I joke that I’m trapped in my own romantic comedy. Peter, a man I dated briefly 54 years ago, met me after I wrote an article in the New York Times about losing my husband and struggling with Verizon while trying to get over my cell phone. Peter and I fell in love while exchanging emails between two opposite coasts — I was in New York City, he was in the San Francisco Bay Area. But the stakes got higher almost immediately. Three months into this new relationship, I was diagnosed with aggressive and often fatal leukemia.
That night, Peter flew east. He proposed. We got married at the hospital.
After miraculously surviving, I discovered I had the gift of becoming a writer. A story. I can write. If I hadn’t written it, I doubt I would have ever recovered from the trauma of the diagnosis and the memory of the difficult treatment.
Everyone I know over 50 has experienced some form of illness and loss – big, small, of self, family, friends. I believe almost everyone who survives a serious illness suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). It is common in people over 50. The need for love and laughter is as strong as ever. I believe my story can reach people’s ears and give more people a reason to see hope.
In an effort to transform something personal into something that touches the hearts of others, I write about how love changes the experience. Love later in life is very different, but it is just as joyful and sensual as falling in love as a child. I write about friendship and how it excites me.
Susan Stroman is an outstanding director and choreographer who has won several Tony Awards. She mainly directs musicals. I grew up watching musicals: the first musical I saw was Guys and Dolls. I was about 6 years old and didn’t understand, but whenever a Broadway musical came to Los Angeles, where I grew up, my parents would take us to see the show. Oklahoma! I still remember the lines from West Side Story: “Where did you get ‘Nardo’?” “The dance tonight, at the gym.” “But the gym is a neutral zone…” and so on. I can’t sing, but I used to sing show songs when I was a kid. I was excited to meet Susan Stroman.
“Left on Tenth” is a musical, but Darryl had recently seen a play called “Dot” about a family struggling with illness, directed by Stroman, and he thought Stroman would know how to tell my story. Darryl also knew that Stroman’s husband, director Mike Okrent, had died from the same illness I was struggling with, so my story was personal to him. Stroman and I acknowledged this when we first met. We didn’t discuss it much, just occasionally, but there was an understanding, a bond behind the collaboration. In my opinion, individuals often bring out the best in themselves. Taking a real life experience, in this case a trauma, and making something out of it… it’s an act of healing, helping others, spreading joy. It’s all from that.
Susan Stroman is called “Stro.” Everyone who knew her called her Stro. I can’t imagine doing that. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. When we first met I asked him if I should call him Stro. He said yes I should. It took a while. I stuttered and said “Susan,” then corrected myself, as if I told a friend: “Stro thinks” or “according to Stro,” it would sound like I was pretending. Maybe I am.
Because Strokes is musical, and when collaboration works, everybody gets something from the other, so there’s music in our play, and there’s some tap dancing. My late husband Jerry and I tap danced. We love it. So I thought, with Strokes, why not do a little bit of that? So it was incorporated into the play.
When I was a kid, storytelling was a big event at family dinners. Both my parents are screenwriters and they made it almost a mission to educate writers. All four of us sisters became writers. “That’s a great line, write it down,” my father would say. “That’s a great title, write it down.” I spent a lifetime writing titles before I even knew what a title was. “Ten Left” was something I came up with a few years ago. I live on 10th Street in Greenwich Village. After I get off the subway, I turn left onto 10th Street, which is the way to my house. Like all good titles, this one has a hidden metaphor. Since my life has taken many left turns – some dangerous, some wonderful – the title became meaningful to me. It seems my imagination is ahead of my life.
I started drafting the script, met the Strokes and rewrote the script based on their notes. The show has been in development for two years and the cast has been selected, with Juliana Margulies playing Mary and Peter Gallagher playing Peter. I magically met Juliana. I was reading her memoir, Sunshine Girls and I found out she lived in Greenwich Village. I think we live very close to each other. I wonder why I never met her? That afternoon… that afternoon… I was walking my dog and my dog smelled another dog and I turned around to see who was walking him and it was Juliana. So I introduced myself, and when I wrote the play, I knew she was a perfect fit for the script.
We held a two-week workshop in a high-rise space on 42nd Street. It was as if a different Broadway show was being rehearsed on every floor of the building. You could see Madame Tussauds from the window. Next door was a shop with every type of mug or T-shirt a tourist could want.
The workshop is a time for the director to give the play an opportunity to find its feet. I watch Stroll bring the scenes to life every day. I watch him teach Julianna Margulies to tap dance. I see myself falling in love, almost dying and then coming back to life. Peter Gallagher asked me: “Are you OK? How are you feeling?” I think that’s where it came from. Out of that trauma came this creative, joyful experience…I lived to write it and experience the production of this play. It’s a very interesting play.
All the men in this show are named Peter. My Peter: Peter Root. Broadway Peter: Peter Gallagher. Our other great actor, who plays all the other male characters in the show: Peter Francis James. It’s quite confusing and magical. My Peter…what was his reaction when he found out he was in the Broadway play? I would like to point out that he’s retired. He was a psychiatrist, a Jungian psychoanalyst, so if he hadn’t retired, it would have been difficult or impossible to make his private life public. But at this stage of his life, it’s a wonderful adventure. He’s a man of free curiosity. He’s written two books about sexual assault. He’s testified in court on behalf of abused women. He also knew that returning to this period of my life filled with grief, fear and pure joy would be therapeutic for me and many others. He’s also a great writer and the emails he sent me when we were in love are all in this show. His unwavering devotion and care when I was sick was also dramatic. For him, it’s also “out there.”
Once we had the studio and the cast, we just needed a theater. The show is very intimate, so the Grand Theater is not a good place to see a musical. We wanted something more intimate. I found out that most of the theaters were owned by the Shubert family. Would they give us a theater?
Daryl Roth via email: We’re opening for James Earl Jones in October. I was so happy I cried.
Preview screenings of “Left on Tenth” begin on September 26. Release date is October 23.
