Monday, December 29, 2025

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

2025: WHAT I DID THIS YEAR

 By

Sam Leiter

As Stephen Sondheim’s great song from Follies goes, "I’m Still Here,” but that tenuous grasp on existence was tested several times this year, my 85th. My general health remains reasonably sound, despite the usual cardiac and urological concerns (not to mention dental!) that accompany advanced age for men. On the other hand, a couple of falls affecting, first, my wrist, and then my ribs, have reminded me that you can’t take anything for granted when you’re growing old. Make sure you’re well stocked with Ibuprofen the next time your ribs meet the ground when you misstep off a curb.

I was still here in 2025, however, to continue doing what I love most, reading books, going to the theatre, and writing about both, albeit at an inevitably declining pace. Of the limited number of shows I attended as a voting member of the Drama Desk Awards, I reviewed about 75%, clocking in at only 59 reviews for the year, writing mainly for Theater Life, followed by Theater Pizzazz, with a last-minute pair for TheaterScene.net. I fell off somewhat in book reviews as well, doing just 14 for my Leiter Looks at Books column on Theater Pizzazz, in addition to a long one about the translation of an epic Japanese play for an academic publication, the impressive Impressions: The Journal of the Japanese Art Society of America.

Pushing the output down was not only my advancing age, but the need for my wife and me to emotionally and otherwise support our son, Justin, whose wife, Nancy, after years of struggle, had, last year, gone on hospice care for dementia at home in Hackensack, NJ. This meant spending nearly every weekend in New Jersey, driving there from Howard Beach on Fridays and returning on Mondays. On the way home we’d usually detour to visit our great-grandkids, Brooklyn and Skylar, now 4 ½ and 1 ½ respectively, either at their home in Oceanside, or at my daughter’s, their nana, in Baldwin. With very few exceptions, I was able to see shows only from Tuesday through Thursday.

Tragically, on Tuesday, December 16, my daughter-in-law, the beautiful Nancy Lee Leiter, passed away, only 60 years old, leaving behind a loving husband whose grief could shake mountains. Marcia and I will continue spending as much time with him as possible as he comes to terms with his (and the family’s) enormous loss. His care for Nancy was beyond belief in its devotion, compassion, and concern, reflecting how their 37 years together before and after marriage bound them together, as when trees growing alongside one another gradually intertwine so to become inseparable.

My other recent writing interests, as many of you know, have been focused, not on Japanese theatre, but on the history of theatre in Brooklyn, the subject of a book I published early in 2024. That work covered the story through the last day of 1897, ending when the independent city of Brooklyn—American’s fourth largest—was consolidated into Greater New York on January 1, becoming one of five boroughs. Eventually, I began telling the story of what happened afterward in several blogs that eventually became one called Theatre in Brooklyn from 1898: An Illustrated Chronology. It gradually developed into a month-by-month report on old-time Brooklyn theatre; it has thus far covered everything through mid-1906. 

I tried to interest a couple of Brooklyn outlets run by Schneps Media, which often post stories about Brooklyn history, about adapting some of these entries as a regular column; one editor said she'd get back to me in a week; never happened. The other simply ignored me. When I complete all of 1908, I plan to develop it into a book called Annals of the Brooklyn Stage: The Golden Decade (1898-1908). If I live that long.

Unfortunately, another book I wrote, about the last four months of Brooklyn theatre before consolidation, as it might have been experienced daily by an actual theatergoer of 1897, has struggled all year to find a publisher. Its working title is Stagestruck in Brooklyn: Curtain Calls for a Great Theatre City (as described by Gabriel Harrison). The unusual concept of history being told in “You Are There” fashion by a “fictional” narrator, even if the details are historically accurate, seems to be its big stumbling block. If it’s rejected again, I may consider self-publishing.

One unexpected offshoot of all this Brooklyn research was the discovery of material related to the borough’s involvement in 1904 and earlier in Wagner’s “sacred” opera, Parsifal, especially the production of the work as a straight play by a local stock company with a top price policy of 50 cents. This story, to my surprise, turned out to be of great fascination to the world of zealous Wagner fans and specialists, and I was asked to develop it into an article for the prestigious British publication, the Wagner Journal. It will soon be published under the title: “Brooklyn and the Great Parsifal Craze of 1904: Or, How a 50-Cent Stock Company Turned Wagner’s Music Drama into a Drama with Music.”

