show? Albee was a playwright whose best work was an intimate tale of bloodlust between two married couples called Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? which, in the early 60s, set the entire New York theater scene ablaze. His characters, in my honest opinion, all sound exactly alike. They're brilliant, they're sharp, they're savage. No matter where they came from, where they were going, who they were, they all spoke the same way. In a handful of shows, it worked. In two handfuls, it did not.

Breakfast at Tiffany's, in my opinion, does not. It even impacted the usually indefatigable Bob Merrill, who, after reading the new scenes, refused to come to the theater and holed up for three days in his hotel room, realizing that the two-year score for which he wrote about 40 songs could not be used. Finally, Albee convinced him to come back. Bob Merrill said that Edward Albee was like the Newt Rockne of book writers, encouraging him to get back into work. So how different could this show be?

[53:10] Robert W. Schneider: It's not Albee's as much as it is Pirandello. It's now a fantasy. Jeff is a frustrated writer who conjures and creates Lula Mae Barnes in front of Tiffany's. She is his creation. He pulls the strings, and she is at the mercy of her creator. Interesting idea if the entire cast, design, and score matched him. It did not. It's like Arthur Miller writing the book for Guys and Dolls. It does not make sense as a part of a whole. Here is the first scene between Jeff and Holly that opens the show. No song to start this musical. Here's a little Edward Albee for you. It's called Tiffany's.

[54:04] Robert W. Schneider: I know. And it's sort of a department store. Diamonds and emeralds to your left as you go through the door. Gold to your right. And rubies and sapphires. On the second floor, silver. Boxes, bowls, and plates, and knives, and forks, and ashtrays, and silver everywhere you look. It's beautiful. And on the third floor, crystals and porcelain. Do they rent out rooms? You like it, don't you, Lula Mae? It glows. It's got a kind of warm feeling to it. You like it a lot. Yes, I do. Well, hold on to that thought, because you're going to like it a lot more than you do now. How could I, Jeff? Well, you see, I've been thinking about it, and...

[55:00] Robert W. Schneider: Oh. Pay attention to me now. I'm sorry. It's just that it's so... Now listen to me. All right. Okay. You don't work, Lula Mae. I beg your pardon? You. You don't work. I've thought a lot about it, and... What on earth do you mean I don't work? Do you want me to show you the rejection slips? Hmm? Do you want me to show you the rejection slips and the letters from publishers, those that bother to say anything? Oh. I see. She's a very sweet girl, this Lula Mae, a very touching character, but we don't think you've developed your idea. Is that what they say? Oh, uh, the character of Lula Mae, Golightly, is a very interesting concept as far as you've taken it, but we feel that once you've removed her from her small-town environment, something should happen to her. Oh. And this was a cute one. From a guy I used to know that I was in college...

[56:01] Robert W. Schneider: Oh. And this was a cute one. From a guy I used to know when I was in college. Dear Jeff, old boy, what you've got down now is nothing...

[56:05] Robert W. Schneider: Page turn. This was a cute one. From a guy I used to know when I was in college. Dear Jeff, old boy, what you've got down now is nothing more than a little orphan Annie with a Texas accent. I mean, my God, wouldn't something happen to the child? You brought her to New York. You put her in a whole new atmosphere. I don't work, huh? No, you don't. Well, what am I supposed to do? Dive back into the inkwell or something? Vanish? Just... No. Vanish? No, but you're gonna change.

[57:00] Robert W. Schneider: Become someone else? Begin to. Not be Lula Mae anymore? Yes, but with a difference. You're gonna come to New York just like you have, same thing, everything, but when you hit this town, you're gonna see some things you want. You're gonna see the big cars and the women in the fur coats and all that ice and men, and you're gonna want some of that. I... I am? You're damn right you are. You didn't leave home when you did just to do a little sightseeing, you know? No, I wanted something. Yes, you wanted? Well, something. I don't know what it was, but... Well, now you're gonna find out. What... What am I gonna be? With some kind of gold digger or something? Some kind of... No, baby, you're gonna have class.

