I am off-Broadway!  I am in JACQUES BREL at the Village Gate in the amazing  Village of New York.  Even in TEXAS I knew the Village was THE place to be.  I have never seen anything like it.  There is Tie-Dye everywhere.  There are people who are neither Latin Americans nor Baptists.  There are people who don’t say “You All” and occasionally say “Youse  Guys”.   Who knew????

Oh, it’s glamorous.  The jack hammers, the flower shops, the smell of Italian sausage sandwiches, the drunks peeing out the window above the  theatre.  It’s the big time!
I have finally joined my boy friend George in the  run of Jacques Brel in New York.

I am over the moon!

After OUR show downs stairs every night, there are shows UP stairs.  With people like Nina Simone (cranky!) and  a young up and coming singer/songwriter named Harry Chapin, who keeps coming down and asking us to PLEEEEESE come up and clap for him because there is an agent in the house.  We are delighted to oblige.

And THEN, one night, as we walk out on stage, who is sitting at the prime table but Bob Hope!  We all try to pretend we don’t see him.  Hard to do. We give a smashing show, I say modestly.  He seems to like it.

Afterwards he himself comes back stage to the teeny tiny dressing room we share and RAVES about the show and us and invites us all out to Luchow’s for dinner.

LUCHOW’S!!!  I have read about Luchow’s.  High cotton, Luchow’s.
So we go, and he is the warmest, kindest, most interested person and wants to know all there is to know about each one of about us.
He used to live down the street from me in Toluca Lake.  He lived in the mansions on the side of the lake where the swans were.  I lived where the mud hens swam.  But I always felt we were neighbors, though we had never met.
We finally met, and he gave us all a night we will never forget.
God bless you, Bob!

Brel Stories