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The Season: A Candid Look At Broadway
Playwright/novelist/screenwriter Goldman analyzes Broadway from the perspective of the audiences, playwrights, critics, producers and actors. “Very nearly perfect... It is a loose-limbed, gossipy, insider, savvy, nuts-and-bolts report on the annual search for the winning numbers that is now big-time American commercial theatre.” –Christopher Lehmann-Haupt, The New York Times
448 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1969
About the author
William Goldman
71 books2,493 followersGoldman grew up in a Jewish family in Highland Park, Illinois, a Chicago suburb, and obtained a BA degree at Oberlin College in 1952 and an MA degree at Columbia University in 1956.His brother was the late James Goldman, author and playwright.
William Goldman had published five novels and had three plays produced on Broadway before he began to write screenplays. Several of his novels he later used as the foundation for his screenplays.
In the 1980s he wrote a series of memoirs looking at his professional life on Broadway and in Hollywood (in one of these he famously remarked that "Nobody knows anything"). He then returned to writing novels. He then adapted his novel The Princess Bride to the screen, which marked his re-entry into screenwriting.
Goldman won two Academy Awards: an Academy Award for Writing Original Screenplay for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and an Academy Award for Writing Adapted Screenplay for All the President's Men. He also won two Edgar Awards, from the Mystery Writers of America, for Best Motion Picture Screenplay: for Harper in 1967, and for Magic (adapted from his own 1976 novel) in 1979.
Goldman died in New York City on November 16, 2018, due to complications from colon cancer and pneumonia. He was eighty-seven years old.
William Goldman had published five novels and had three plays produced on Broadway before he began to write screenplays. Several of his novels he later used as the foundation for his screenplays.
In the 1980s he wrote a series of memoirs looking at his professional life on Broadway and in Hollywood (in one of these he famously remarked that "Nobody knows anything"). He then returned to writing novels. He then adapted his novel The Princess Bride to the screen, which marked his re-entry into screenwriting.
Goldman won two Academy Awards: an Academy Award for Writing Original Screenplay for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and an Academy Award for Writing Adapted Screenplay for All the President's Men. He also won two Edgar Awards, from the Mystery Writers of America, for Best Motion Picture Screenplay: for Harper in 1967, and for Magic (adapted from his own 1976 novel) in 1979.
Goldman died in New York City on November 16, 2018, due to complications from colon cancer and pneumonia. He was eighty-seven years old.
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November 19, 2019
There's a moment every gay man dreads—the split second when the topic of sexuality arises and somebody's smile turns into a snarl. It might happen when a relative unknowingly drops some sexual slur; it might come when a friend makes a cutting aside about gays, or a stranger on the street letting an epithet fly. Or for gay readers, it might be the moment that a book turns sour when the author makes his prejudices known. Even though a particular insult might not be directed at us—especially when we're merely a reader—it still stings like a slap across the face. And for gay readers of a certain age, we remember well a time when we were expected to shut up, take the slaps, and keep our opinions to ourselves.
William Goldman's The Season, a nonfictional play-by-play account of the 1967-68 Broadway theatrical season, is a relic of that age. Hoo boy, does it show. The first hard slap arrives barely before the opening paragraph's conclusion, when the author sneers at 'a flutter of fags' who've arrived to see Judy Garland in performance—then, for readers who didn't quite get the jargon, adds that they're 'obvious homosexuals.' A scant couple of paragraphs later, he has someone opine that it was a pity they didn't get all the fags at Auschwitz.
It's the kind of opening that, forty-five years after its publication, makes one grateful for all the progress since.
Because it really doesn't get any better as the book continues. Goldman asserts once that there's "nothing remotely wrong with liking plays that have homosexual themes, productions, or performances", except "when homosexual taste becomes distorting to the play itself"—but just about everything he dislikes about the theater—heck, about the entire world—boils down to what he imagines as distorted homosexual taste. He's worried when an actor "swishes too much." He's upset at plays in which women change their minds and switch from one love interest to another—because switching partners for novelty is what the fags do, he explains. He gets into a lather about a spate of plays that examine the institution of marriage as fundamentally unsound, because that's what the sneaky homosexuals want it to be.
Goldman's angry that the New York Times has features of "no real news value" that are included because homosexuals like them. He spends several pages scribbling angrily about pop culture ukulele sensation Tiny Tim, whose high falsetto and stringy hair obviously reveal him to be a blatant and unapologetic homosexual. (Was he? I don't know.) He's thoroughly flummoxed by the fact that in a Cosmopolitan article talking about Jacqueline Onassis' friends, "at least four of the men listed are internationally famous homosexuals." (When I start a rock band, by the way, Internationally Famous Homosexuals will be the name.) Even a manly man's man like writer Ernest Hemingway isn't masculine enough for Goldman. Hemingway, in his autobiography, said something or other that proved him to be, and I quote, "a bitch."
By the time the book nears its conclusion, Goldman is frothing at the mouth at how Hair is an utter failure primarily, as he explains in exquisite detail for three pages, because it actually and relentlessly forces him to endure, at face level, actor's penises. Goldman doesn't want or need to see those! But it's fairly clear that he has other targets as well. He's not particularly fond of women—he has little to say of noted theatrical females except that a few of them "really need to lose some weight." He loathes intellectuals, and goes out of his way to present some pretentious twaddle that he passes off as dialogue from a lauded play with snob appeal, invites his readers to sneer at it, and then reveals that he wrote it himself—as if to prove that any ol' regular Joe could be a playwright. And most of all he dislikes critics, giving them a vicious savaging (especially if they work at Newsweek, which in 1970 was apparently flush with internationally famous homosexuals) that seems less the work of Goldman the dispassionate journalist, and more an act of Goldman, novelist and screenwriter with a few grudges against critics under his belt.
When Goldman takes the time to examine what makes a play work or not work, he makes a compelling case—as he does in the outstanding chapter on the musical Golden Rainbow, in which he dissects all the ways a musical involving Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme went terribly wrong. When he squanders his opportunities, it's disappointing. In a chapter ostensibly about the classic play, Loot, he notes in the space of a single sentence that Loot opened on Broadway and that it was authored by Joe Orton, then proceeds to write a couple of dozen unrelated pages about corruption in the box office in which Loot is never again mentioned. When he's supposed to be writing about Edward Albee, he instead carps for an entire chapter about the depravities of internationally famous homosexuals. As interesting the topic and as readable the prose, I found The Season too full of slaps to retain appeal.