You're gonna be a thoroughly modern lady. You're gonna be something special. Go change. What? Go change. Get into something nice. This is nice. Sure, it's fine, but go change. Get into something fancy. I don't understand a word of what you're telling me. You will, sweetheart. Go change. Can I still have my brother?

[57:21] Alaina Mills: Freddie and Doc and everybody. Sure, sure, now go. And I can still be Lula Mae. I mean, underneath. No matter what you're making me, can I still be? Sure, but you'll use a different name. But I like my name. I know, you'll still be Lula Mae, but you'll call yourself something different. Do you think I might have the pleasure of knowing what that is? I mean, would you mind telling me my name, darling? Golly, I don't know. Oh, well, thanks anyway. Holly. Holly. Holly. Holly, go lightly. Okay, you're the boss man and all. Go change. Something elegant. Something with class. Holly. Holly, go lightly. Go lightly. Jeff observes Holly frequently watching from the sidelines as he imagines her slash observes her picking up a john, and she speaks like a gay man at Julius' after a few drinks.

Don't grab, baby. Remember, you got class. Just occur to me, Miss Go Lightly, that you bring the wolf to your door in order to keep the wolf from the door. Yes? So to speak? Why, sir, I do believe you've made a lunge toward epigram. What does that even mean? And the show progresses like this for quite some time. Long, long, long book scenes with some songs that sound like it's from another show, and some very laughable moments. In the scene where Doc, who was Lula Mae Barnes' husband, and Jeff meet each other for the first time, it's sort of like that episode of Mama's Family where Eunice is doing a community theater play, and all of her lines are taken away. So instead of her being like, I think you're a horrible person, the other actor now says, and I know what you're going to say.

You're going to say you think I'm a horrible person. It's literally that. And then Holly turns against Jeff, creation against Create Her. Take it away. Take it easy, Holly. I mean, your poor Lula Mae has grown up a little. She's been to Hollywood and learned a couple of facts out there, and she's come to New York and learned even more truths out here. She's changed her name, and the way she speaks, and she dresses different, and doesn't talk the same, and she could give you something of a tour of New York after dark, and a couple of pointers on even later than that, on what it's like when the lights go out. You're not talking to Lula Mae, Doc. Ask him. He'll tell you. You're talking to Miss Holly Golightly, right in the gut?

Sure, right in the gut. You're talking to a rather fancy lady who hasn't got time for you, buddy. You're talking to a different person. So, drink up your drink, and then, if you're still interested, maybe we can have a party. Albie actually ends that scene with the stage direction, long song goes here. There you go. Long song goes here. And Albie created an end of act one moment, where, tell me if this sounds familiar, a telegram arrives telling Holly that her baby brother was killed, and Holly turns on Jeff yelling, you killed him. How could you kill him? Telegram. Truth and illusion. Sound familiar, my Albie fans? Well, Holly is arrested for her involvement with Sally Tomato, but without the comic hijinks.

In fact, a female police officer breaks into Holly's apartment and grabs her to take her away to prison. Now, this is where Holly, played by America's sweetheart, Mary Tyler Moore, Mary Tyler Moore, oh Rob, fame, looks at this female police officer and says, Get your hands off me, you frigging bull dyke. Yup. Can it get better? Oh, yes, because the cop punches Holly in the gut. Did I mention she was pregnant? Jeff visits Holly in jail. What else is new? Come on, guess. I couldn't begin to. I lost the baby. Ah, Holly. I lost the goddamn baby! What the fuck is happening? And this is how the show ends, with Howard, Jeff's friend, looking on, observing everything. This is the ending of Edward Albie's Breakfast at Tiffany's. At the end of the song, Holly flings the door open.

