Come and Meet the Abominable Showman

After sharing just a few moments with the schizophrenic genius known as “The Abominable Showman” you would never again underestimate the evil one man could be responsible for. He was at times down right cruel. When he was bad he could make Satan look like a cuddly Muppet. He was also brilliant, successful and spectacularly creative. In fact, “Spectacular” should have been his middle name.

There were certainly other names they called him. I called him Mr. Merrick.

A disbarred Missouri lawyer, young David Merrick chose the Great White Way as his second career. He did not sing or act. His credits would never include writing or direction. His place in theatrical history was to create more legendary entertainment masterpieces than just about anyone else on Broadway including his fellow theatrical producers.

With a flair for outrageous stunts he raised the curtain on many of America’s most spectacular musical blockbusters including Oliver!, Hello Dolly, Promises, Promises and 42nd Street. Audiences loved him. Actors hated him. His staff feared him. The media fed on his always-unpredictable stunts. I learned a great deal from him.

Christmas Eve 1977 was my last day on the job at the Blaine Thompson Company. Blaine Thompson was New York’s oldest advertising agency, created at the turn of the century to promote the up and coming new wave of live theater produced by the Shubert brothers. In the early 1900’s Blaine Thompson would tackle another new industry as the ad agency’s owner loaned the Warner Brothers the cash needed to film Al Jolson’s Jazz Singer.

As a New York University junior, I took a part-time job at the agency that became full-time upon my winter of 1971 graduation. Guided by the lights of Broadway throughout my seven years as a Blaine Thompson account exec I learned much about business and life.

By January 2, 1978 I felt ready to go it alone. With zero funding my partner and I opened the shoebox-sized office of our new theatrical “marketing” firm we called Interart. My dream, now about to come true, was to offer entertainment clients quite a bit more than mere catchy newspaper ads.

Before we opened Interart success in the theater was due more to newspaper reviews than a production’s cast, score or playwright. The words authored by New York Times critics Brooks Atkinson, Walter Kerr and Clive Barnes were quoted more often than those of Neil Simon, George S. Kaufman and William Shakespeare.

Even with unanimous raves that rare great Broadway success could be expected to run its course within a year to eighteen months. That was if a show could manage to play a second performance. Many shows considered to be a success played their final performance within two or three months of opening night.

My instincts told me a show’s final curtain could extend way into the future with the right marketing. I would now attempt to create a critic proof recipe for long-term success that included a mixture of advertising, promotion, thoughtful research and a sprinkling of creativity.

In the mid 70’s “marketing” just about anything was still a new concept except when it came to companies like soap manufacturer Proctor and Gamble. No one thought an entertainment product could ever have a long shelf life.

When director, producer Mike Nichols hired Interart to create a tv campaign for his new musical Annie, others in the entertainment business started to notice my work. David Merrick was one of those who took note.

As his swan song Mr. Merrick planned to bring what he hoped would be the all time greatest musical blockbuster to Broadway. Starring Jerry Orbach and Tammy Grimes, 42 Street promised to be the ultimate Broadway spectacular. It was most important to the aging Merrick that this show would secure his legendary standing as Broadway’s greatest all-time producer.

Working for Mr. Merrick was interesting. As they say, I could write a book. In fact a friend of mine wrote a play about my dealings with the Abominable Showman. There was no singing or dancing in my friend’s interpretation of my days with Mr. Merrick, just plenty of fireworks.

For more than six years David Merrick served a dual role in my life. The one and only Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Merrick became my personal mentor and constant nemesis. I was enriched and bankrupted. Strengthened and crushed.

While 42nd Street was still in previews at the Kennedy Center in Washington, Merrick began calling me before 9 each morning to discuss his ideas for ads, cast changes and even costume design. I failed to realize the importance of what he was said one day when he mentioned Gower Champion, the show’s renowned director choreographer, was not feeling well. Almost every media outlet in the world was present at the Broadway opening night curtain call of 42nd Street when David Merrick announced Champion had died earlier that day of a rare disease.

It might have been Gower Champion’s unexpected illness or something unexplainable that created a bond between Mr. Merrick and I. Whatever the reason, over the next half decade, I was to spend countless sleepless nights and many disrupted holidays helping this crazy but talented man create history and havoc.

Together we produced a magnificent television commercial starring Jerry Orbach and the entire cast. Then Mr. Merrick sued the actor’s union refusing to pay his own actors. He won.

We convinced Coca-Cola to build their hundred million dollar introduction of New Coke around David Merrick’s 42nd Street. Two days before the television commercial shoot Mr. Merrick walked out of the deal because Coca-Cola’s VP of Marketing asked for four tickets to see the show.

Following a heated two-hour discussion, the New York Times agreed to change the entire advertising layout of the paper as per Merrick’s request. The moment they agreed he told them he was no longer interested.

So you ask what if anything did I get out of my days with the Abominable Showman. I did make quite a bit of money, for awhile. My work for Merrick brought other sizable accounts including Radio City Music Hall and the Kennedy Center.

Mr. Merrick was responsible for helping me lose almost all I had worked for … my three-city business, many friends and he caused severe damage to my marriage. Some days I learned about life and some days I wished I were dead.

When David Merrick suffered a debilitating stroke in 1983 he had previously prepared for such an eventuality by signing legal documents that forbid any of the hundreds of thousands of dollars he owed me to be paid.

When asked to describe what it was like to survive several years working closely with David Merrick I say it was like being shot head on with a canon ball, yet somehow, you are still alive with your head dangling from your shoulders.

What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.

Mr. Merrick taught me loud, cruel, selfish people are often aware of their super power ability to get what they want by striking fear in those they deal with. Igniting fear and weakening self-confidence can to easily defeat a rational person.

From David Merrick I learned a bully needs to be stood up to.

I thought long and hard about what I would do after David Merrick’s mischief caused me to fire my thirty member staff and close my Washington DC, Boston and New York City offices. There was no way I was going to admit defeat to myself, my family or anyone else. I rethought my life and career. Things turned out fine for me and my family. After a few years I actually began to appreciate my time with the Abominable Showman.

One day before he experienced his stroke, David Merrick met with me to plan what would be his New York Times obituary. He started by dictating his long list of accomplishments. Like all meetings with this schizophrenic genius the atmosphere was tense. Everything including his obituary must be perfect. One thing out of place and it was off with your head.

Several hours after we had started this exercise he asked me what I had written down. I took a deep breath and a big chance. I began reading.

“David Merrick died yesterday. So What?”

Mr. Merrick laughed. Then we headed to Sardi’s where we had several drinks and a very comfortable dinner.

The next day we sent David Merrick's suggested obit to the Times.