Perhaps at the time of the book's publication it might've been argued that Goldman was fairly progressive in his stance. He does, after all, refer to gays as a "persecuted minority group." But then he'll turn around and administer a backhanded rebuke, like making the grandiloquent generalization, "If homosexuals have an enemy, it is age."
No, Mr. Goldman. If homosexuals have an enemy, it's guys like you and your buddy who wanted Auschwitz to finish the job.
William Goldman's The Season, a nonfictional play-by-play account of the 1967-68 Broadway theatrical season, is a relic of that age. Hoo boy, does it show. The first hard slap arrives barely before the opening paragraph's conclusion, when the author sneers at 'a flutter of fags' who've arrived to see Judy Garland in performance—then, for readers who didn't quite get the jargon, adds that they're 'obvious homosexuals.' A scant couple of paragraphs later, he has someone opine that it was a pity they didn't get all the fags at Auschwitz.
It's the kind of opening that, forty-five years after its publication, makes one grateful for all the progress since.
Because it really doesn't get any better as the book continues. Goldman asserts once that there's "nothing remotely wrong with liking plays that have homosexual themes, productions, or performances", except "when homosexual taste becomes distorting to the play itself"—but just about everything he dislikes about the theater—heck, about the entire world—boils down to what he imagines as distorted homosexual taste. He's worried when an actor "swishes too much." He's upset at plays in which women change their minds and switch from one love interest to another—because switching partners for novelty is what the fags do, he explains. He gets into a lather about a spate of plays that examine the institution of marriage as fundamentally unsound, because that's what the sneaky homosexuals want it to be.
Goldman's angry that the New York Times has features of "no real news value" that are included because homosexuals like them. He spends several pages scribbling angrily about pop culture ukulele sensation Tiny Tim, whose high falsetto and stringy hair obviously reveal him to be a blatant and unapologetic homosexual. (Was he? I don't know.) He's thoroughly flummoxed by the fact that in a Cosmopolitan article talking about Jacqueline Onassis' friends, "at least four of the men listed are internationally famous homosexuals." (When I start a rock band, by the way, Internationally Famous Homosexuals will be the name.) Even a manly man's man like writer Ernest Hemingway isn't masculine enough for Goldman. Hemingway, in his autobiography, said something or other that proved him to be, and I quote, "a bitch."
By the time the book nears its conclusion, Goldman is frothing at the mouth at how Hair is an utter failure primarily, as he explains in exquisite detail for three pages, because it actually and relentlessly forces him to endure, at face level, actor's penises. Goldman doesn't want or need to see those! But it's fairly clear that he has other targets as well. He's not particularly fond of women—he has little to say of noted theatrical females except that a few of them "really need to lose some weight." He loathes intellectuals, and goes out of his way to present some pretentious twaddle that he passes off as dialogue from a lauded play with snob appeal, invites his readers to sneer at it, and then reveals that he wrote it himself—as if to prove that any ol' regular Joe could be a playwright. And most of all he dislikes critics, giving them a vicious savaging (especially if they work at Newsweek, which in 1970 was apparently flush with internationally famous homosexuals) that seems less the work of Goldman the dispassionate journalist, and more an act of Goldman, novelist and screenwriter with a few grudges against critics under his belt.
When Goldman takes the time to examine what makes a play work or not work, he makes a compelling case—as he does in the outstanding chapter on the musical Golden Rainbow, in which he dissects all the ways a musical involving Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme went terribly wrong. When he squanders his opportunities, it's disappointing. In a chapter ostensibly about the classic play, Loot, he notes in the space of a single sentence that Loot opened on Broadway and that it was authored by Joe Orton, then proceeds to write a couple of dozen unrelated pages about corruption in the box office in which Loot is never again mentioned. When he's supposed to be writing about Edward Albee, he instead carps for an entire chapter about the depravities of internationally famous homosexuals. As interesting the topic and as readable the prose, I found The Season too full of slaps to retain appeal.
Perhaps at the time of the book's publication it might've been argued that Goldman was fairly progressive in his stance. He does, after all, refer to gays as a "persecuted minority group." But then he'll turn around and administer a backhanded rebuke, like making the grandiloquent generalization, "If homosexuals have an enemy, it is age."
No, Mr. Goldman. If homosexuals have an enemy, it's guys like you and your buddy who wanted Auschwitz to finish the job.
January 3, 2019
Wading through William's Goldman's sad and hideous opinions on women and homosexuals for his rare insights on the business of Broadway was a chore. I can't even recommend you should read it, really, given the sheer number of his worthless rants about woman who have the gall to be unfuckable and homosexuals who dare to exist. Yet I admit there is value here, and a surprising amount of resonance with the state of the business today.
It is up to you, gentle friend, to judge how much bullshit you're willing to tolerate.
It is up to you, gentle friend, to judge how much bullshit you're willing to tolerate.
January 14, 2013
For me, THE book on the theater in New York and how it works. Okay, Moss Hart's ACT ONE is great, too, and has been the spark to the match of
many a theatrical life. But this book ... well ... Goldman considers every show that opened on Broadway in the 67-68 season, anatomizes them in
specific detail and then takes a wider view in the way they function in the theatrical culture as a whole. The book is funny, pitiless, honest, and
clearly written by someone who loves the theatre deeply. I think it's time for me to read this again.
many a theatrical life. But this book ... well ... Goldman considers every show that opened on Broadway in the 67-68 season, anatomizes them in
specific detail and then takes a wider view in the way they function in the theatrical culture as a whole. The book is funny, pitiless, honest, and
clearly written by someone who loves the theatre deeply. I think it's time for me to read this again.
July 21, 2017
Bailed on page 80 thanks to Goldman's bigoted preoccupation with "homosexuals" and hacky targeting of critics. Have never gotten the BFD about this author but thought I might get some insights into the Broadway of the late sixties. Got pedestrian prose, homophobia instead. Hard pass and never again.
May 16, 2019
There is a saying in theatre classes, an accepted truism, that the more specific a choice the more people can relate to it. It seems counterintuitive, that specificity can speak to the larger group in ways that generality cannot, yet it is proven over and over again... for example, Fun Home, the musical based on Alison Bechdel's graphic memoir, is as specific as it gets: a lesbian's coming of age story, set partly in the family's funeral home, about her father's closeted life and how it led to his suicide. When I music directed the show in 2017, I had the same reaction that I heard from many in the audience... "this reminds me of my life." Alison's story speaks to anyone who has parents and struggled to connect to them as fallible humans. In other words, it speaks to everyone.