Her pose is now bravado, attempted toughness, the original I don't care girl. Guess who's back? Guess who fell off the ledge and landed on her feet? Hello, darling. Hello. Wow. Would you be any more cheerful if I'd come back from the dead? Did you, uh, see a friend of yours on your way in? I haven't seen a friend in one hell of a long time. Except you, darling. I just wondered. I must have one, though. Somewhere. Somebody paid my bail. Somebody put up the 20 thou. Was it you? Did you rob a bank? Or write a dirty book? Or something? No. Then it must have been OJ. Oh, the sweetheart. Might have been Carlos. Who? Carlos. I doubt it. Well, it was. Oh. Is he around? Uh-uh. Coming back? Uh-uh. Too much to take, huh?

The publicity? The whole business? He says he loves you very much. And if things weren't the way they were. Sure, sure. Well, guess I better get myself together. Put on the eyelashes, get into something tight. Sit down and talk to me. Haven't got time, darling. You don't want to, you mean. You ought to be a diplomat yourself. You read meanings good. Look, you're worn out. You're sick. You haven't got the strength to— To what? Holly's back in circulation again. And she's learned a little more than she used to know about what you've got to do to get by. About what you've not to do. To what? Holly's back in circulation again. And she's learned a little more than she used to know about what you've got to do to get by.

About what you've not got to do if you want to get by. If you want to keep from sinking into the crap. Right. How would you like to go back to Tulip, Texas? Well, why don't you go back to wherever you came from? Where is it? Ohio? North Dakota? New Jersey? Well, let me pick one. And you're not so cosmopolitan, sweetheart. You've got a few illusions stuck to your shoes, boy. Wipe them off. They stink up the place. Boy, I guess you're right. I'm not gonna go off the deep end or anything, Jeff. I'm just not gonna change, that's all. I can't. Lula Mae. Uh-uh. Holly. You gonna make the same mistakes all over again? You bet your life. Live and don't learn, huh? Hey, help me pack. Where the hell are you going?

Oh, I don't know. Where's Mag? Maybe I'll go see her. Maybe I'll join them wherever they are. I've never been to Europe. You've got a trial coming up. You're out on bail. So what? You can't skip bail. Who says? You think I've got a future around here? Even if I would turn against that sweet old man, turn state's evidence or whatever they call it, do you think I've got a chance in this city? No, sweetheart. Holly's gotta fly. She's gotta take it on the lamb forever. Nest egg, baby. Saved up from all those sweet sons of bitches you had climbing all over me. I'll be all right. Jeff, baby, I love you very much. But you get off my back. You get off. You may not. Who says so? You? Baby, you go write yourself some cry, baby.

Get yourself some porcelain doll. Won't give you any trouble. You go get yourself something simple. Something you can manage. But you leave me alone. Come here, cat. All right. All ready? Holly, please. I love you, Jeff. I honestly do. She makes a big gesture, which sets the set flying apart. Vanish. How did you like that? Pretty good, huh? Well, that's only the beginning. That's only the beginning. Full stage now. Garbage cans to one side. The center house nearly off. Howard on. Unobtrusive. Observing. Holly. Come on, cat. Back to the streets. Back where I found you. Good luck, kid. Go on, scat. Good riddance. Let me have the cat, Holly. Have the cat. How could you have the cat, buddy? You don't even exist.

Okay. I'm... I'm off. I said I'm off. I'm... I'm on my way. I love you, Jeff. Here, Holly begins to sing, traveling. She will begin it tentatively, softly, her voice shaking. As she gets further into it, her resolve builds and she gets full-throated, but sings it out with a kind of desperation. Fury. Loss. Fear. All these emotions bursting through. Jeff will come toward her a couple of times during the song, and Holly will, during brief voice rests, say... Stay back, Jeff. Keep away. Stay where you are. Goodbye, Jeff. Well, it'll be good, Jeff. Even like it is. It'll be good. No, it won't, Howard. I'm not gonna keep it. I can't. I can't control it. She... she gets away from me. And... and... I can't have that.

