I was Marjorie Morningstar. We moved from the Bronx to Riverdale
And I went to summer stock in 1971. I was 15 at the time, the baby in the company. I fell in love with a 17-year-old ballet dancer who was playing the Serpent in the Apple Tree. He was tall and had curly brown hair and legs that seemed to go on forever. He was a beautiful, sexy Serpent. And I was his "curly-haired Jewish boy." We were each other's first loves.
But there was an Evil Choreographer in the company--a talentless hack who practiced watered-down Fosse with dull, unimaginative sadism--and by the end of the summer, he had seduced my beautiful Serpent away from me. He did it deliberately, vindictively, just to show that he could. I spent the rest of the summer being consoled by the women of the company, who thought the choreographer was an asshole anyway.
Our last date, after the summer was over, was for a Saturday matinee at the Winter Garden Theater in September. We saw my beloved Follies--me for the 4th time, he for the 1st, from the last two rows of the balcony, which Hal Prince used to sell for $2.00 a ticket. It was my parting gift to him.
We didn't speak to each other for 35 years, until 2006.
Sometime in the mid 1980s, I heard the Evil Choreographer had died. So many people were dying then--people I admired and cared about, people I loved, people who were good people--that I scarcely thought about this one man's death. There was no revenge, no satisfaction, just an acceptance: "Of course he died too. With all these people dying, how could he not have died as well?"
My Serpent and I had a reunion. At the recent revival of Follies--house seats this time. It was my reunion gift to him.
And that is my Marjorie Morningstar story. A little gayer than Herman Wouk, but every bit as melodramatic.
Updated On: 4/10/13 at 12:35 AM