When N. Richard Nash's The Rainmaker was adapted for the musical stage into 110 in the Shade, producer David Merrick, then dubbed the "King of Broadway" because of his numerous hits, had final say.
"Out of the blue," recalled lyricist Tom Jones, "the phone rang. It was Mr. Merrick, who told us how much he loved The Fantasticks. We hadn't done anything on Broadway but he felt, since we were from Texas, that we'd be ideal for 110."
Composer Harvey Schmidt was still working his day job doing commercial art. "The day Mr. Merrick called," he reports, "I was packing to go to Iran to do a series of paintings of the Shah's tiger hunt for Sports Illustrated. The tigers had to wait. Our world was about to turn upside down working on a Merrick show. The elation didn't last long. Mr. Merrick turned out to be as crafty as any wild animal."
Joseph Anthony, an esteemed director whose only musical staging was the original Most Happy Fella and who had directed The Rainmaker on Broadway, would be captain; "but, really, Mr. Merrick," says Schmidt, "a hands-on person if ever there was one, called the shots."
Inga Swenson won out over Streisand, whose sudden stardom while she was in I Can Get It for You Wholesale led to numerous missed performances and a miffed Mr. Merrick, for the role of Lizzie, the young "old maid" whose rancher father is trying to marry off.
"Inga was a Shakespearean actress with only one music revue credit," notes Jones, "however she was beautiful. A little too beautiful to be playing a gal who was supposed to be plain, but, oh, what a voice."
Hal Holbrook won the coveted role of the mythic, wandering stranger Starbuck. But, by all accounts, he wasn't Merrick's first choice. Details Schmidt, "In some derring do, all of a sudden Hal was out and Robert Horton, a TV heartthrob from the "Wagon Train" series, was in."
110 has a rich score, and could have had a much richer one. In their zeal to get their Broadway debut right, Jones and Schmidt wrote 114 songs before rehearsals ever began. "Our thinking," explains Schmidt, "was we wanted to be prepared when and if during tryouts Mr. Merrick or Joe wanted other songs. When that happened, we'd go to our room and pull another song from our suitcases instead of burning the midnight oil."
Sixteen songs made the cut, including Lizzie's showstoppers, "Love Don't Turn Away" and "Simple Little Things," and "Is It Really Me?" But, on its way to Broadway, there was tension between the composers and Merrick.
"Mr. Merrick was a double-edged sword," claims Schmidt. "Because of his mega successes, doors opened for record deals and theater parties. Early on, we could tell he wanted something that wasn't there. He saw 110 as a big dance show. We didn't. We knew we were in trouble when he brought in Agnes DeMille."
The composers didn't want the show to be a warmed-over Oklahoma! (which won DeMille critical acclaim for her choreography), but something more earthy. "We told Mr. Merrick and Miss DeMille how we felt," says Jones. "She replied, 'Great. That's exactly what I want.' Then, I guess obeying orders from Mr. Merrick, proceeded to make it a dance show!"
"A couple of numbers ran over ten minutes," laughs Schmidt. "They were wonderful ballets, but not much room remained for the story and songs."
"It was a tumultuous time!" Jones points out, cringing at the memory. "There were all sorts of shenanigans and yelling over casting. For instance, here was a show about the dust bowl and Mr. Merrick was screaming for a chorus of pretty girls."
Jones and Schmidt reported that Merrick kept shifting back and forth on creative decisions. After Boston, where the musical got mixed to positive reviews, he decided the musical, like the original play, would have three acts. "I was close to suicidal!" exclaims Jones. "Mr. Merrick wanted a superhit," says Schmidt, "and didn't react well in Philadelphia when the reviews were negative."
"In fact," adds Jones, "he threatened to close the show. Harvey and I said, 'Great!' We were relieved. It would be better than to go on like we were. As we were about to walk, he said, `Wait. I'll give it one last chance.' We went back to two acts and put in other changes. It made a huge difference. Things started to click. Audiences were loving it."
However, according to Jones and Schmidt, by the time the musical arrived in New York, the show was beset with rumors of impending doom. It was a nervous opening night at the Broadhurst Theater on October 24, 1963. As the dailies rolled off the press, there was hope. The newspaper critics found much to cheer about, especially in the score.
"There was a big exception, exclaims Jones: the New York Times. Confound that damn Times review! Then as now, their critic established a show as a box-office bonanza or an also-ran." Adds Schmidt, "It was a weird, strange review, calling the musical everything but the dirtiest show on Broadway."
It didn't help that the nation was thrown into a collective depression the following month with the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Then, when business picked up, Swenson slipped in the pouring stage rain, injuring her ankle. She was out for several weeks.
In spite of that review and events, points out Jones, 110 did modest business. It received four Tony nominations, including one for Jones and Schmidt's score, Swenson and Anthony. However, it never became a must see. "And that was thanks to Mr. Merrick, who didn't market the show," Schmidt states, "because his energies were more focused on Dolly (which was in out of town tryouts and, hard to believe now, having a difficult time). He never got behind us. He made our lives and the lives of everyone involved a living hell."
110 ran just over nine months, 330 performances. Thanks to the RCA original cast recording, the musical wasn't forgotten. There were Off Broadway and regional revivals, an acclaimed 1992 revival by New York City Opera, and Roundabout's 2007 revival.
In the intervening years, several songs - including "A Man and A Woman," "Simple Little Things," "Wonderful Music" and "Love Don't Turn Away" - had a life of their own.
Jones and Schmidt never stopped writing for musical theater. "In spite of our duels with Merrick, our love of musical theater never diminished," states Schmidt. "It's always been our life."