And... I'm not gonna keep it. Jeff shakes his head, singspeaks, a cappella possibly, a few lines of Holly go lightly, possibly through the word distance, stops, sees a piece of paper near the cans, goes, picks it up, holds it for a moment, crushes it with the same gesture he used as a symbol earlier. The cat comes on, begs for the ball of paper. Jeff holds it for a moment more, opens his hand, lets the ball of paper fall to the ground. The cat begins playing with it. Jeff turns slowly and starts moving away. And on December 12th, 1966, it was time for the first preview, which now, for some reason, started with a secondary character, Madge Wildwood, played by Sally Kellerman, giving a soliloquy, which ended with her onstage sobbing.

Audiences must have loved this. Soon, it was truth and illusion, get the creation, grammatical games, and when one onstage character said, I need a lawyer, an irate audience member stood up and screamed, You need a doctor! After the shows, Mary Tyler Moore would collapse after the curtain call and wail, asking what she had done wrong. Why did the audience hate her? How could this be happening? Well, it wouldn't be happening much longer, because after only four previews and a million dollar advance, David Merrick, the king of Broadway, closed Breakfast at Tiffany's in previews, losing four hundred thousand dollars. We were all relieved. Because, you know, he saw the previews. David, you know, his office was right across the street.

He would, he saw the preview on Monday and Tuesday. And he knew, I think from Monday, when the audience starts talking back to the actors that it's. Oh, my God. Really? OK. Oh, my God. Well, Mary comes off stage after that. And I was always there to greet her. I was always there. She comes off stage and she's collapses in my arms and starts weeping. He would publicly refer to this as his Bay of Pigs. And his statement simply read, quote, Rather than subject the drama critics and the theater going public who invested one million dollars in advance ticket sales to an excruciatingly boring evening, I decided to close. Since the idea of adapting Breakfast at Tiffany's for the musical stage was mine in the first place, the closing is entirely my fault and should not be attributed to the three top writers, Nunnally Johnson, Abe Burrows and Edward Albee, who had to go at it.

Here's actually David Merrick being interviewed the same day. Mr. Merrick, how much will you and your backers lose on this venture? I don't have backers. It's mostly my own money. How much? Somewhat over four hundred thousand dollars. What went wrong? It's just not a very good show. That sometimes happens on Broadway. Who is responsible? Well, I've had three top writers on it, Nunnally Johnson, Abe Burrows and finally Edward Albee. None of them could bring it off. I would say it was my fault. I dreamed up the idea in the first place. And I just suppose Breakfast at Tiffany's doesn't make a good musical. Truman Capote, who wrote the original book from which the musical is adapted, said he didn't like the score and he didn't like the leading lady.

Well, I disagree with him on that. I think the score was good and I like the leading lady very much. And I'm going to marry Tyler Moore and I'm going to try to find another play for her. I think what went wrong is the material just wasn't good. Why close? You have a million dollars advance sale in the tale. Why close even before you open? The reason for that is that I rather imagine the advance came...

[1:11:41] Robert W. Schneider: And believe it or not, it was reviewed by the New York Times critic Dan Sullivan. David Merrick's decision to close Breakfast at Tiffany's must have been a painful one for him, and for everyone else associated with the musical. But a look at the final preview performance, in fact the final performance on Wednesday night at the Majestic Theater, made it clear that the cancellation was an intelligent, and from the customer's point of view, an honorable thing to do. The preview audience, a full house that had paid up to $9.90 a seat, left the Majestic immeasurably depressed. It was merciful of Mr. Merrick to spare future audiences the same experience. The theatergoers, those who had not heard about the cancellation, entered in a mood of pleasant expectation.

Everyone had heard about the show's troubles on the road, but many hits have had trouble on the road. How bad, after all, could Breakfast at Tiffany's be? The stars were Mary Tyler Moore, everybody's dream wife on the Dick Van Dyke television show, and Richard Chamberlain, everybody's favorite intern on Dr. Kildare. The music and lyrics were by Bob Merrill, a funny girl, Michael Seven Brides for Seven Brothers Kid was the choreographer, Abe Burrows and Nunnally Johnson had worked on the libretto, and Edward Albee had gone up to Boston to punch it up. Cuts by Oliver Smith, costumes by Freddie Whittop, orchestrations by Ralph Burns. From the original story, maybe you saw the movie a couple of weeks ago on TV, by Truman Capote, who was a bigger name this season than Truman Capote.

