Michael's Farewell Letter to NY

From the Phantom, With Love

By Michael Crawford

Dear New York:

By the time you read this I'll be in Australia. But I couldn't leave without saying what a wonderful time I've had being here.

It had been 20 years since I'd last been on the Broadway stage. I hadn't adapted then to New York and I didn't appreciate it. But when I came here this past year, it was with a whole new attitude-and nothing prepared me for what was ahead.

Coming from England to New York was like a trip to a favorite rich uncle's house: It's all very nice, but you're not quite sure that you won't be homesick. I knew I'd miss my children, my home, my friends.

I believe I had the biggest phone bill on the East Coast my first weeks here. But then I found a place to live: A fine apartment in a building that resembles a great wedge of black cheese, on West 57th St. And I began to become part of the city.

I remember, late Christmas eve, sitting by the window, watching the planes come into LaGuardia over the glorious skyline, thinking of all the people coming to visit their families. I didn't feel lonely. I felt part of New York.

I'd bought a chicken for Christmas dinner, and vegetables and a really good bottle of red wine. I bought nuts and candies, and put them out on the table to make it look as though I was expecting company.

I remember putting the oven on to pre-heat. "Right," I said to myself, "now I'll do the vegetables." (I often talk to myself. It's a habit, from living alone.) I opened the oven door--expecting that first blast of heat that hits you in the face. Nothing! The oven wasn't on.

I started to take the oven apart (I hope the owners of the apartment are not reading this)--and at four o'clock, I was still trying to cook Christmas chicken. The wine level was now down to a quarter-bottle. I put the bird in a tiny toaster oven I found. It came out the size of a fighting pigeon, its legs firmly trussed and in punching position. In its last final fling, after I had cut the string that held its legs together, it shot a plastic bag at me--a second, unsuspected bag of giblets. The chicken had won.

As we got closer to opening night, every TV and radio program, every newspaper talked about the Phantom. I became quite terrified.

We had three previews to go. Hal Prince, our director, would have pep-talk meetings with us. One night, he came to us and said: "Everything is going beautifully. I'm really happy with it, and I want tonight's show to be like any other night. We have the three major critics in tonight." I think I had a breakdown on the spot. Frank Rich of The New York Times was going to be there.

I was putting in a new piece of business that night, climbing two rungs higher on the ladder, leaning out high over the audience. And I had to try this the night that Mr. Rich was in the audience! I imagined myself landing on his lap and saying "I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Rich, this isn't normally in the show. I do hope you'll understand and bear with us."

On opening night, there was an incredible atmosphere. When we got to that performance, it was as though all tensions had gone. There was a great warmth in the theatre. At a party after the show, everyone was standing and applauding. But I was the last to arrive and the first to leave: All I could think was that there was another show to do the next day.

I hadn't even seen the reviews. On the way home I stopped the cab at a newsstand and bought The Times. The verdict was in: We would live.

There were only a few little disappointments. Woody Allen never came to the show. And I'm sorry I didn't go to the surrounding countryside on my Sundays off. I did visit friends, once, on Long Island. It was a wonderful day with a sunburn to show for it (not fun, under a mask, I can assure you). But I had the absurd fear that if I left town, I was sure to be stranded on a highway somewhere, unable to make the Monday performance!

I've had the time of my life in this wonderful city. It's a wrench to leave and I want to come back soon. I've felt independent here; as an Englishman, I've revelled in the almost daily sunshine. I've been enthralled by the color and pace and remarkable hospitality. Thank you for making me feel so welcome.

news & gossip*krista's desktop*credits*faq & bio
discography*mc links*media*encounters & lit
anecdotes*fan chat*guestbook*quiz

site by Krista, erikog@one.net

Commonwealth Network