Which brings me to The Season, William Goldman (most famous, perhaps, for The Princess Bride)'s non-fiction account of the 1967-68 Broadway season. In that year, he attended every single Broadway show, interviewed hundreds of theatre-makers, and delved into the economics of Broadway. One might think that this has a limited shelf-life and a limited appeal, yet it speaks to larger issues that define the late-1960's cultural moment and have ramifications to today.
I first read this book about ten years ago; it is an acknowledged classic within the small-ish field of Broadway history. I found it fascinating in how much it related to contemporary Broadway and how he accurately predicted several trends and moments that have happened since. For example, Neil Simon's transformation from joke-man to sensitive dramatic playwright (in the 1980's) and (in his final point in the book) that for Broadway to remain viable it must "fracture its audience," the shows must stop trying to appeal to everyone and be willing to target narrower audience demographics.
Yet on this reread I was most struck by the man himself. His opinions, his critiques of various shows, his retelling of moments onstage and off all reiterated one thing over and over: the white male perspective of entitlement and the utter dismissiveness of women, of every other race, and of homosexuality. In other words, and not to mince them, the William Goldman that narrates The Season is misogynistic, racist, and homophobic. Goldman died recently, and I don't know much about his personal life or his politics. I do not believe he intended to be those things in 1968 when he was writing the book. But over and over again he displays an obtuseness to these issues that, today, permeate so much of our national discussion. It becomes obvious how we got here from there. Inherent in the text is the assumption that the reader is not a woman, that he is Caucasian, and he is straight. And in his very specific account of, say, the closing night of Judy Garland's Palace Theatre concerts, or his description of an altercation in the lobby of an off-Broadway theatre, or his conversation with Tennessee Williams before the premiere of his latest play, I got the general, big-picture, overall view of the period before gay rights and when "a woman's place is in the home" was regarded as fact. In one of the more jaw-dropping-in-its-cluelessness passages, Goldman wonders why African-Americans (he uses the word Negro) don't see Broadway theatre, and then almost immediately notes that there were only two black actors in straight plays that season... gee, I wonder why the African-American theatre-goer in 1968 didn't turn out in droves to see the performances of those TWO black actors!?!?! Maybe they all got lost on the subway.
The Season is very much of its time. And because it is, it is easy to see the world today, how far we have come, and how far we have yet to go. I'm not excusing the racial and sexual politics in the text, but I am fascinated by, and grateful for, the detailed specific insight into this moment of theatre history and American culture at large. I wonder what a similar account written today would have to say about us fifty years from now.
Which brings me to The Season, William Goldman (most famous, perhaps, for The Princess Bride)'s non-fiction account of the 1967-68 Broadway season. In that year, he attended every single Broadway show, interviewed hundreds of theatre-makers, and delved into the economics of Broadway. One might think that this has a limited shelf-life and a limited appeal, yet it speaks to larger issues that define the late-1960's cultural moment and have ramifications to today.
I first read this book about ten years ago; it is an acknowledged classic within the small-ish field of Broadway history. I found it fascinating in how much it related to contemporary Broadway and how he accurately predicted several trends and moments that have happened since. For example, Neil Simon's transformation from joke-man to sensitive dramatic playwright (in the 1980's) and (in his final point in the book) that for Broadway to remain viable it must "fracture its audience," the shows must stop trying to appeal to everyone and be willing to target narrower audience demographics.
Yet on this reread I was most struck by the man himself. His opinions, his critiques of various shows, his retelling of moments onstage and off all reiterated one thing over and over: the white male perspective of entitlement and the utter dismissiveness of women, of every other race, and of homosexuality. In other words, and not to mince them, the William Goldman that narrates The Season is misogynistic, racist, and homophobic. Goldman died recently, and I don't know much about his personal life or his politics. I do not believe he intended to be those things in 1968 when he was writing the book. But over and over again he displays an obtuseness to these issues that, today, permeate so much of our national discussion. It becomes obvious how we got here from there. Inherent in the text is the assumption that the reader is not a woman, that he is Caucasian, and he is straight. And in his very specific account of, say, the closing night of Judy Garland's Palace Theatre concerts, or his description of an altercation in the lobby of an off-Broadway theatre, or his conversation with Tennessee Williams before the premiere of his latest play, I got the general, big-picture, overall view of the period before gay rights and when "a woman's place is in the home" was regarded as fact. In one of the more jaw-dropping-in-its-cluelessness passages, Goldman wonders why African-Americans (he uses the word Negro) don't see Broadway theatre, and then almost immediately notes that there were only two black actors in straight plays that season... gee, I wonder why the African-American theatre-goer in 1968 didn't turn out in droves to see the performances of those TWO black actors!?!?! Maybe they all got lost on the subway.
The Season is very much of its time. And because it is, it is easy to see the world today, how far we have come, and how far we have yet to go. I'm not excusing the racial and sexual politics in the text, but I am fascinated by, and grateful for, the detailed specific insight into this moment of theatre history and American culture at large. I wonder what a similar account written today would have to say about us fifty years from now.
August 15, 2007
A candid look at Broadway, indeed. This is probably the best book on the machinations behind the scenes on Broadway ever written. Funny, bitchy, gossipy and entertaining - lots of inside stuff about how the world of Broadway really works (or does not work, in many instances). Chapters on critics, producers, gays in the theater, Jews in the theater, Steve and Eydie in the theater; from Hamlet to Hello, Dolly!, it's all here. And the opening chapter on Judy Garland at the Palace is, in itself, worth the price of admission. Mr. Goldman takes an entire Broadway season, from the first show of the season to the last, and gives us the scoop on how and why each production got to the Great White Way. And why Sandy Dennis must have her way!
As Frank Rich say in his introduction, it's a shame that Mr. Goldman never again turned his journalistic talents to the theater.
A wonderful book for those who love the theater, whether as participants or audience. Informative and easy to read, you'll love it.
Ralph
As Frank Rich say in his introduction, it's a shame that Mr. Goldman never again turned his journalistic talents to the theater.
A wonderful book for those who love the theater, whether as participants or audience. Informative and easy to read, you'll love it.
Ralph
September 17, 2011
An insightful look at the business and culture of the New York theatre scene. Goldman spends a year following everything that goes into making Broadway what it is - hits and flops, stagehands and producers, ticket-sellers and stars. While chronologically forty + years out of date, the ideas and attitudes are disturbingly current, and some of Goldman's social opinions and observations, while tainted by the language of the time, are surprisingly progressive.