The names were the right ones, but rather soon after the curtain went up, it became apparent that something was wrong. The audience was not laughing. The audience was not applauding. From the shuffling of feet and cracking of knuckles and rustling of programs and extraordinary number of deep sighs heard, it seemed that the audience was not listening. Those who tried to pay attention were confused. They had been expecting a hip, bittersweet musical about a kooky wench committed to big city pleasures whose backwoods past keeps getting in the way. A phony, as Mr. Capote put it, but a real phony. Somewhere in the background, there would be the young man who tells Mr. Capote's story, the would-be writer whose relations with Holly are generally fraternal.

Good part for Dick Chamberlain. But Breakfast at Tiffany's had changed, radically. It was now an exercise in the Parandello style about fiction and reality. Holly Golightly was no longer Jeff Claypool's spiritual sister, but literally a figment of his imagination, a character in one of his stories who kept getting away from him. At one point, he threatened to destroy her, that nice Richard Chamberlain, by crumpling a piece of manuscript paper. "You bastard," she replies, that nice Mary Tyler Moore. "You television writer." "Ah," he snarls back, "I couldn't even sell you there." The audience found it rough going, all this epistemological trimming. And the final reason Breakfast at Tiffany's is dead, so did Mr. Chamberlain and Miss Moore.

Both are troopers, but neither was ready for a Broadway musical. Neither could create a believable or sympathetic character, although one's sympathy for the performer behind the character was intense. Their voices were small and clumsily amplified, their movements uncommanding, whatever sparkle was left in the role of Holly after all those rewrites was missed by Miss Moore, and the unnecessary complexities of Mr. Chamberlain's role escaped him. With its healthy advance sale, Breakfast at Tiffany's might have run a couple of months, possibly longer, but it would have made no friends for anyone, including Mr. Merrick. He has decided, a little tardily perhaps, that he does not want to sell an inferior product.

Good for him, and better luck next time to all concerned with Breakfast at Tiffany's. And while most look at Breakfast at Tiffany's with some embarrassment or some sense of loss, for some it opened up doors that never had existed previously. Here's James Burrows to tell us about that.

[1:16:58] James Burrows: Through those four previews, it was, I was always in the wings and Mary would come off and cry, and we, you know, it was like helping, I felt like her father at that moment. I don't know why that flashed through my head, you know, and she was so, she was so, so, you know, this woman who didn't seem like she needed a father at that point. And you know, we were, we were close to the same age. I think Mary was a year older than me. And anyway, at the final performance Wednesday night, she came off crying. And she said, we were having a wake at Sardi's. She said, will you take me over to Sardi's? So I said, sure. So we walked over to Sardi's, we sat in a booth, and there was, you know, as much merrymaking as you can have when a show is closing.

I think everybody was relieved. And I waited there, I don't know how long it was until her husband at that time, Grant Tinker, who, you know, eventually ended up running NBC and running MTM, came and I handed her off to Grant. And then I went my way and I would occasionally see her in New York. She would call and I'd go over and visit. And then when I started, I went on to stage managing and stage managing, you direct the understudies, so I got more acquainted with directing. And then I got into dinner theater and summer stock and I was directing Joan Fontaine and Forty Carats in Wallingford, Connecticut. And I watched Turn on the Television on Saturday night, and there was a Mary Tyler Moore show.

Believe it or not, that was the first time I'd seen it. And I looked at that show and they were doing 20 minutes in a week. And I was doing a two-hour play in a week. And I knew it was theater because it was in front of a live audience. So I wrote her a letter, and if you get my book directed by James Burrows, the letter is in there. And I said, you know, you remember me? I had run a theater in San Diego for a couple of years. And I wrote her this letter, said, I think I can do this. And two weeks later, Grant Tinker called me. This is April, May, May of 73, no, it was, no, it was February of 73. And said, we're interested in theatrical directors because the Mary Tyler Moore show, the New Heart show, which they produced, Rhoda, Phyllis, and a number of other shows they did was theater, you film theater.