Another Brooklyn benefit was an invitation from the Society of Old Brooklynites to give a talk about the borough’s 19th-century theatres at Borough Hall in June. But I didn’t ignore Japanese theatre entirely. In addition to the book review I wrote for Impressions, and a Yukio Mishima play (Kinkakuji) I reviewed at the Japan Society, I was commissioned to write an essay to be used for promotion of the new Japanese film, Kokuho (National Treasure), which is based in the world of kabuki and will be Japan’s entry in this year’s Academy Awards competition. I also was invited to give a guest lecture on “The Onnagata in Kabuki” at the Brooklyn Museum in January.

As for the family, my wife of 63 years, Marcia, despite some health issues, still projects a powerful mater familias presence, which everyone in the family respects. Although disillusioned with the theatre, she did see a couple of shows with me this year. My daughter, Bambi, a retired schoolteacher, keeps busy as a grandmother, a businesswoman selling vintage clothing online, and a competitive pickleball player. My older granddaughter, Briar, mother of Brooklyn and Skylar, returned from maternity leave in September to teaching high school English in East Rockaway. Her sister, Paisley, received her license as a mental health therapist, which she has been practicing for several years, and has been hired for a prestigious new job in the field. Justin continues working as a product designer for a home goods company that allows him to work from home, which was of incredible value during Nancy’s illness.

Throughout the year, I appreciated immeasurably the phone companionship of my dear friend, Larry Loonin, with whom I chatted five or six times a week, and from whom I often was enlightened—when we agreed—about our current political maelstrom. Then there were the regular get-togethers with my wonderful theatre plus-ones, Tom Bullard, Elyse Orecchio, Mike Cesarano, Rory Schwartz, John K. Gillespie, Richard Fuhrman, Mimi Turque, and Penny Bergman (when she wasn’t in Shangri-la or somewhere similar). I enjoyed the light bantering and sharing of theatrical and other views on social media with critics Joe Clarke, David Barbour, Brian Lipton, Ron Fassler, David Sheward, Mark Rifkin, Raven Snook, and others, from whose commentary I always learned something. And it was a pleasure to spend some time with Carol Fisher Sorgenfrei, visiting from California, Dr. Jonathan Tuman, visiting from Florida, and my New Jersey cousins, Carole and Cliff Fishman.

I thank you for your friendship and support in 2025, and look forward to happiness, good health, and success for you all in 2026. Just be sure to vote blue in November!

Wednesday, November 12, 2025

Wednesday, October 15, 2025

Saturday, August 30, 2025

Wednesday, August 27, 2025

GHOST LIGHTS ON FULTON: A WALK THROUGH BROOKLYN'S LOST THEATRES

 

MAJESTIC THEATRE


Last night, a delicious late summer evening, I emerged from the Lafayette Avenue Station of the C line on Fulton Street to visit a play called Well, I’ll Let You Go, a two-minute walk away at the Irondale Center, at 85 S. Oxford Street, a block off Fulton Street. Although the play was very well received by many, I didn’t share their enthusiasm. However, I still considered the experience exciting, as I do whenever I visit this part of Brooklyn’s Fort Greene neighborhood, so redolent of the borough’s old-time history.

 

Irondale is located in the historic, socially progressive, Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church, a Romanesque Revival landmark built between 1860-1862, early in the Civil War, where its advocacy as a “Temple of Abolition” was marked by visits from Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, and Sojourner Truth. A walk up its creaky steps into the large Irondale Space, its high, weathered walls almost as distressed as those at the nearby BAM Harvey—where the look is deliberate—is a step into Brooklyn’s storied past.

 

But what gets me is its proximity to a nearby, vanished world of theatrical activity that now survives only in miniature to what was there at the turn of the 20th century. Let’s go back to 1905, for example, when Fulton Street—especially the part a bit further west across Flatbush Avenue—was called the “Rialto,” in imitation of the term used in Manhattan for the Broadway area where its main theatres and restaurants were located.

 

A nice little stroll will allow us to see, briefly. what theatres were close by on Brooklyn’s Rialto 120 years ago. Remember, these were theatres with live performers, not movies, which still had no dedicated venues of their own (but soon would). Reaching the corner of Fulton, we first have to turn east (left) and walk about 10 blocks to the intersection of Grand to find ourselves where Keeney’s Fulton Street Theatre once stood. A modestly sized vaudeville house long known as the Criterion (1885-1937), it had a history of legitimate theatre, both amateur and professional, before turning to vaudeville.

