Sunday, February 15, 2026

Everybody's Got the Right to be Freezing!

While this blog is primarily devoted to sharing updates and curious tidbits related to my forthcoming book, The Wizard of Oz on Broadway, I've decided to occasionally expand my postings to include some anecdotes and adventures I've had that relate to slightly more contemporary shows—some shows that I've worked on, some shows I've only seen. If this is your first time visiting VintageBroadway.com, you can learn more about me and my book project here.


Yale Design Class: Ming Cho Lee, Bill Warfel, Michael Yeargan, and Me (far right)
Thirty-five years ago today, I took a chance and spent a little over eight hours standing in a freezing blizzard, praying I would get a ticket to Stephen Sondheim's Assassins.

I had been a Sondheim fanatic since my early teens, and while I was in my first year at Yale Drama School (as a Set and Costume designer), the original production of Assassins premiered at Playwrights Horizons in New York City, on December 18, 1990.

Alas, the tickets were impossible to get and, for the most part, available to subscribers only.

I had gotten my BFA from New York University the year before (also in Set Design) and my home studio had been Playwrights Horizons. I tried finagling a ticket, but to no avail. I was told my best option would be to wait in the cancellation line each day, and that it would probably take several attempts to get one of the coveted returned tickets.

That was out of the question. I was at school in New Haven with a heavy class-load six days of the week. Eventually, I gave up on ever getting a ticket. The limited run at Playwrights Horizons was winding down and I was stuck in New Haven.

In mid-February, my first-year costume design teacher, Jane Greenwood, took the class on a field trip to meet Ray Diffen, a respected British costume designer, who at the time was also the head of the Metropolitan Opera's costume and wardrobe department. Ray would give us a personal tour of the Costume Shop and other backstage areas of the Met.

We traveled by train to NYC very early on the morning of February 15th. The weather was abysmal—brutally cold, lots of snow and ice. As I recall, we had to be at the Met by about 9:00 AM because there was a dress rehearsal onstage that afternoon. Our tour needed to be complete before the rehearsal began.

It was a blast! It was my first time backstage at the Met. We met Ray Diffen and just before 11:00 AM the tour was winding down. My fellow Yalies and I were talking with some of the costume shop folk, looking at what they were building, lamenting the horrible weather outside, and one of the guys in the Met costume shop mentioned that his crazy boyfriend was standing in the cancellation line for Assassins.

My mind-reeled! Maybe I'd get to see the show after all! I asked Jane Greenwood what our other class obligations were for the day and mentioned my deep desire to snag a ticket for Assassins and she said something like, "Go for it!"

I ran for the subway and was standing outside Playwrights Horizons by 11:15. There were about eight to ten people in line ahead of me—all fellow Sondheim buffs. We stood there for seven-and-a half hours, freezing, talking Sondheim, and the state of the theatre, shivering, and a few times sending one of us on a coffee-hot chocolate run to Kraft Coffee Shop down the street. This was my one chance to see the show. Not only would I not be back in New York very soon, but Assassins was closing the next night.

Staff at the theatre said they usually had about six cancellations. Damn! I might be too far back in the line! But they expected more cancellations than usual because of the terrible weather. They offered the cancelled tickets to the wait-line as they became available. The line slowly shortened.

At 7:45 they came out with the two final cancellations—one ticket for me, one for the man standing behind me. The rest of the still-long line was turned away.

I took a moment and called my boyfriend in New Haven and told him I'd gotten into the show and would be home very late.
I was so happy to see it, feeling like I’d joined the club of folks who had seen other Sondheim rarities… Anyone Can Whistle, The Frogs, Merrily We Roll Along . . . etc. That privileged Sondheim-fan status became even more privileged when Assassins failed to move to a full-Broadway production.

I enjoyed the show, but it was more of a collage than the narrative I'd expected. The band was very small: Paul Ford on piano, Paul Gemignani on percussion, and Michael Starobin on synthesizer. If you're stuck with a three-piece band, that trio is hard to beat.