So they were interested in theatrical directors. So they brought me out to do one show, which I did in October of 74, and the rest is history. So the relationship I made with Mary Tyler Moore in that show is the main reason that I ended up in California directing multi-camera sitcom.

[1:20:49] Robert W. Schneider: Although David Merrick closed Breakfast at Tiffany's on December 14, 1966, he would joke the show was being underwritten by Cartiers, and that 75% of the loss was the federal government's after his tax write-off. The Majestic was soon occupied by the weird play Marat Saad. Merrick's next musical would be How Now, Dow Jones, also nothing to write home about, while Mary Tyler Moore and Richard Chamberlain hightailed it back to Hollywood. After she turned the world on with her smile on the Mary Tyler Moore show, she came back to Broadway in 1980 with Whose Life Is It Anyway, while Chamberlain waited a little coming back in a 1976 production of The Night of the Iguana. Abe Burrows would never really return to directing until he was asked to supervise 42nd Street after Gower Champion's death, and where he once again was quickly fired by David Merrick.

Bob Merrill would never get the same successes as he had previously, and as we saw in our Graduate episode, he tried to resurrect his career and push the envelope forward. Edward Albee, mercifully, never did another book of a musical, and kept writing bizarre plays that both thrilled and repulsed audiences. Then in 2001, something very interesting happened with Breakfast at Tiffany's. Record producers Robert Scheer and Bruce Yeko decided to record just about every song they could find from this musical with an all-star cast. Faith Prince was Holly, John Schneider, Dukes of Hazzard was Jeff, Sally Kellerman reprised her role, and it was a pretty nice two-CD set with lovely liner notes, and the original Ralph Burns orchestrations, which they found sitting at the Library of Congress. And this garnered a little bit of interest in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Here's James Burrows talking about that.

[1:22:28] James Burrows: You know, I talked to a few people about, I still have the script, about, you know, reviving it or doing it at encores or something like that. And I just, nobody seemed, the script is just really troubled. I've given it to a couple of writers, and they've, you know, they said, no, it's just, they don't give me a reason. But you know, when you listen to the score, it's fabulous. There's some great songs in it. But I think the book is troubled, and it maybe has to do with feelings about the characters and what they are. And, you know, Audrey Hepburn made Holly Golightly, who was a hooker, a, you kind of empathize with her. And I think Mary made that work too, because, you know, as you know, we went out of town with my dad's script, and we had a sold-out house and $2 million advance in New York.

So you know, it was because of Dr. Kildare and Laura Petri. But it wasn't great on the road either. Twelve years later, in 2013, London's Lost Musicals would do a staged reading of it with the Abe Burrows book, where the work, not the production, was coolly received. That same year, a play version arrived on Broadway with Emilia Clarke, and was also coolly received. Holly Golightly, despite radiating charm and literature form and on the screen, is not cut out for the stage, it seems. Why is that? Is it that when you read Breakfast at Tiffany's, you can create a fantasy, and when you watch Breakfast at Tiffany's on film, you're observing a fantasy, but when it's three-dimensional, somewhat removed from the fantasies in your mind, does Holly lose her luster? Perhaps. But maybe that's her charm. She exists in our own fantasies. And we don't want to share those with a three-dimensional audience.

[1:24:33] Robert W. Schneider: Thank you so much for listening to Broadway Bound, the musicals that never came to Broadway. If you like what we are doing, please spread the word, and most importantly, rate and review us on iTunes. And if you have any thoughts on today's show, hit me up on Instagram. Yes, that's what the young kids do, right? Rob W. Schneider on Instagram. And if you really like what we are doing, please consider making a tax-deductible donation to my non-profit, the American Musical Theater Archives, which is diligently working to ensure that the music, lyrics, and librettos of these shows, as well as many others, are being preserved for future academics and theater lovers. Every dollar that you contribute, once again, a tax-deductible dollar, helps to legitimize the study and practice of musical theater.

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