Mechanically, the book is a master-class in why good shows fail and bad shows succeed; and again, considering how many decades ago it was written, the extent to which his conclusions apply to the modern theatre is shocking.
Mechanically, the book is a master-class in why good shows fail and bad shows succeed; and again, considering how many decades ago it was written, the extent to which his conclusions apply to the modern theatre is shocking.
September 11, 2017
There is much that is good and much that is interesting in The Season, but way too much of the book is about things William Goldman hated. That included certain actors (especially females), producers, theater owners, critics and especially homosexuals.
The Season is about the 1967-1968 season on Broadway. We get a lot of material about the influence of Jews, theater parties, stars, ticket sellers, homosexuals (of course) on the New York theater. What we don't get is much information about the plays that were put on during that season.
Each chapter discusses one aspect of the Broadway theater and its influence on that season's plays. For the most part, the only thing discussed about the plays is the one aspect that chapter is about. For example, in the chapter "Culture Hero," Goldman writes about how a few people in the theater become "culture heroes," specifically the director Mike Nichols; "Broadway has not produced anyone comparable since Kazan almost ten years before." We find out that a production of Lillian Hellman's The Little Foxes was way overrated despite what Goldman thinks was the poor direction of Mike Nichols which made this an "execrable production." Is The Little Foxes a good play? Goldman calls it an 'excellent melodrama" but other than that, the subject never gets discussed. The cast included Margaret Leighton, E. G. Marshall, Geraldine Chaplin, Beah Richards, Austin Pendleton, Richard Dysart, and Felicia Montealegre. That's a pretty good cast, so how was the acting? Goldman never mentions it.
There is a lot to enjoy in The Season, but I feel that the extreme attention to Goldman's crotchets overwhelms the rest of the book.
The Season is about the 1967-1968 season on Broadway. We get a lot of material about the influence of Jews, theater parties, stars, ticket sellers, homosexuals (of course) on the New York theater. What we don't get is much information about the plays that were put on during that season.
Each chapter discusses one aspect of the Broadway theater and its influence on that season's plays. For the most part, the only thing discussed about the plays is the one aspect that chapter is about. For example, in the chapter "Culture Hero," Goldman writes about how a few people in the theater become "culture heroes," specifically the director Mike Nichols; "Broadway has not produced anyone comparable since Kazan almost ten years before." We find out that a production of Lillian Hellman's The Little Foxes was way overrated despite what Goldman thinks was the poor direction of Mike Nichols which made this an "execrable production." Is The Little Foxes a good play? Goldman calls it an 'excellent melodrama" but other than that, the subject never gets discussed. The cast included Margaret Leighton, E. G. Marshall, Geraldine Chaplin, Beah Richards, Austin Pendleton, Richard Dysart, and Felicia Montealegre. That's a pretty good cast, so how was the acting? Goldman never mentions it.
There is a lot to enjoy in The Season, but I feel that the extreme attention to Goldman's crotchets overwhelms the rest of the book.
April 15, 2010
Goldman's account of the 1967-68 Broadway season is thorough, opinionated, often hilarious, and brutally honest. He takes the reader through every aspect of the season and its productions, from directors, producers, and actors, to the nuts and bolts of ticket selling and theatre rentals. His merciless criticism spares nobody, yet it isn't malicious or mean-spirited; I could feel his genuine love for Broadway and his outrage at the state it was in (and the state many would say it's still in).
Though it's forty plus years later, much of what Goldman has to say here still resonates today. I highly recommend this if you've any interest in the subject at all.
Though it's forty plus years later, much of what Goldman has to say here still resonates today. I highly recommend this if you've any interest in the subject at all.
August 25, 2021
This is one of those great nonfiction books where the perfect author figures out a perfect gimmick to profile a fascinating thing. Examples include;
"Moneyball" , where Michael Lewis used the Billy Beane story to explain sabermetrics,
"The Soul of a New Machine", where Tracy Kidder's 1981 story of developing a new cutting edge computer was the first introduction to that world for many of us, or,
My favorite "On The Shoulders of Giants", where Robert K. Merton in 1965 traced the history of a saying attributed to Isaac Newton as a way to explain the evolution of European intellectual thought while being hilarious in an academic straight faced way.
As I said, this is one of those. The gimmick in this book is that William Goldman saw every one of the 58 new Broadway plays in the 1967-1968 Broadway season. Many of them he saw multiple times including rehearsals and out of town previews. He did almost 1000 interviews. He studied the financial results. He was a successful playwright who knew everyone on Broadway.
The most important skill he brought to the project was a penchant for brutal honesty. He starts the book by telling us it will not be that accurate because many people in the Broadway world lie, because no one person sees all sides of a Broadway show and because people on Broadway tend to glamorize.
He uses the plays as an occasion to explain the industry. We get a chapter on how songs in musicals work or don't. We get a chapter on good producers, with George Abbott as an example, and several chapters on bad directors, with George C. Scott being one example. He explains the finances of a theater owner and the corrupt ways that producers and directors can make money.
Goldman explains what a snob hit is. He doesn't like them. "Rosengrantz and Gilderstein Are Dead", is his example. He similarly explores the prejudice in favor of British plays, actors and directors. He does not like that either. We get a chapter about the theater ticket racket and the "Theater Ladies" who organize charity ticket sales that are a key support for Broadway.
The important thing is that in each of these chapters, he names names. Goldman was still active on Broadway when he wrote this book. The most powerful man on Broadway was Clive Barnes, the drama critic for the New York Times. Goldman's take down of Barnes is brutal, and funny. He has a spectacularly clever way to mock Barnes' review of Arthur Miller's play "The Price". He accuses Barnes of being a smart ass who knows more about the ballet, his old beat, then the theater. He says Barnes is an anglophile snob with no ear for American speech. He supports it all with quotes from Barnes' reviews. This is fun stuff.
Goldman explains why Steve Lawrence and Eddie Gorme had a hit, even though the play stunk. He explains why Carl Reiner's first play flopped, even though it was really funny.
Goldman had fun writing this book. His analysis of Kenneth Tynan's famous review of Harold Pinter's first success, a TV play called "The Bench", is wildly clever. He drops in lines like this, in discussing why an actress who seemed childlike didn't work in a role that required a motherly type, " A childlike quality has nothing to do with age: there are children of four who are already motherly and woman of seventy who come across as childlike."