One moment that really stood out, aside from the shocking line in the first song, "Come here and kill a President," was "The Ballad of Booth" performed by Patrick Cassidy and Victor Garber. Garber's use of the "n" word at the end of the song was very powerful. I'd loved Garber since seeing his Anthony in Sweeney Todd (my first Broadway show) and then seeing his Franklin Shepard in the Arena Stage revival of Merrily We Roll Along (one of my favorite shows).

I also really liked "The Day I saved Roosevelt," with its sideways quotations from Sousa's El Capitan march, itself from Sousa's wonderful operetta El Capitan, and the John Hinckley/Squeaky Fromme duet "Unworthy of your Love."

The scene that most vividly came to life, though, wasn't a musical one, but the crazy fried chicken scene between Sarah Jane Moore (Debra Monk) and Squeaky Fromme (Annie Golden).
At the end of the curtain call, someone, Victor Garber as I recall, mentioned that the cast and creative team had signed Playbills to raise money for Equity Fights AIDS. They were for sale in the lobby for $25! Luckily, I had just enough cash in my wallet.



The Playbill was fantastic! Boldly signed by composer/lyricist Sondheim and book writer John Wiedman at center, surrounded by signatures of the cast: Patrick Cassidy, Victor Garber/ Eddie Korbich, Jace Alexander, Jonathan Hadary, Joy Franz. Greg German, Debra Monk, William Parry, Marcus Olsen, Lyn Crescent, Terrance Mann, and Annie Golden (who signed it twice!), all boldly signed in silver ink.

The holy-grail Playbill tucked safely in my leather jacket, I trudged the few blocks to Port Authority terminal, took the shuttle over to Grand Central, and hopped on a late-night train home to New Haven. I froze and starved most of the day, but I'd seen the penultimate performance of Assassins.

* * * * *

Final note, my husband, who kindly proofed this post for me, says that he was the one who told me to go get in line in the blizzard! Which, now that he mentions it, seems accurate. But I still remember the man in the costume shop saying his boyfriend was already down there and rolling his eyes at what us Sondheim buffs would put ourselves through!

Copyright © 2026 David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, February 11, 2026

Look What Happened to Mabel! - PART I

Sheet music for "Pretty Mollie Shannon"
In the spring of 1902, a firecracker named Mabel Barrison was cast in The Wizard of Oz. The diminutive dynamite was beautiful, a good actress, had a small "talk-like" singing voice, and she was taking no prisoners! 

She was born Eva Maud Farrance, on April 21, 1882, in Toronto, Ontario. She'd gotten a small part in the chorus of Florodora and was ready to climb.

Florenz Ziegfeld's production of The Little Duchess, starring Anna Held, opened on Broadway at the Casino Theatre on October 14, 1901, featuring a score by Reginald De Koven and a libretto by Harry B. Smith. One of the chorus girls was Mabel Barrison, who had been attracting publicity for her duet with Anna Held in the second act, "Pretty Mollie Shannon," an interpolated number with words by George H. Ryan and music by Walter Wolf. While singing this song, Anna Held appeared in the guise of a dirty-faced street gamin, along with Barrison, also dressed as a boy. After its initial run, the show set off on a national tour, eventually finding its way to a three-week run at Chicago's Illinois Theatre, starting March 10, 1902. 

By mid-March, Fred Hamlin was busily casting The Wizard of Oz, which was to open at his Grand Opera House in early June, and after seeing The Little Duchess in Chicago, he signed up several of its company to join him for The Wizard of Oz during their summer break, including Harold Morey (who had worked with Julian Mitchell at Weber and Fields), Robert Fairchild, and five of Anna Held's chorus girls: Bessie Wynn, Clara Selten, Mamie Chapin, Grace Kimball, and Mabel Barrison.

Publicity about Barrison's casting began a few days later:

At this time, producer Hamlin and director Mitchell were building a chorus of pretty girls—with some acting ability—that Mitchell could use to populate the land of Oz once he got the show into rehearsals—the libretto was still in great flux. But Hamlin and Mitchell may have been viewing Barrison as a possible understudy for Anna Laughlin's Dorothy. Like Laughlin, Mabel Barrison was tiny, barely five feet tall, very pretty, with a good stage presence—and both young women had played and would continue to play coy and captivating "little girls."

