I read in Playbill that Broadway’s original Harold Hill, Robert Preston, had a ritual whenever he went to a Broadway show. Just before the curtain was to go up, Preston would roll up his Playbill, place one end to his wife’s ear, and whisper “I love you” into the other. Damn. I wish I had thought of that.

Playbill is a stapled monthly magazine/theater program in a small format, the cover and middle pages of which differ depending on which theater you’re in. The Playbill handed from usher to theatergoer is a vital part of the Broadway ritual. Playbills are peered at mid-show, sat upon, clutched during tense scenes, lost between seats, or saved obsessively. Some of my warmest Broadway memories are associated with Playbills.

The first thing I do is search the bios to see if there are any actors I remember from other shows. I scanned last year’s Finian’s Rainbow program, for example, and learned that the important part of Og, the Leprechaun, was to be played by Christopher Fitzgerald. I remembered him fondly as “Eye-gor” in the otherwise uninteresting Young Frankenstein a year or two before. Would he be as wonderful here?  (He was.)

A variation of this game can be played by looking at old programs and finding out that I saw people who later became famous. For example, I saw John Mahoney in House of Blue Leaves (1986) shortly before he appeared in Moonstruck and became Frasier’s dad.  My Playbill for The Heidi Chronicles (1989) shows that I saw Cynthia Nixon a few years before she became Carrie’s friend, Miranda. I don’t know why, but this tickles me.

Near the rear of every issue of Playbill is the feature “How Many Have You Seen?” This is a list of current Broadway and Off-Broadway shows with the names of leading cast members and information about shows that are about to close or open. Broadway Fred loves this list. In the Merchant of Venice program from last month, 33 Broadway shows are listed, of which I have seen 13 either on Broadway, in Las Vegas, or in a road company. It is clear that my must see list includes Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson and La Cage Aux Folles (which I missed in the 80’s). I know this will be a topic of discussion on the way home.

If it weren’t for Playbill, I might not be familiar with Al Hirschfeld’s wondrous caricatures of Broadway personalities. In addition to his way of capturing something unexpected but undeniably true of his subjects using just a few lines, he created a perfect game to pass the few minutes before a show is to begin. Hirschfeld tended to hide his daughter’s name, “Nina,” in the intricate lines of his drawings. Sometimes near his signature Hirschfeld put a number. This way, we would know how many “Ninas” to look for. I am still moved by Hirschfeld’s demonstration of how a parent is always thinking about his child.

I regret not being more organized.  Some of my Playbills are in a green plastic tub, but many more are floating around the house or hiding in various corners.  The Young Frankenstein Playbill sits underneath a Tupperware on a rack outside my bathroom. The A Catered Affair Playbill is in my wife’s nightstand. The Playbill for off-Broadway’s Becky Shaw is sitting in a basket in my dining room along with some neglected mail and a box of plastic forks.

My wife and I have a ritual. As we get up to leave the theater, Gail looks around for her Playbill. She finds that it won’t fit in her purse, so I fit both of our copies into my jacket pocket. We talk about the show as we head towards the train or bus. We take our seats, split a cookie from Zaro’s Bakery, and read our Playbills before we hit Newark.

Our ritual is not as romantic as Robert Preston’s, but the sentiment is the same.

“Broadway Fred” appears every Wednesday.

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