This is an out of print book which is difficult to find second hand because of its reputation as one of the great theater books. The shame is that it will never be reprinted. Goldman was a liberal New Yorker. There has always been a large gay representation in the theater world. Goldman, in his blunt way, discusses the issue at several points. In 1968 his approach seemed liberal and open minded. In 2021 it would get him lynched. Among many other things, he drops what I guess we call "the other F word" several times while discussing enthusiastic gay men.
Despite the above, this is a fascinating, funny and deeply informative book about a intriguing world. Pick it up if you see a copy.
"Moneyball" , where Michael Lewis used the Billy Beane story to explain sabermetrics,
"The Soul of a New Machine", where Tracy Kidder's 1981 story of developing a new cutting edge computer was the first introduction to that world for many of us, or,
My favorite "On The Shoulders of Giants", where Robert K. Merton in 1965 traced the history of a saying attributed to Isaac Newton as a way to explain the evolution of European intellectual thought while being hilarious in an academic straight faced way.
As I said, this is one of those. The gimmick in this book is that William Goldman saw every one of the 58 new Broadway plays in the 1967-1968 Broadway season. Many of them he saw multiple times including rehearsals and out of town previews. He did almost 1000 interviews. He studied the financial results. He was a successful playwright who knew everyone on Broadway.
The most important skill he brought to the project was a penchant for brutal honesty. He starts the book by telling us it will not be that accurate because many people in the Broadway world lie, because no one person sees all sides of a Broadway show and because people on Broadway tend to glamorize.
He uses the plays as an occasion to explain the industry. We get a chapter on how songs in musicals work or don't. We get a chapter on good producers, with George Abbott as an example, and several chapters on bad directors, with George C. Scott being one example. He explains the finances of a theater owner and the corrupt ways that producers and directors can make money.
Goldman explains what a snob hit is. He doesn't like them. "Rosengrantz and Gilderstein Are Dead", is his example. He similarly explores the prejudice in favor of British plays, actors and directors. He does not like that either. We get a chapter about the theater ticket racket and the "Theater Ladies" who organize charity ticket sales that are a key support for Broadway.
The important thing is that in each of these chapters, he names names. Goldman was still active on Broadway when he wrote this book. The most powerful man on Broadway was Clive Barnes, the drama critic for the New York Times. Goldman's take down of Barnes is brutal, and funny. He has a spectacularly clever way to mock Barnes' review of Arthur Miller's play "The Price". He accuses Barnes of being a smart ass who knows more about the ballet, his old beat, then the theater. He says Barnes is an anglophile snob with no ear for American speech. He supports it all with quotes from Barnes' reviews. This is fun stuff.
Goldman explains why Steve Lawrence and Eddie Gorme had a hit, even though the play stunk. He explains why Carl Reiner's first play flopped, even though it was really funny.
Goldman had fun writing this book. His analysis of Kenneth Tynan's famous review of Harold Pinter's first success, a TV play called "The Bench", is wildly clever. He drops in lines like this, in discussing why an actress who seemed childlike didn't work in a role that required a motherly type, " A childlike quality has nothing to do with age: there are children of four who are already motherly and woman of seventy who come across as childlike."
This is an out of print book which is difficult to find second hand because of its reputation as one of the great theater books. The shame is that it will never be reprinted. Goldman was a liberal New Yorker. There has always been a large gay representation in the theater world. Goldman, in his blunt way, discusses the issue at several points. In 1968 his approach seemed liberal and open minded. In 2021 it would get him lynched. Among many other things, he drops what I guess we call "the other F word" several times while discussing enthusiastic gay men.
Despite the above, this is a fascinating, funny and deeply informative book about a intriguing world. Pick it up if you see a copy.
August 25, 2023
Well, the title did not lie, although it's a bit misleading. Funny idea for a book, and by funny I mean: questionable. I like William Goldman and have read a number of his books, several of which I like. I did not like this one. After years of hearing about this book, I was excited when I was able to get a copy in my hands. Yet "The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway" was mostly a chore and a bore. Worse still, the title should have been changed to The Season: A Candid Look Inside William Goldman's Mind."
Again, I like William Goldman, however "The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway" is mostly filled with Goldman's personal perspectives and biased opinions. Covering the Broadway season May 1967 to September 1968 (or something like that) Goldman gives (most) theater critics a piece of his mind in general, and New York Times critic Clive Barnes a taste of Goldman's harsh condemnation, in specific. Goldman calls theater owners and box office workers thieves, and portrays Broadway producers as charlatans. Of Broadway legends Mike Nichols and Neil Simon, Goldman feels their work light, slight, and not to be compared with the great work of important Broadway players like director Elia Kazan, and writers Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams. The author is entitled to his opinions, sure. Yet why make a book about it? An essay or two maybe, but a 400-page book...especially one in which would become dated not long after its 1969 publication?
Dated indeed. Reading "The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway" I came upon problematic chapters and passages in the book that one could never get away with today. The author's chapter on Jews is an interesting one, and his chapter entitled "Homosexuals" makes for a troubling read. William Goldman was not, as far as I know, anti-semitic, and was probably not homophobic, yet this book does not paint the author in a positive light on these subjects, and others. Yes, of course, "it was a different time" back in 1967-1968...and society's mores and morals were different. Still, it's a wonder that author did not have the foresight to see how useless and hurtful his book would be in future years.
Hurtful? Yes, hurtful. By 1969, William Goldman was already an established novelist and screenwriter. On Broadway, however, Goldman wasn't anybody. Still, Goldman takes great pains to to proclaim his personal love the Broadway of the past, and praise a small number of contemporary theater productions. However in his book, Goldman appears to trash the current state of Broadway than to praise it. AND...the author ends his "The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway" book by illustrating that Broadway is now in terrible shape, people aren't as interested, and MOVIES are where its at. That's where the good stuff is! WHAT? Why publish a book about Broadway and conclude that Broadway is more or less dead (for the moment)???! An essay in a magazine, or an op-ed column in the Times, maybe...but why publish a BOOK like that?
Look, "The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway" does have some interesting, engaging parts. The tome starts off well, allowing the reader an inside look at the journey a play or musical makes from conception, to rehearsals, to hiring and firing, to out of town tryouts, to closing or opening on Broadway. Yet William Goldman's attitude and opinions throw an unappealing shade over the whole thing. At times, his writing contradicts itself, making the book an unpleasant read, and the when Goldman wastes paragraphs and pages on statistics and surveys...the book truly becomes ponderous to the point of putting the book down, possibly for good. By then, it's just a matter of getting through it, or not.
