Behind every Broadway show is a hidden community working tirelessly to ensure the magic is accessible to every audience member. For more than three years, I was part of this world, managing the essential audio/visual equipment—including language translators—that allows everyone to see, hear, and fully experience the performance. It takes hundreds of us laboring in the wings to create the seamless experience theatergoers expect when the lights dim and the curtain rises. In the business of “show,” we work so that the final result appears effortless.
I fell into this business by accident, though the seeds were sown during childhood treks from Scranton, Pennsylvania. My parents would pack us into the station wagon for the two-hour drive to Manhattan—a journey that felt like traveling to a different universe, even if it only meant crossing through Pennsylvania and New Jersey. At ten years old, I was both exhausted and enthralled by the city’s manic energy, and I decided then and there that I would call it home someday. But the real shift happened when my parents dropped my brothers and me off for a matinee of The Wiz. Sitting in that darkened theater, watching Stephanie Mills and André De Shields, my eyes were wide—dilated by the sheer brilliance of a world I never wanted to leave.
Flash forward to the 1980s: I finally landed in New York for a summer job at Radio City Music Hall (RCMH). As a tour guide and host, I spent my days navigating the cavernous Art Deco masterpiece, reciting the history of its 1930s origins. It was—and remains—a nirvana of architectural and acoustic perfection. RCMH sits just a short walk from all of the Broadway houses, and it was during this season that I first encountered the phenomenon of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Cats” at the Winter Garden Theatre. The show went on for more than 15 years and over 7,000 performances.
I’ve seen the original production of Cats more than nine times—I’ve officially outlived the feline metaphor. Back in the day, every visitor coming to the city had tickets to this show, and I’ve spent so much time at the Winter Garden Theatre that I started feeling like a stray, rummaging through the stage door alley. I know T.S. Eliot’s poems by heart and can recite every lyric—even “Memory,” a song I’ve survived in far too many elevators. I’ve seen Grizabella embodied by the greats: Betty Buckley, Elaine Paige, and Laurie Beechman. This show is not just for theater geeks who track every casting change; it’s for anyone who appreciates seeing a classic story shine under the footlights.
Beyond the marquee’s glow lies a different stage: the underground ball culture of Paris is Burning. Jennie Livingston’s documentary spotlights the 1980s LGBTQ+ community—specifically the Black, Latino, and transgender performers who lived in the shadows, piers and unforgivable alleys. For them, the balls were a sanctuary to shed societal labels and claim the respect denied to them elsewhere. Categories like ‘High-Fashion Parisian’ or ‘School Girl/Boy Realness’ weren’t just costumes; they were mirrors of raw identity and the rigid, high-stakes rules of an American underworld—seen, but never accepted, given permission or acknowledged as human beings.
Today, the pariahs of the past includes veterans of the spotlight, runway and clowder such as Sydney James Harcourt as Rum Tum Tugger— athletic and spontaneous but always in control. Dudney Joseph Jr. who’s Munkastrap masters the ceremony with a booming voice heard all the way from Brooklyn to the Bronx. Jennyanydots is performed by Xavier Reyes with spot-on with tap of paws that resonate. Baby Byrne as the Victoria licks up the stage like a bowl of cream. And the performance goes on with fans flapping and howls heard all the way from the orchestra to the balcony.
Ken Ard spins the entire room into a dizzy speed as DJ Griddlebone. He originated the role of Macavity in Cats. Nora Schell not only serves up beverages in the boxes and orchestra lounge, but also belts out the story of the cat we’ve all encountered, Bustopher Jones. Her runway walk is simply fabulous.
Junior LeBeija sets a magnificent stage as Gus, the Theatre Cat. All of the felines gather around him to listen to his tale of hardship and glory as most good and honest thespians do to support the art and profession. You could hear a pin drop as he tells the tale (tail) of Gus.
Emma Sophia as Skimbleshanks (and Cassandra) sets the stage ablaze with two contradictory felines that not only show off their extensive training and gifts both in dance and “pipes.” Many whistle toots could be heard when she and her cohort, Jonathan Burke as Mungojerrie are in perfect sync.
Macavity is the mystery cat — she always shows up at the darkest hour and you never know what to expect. Leiomy has taken on a role that draws a crowd base from in and around NYC who know her aspirations, persona and her ambition not only at the Broadhurst but also on the FX series, “Pose.”
The once over-produced and over-played song,”Memory,” that became a running joke back in the day as it was heard in every elevator and dentist’s office has a breath of freshness. This current incarnation of Grizabella (The Glamour Cat) is mesmerizing by ‘Tempress’ Chasity Moore who gives a stellar performance with her expressions, focus and incredible vocal range. Her journey into the Heavy Side Layer with a spiral staircase not only tugs on the heartstrings, but also helps the audience understand that the tribulations of human life, no matter what you face in life, we can strive for a better place if not on earth than somewhere beyond our knowledge and any rainbow.
This house is packed with realness, a touch of shade, and a pulsating wonderment that electrifies the room and shakes the rafters. Robert “Silk” Mason’s Magical Mr. Mistoffelees transports the gathering from Shubert Alley into the exclusive ballrooms and clubs that were once reserved only for the elite. This cat moves with jaw-dropping style, musicality, and precision.
If I were to single out one performer, I’d be “dizzy with cat scratch fever” not to mention André De Shields. I first witnessed his brilliance decades ago on the “Yellow Brick Road” in The Wiz, and we havecrossed paths again during his legendary run in Hadestown at the Walter Kerr Theatre. I remember approaching him on 8th Avenue after seeing him in the lobby, where I was preparing the A/V equipment for the day’s performances. He remains as gracious and sage as ever, bringing his signature groove and venerable enunciation to the role of Old Deuteronomy. Or, as I prefer to call him: a mature Deuteronomy with a godsend of talent. Period.
Cats: The Jellicle Ball isn’t just a revival; it’s a high-octane reimagining that shatters tradition. By trading tired musical theater tropes for raw, ballroom-inspired energy, this diverse ensemble brings a much-needed breath of fresh air to the stage. It is a non-stop celebration that doesn’t just “Sashay, it “Shantays.” In the end, this reinvention succeeds because it finally lets the cats run free instead of trying to herd them.
Directed by Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch, with choreography by Arturo Lyons and Omari Wiles. This production is Tony nominated for Best Revival of a Musical.
Broadhurst Theatre
235 West 44th Street
NY, NY
Photo Credits: P. K. Greenfield, Matthew Murphy, Evan Zimmerman-
