West Side Story, as a film and as a show, is a work of nearly unrelenting intensity. It’s fitting, then, that the process of researching and writing a book about it has been quite intense in its own right. Surely it hasn’t been as physically strenuous as, say, being called on to execute Jerome Robbins choreography (especially in a parking garage), yet the process has been, in a good way, taxing. Fortunately, there was always the focus and the inspiration provided by the work itself and by the people whose help and kindness made this book possible. That brings up two prominent factors I encountered while doing my work. Both were already known to me yet became more prominent as the work continued.
The first of these factors is the remarkable esteem with which people continue to hold the film West Side Story. The enthusiasm with which it was greeted in 1961 has not, for millions, dimmed by so much as a particle. It may not be the aim of this book to explore all the reasons why it affects so many so deeply; that would require many more pages of text and, really, a huge number of individual case histories. Still, it is my hope that the people who care so greatly about West Side Story will find that this book has perhaps answered a few questions, clarified a few points, and both reflected and respected their passion.
The other factor that became clearer to me also concerns a kind of passion. It is, in this case, the extraordinary amount of devotion, artistry, and hard work that went into creating this film. Time after time, while researching this film’s creative evolution, I was struck by the commitment and skill with which everyone approached it. No one wanted to phone it in—which is why, of course, it went so wildly over schedule and budget, and why its production began with two directors and concluded with one. It is thus no wonder that the work has continued to have such resonance for so many of its participants, who knew then and know (even more so) now that being involved with this project was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. How many other films, after all, have earned an entire book composed entirely of the memories and reflections of the people who performed in it? (It’s called Our Story, and it is listed in the Bibliography.) Nearly everyone associated with the film has been called on, repeatedly, to share their thoughts and recollections, and the abundance with which they have done so is testament to their professional dedication and also, again, to the personal impact that so many experienced in connection with this film. My gratitude and appreciation must thus be twofold: one for the generosity with which people have recalled their association with the film, and—even more so—for the artistry of the work they did to make it so special in the first place. I would like to give special thanks to Walter Mirisch, and also to Larry Mirisch, for verifying and clarifying a number of important points related to the complicated process involved in bringing this film to the screen. Sincere gratitude as well to Diane Baker, who figured prominently in the casting process, and to Carole d’Andrea, who had the rare distinction of creating a role in the original show and then being called upon to play it again in the film.
West Side Story has long had a happy association with Turner Classic Movies, both in airings, often as an “Essential,” and through its spotlighting in such special screenings as the TCM Classic Film Festival. TCM continues to be an unparalleled treasure for a huge international audience, and it is both a pleasure and an honor to be continuing, through this book, my own happy association with the network. Naturally, it takes a large number of intrepid and talented people to keep such a terrific and successful enterprise running for well over a quarter-century. My thanks, then, to the entire TCM family and, especially, to Heather Margolis, Genevieve McGillicuddy, Jennifer Dorian, and John Malahy.
In researching this film, as researching any major film, libraries and archives are essential resources. The Margaret Herrick Library at the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences has long been a prime go-to place for historians, and their resources remain astounding. So, for that matter, are the holdings of the Library of Congress and the New York Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center, with its indispensable Jerome Robbins Dance Division. My special thanks, at the Lincoln Center Library, to Kevin Winkler. For the specific purposes of West Side Story, the Cinematic Arts Library at the University of Southern California was a godsend. (If Robert Wise did not save absolutely everything, he came darned close.) That there are so many precious documents and artifacts housed at USC would be boon enough. However, they reside there under the watchful and informed eye of Ned Comstock, who knows this collection as well as Jerome Robbins knew West Side Story. Ned has long been the film historian’s best and most essential friend, with knowledge, helpfulness, enthusiasm, and sheer kindness that make him one in far more than a million. My thanks also to Photofest and Howard Mandelbaum and to Manoah Bowman for their help and generosity.
