The Color Purple Closes on Broadway

We had made history.  We had stuffed the 1700 seats of the Broadway Theater our first year to recover the entire $11 million investment.   We had done over 900 shows and received standing ovations for all of them.

LaChanze won a Tony for one of the eleven nominations we received. We were ushered into the building with good energy from other successful black shows like "Carmen Jones," which opened 62 years before us and ran for 500 shows and "Purlie," which earned two leads Tonys.  Still, we broke box office records for most money made in two years in this theater.  So to hear the announcement that our show would close impaled the spiritual spine of the building.

That our producers had the poise to make a special trip to the theater and tell us in person eased the thud. Performers who had not closed a show before had certainly heard stories about end dates boldfaced in sterile ink on callboard postings next to sign-in sheets.  It helped to know that there would be recovery time as we had a full month of pay checks to buoy us until it ended; most casts only get two weeks notice.

Of course, "The Color Purple" is not "most casts."  Events between shows in the lower lobby of the theater - be they Secret Santa parties or Happy Trails roasts - are furnished with barbecue from Virgil's, or a red velvet cake somebody in the building made from scratch that morning.  During the strike in November, when support for Broadway crews could have ended at maybe a solidarity walk along the picket line, our cast members unleashed full out church on the corner of Broadway and 53rd, singing everything from "Total Praise" to "The Spirit of the Lord is Here" four-part harmony, 30-degree weather be damned. In fact our collective warmth is what birthed the first ever Dresser Appreciation Day, an occasion where, to honor the folks who get us in and out of costumes show in and show out, we sat wardrobe personnel at a huge table and served them dinner.  Yes, lives backstage at "The Color Purple" got reconfigured for good as often as those of audience members.

So it is hard to understand why this kind of energy has to disband.

Between shows or in dressing room chat during them, some of us tossed around conjectures on what may have happened. Perhaps Fantasia came too soon. We weren't struggling, and to add a star to the marquee slaps down the attractive must-see status that the legacy of Walker's story carries alone. We fall into the hoodwink of wouldn't-be theater goers now needing to see a bona fide star on our stage, regardless of musical theater experience.

Maybe it was marketing - sure we had the Oprah demographic but was the grassroots push in our churches engaged completely?  Did someone go and paper those temples with discount flyers and other incentives?  We couldn't say for sure. Sometimes the gulf between the powers-that-be and the folks beneath the lights grows too wide to cross with questions and answers.

In any case, there is much to be gleaned from talking to cast members whose journeys on Broadway run deep.  They saw it coming.

One of my colleagues, a gorgeous mother-hen with eyes everywhere and ears that miss little, had been through a show closing before.  Rather than alarm us, she would offer instead gems of advice (maybe not right now on that refinancing baby, hold off on that trip to Cozumel, it will still be there in a few months sugar).  Other vets were savvy enough to check the box office to see if there was an advance.  No doubt the strike prevented us from generating one, as consumer trust of Broadway disintegrated beneath the footsteps of the strike in November.  Then there were the rumors scurrying through the community about how producers of a musical version of "Shrek" considered our theater and yearned.

But explanations serve as trite condolences when we must daily watch each other pack belongings for a gradual move out of our second home.

Over the nearly three years I have been involved with Purple's life on Broadway, folks have besieged me with questions:  How come Shug doesn't sing that "sister" song? Have you met Oprah?   How is Fantasia?   I took for granted my exhaustion from answering them only to be met with a new more dreadful reminder of the circumstances:   How is the cast doing?

It's not an easy one.  My creativity seems not to provide me with a concise way to encapsulate the mix of people fighting the cold of February with the ice of incipient unemployment while running around town between and before shows to audition for jobs they will probably not get because we are the only Broadway show whose story requires black people.

There is the sadness underneath acceptance plunged into the fatigue of a new hustle.  And there is hardly time in a few words to make someone understand how the show closing affects not only those of us working in it, but the bevy of talented artists on file with Casting who will now have to wait for another black vehicle. Perhaps we will get lucky again.

In the meantime, we continue to pack our boxes. For the eleven original cast members who were there for the zillion different versions of "Miss Celie's Pants" or the unabridged epic "Africa" production number, or even the three artists still here who did the 2004 Atlanta run of the show where an auction block provided the horrific backdrop for a brilliant recitative about selling Celie to Mister, this closing is more painful.

But the good news is that our brethren on tour will keep the momentum going for at least a few more years. If nothing else, we have this to smile about.