The Little Duchess closed in Chicago on March 29, 1902, and the company moved on to Indianapolis for two nights. Mabel Barrison and Grace Kimball were elated over being cast in The Wizard of Oz—the two girls seemed joined at the hip and ready to celebrate! In Indianapolis, the girls met a couple "stage door johnnies." But soon the company was off to its next stop, another two-night stand in Terre Haute, followed by a one-night performance in Louisville, Kentucky, where Mabel and Grace continued their revelry, as reported in the April 12, 1902, issue of The Oshkosh Northwestern:

Three members of Anna Held's Little Duchess company aroused this town from its usual state of languor early one morning this week by calling for about all the liquor on supply in the Louisville house cafe, after which weird noises and strange cries caused the proprietor to grow alarmed and send for the police. 

It was a gala night for the Little Duchess company. One of the men connected with the company and two of the young women, whose duties are to appear shapely and symmetrical in tights, foregathered in one of the rooms of the hotel and made the night a charming affair—that is, a charming affair for them. The other guests disagreed as to the success of the entertainment afforded by the three theatrical folk and sent down a continuous steam of protests.

The Little Duchess men and women sang, danced various naughty dances and otherwise conducted themselves in what was regarded as an unseemly manner. A still alarm sent out by the hotel proprietor brought in the police, and in a few minutes the three noisy performers were hustled to the central station. They were not locked in a cell, but were guarded in the office of Sullivan, chief of detectives. There their manager found them. 

When discovered they were hardly worth redeeming, but the manager seemed to think they might be needed in the next performance and brought them forth and had them sent to the train which was to take the company out of town. . . . 

But the wayward party girls, "carrying an overload of headaches and remorse," apparently missed both the train and the company's next performance in Dayton, Ohio.

What were they to do? Assuming their jobs were probably gone, the girls remembered the two Indianapolis "johnnies," who had money to burn. Arrangements were made for the girls to meet up with the Hoosiers in Pittsburgh, where the Little Duchess company was now playing a full week.

The girls set off for Pittsburgh, where they hoped either to rejoin the show or to connect with the wealthy, young Hoosiers, or . . . possibly both!

On arrival, the girls found they had been fired from The Little Duchess; their "johnnies" hadn't shown up; and worse, on hearing of the girls' behavior, Fred Hamlin was very displeased.

An undated clipping reported: "Some of The Little Duchess chorus, who misbehaved in [Louisville] last week and were discharged as a consequence, will not be permitted to fill their engagements with The Wizard.

But that would change. By early mid-May, Paula Edwardes, who was supposed to play the part of Tryxie Tryfle in The Wizard of Oz, had bolted to star in The Show Girl. Hamlin and Mitchell needed a new Tryxie and they rehired Mabel Barrison. Grace Kimball got her job back, too.

Mabel Barrison opened in The Wizard of Oz on June 16, 1902, and played the part of Tryxie Tryfle in Chicago through the summer. She left the show to join the Weber and Fields company at the start of the 1902-03 season in Twirly Whirly. Mabel's trouble-mate in The Little Duchess, Grace Kimball, took over the role of Tryxie Tryfle.

Mabel Barrison at Weber & Fields in Twirly Whirly, February 1903.

Barrison went on to star in Hamlin and Mitchell's next show, Babes in Toyland, and many others, including The Land of Nod, His Honor the Mayor, The Three Graces—and even in a straight comedy, The Blue Mouse, by Clyde Fitch. 

At the start of the 1905-06 season, Mabel Barrison finally took on the role of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz for a few short weeks, after Anna Laughlin left the show.

But to find out even more of what happened to Mabel, you'll have to wait for Part II.

Mabel Barrison as Tryxie Tryfle in The Wizard of Oz (1902)

NOTE

Some of the events described are from an article published in The Leavenworth [Kansas] Times on April 20, 1902.

Copyright © 2026 David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Saturday, February 7, 2026

Fred Stone Joins the Circus!