 

From there, we turn around, walk back in the direction of Flatbush Avenue, pass S. Oxford Street, and come to the Majestic Theatre, a legitimate playhouse built in 1904, and still standing between Ashland Place and Rockwell Place in the guise of the BAM Harvey Theatre. The bones of its structure remain, although deliberately made to look run down as per a Parisian theatre occupied at the time of its renovation by late director Peter Brook, who opened it in 1987 with his magnificent production of The Mahabhata. Diagonally across the street on Rockwell would have been the Orpheum (1900-1953), a grand vaudeville house that ended its half-century of life as a major movie theatre.

 

Today, this junction reminds us of the old Brooklyn Rialto, with the Brooklyn Academy of Music, the Polonsky Shakespeare Center, and the BAM Harvey—all of later creation—forming a theatrical hub within only a block or two between them. (The original Brooklyn Academy of Music, which burned down in 1903, was on Montague near Court.)

 

Continuing down Fulton brings us to Flatbush, which we cross to visit where Brooklyn’s highest-priced theatre, Col. Sinn’s Montauk (1895-1940), or simply the Montauk, stood. That, though, was before Flatbush Avenue Extension was built, widening the street for access to and from the new Manhattan Bridge. Plans to demolish the Montauk had been in the air for years, and, in 1905, what was called the New Montauk was opened to enormous praise in September. However, in a major feat of engineering, the old Montauk was jacked up and moved across Flatbush in 1907, giving Brooklyn two Montauks! Then, the old Montauk changed its name to the Imperial Theatre (Manhattan already had one of its own), and it had other names as well over the years before being demolished.

 

Moving along, we step off Fulton for a block or so to stand before the site of the then under-construction New Montauk, at Hanover and Livingston, before returning to Fulton, going west until we get to Fulton and Elm. This is a one-block street ending at Livingston; in its middle stood the Grand Opera House (1898-1920), a mid-priced legit theatre. Returning the half-block to Fulton, we go left, past the famed Abraham and Straus Department Store, in the direction of Borough Hall, stopping to pay homage to the location of the intimate Bijou (1893-1934) at Bridges Street, a bijou of a theatre where the Spooner Stock Company, starring sisters Edna May and Cecil held court in 1905.

 

We then turn right for a block at Fulton and Jay Street to Willoughby, where the Star Theatre (1890-1947) had its notorious career as a burlesque house, being shut down when its girly-girly shows went too far; it was also popular for its vaudeville shows and Italian movies. A block further eastward takes us to Pearl and Willoughby, where Watson’s Cozy Corner (1903-1922), a vaudeville theatre, stood before becoming the Nassau Theatre (in 1905, in fact) and other names. Then a few more steps bring us to Fulton again where we pay our respects to the venerable Park Theatre (1863-1908), across from Borough Hall; it was Brooklyn’s first permanent theatre dedicated to legitimate theatre, achieving renown under the leadership of Col. William E. Sinn.

 

Not on Fulton but only a brief distance away northward along Cadman Plaza, which didn’t exist in 1905, we end our journey at the Columbia Theatre (1892-1919), on Washington Street and Tillary. Soon to be renamed the Alcazar Theatre, it later resumed its original name. It had a varied career, mainly as a legitimate theatre, including stints as a high-priced venue, a stock company, and a musical stock company.

 

This jaunt, be reminded, covers only theatres located in the “downtown” section of Brooklyn’s Western District! In 1905, Brooklyn’s Eastern District (or Williamsburg), Greenpoint, and East New York, where the population was heavily working class and immigrant, there were the Gayety, the Novelty, Phillips’s Lyceum, the Broadway, Payton’s Lee Avenue Theatre, the Unique Theatre, the Garden Theatre, and the temporarily shuttered Amphion, each with a story to tell.

 

Brooklyn in 1905 was rippling with theatrical muscle, although the legitimate was gradually being swallowed by vaudeville and burlesque, and the movies were just about ready to pounce. Next time you’re on Fulton Street in Fort Greene, imagine you’re decked out in 1905 finery, women in big hats and long, flouncy dresses, mustachioed gents in high collars and hats, strolling along what once was Brooklyn’s Rialto, even before the subway was around to take you there. Maybe you'll even see ghost lights flickering on the cobblestone streets.

For more on Brooklyn theatre history, see my blog: BROOKLYN THEATRE FROM 1898: AN ILLUSTRATED CHRONOLOGY.

Wednesday, August 20, 2025