Again, I like William Goldman, however "The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway" is mostly filled with Goldman's personal perspectives and biased opinions. Covering the Broadway season May 1967 to September 1968 (or something like that) Goldman gives (most) theater critics a piece of his mind in general, and New York Times critic Clive Barnes a taste of Goldman's harsh condemnation, in specific. Goldman calls theater owners and box office workers thieves, and portrays Broadway producers as charlatans. Of Broadway legends Mike Nichols and Neil Simon, Goldman feels their work light, slight, and not to be compared with the great work of important Broadway players like director Elia Kazan, and writers Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams. The author is entitled to his opinions, sure. Yet why make a book about it? An essay or two maybe, but a 400-page book...especially one in which would become dated not long after its 1969 publication?
Dated indeed. Reading "The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway" I came upon problematic chapters and passages in the book that one could never get away with today. The author's chapter on Jews is an interesting one, and his chapter entitled "Homosexuals" makes for a troubling read. William Goldman was not, as far as I know, anti-semitic, and was probably not homophobic, yet this book does not paint the author in a positive light on these subjects, and others. Yes, of course, "it was a different time" back in 1967-1968...and society's mores and morals were different. Still, it's a wonder that author did not have the foresight to see how useless and hurtful his book would be in future years.
Hurtful? Yes, hurtful. By 1969, William Goldman was already an established novelist and screenwriter. On Broadway, however, Goldman wasn't anybody. Still, Goldman takes great pains to to proclaim his personal love the Broadway of the past, and praise a small number of contemporary theater productions. However in his book, Goldman appears to trash the current state of Broadway than to praise it. AND...the author ends his "The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway" book by illustrating that Broadway is now in terrible shape, people aren't as interested, and MOVIES are where its at. That's where the good stuff is! WHAT? Why publish a book about Broadway and conclude that Broadway is more or less dead (for the moment)???! An essay in a magazine, or an op-ed column in the Times, maybe...but why publish a BOOK like that?
Look, "The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway" does have some interesting, engaging parts. The tome starts off well, allowing the reader an inside look at the journey a play or musical makes from conception, to rehearsals, to hiring and firing, to out of town tryouts, to closing or opening on Broadway. Yet William Goldman's attitude and opinions throw an unappealing shade over the whole thing. At times, his writing contradicts itself, making the book an unpleasant read, and the when Goldman wastes paragraphs and pages on statistics and surveys...the book truly becomes ponderous to the point of putting the book down, possibly for good. By then, it's just a matter of getting through it, or not.
April 17, 2019
This is a long (400 pages plus) set of essays about the 1967-68 Broadway season, covering everything from miscast actors to television critics to wonderful shows (that go nowhere) to the economics of New York theatre (complete with a market research study Goldman commissioned). Many of the essays are sparked by a specific production, and every essay is introduced with playbills of Broadway shows.
Reading it now reminds me of nothing so much as Harlan Ellison's The Glass Teat. Like that volume, in which Ellison holds forth on late 1960's television, you have a highly talented and perceptive writer discussing shows you have probably never heard of. (I only recognized Neil Simon's Plaza Suite and the musical Hair.) So, reading this fifty years later and without an encyclopedic knowledge of the theatrical arts, any joy I derived was due to either Goldman's writing or my general appreciation of musicals and straight dramas.
There's a lot to like. Like his works on Hollywood (e.g., the excellent Adventures in the Screen Trade), Goldman has a keen eye for the process of creation. There's a wonderful chapter on the fourteen or so reasons a song can flop in a musical and numerous examples of how a casting choice can completely alter the direction of a show. And I really valued Goldman's take as an audience member and investigative reporter; there's never the feel of an insider's perspective, but the much more relatable approach of a theatre fan who is trying to understand more of the biz. The chapters on theatre economics (including ticket scalping, advance sales, and the crooked nature of producers) get a bit dry, but still show a passion for a better product.
It does get a bit long. This is the earliest Goldman I have ever read, and his prose doesn't quite have the spareness that I value so much in his thrillers. There's a far too verbose chapter on theatre critics that doesn't do much more than ensure that you clearly and unambiguously understand how horrible Clive Barnes is. My other concern (not nearly as damning) is just a bit of language. Goldman carefully and (I believe) compassionately talks about gay culture on Broadway. But he's limited to the word "homosexual" (or occasionally, "transvestite homosexual"), and after a paragraph or two I was yearning for a wider vocabulary.
A definite read if you're a theatre fan. I would rank it in the second tier of Goldman works (which means it's still head and shoulders above most of what's out there).
Reading it now reminds me of nothing so much as Harlan Ellison's The Glass Teat. Like that volume, in which Ellison holds forth on late 1960's television, you have a highly talented and perceptive writer discussing shows you have probably never heard of. (I only recognized Neil Simon's Plaza Suite and the musical Hair.) So, reading this fifty years later and without an encyclopedic knowledge of the theatrical arts, any joy I derived was due to either Goldman's writing or my general appreciation of musicals and straight dramas.
There's a lot to like. Like his works on Hollywood (e.g., the excellent Adventures in the Screen Trade), Goldman has a keen eye for the process of creation. There's a wonderful chapter on the fourteen or so reasons a song can flop in a musical and numerous examples of how a casting choice can completely alter the direction of a show. And I really valued Goldman's take as an audience member and investigative reporter; there's never the feel of an insider's perspective, but the much more relatable approach of a theatre fan who is trying to understand more of the biz. The chapters on theatre economics (including ticket scalping, advance sales, and the crooked nature of producers) get a bit dry, but still show a passion for a better product.
It does get a bit long. This is the earliest Goldman I have ever read, and his prose doesn't quite have the spareness that I value so much in his thrillers. There's a far too verbose chapter on theatre critics that doesn't do much more than ensure that you clearly and unambiguously understand how horrible Clive Barnes is. My other concern (not nearly as damning) is just a bit of language. Goldman carefully and (I believe) compassionately talks about gay culture on Broadway. But he's limited to the word "homosexual" (or occasionally, "transvestite homosexual"), and after a paragraph or two I was yearning for a wider vocabulary.
A definite read if you're a theatre fan. I would rank it in the second tier of Goldman works (which means it's still head and shoulders above most of what's out there).