Back before Christmas, I mentioned a forthcoming children's book, Fred Stone and the Frontier Circus, about the early circus careers of Fred Stone (who created the part of the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz) and his younger brother, Ed (who created the part of Dorothy's pet heifer, Imogene), written by Fred's granddaughter, P. J. [Judy] Sloane. 

The book is now available and is a real treat for any Oz collector, lover of the circus, or musical theatre buff. The handsome book is not meant for deep academic research, but for kids to have fun, to learn about the circus, and what it was like growing up over a hundred and thirty years ago. "My book is fiction," says Judy, ". . . for children. Everything up until the time grandpa joined the circus is real, but after that everything is made up!" The book is handsomely illustrated in black and white by Yakovetic.

The book is available on Amazon via this link: Fred Stone and the Frontier Circus

Ed Stone as Imogene and Fred Stone as the Scarecrow (1903)



Copyright © 2026 David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, January 20, 2026

Happy 123rd Birthday!

 

Original poster featuring Montgomery & Stone in The Wizard of Oz (1903).

Today is the 123rd anniversary of the first performance of The Wizard of Oz which opened on Broadway on January 20, 1903, and since I have not been sharing many updates here recently, this seems an opportune moment to offer a report.

This last year has been extremely productive in writing my forthcoming book. I have written about 60,000 words this year. To some, that might not seem like all that many words—but absorbing and organizing over twenty-six binders of material, and over 15,000 digital newspaper files into a properly cited, easy to read, and engaging text takes a lot of time and thought—which I hope will be worth the wait. For those curious, the book is scheduled to be published in 2028 for the 125th Anniversary of the Broadway opening.

You will also start to see more frequent blog posts this year, and not all of them will be quite as vintage as 1903. I've simply decided to start sharing more stories about my design career, shows I've worked on, and reminisce a bit about the shows I've seen that seem to me worth writing about. I still have trouble thinking of shows from the 1970s and '80s as "vintage Broadway." It's still hard for me to grasp that this last January 5th was the 51st anniversary of The Wiz opening on Broadway. The 1978 bus-and-truck tour of The Wiz was my first Broadway show and was the show that made me want to work in the theatre when I grew up.

In the end it's all connected. The shows I've seen, the shows I've worked on informed who I am and how I'm approaching The Wizard of Oz on Broadway. The story goes on . . . 


Copyright © 2026 David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

Hanging Around for the Holidays!


Earlier this year I had the good fortune of becoming acquainted with Fred Stone's granddaughter, Judy Sloane - the daughter of Fred's daughter, Paula. She was looking for some photos to use in a new book she had written for younger readers about her grandfather's experiences working in the circus when he was a boy.

I was able to help with the several photos, and Judy and I have since become cordial email acquaintances.

The book, Fred Stone and the Frontier Circus, is now available in hardcover, paperback, and eBook versions. Charmingly illustrated by Joseph Yakovetic, the book also has a foreword by actress Melissa Sue Anderson (best known as Mary on Little House on the Prairie.) Anderson was married to Fred Stone's grandson, Michael Sloan—brother of Judy. Sadly, Michael Sloan passed away in late October 2025.

I have not yet seen the final book. Some last-minute adjustments and the holiday crunch in publishing have led to delays in getting contributor comp copies sent out. 

I've been anxious to see the finished book, but the delay became wholly worthwhile when I received a small package from Judy Sloane a short time ago. An enclosed note read:

Hi David, Joe [the illustrator] made this for you for Christmas. One day, hopefully, a book will turn up!! There's a concept!! Thanks for everything and Happy Holidays, Judy

Inside the box was an ornament for my Christmas Tree, A clear plastic bottle full of red and white Scarecrow hay, featuring the front and back covers of the new book!


So, as I hit the 65,000 words mark in my own book, what fun it is to get a Christmas tree ornament in the mail from the original Scarecrow's granddaughter! Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to Judy and Joseph!

Copyright ©2025 David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Thursday, September 25, 2025

Temperamental L. Frank Baum

L. Frank Baum, Playwright

Guest Blogger Eric Shanower

As a playwright, L. Frank Baum seemed to have little patience with editorial interference. When a script doctor revised Baum’s script of the stage version of The Wizard of Oz in 1902, Baum objected strenuously. In 1905, when The Wogglebug was being staged, Baum refused to let anyone else touch his script.

