The Mighty Oak Has Fallen

                 Almost exactly twenty-two years ago tonight, after submitting some samples of my skills to John Hammond at That New Magazine, Inc (the parent company responsible for TheaterWeek, Opera Monthly, Christopher Street, The New York Native weekly newspaper and the then-soon-to-be-revived Night & Day Magazine), I got THE phone call at the office where I was serving as staff support for my day job in the music industry at Warner-Levinson on 68th Street and Broadway.

Mr. Hammond informed me that I was officially hired by Night & Day. I was to have a weekly deadline of no less than three cabaret reviews per week, but I was also being given carte blanche to submit any feature articles and interviews I so chose, if they passed muster with the editorial staff for acceptability, and also to consider any features or interviews they might wish me to write. They explained the financial arrangements, which were hardly in the millions, but I was twenty-one years old and I didn’t think I should argue with such a thing, especially after having toiled in cabaret since I was a teenager and finally being given the blessed chance to move up somewhat in the community ranks. So I took my first gig, which was writing a small feature about that year’s MAC Awards at Symphony Space. It was published on March 5th and, I’m happy to say, caused a small stir among the cabaretfolk, who were pleasantly surprised to learn that I actually had any talent for anything that could be of use to them besides merely being “that little crazy boy from Queens who used to do bad drag and sang like a histrionic.” For the next two weeks, I reviewed my first cabaret show ever (Peggy Lee at The Ballroom), followed quickly by writing my first feature article (about the show Heart Strings at the Beacon Theater and the big party that followed at the Citicorp Center), my first interview (with Rupert Holmes, just prior to the Broadway opening of his murder mystery Accomplice on Broadway at the Richard Rodgers), and reviewing Judy Carne at the Duplex, Mollie Taylor Martin at Don’t Tell Mama, and various and sundry others. Not to mention being welcomed at a MAC meeting at the Trocadero as though I was the latest "Bright Young Thing" in town, and soon finding myself on every possible A-list that cabaret had to offer. I also just happened to be dating a certain lyricist at the time who was already extremely well-known on the cabaret beat, so of course he was joining me for every show I had to review and I guess we made a decent-looking couple. In turn, I reviewed Annie Hughes, Phillip Namanworth, Lisa Hall, JQ and the Bandits, Margaret Whiting, Sylvia Syms, Ronnie Welsh, Ronny Whyte, and too many others to mention. And then all of a sudden, I got a phone call from Terrence Womble at David Rothenberg’s office, asking me if I could possibly see it in my heart to review Steve Ross’s new show at the Oak Room at the Algonquin Hotel.

OK, now, wait a minute. The ALGONQUIN? THE Algonquin? Like, home of the Round Table? Like, one of the most legendary showrooms in New York? Like, a place where even my parents, who had been major cabaretgoers since I was a child, had never been? Really? ME? Little Andrew from Queens? But what came out of my mouth was, “Sure, Terrence, I’d love to. Please put me on the list for a party of two. Jay and I will be there on time and looking forward to it. And please thank David for us.”

So…after a few days spent with trying to figure out what the hell I was gonna wear, how to wear my hair, etc., we went. We got there early enough to have a drink in the lobby first (because apparently, that’s what one DID at the Algonquin), and then the spectacular Arthur Pomposello (who was the best thing to ever happen to the Algonquin when he managed the room in the 1990s) graciously ushered us in. The staff couldn’t have been more fantastic, Steve couldn’t have been more fantastic, and it was the first night I got to meet people like Jeff Harnar and David Staller and KT Sullivan and the very late lamented Buck Buchholz. And there wasn’t one person in that room who could have made me feel more welcome. I was HOME. Jay and I broke up shortly thereafter over a silly misunderstanding, but my invitations to the Oak Room continued quite unabated for several years. Among other things, I was present when Tovah Feldshuh made her cabaret debut there, entitled Tovah…Cross Ovah! I was there to watch KT Sullivan (looking like a diamond in an elegant jewel box) make her debut in the club. I was there to watch Jeff Harnar do one of his first-ever performances of The 1959 Broadway Songbook. I was there when Mel Roy presented a benefit concert featuring Lainie Kazan, Julie Budd, Terri White, Mike Burstyn, Christine Andreas, Nick Savarese and a plethora of others. I was there to watch such cherished friends as Tennie Leonard and Angela LaGreca make their first Oak Room appearances. Needless to say, I was there to watch Karen Akers, Andrea Marcovicci and Julie Wilson appear many, many times. I was there for numerous occasions when the legendary radio show New York Cabaret Nights would broadcast on WNYE radio, hosted by Steve Ross and featuring such guests as Phyllis Pastore, the Manhattan Rhythm Kings, Angelina Reaux, and the late Anne Francine. I got to see Lois Walden work there. And unfortunately, I was NOT there to see such friends of late as Maude Maggart, Emily Bergl and Kat Gang, but I was fully aware and thrilled beyond words.

Several hours ago, we all received the news that the Oak Room is no more. The Algonquin is being renovated and the room will not re-open. And I am desperately saddened. These are the moments where I have no choice but to simply accept that things change.