The words “personal” and “professional” are obviously quite separate, yet they can often overlap during the course of a project such as this. So many professional associates are treasured friends, and so many personal friends and family members have given me wise professional guidance that has been greatly helpful and deeply appreciated. I must first thank Jeffrey Smith, whose insight, guidance, support, interest, care, and feeding were all essential in making this book happen. Cynthia Robertson’s wisdom, enthusiasm, and sharp eyes have been more helpful, and more appreciated, than words can express. As for Jane Klain, who knows nearly everything and everybody, I feel safe in terming her “a joy forever.” My great appreciation and affection must also go to a quartet of friends who are major professionals in their respective fields: my darling Marilee Bradford, Jon Burlingame, David Pierce, and Christopher Diehl. There are many friends, family, and colleagues who I must thank, most joyfully. In New York, I salute, among many others: Mary and Edward Maguire, John and Roseann Forde, the Rev. Amy Gregory and Bill Phillips, Moshe Bloxenheim, Marc Miller, Edward Walters, Adele Greene, Mark Milano, Lawrence Maslon, Karen Hartman, Michael Portantiere, Ronni Krasnow, Eric Spilker, Mark Heller, Larry Gallagher, Patty Maxwell and Kevin Kostyn, Bob Gutowski, Connie Coddington, Rick Scheckman, and Vince Giordano. In Connecticut, Lou and Sue Sabini, Rick Rodgers, and Chip Reed and Christopher Fray. In Louisiana, my family and many, many friends. In particular, my wonderful sister, Rev. Peggy Foreman; nephew and great-nephews Jared, Luke, Andrew, Nathan, and Zachary Foreman; Keith Matherne, Keith Caillouet, Rev. Ned Pitre, Murray Dennis, Lorna Gianelloni, Darren Guin, and my many friends, relatives, and classmates. Elsewhere in the United States: Karen Latham Everson, William Grant and Patrick Lacey, Christopher Connelly and James Goodwynne, Joe, Katie, and Dr. Melanie Mitchell; Mark A. Vieira, Lee Tsiantis, Dennis Millay, David Thibodeaux, John Reentz, Richard Glazier, Beverly Burt and her family, Gerry Orlando, David Litofsky, Janine Lieberman, Marcus Galante, Melissa Snyder, and Lisa Poteet. A special and deeply-felt thank you, also, to my international friends: Paul Brennan (Australia), Jonas Norden (Sweden), Aureo Chiesse Brandão (Brazil), and Andrew Henderson (Scotland). In my current home state of New Jersey, so many friends and neighbors have been such bright beacons of light and kindness that I hope that they don’t mind my referring to them as my own personal Jets and Sharks. (In the most positive sense, of course.) They include, among many others, Amy, Paul and Eliza Bent; Hal Robertson, Joann Carney, Karen Van Hoy, Lawrence and Rosalind Bulk, and Marsha Bancroft. Also, all the grand people at Beverly Methodist Church and Meals of Love, including the lovely and gifted folks who make my work as music director so rewarding. To all of these people, and to those I didn’t call out by name: please know that this book exists because of your care, friendship, interest, and support.
The word “support” also applies to all the people who have done so much to make this book a physical reality. I will start off by stating a simple, inarguable fact: without my editor, Cindy Sipala, there would be no book. As with our previous work together, Must-See Musicals, she has given me all the guidance I’ve asked for, all the freedom to create that I’ve desired, and the exact kind of supervision an author requires. I must also give my sincere thanks to Aaron Spiegeland at Parham Santana; Running Press’s publisher, Kristin Kiser; designer Celeste Joyce; and publicist Seta Zink.
It is with great reluctance that I must now use the word “finally.” During the time I spent working on this book, I lost several close friends—all of them far too soon and with terrible suddenness. They supported my work in marvelous and stirring ways, and they are irreplaceable. Many people who love musical film are familiar with the name Ron Hutchinson, and for good reason. In his work with the Vitaphone Project, Ron was responsible for the restoration of countless musical films, both shorts and features. He was a wonder, a person of such energy and enthusiasm that it’s still a head-scratcher to contemplate that he’s left us. The comfort, such as it is, comes in the vastness of his legacy. Spencer Gauthreaux was my cousin, my confidante, and one of the funniest and dearest and warmest people I’ve ever had the privilege to know. He was and is, utterly and absolutely, one of a kind. As for Joe Gallagher, he was the best kind of best friend: wise beyond measure, talented beyond imagining, an eternal source of counsel and kindness, and a companion and cohort like no other. A world without Joe will remain a dimmer and less generous place indeed. These three great men, like all the people I’ve named (and not named) here, have impacted my work and my life in ways too vast to contemplate. A committee should be organized to honor each and every one of them. Thank you again, and God bless us all.