So in 1913, when producer Oliver Morosco wanted to make changes to The Tik-Tok Man of Oz script early in the rehearsal period, he approached Baum carefully. Morosco spoke softly and flatteringly before suggesting the possibility of condensing Act Two.

To anyone aware of Baum’s past displays of temperament, his reply was a surprise: “Oh, you want to cut it,” said Baum. . . . “Well, then, go as far as you like.”

This may have been when the part of the Ugly Man was cut down, turning it into a minor role. Charles Ruggles, originally cast as the Ugly Man, was shifted to the role of Private Files.

Of course, following opening night, The Tik-Tok Man of Oz changed even more. Baum seems to have been content for several months to work with Morosco, tightening and sprucing up the script while the production ran in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Chicago. Serious conflict seems to have arisen only toward the end of the 1913 summer season, when it grew evident that the show would not open the regular theatre season on Broadway and Baum relinquished creative control over the script.

NOTES

J. Rex James, “Morosco’s Invasion of New York Announced; Edison’s Kinetophone Replaces Bernhardt,” Daily Tribune (Los Angeles, CA), 15 March 1913, 13, 16; “Objects to Changes,” Syracuse (NY) Daily Journal, 3 June 1902, 6; O. L. Colburn, “Telegraphic News; Chicago,” New York (NY) Dramatic Mirror, 22 July 1905, 12; “Heard Back of the Curtains,” Los Angeles (CA) Daily Tribune, 20 March 1913, 15; “Behind the Scenes by the Genial Grouch,” Los Angeles (CA) Express, 5 May 1913, 10; Memorandum of Agreement among Oliver Morosco, L. Frank Baum, and Louis Gottschalk, Los Angeles, CA, 9 September 1913.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.


and the newly restored Performance Script and Piano-Vocal Score for the show.
Purchase individually or get all three at a reduced price.


All three volumes are offered as a set with a $10 discount of the total price. 

Click here for the complete set.

Friday, November 1, 2024

Baum's Opera House

Guest Blogger Eric Shanower

Eric Shanower presenting at OzCon International, July 2024.

At 
Oz Con International in July 2024, I gave a presentation on Baum’s Opera House. That’s the theatre in Richburg, New York, that L. Frank Baum co-managed with his uncle John Wesley Baum for ten weeks in 1881-82.

A lot of false information has accumulated for decades about Baum’s early theatrical career. Falsities include the idea that L. Frank Baum’s father gave Baum “a string of opera houses,” that L. Frank Baum produced his own plays at Baum’s Opera House, and that L. Frank Baum ever belonged to a “Shakespearean troupe” of actors. I intended my groundbreaking presentation to blast away many of the false accretions—those pesky Hanging Munchkins—and present the truth about Baum’s Opera House.

But I wanted to present more than that. I wanted to identify the spot where Baum’s Opera House once stood.

Early in the morning of March 8, 1882, Baum’s Opera House burned beyond repair, thus ending Baum’s theatre management career. The building was never rebuilt and its location was lost. 

Newspaper ads for the theatre’s productions never included an address. Baum’s 1881-82 correspondence provides no street address for his theatre. Even the letterhead on Baum’s Opera House stationery lacks a street address. I doubt the theatre ever had an official address. One wouldn’t have been necessary for the single legitimate theatre in the small village of Richburg in the early 1880s.

L. Frank Baum's letterhead as manager of Baum's Opera House.

Past historians have assumed that Richburg’s second theatre—named Brown’s Opera House—was built on the same spot where Baum’s Opera House had stood. My research proved that assumption incorrect.

Newspaper reports from 1881-82 indicate the theatre’s proximity to other vanished landmarks, but that info provides only a general location, not a specific one.

I contacted Melanie Johnston of the Richburg-Wirt Historical Society, who provided further theatre location clues. Combining all my gathered information, I came up with a guess for the location—an educated guess, but a guess, nonetheless. That’s what I offered in my Oz Con International presentation last July.

