CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

FIFTY TWO

David Belasco’s ghost is back. Now that the
reviews have been out for a few days and were
positive if not glowing on every front, it makes
perfect sense to revive the haunting and that is what
I did during the second act of last night’s show. I
chose Tim Grainger, who plays the young male
romantic lead Doug. I know Tim is a solid actor as
well as a wonderful singer. He handled my surprise
appearance well, though he did do a triple take when
he first saw me.

I did my make up and costume upstairs
in David’s old apartment. I used a wig with gray
curly hair and powdered my face even whiter than
normal. Earlier at home, I practiced changing my
jaw line and cheeks by puffing them out with some
cotton wadding. It works well and I can maintain the
illusion for as long as I like. I dressed in black with an
Anglican priest’s collar.
The apartment is now in a state of abject
disrepair. There is a broken window and pigeons have
gotten in and made their usual mess. I could hear
them cooing and burbling somewhere above me in the
dark.
The confessional is still there. Belasco used to
sit in the priest’s center booth dressed in clerical garb
while scantily clad ingénues played the penitents in
his crazy sex games. The older he got, by all reports, the kinkier his games became. Being Belasco’s paramour, for however extended or brief a period, was the key to a career for dozens if not hundreds of young aspiring actresses.
The theater is a different world today. I cannot imagine that someone of David Belasco’s appetites would feel welcome. I know for certain that his antics would not be acceptable. Sexual harassment lawsuits would make him a pariah and probably put him out of business.
As Gus III, I once tried to buy the Belasco Theatre from the Shubert Organization. Jerry Schoenfeld was all for selling me the place. His partner Bernie Jacobs put the kibosh on the deal without giving a reason, or at least without giving me a reason. It is just as well. Looking back, I am not sure what motivated me.
The apartment at that time was in reasonable shape. It was still an elegant if kooky place, though quite musty even then. My plan was to renovate the triplex apartment and move there. Now it is so moldering and mildewed that a gut renovation would have to be undertaken, and I am no longer interested.
I used David’s hidden entrance from the apartment into the theater and moved with preternatural speed to get backstage unseen. I leapt to a perch amidst the scenery machinery and waited for my cue. During the previews I chose my moment while sitting in the audience. Now, as I was about to make my first ghostly appearance, I felt something akin to butterflies in the stomach. Though my act was for an audience of one, it would be on a Broadway stage with a full house out front. Maybe I would have been better off as an actor. Who can ever say for sure?
I listened from above as the character of Doug sings the penultimate number of the show. Upon singing the last notes, he turns and looks away from his once and future girlfriend. His gaze is not fixed on anything in particular and is directed toward the spot where I “appear” by dropping from above and landing. Any slight noise I may make is lost in the sound of rising applause. There is a flat there that blocks anyone but the actor from seeing me – no one in the audience, no one else in the cast or the crew.
Tim looked right at me but did not react at first. He looked away and then looked back. Whether he did this in character as Doug or as himself is something only he knows. He looked once again and I disappeared from his vantage point while he momentarily was transfixed by me, using for my exit a quick leap back up into the beams and cables above the stage. To him, I evaporated before his eyes.
I spied on him after the show and he was electrified with excitement when he realized that he and he alone had seen David Belasco’s ghost. Word moved quickly among the cast and chorus. One of the dancers told a stage hand. He told her that another one of the crew had been touched by the ghost during tech week. Soon everyone backstage was talking about the ghost. There was near-hysterical, nervous giggling on the part of some of the chorus members.
Tim was given Ben Cody’s cell phone number by someone. Ben was back at work after the funeral of his parents. As it happened, he was meeting with a writer from the NY Post at the bar across the street from the theater. I stopped eavesdropping at that point and let nature, so to speak, take its course.
I realized that there was no water to help remove my make up and decided to leave from the roof. Back home I performed my ablutions.
I felt good about the haunting, as well I should.