For a lifelong theater lover, a trip to New York includes once-in-a-lifetime chance to see ‘Death of a Salesman’ with Nathan Lane

TEXT AND PHOTOS BY DOUG HOAGLAND

Under a blue Manhattan sky on a balmy Sunday afternoon, I fell into line outside the stage door on Seventh Avenue. In my hand: a Playbill from “Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman.” I waited to push it forward to get the autograph of someone, anyone, (maybe Nathan Lane?), who’d just finished the matinee at the historic Winter Garden Theatre.

A fanboy at 73?

Yes, indeed.

It took me seven decades to visit New York for the first time, and in trying to make the most of that experience, three Broadway shows topped our itinerary:

• “Just In Time,” a jukebox musical about ’60s crooner Bobby Darin, a brash showman who barreled through a too-short life.

• “The Lion King,” the visual spectacle playing on Broadway since 1997.

• “Death of a Salesman,” a hot ticket with a starry cast in a play still relevant 77 years after it debuted.

My introduction to theater came in 1968 courtesy of a high school production of a creaky American classic – “Show Boat.” In a dark auditorium, something clicked in me. I couldn’t have put it in words then. My best explanation today: I wasn’t on the stage (God, forbid!), but I was part of the energy flowing from that unpredictable live performance.

In the years ahead, I became a regular at community theater – thank you, Good Company Players and StageWorks. But Broadway was elusive. Too far. Too many other things to spend money on. But finally this June, Sally and I were navigating Times Square – its surging crowds and hawking vendors mixing under digital billboards that defied the night sky.

What a trip.

The shows

Jeremy Jordan (“Newsies” and “The Great Gatsby” on Broadway, “Supergirl” and “Smash” on television) played Bobby Darin. The charismatic Jordan sounded great and captured Darin’s audacious swagger.

“Just In Time” played at Circle in the Square, the theater where Audra McDonald appeared in “Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar & Grill,” a performance that won her a sixth Tony. The setting: Intimate with the feel of a cabaret.

Next night: “The Lion King” at the spacious and grand Minskoff Theatre. We had orchestra seats there and at the other two theaters, as well. Our travel agent (I know, old school) got us tickets through a ticket agent in New York weeks before we arrived. If this was once-in-a-lifestime trip, paying for good seats was worth it.

At “The Lion King,” the inventive puppetry, costumes and masks highlighted the show. Some puppetry became extensions of the actors’ bodies, allowing the audience to see both the real human and the imaginary animal. Amazing stagecraft.

‘Let Me Go’

As good as “Just In Time” and “The Lion King,” were, my biggest thrill was seeing “Death of a Salesman” at the Winter Garden. History courses through the place. Built in 1911, it’s been home to many hit shows. One notable example: “West Side Story.” My mind went to its opening night in 1957 and that first audience watching the Jets and Sharks rumble and hearing the cast sing “America” and “Tonight.”

After the curtain went up on “Death of a Salesman,” Willy Loman (Nathan Lane) drove a dark red 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle onto the stage. As the headlights faded, I descended scene by scene into the reality crafted by Arthur Miller. By the end of the play, my plunge was so complete that I surprised myself at the dramatic climax.

That came as older son Biff (Christopher Abbott) pleaded with Willy: “Will you let me go, for Christ’s sake? Will you take that phony dream and burn it before something happens?”

Biff was trying to free Willy from the delusion of the American Dream before leaving the family home forever. And in a peace offering, Biff wanted to shake Willy’s hand.

Willy refused, yelling that Biff should “rot in hell” if he left.

Without knowing it, I’d been leaning forward in anticipation of what I didn’t know but sensed was coming. The total break between father and son sent a message that my body obeyed without conscious thought.

So totally was I in the moment – and so shocked at Willy’s response and riveted by Lane’s gut-wrenching performance – that I lurched back in my seat with a force that surprised me.

Pictured: The author poses with a photo of the cast of “Death of a Salesman.”

A few more scenes followed, and the sound of people in the audience crying played as a soundtrack. After Lane and the rest of the cast took their bows, exit doors popped open and we found ourselves on Seventh Avenue. We intended to walk directly to dinner but stopped with others at a special exit marked with a small metal plate that read “Stage Door.”

I thought of moving on several times before any of the actors appeared. Then the first one opened the door with a Sharpie in hand and started working the rope line. Two more performers followed – all had played supporting parts in the play, and all politely signed Playbills, mine included. We moved on when an usher announced no one else was coming out.

AI would later tell me (after I asked) that I’d partaken in “a cherished theatrical tradition” that might have left me feeling “absolutely awkward.” AI got it wrong.

I absolutely felt like a theater lover at that stage door.

That was my role on Broadway, and I nailed it.

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