December 17, 2023
Anyone who's ever had an interest in Broadway has almost certainly been told that the THE definitive book to read is "The Season" by Goldman. And now I know why.
This is 400 of pages of one man attempting to explain how Broadway works, except he does it all while passionately interjecting his opinions in everywhere he goes. Every single show he talks about his opinoins as if they're fact: What was good, what was bad, it's all up to him.
Is it annoying? Yeah. But you know what? It's so BROADWAY. Broadway is literally about people bitching and complaining and gossiping and I'm glad to see that even 50 years later we're still doing that shit.
It was a bit agonizing to sit through an entire chapter about how there are no good men's roles out there anymore (BARF!) or how the gays are so blinded by their gayness they're opinions don't really matter, but whatever.
I did find the concept of the "three theaters" pretty facinating, as it holds up well today, more or less. Personally I disagree that musical theater is its own category (although with only Dolly and Music Man type things I can see why Goldman did that). But I have certainly seen shows that Goldman deems "Popular theater," which just re-enforce things that we already know and tries to pass them off as new and interesting. And, of course, as for the Third Theater, which tells us soemthing that we don't want to know... well, let's just say I got out of a production of Assassins an hour ago and could talk about it forever.
The book bores at many points: There's a lot of grosses and petty greivances. But it was really interesting to take such a deep dive: Def a must read for fellow theater geeks.
This is 400 of pages of one man attempting to explain how Broadway works, except he does it all while passionately interjecting his opinions in everywhere he goes. Every single show he talks about his opinoins as if they're fact: What was good, what was bad, it's all up to him.
Is it annoying? Yeah. But you know what? It's so BROADWAY. Broadway is literally about people bitching and complaining and gossiping and I'm glad to see that even 50 years later we're still doing that shit.
It was a bit agonizing to sit through an entire chapter about how there are no good men's roles out there anymore (BARF!) or how the gays are so blinded by their gayness they're opinions don't really matter, but whatever.
I did find the concept of the "three theaters" pretty facinating, as it holds up well today, more or less. Personally I disagree that musical theater is its own category (although with only Dolly and Music Man type things I can see why Goldman did that). But I have certainly seen shows that Goldman deems "Popular theater," which just re-enforce things that we already know and tries to pass them off as new and interesting. And, of course, as for the Third Theater, which tells us soemthing that we don't want to know... well, let's just say I got out of a production of Assassins an hour ago and could talk about it forever.
The book bores at many points: There's a lot of grosses and petty greivances. But it was really interesting to take such a deep dive: Def a must read for fellow theater geeks.
October 7, 2020
One of the greats. Not a chronological account of Broadway's '68-'69 season, but a series of essays focused on players and professions. Among the standouts is "Culture Hero," his takedown of Mike Nichols, and more importantly, the culture that has elevated him. (Replace Nichols with Lin-Manuel Miranda and his thesis stands.) "We're losing you, darling," which combines straight-faced parody with reportage of a school field trip, should be read alongside Didion and Wolfe in J-School. The chapters on casting, directing (the subject is Peter Masterson, the play The Trial of Lee Harvey Oswald"), ticket brokers and critical darlings (here Sandy Dennis) are also indelible. That last chapter, along with his take on Edward Albee ("He writes good bitch dialogue") leave Goldman open to charges of homophobia, but, as he says about Nichols, he was a product of his era. And for what it's worth, he really liked The Boys in the Band.
February 20, 2021
William Goldman, a successful novelist and screenwriter (Butch Cassidy, Stepford Wives, and many more) wrote this book in 1969- a candid look at one Broadway season (1967-68). It is funny, insightful, and reveals much about the inner workings of the theater. He covers musicals and straight drama. And the many flops as well as the hits. Info on the audience-(many older generation Jews) ticket prices, theater parties and the women who made a living booking shows before they opened and had been reviewed. This was a time when good seats sold for $8, and paying with a credit card was a revolutionary idea. Chock full of interesting tidbits, naming names. And his opinion why some promising shows failed. However, from the beginning he reveals his distaste for homosexuals; and this is disturbing.
November 16, 2017
Daunting as it may appear, Goldman’s monumental work is a thrilling, revelatory examination of the business of the theater. Fascinating in its details, savvy in its insights, it is a “must read” for any true theater professional. At times biting and brutal, "The Season" takes a look at the 1967-68 Broadway season, picking through plays and musicals, dissecting the production process, the cast of characters involved (from theater owners, producers, directors, designers, actors, ad agencies, etc.) and ultimately reflecting on the state of the “business of show” frozen in the mid-1960s. A magnificent triumph! A call out to Mr. Goldman to turn his critical eye on Broadway’s 2017-2018 Season – talk about a “must read”!
March 27, 2019
The best book about theatre I have ever read. Everyone who cares about the theatre should read this book.
This book had been sitting on my shelf unread for years, but I finally took it off when reminded of it after Goldman's death last year. I was fearful that a 400+ page book (and the typesetting is dense!) chronicling dozens of shows in one season would read more as a reference book, but Goldman is a great storyteller, and every chapter is intriguing, accessible, original, and funny. While reading this book, I frequently went to bed at absurdly late hours, telling myself "Just one chapter more!" My only regret is not reading this book any sooner.
This book had been sitting on my shelf unread for years, but I finally took it off when reminded of it after Goldman's death last year. I was fearful that a 400+ page book (and the typesetting is dense!) chronicling dozens of shows in one season would read more as a reference book, but Goldman is a great storyteller, and every chapter is intriguing, accessible, original, and funny. While reading this book, I frequently went to bed at absurdly late hours, telling myself "Just one chapter more!" My only regret is not reading this book any sooner.
July 20, 2022
Structured as a complete survey of the productions that comprised one Broadway season in the late 1960s, this book both mocks and fondly embraces its subject.
Sure, it's a long time ago, but there is more than enough passion, insight and loving belligerence on offer here to sweep any cobwebs away.
This is a great book by an opinionated, abrasive observer. It is a must for any theatre-lover and it left me wishing that Goldman had become theatre critic at the NY Times, if only for a year or two. That would have been interesting.
Sure, it's a long time ago, but there is more than enough passion, insight and loving belligerence on offer here to sweep any cobwebs away.
This is a great book by an opinionated, abrasive observer. It is a must for any theatre-lover and it left me wishing that Goldman had become theatre critic at the NY Times, if only for a year or two. That would have been interesting.
