Meeting Mark: Moriah Take 5
Six Dance Lessons in Six Weeks (November 16, 2003)
As of late there have been problems with getting Mark out of the theater. "Ebay vultures" are suddenly flocking to the Belasco after each show to lie in wait for him. So as a last resort Friday night the theater guard tried to smuggle Mark out the opposite side of the building. The group of men still ran over to the car and started shoving merchandise at him, but they were turned away. Luckily that night no fans were waiting around for autographs, but if there had been they would have missed out.
Karen was upset because she was afraid that future innocent fans would be denied the opportunity to meet Mark because of a few pigheaded morons. So Karen took the proactive route and spoke to the guard Saturday afternoon, and was able to get permission to see Mark privately backstage. Boy, do I need to thank her. Actually, I'm thanking the Ebay morons, too--without them, none of this would have happened. And I'm thanking myself for talking Karen into coming back again. But enough with the thanking.
Sure enough, the guard let both of us into the alley--and Karen was able to give four other eager women the chance to get in, too. One was a native NY-er, one came from Chicago for her birthday, and two had flown all the way from California. Talk about dedication. So we waited about 15-20 minutes, swapping crazy celebrity encounter stories, before Mark was ready.
It was a wonderful 15 minutes or so. We gabbed and laughed and snapped pictures, and Mark took care to make sure he spelled everyone's personalized autographs correctly. He gave a perfect example of how selfish NY critics are: he talked about how much he'd enjoyed "Wicked" and how the show had gotten a standing ovation, while the reviews absolutely massacred it. "They should have a Zagat's Guide just for critics!" he exclaimed. "I can understand if people are booing or walking out--then they can mention that...They're just writing for themselves; they need to write for the public."
The NY-er complimented him on one of his costumes, the one with the plain blue shirt, because she said it brought out his eyes. He replied it was the only costume he felt worth keeping. He'd been mortified by his tango getup--"I'm not going out in THAT!! It's just creepy!"--and his cha-cha tuxedo--"I look like one of those Telemundo hosts for Sabado Gigante!" I cracked up at that--I grew up watching that show. And he complimented my hat, my favorite little black fedora--it's almost identical to his foxtrot one.
Mark gave hugs of gratitude all around, then leapt up the stairs to meet his wife--Marilou had come down. Right away they had their arms around each other. One of the California women struck up conversation with them about Ellen Burstyn, probably concerning her performance in Walking Across Egypt. Mark praised her talent highly. Right then the guard informed us it was time to go, so we all said our farewells.
I stepped forward and shook his hand, and said, "Well, in case this is goodbye I just want to thank you for a wonderful time." Returning the gesture, he came down and gave me another hug, and I took the chance: I gave him a kiss on the cheek. I don't think he noticed as his attention was already elsewhere--which was just as good, I'll say. Karen was very sad to have to go, but as I told her, she couldn't have had a better ending. We'll all cherish the memories of this night for a long time to come.