The red rectangle shows my original guess as to the theatre's location.

Several months later, I visited Richburg, New York, in person for the first time. On the evening of October 6, at the Richburg-Wirt Historical Society, I gave my Baum’s Opera House presentation, slightly revised. I included new information pertinent to residents of the Richburg area and removed references aimed primarily at Oz fans. I again presented my best guess for the theatre’s location. Still, it remained a guess.

Eric Shanower about to give his presentation in Richburg.
Melanie Johnston of the Richburg-Wirt Historical Society arranged my appearance and attended. I thanked her again for the information she’d provided. As the audience listened, she and I briefly discussed problems with determining the location of Baum’s Opera House.

After my presentation, Melanie and her husband showed my partner, theatre historian David Maxine, and me around the cozy Richburg-Wirt Historical Society museum. David spotted on one wall a large old photograph of Richburg in its oil boom days, tall derricks sprouting across the landscape. Across the bottom of the photo appeared words clearly written on the original negative: March 1882. That’s the month Baum’s Opera House burned. Was the photo taken before or after the fire? We studied the photo to find Baum’s Opera House or its remains. We couldn’t, and the hour was growing late, so David took phone photos of the Richburg photo on the wall.

Next morning, during daylight, David and I visited the general area where Baum’s Opera House once stood. After more than one hundred and forty years, we didn’t expect to find any remains of Baum’s theatre, but we wanted to examine the spot of my best guess. We walked up and down the sidewalks and street, staring around, debating. We compared what we saw to David’s phone shots of the old Richburg photo from March 1882. In the photo, some distance to the right of my location guess, I recognized a house that still stands today. To the left of that house in the photo, David noticed a puzzling area, unlike anything else in the photo. Neither of us could figure out what it pictured, until David suggested it showed the burned remains of a building.

A portion of a photograph of Richburg, New York, clearly marked March 1882.
The area within the white rectangle is enlarged in the image immediately below.

Enlargement of portion of the Richburg photograph above. The large building on the left is the Academy, sitting at the far edge of Academy Park. The fully visible building in the upper right still stands today. What appear to be the fire-ravaged remains of a large building stand just left of center, including a substantial portion of the damaged front facade and a dark doorway at the facade's bottom center. Park Row runs from center of the photo toward the bottom right corner.
CLICK TO ENLARGE

Eureka! We’d found the location of Baum’s Opera House!

We compared the location of the burned remains to our current reality. There stood a residential house, 115 Griffin, and its detached garage, across the street from Bolivar-Richburg Elementary School.

I no longer had to guess. Baum’s Opera House stood in Richburg, New York, on the northwest side of Griffin Street where Park Row "T"s into Griffin, one block northwest of Main Street (New York State Route 275).

The location of Baum's Opera House on Griffin Street in Richburg, New York.
The building that stands just past the bend in Griffin Street is also visible in the March 1882 photo of Richburg.

Imagine yourself in Richburg, New York, on a frosty evening in late December 1881, turning the corner from Main Street into Park Row. As you stroll along, Academy Park lies on your left, lined at the street with an evenly spaced row of trees, their leafless branches spreading high against the evening sky. From ahead, at the end of the street, float the growing strains of a band playing the pre-show concert in front of Baum’s Opera House, a large wooden clapboard building, newly erected. A tall young man, well-dressed, with neatly combed brown hair and a handle-bar mustache, steps out of the theatre’s front door. It’s Louis F. Baum, the theatre’s manager. He beckons to the gathering crowd. Tonight’s show starts soon. Don’t miss it!

Eric Shanower, Guest Blogger

Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.
I thank Sam Milazzo and David Maxine for permission to use their photos. 

Photograph of Eric Shanower at Oz Con International copyright © 2024 Sam Milazzo. All rights reserved.
Photograph of Eric Shanower at Richburg-Wirt Historical Society copyright © 2024 David Maxine. All rights reserved.

and the newly restored Performance Script and Piano-Vocal Score for the show.
Purchase individually or get all three at a reduced price.


All three volumes are offered as a set with a $10 discount of the total price. 

Click here for the complete set.