June 3, 2022
This was so freaking fun to read - a true and utter time capsule! Imagine a book about late 20th Century broadway that only mentions Sondheim in passing 3 times??! Imagine a world where analogue ticket selling fraud is 15% of the money made for any given show? William Goldman is an incredible writer - pithy AND morose simultaneously. He includes a chapter where he reflects on the simple absurdity about writing about show business on the night he learns RFK got shot - Ben Lerner wishes.
May 3, 2020
Ugh, the homophobic stuff. Ugh, the crazy-money-group-sales stuff. Yeah, yeah — it’s a fascinating document of a time past, but it will increasingly become something people go to for a footnote in their doctoral thesis.
June 18, 2022
This is an acerbic look at one Broadway season in the late 1960s. The dated homophobia on display is shocking, but a lot of the observations about the seeming impossibility of producing successful theater are still sadly true.
June 17, 2018
Fairly interesting but dated book that details the 1968 Broadway season.
October 18, 2018
The best book about Broadway in the 60s.
November 15, 2019
An interesting look into how certain plays make it and some don't on the Great White Way. Fifty years later it still rings true
December 29, 2021
FINALLY finished this. God, no better essayist to me.
April 8, 2022
The book is very good.
May 26, 2020
Yikes! Goldman holds nothing back. His favorite targets: critics, women, and gays.
March 8, 2024
A souvenir of a bygone age — a time when it was possible to write this sentence, on page 341: “Ice [illegal ticket markups] is one of the two things theatre people don’t talk about (the other is homosexuality).”
This book is sometimes maddening, always entertaining.
The maddening part: Goldman is a generally grumpy crank. He’s homophobic; for example, he refers to the “camp-fag directing” of the Broadway production of Hair. But his misanthropy doesn’t end there. He hates Harold Pinter and the people who like Harold Pinter. He hates most English people. He hates the New York Times critic Clive Barnes. He hates a lot of stars, he hates a lot of playwrights and he hates a lot of producers. He knows exactly how each of these people blew it on each particular play. And he is disappointed by almost everything he sees.
The entertaining part: He’s a good writer (duh - see Adventures in the Screen Trade, All the President’s Men, Marathon Man, The Princess Bride, etc.). Like Weegee with his Speed Graphic, he makes art out of the ugliness he sees. And he’s funny. He summarizes six different sex comedies he sees, and in each of the six summaries he describes the female lead as “wacky but honest in her own crazy way.” And here’s how he describes a scene in a play featuring Michael J. Pollard & Severn Darden, directed by Andre Gregory:
The story continues: Outside the theater, they chat with the play’s general manager as other audience members are also walking out before the play’s end. “He did his damnedest to ignore the crowds all but running from the Cort, but finally even he was overcome. ‘My God!’ he cried. ‘What’s going on in there?’ And he disappeared back into the wreckage.”
So a lot of fun to read. Sadly, Goldman isn’t as good at writing about stuff that works as his is about stuff that doesn’t work. His favorite production of the season is A Day in the Death of Joe Egg, but he spends about half of his Joe Egg discussion writing about Willie Mays. “Nobody can ever tell you about Joe Egg,” he writes. “You gotta be there.”
This book is sometimes maddening, always entertaining.
The maddening part: Goldman is a generally grumpy crank. He’s homophobic; for example, he refers to the “camp-fag directing” of the Broadway production of Hair. But his misanthropy doesn’t end there. He hates Harold Pinter and the people who like Harold Pinter. He hates most English people. He hates the New York Times critic Clive Barnes. He hates a lot of stars, he hates a lot of playwrights and he hates a lot of producers. He knows exactly how each of these people blew it on each particular play. And he is disappointed by almost everything he sees.
The entertaining part: He’s a good writer (duh - see Adventures in the Screen Trade, All the President’s Men, Marathon Man, The Princess Bride, etc.). Like Weegee with his Speed Graphic, he makes art out of the ugliness he sees. And he’s funny. He summarizes six different sex comedies he sees, and in each of the six summaries he describes the female lead as “wacky but honest in her own crazy way.” And here’s how he describes a scene in a play featuring Michael J. Pollard & Severn Darden, directed by Andre Gregory:
Pollard simply would not say his lines, and Darden simply did not know his…Finally, as the scene kept peristalsing along, nothing getting accomplished, the end clearly nowhere in view, I became obsessed with the thought that I was actually going to die right there in the Cort Theatre, dulled to death by Darden and Pollard. I said to my wife, “I think I’m going to die,” and she said, “I’m having trouble breathing,” so we fled.
The story continues: Outside the theater, they chat with the play’s general manager as other audience members are also walking out before the play’s end. “He did his damnedest to ignore the crowds all but running from the Cort, but finally even he was overcome. ‘My God!’ he cried. ‘What’s going on in there?’ And he disappeared back into the wreckage.”
So a lot of fun to read. Sadly, Goldman isn’t as good at writing about stuff that works as his is about stuff that doesn’t work. His favorite production of the season is A Day in the Death of Joe Egg, but he spends about half of his Joe Egg discussion writing about Willie Mays. “Nobody can ever tell you about Joe Egg,” he writes. “You gotta be there.”
February 25, 2017
Parts of this are very interesting, other parts are hilariously outdated/offensive.
August 9, 2014
Goldman's writing is crackling with acerbic wit and is generally a blast to read, so the question for a prospective reader is: how interesting is an insider's look at a Broadway season of 1967? Does it contain timeless observations equally applicable to today, or is it a repository of decades-old trivia and anecdotes about forgotten shows? The answer is a little of both. I sometimes felt adrift in an ocean of actor names, play names, and minutiae of the era, as if I were reading a fifty-year-old gossip column. But in other cases I felt motivated to research individuals like Walter Kerr (hey, that's a person and not just a theater!); in others I learned tidbits about show business characters I knew, from the perspective of the past (e.g. Elmer Bernstein wrote a Broadway musical?). Many topics have longevity (e.g. a darkly funny and biting commentary on the lacking qualifications of theatre critics) and others are evergreen (e.g. wisdom about what might make a show fail during production). Others, like a protracted discussion about 1960s Broadway financials, made my eyes glaze over. Annotations or footnotes from a future writer, or even the future William Goldman, would have been welcome, but a motivated reader will be able to extract relevant wisdom from these historical observations and find much of the 1960s scuttlebutt entertaining or enlightening about perspectives of the past. Upshot: recommended for people with an existing interest in theatre.
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