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Saving Grace. Their determined serenity is sometimes derided; says Cole Porter: "I could spot Dick's songs anywhere. There is a certain holiness about them." But with serenity goes an unfailing professional competence. In Flower Drum-Song they do not shrink from such corn as a hula-hooping little girl and that ancient scene about the Chinese maiden who does not understand Western kissing; but there is always a saving grace of humor or taste, or at least professionalism. As their own producers, they ruthlessly cut their favorite songs or scenes if they detect that alarming rustle of inattention among spectators. "What I like about R. & H.," says General Stage Manager Jimmy Hammerstein, Oscar's No. 2 son, "is that they're conditioned to what works. If it works, they keep it in; if it doesn't, they scrap it. They listen with real objective ears."
During Flower Drum's Boston tryout, when Nightclub Comic Larry Storch did not work out in the role of Sammy Fong, he was quickly replaced by a more experienced stage veteran, Larry Blyden. A sentimental song was cut, and Blyden's part was beefed up; Hammerstein spent two days writing the lyrics of a new song, and Rodgers retired to the Shubert Theater ladies' room (which during rehearsals was equipped with a piano) and wrote the music in less than six hours. (His record: South Pacific's Bali Ha'i, which he wrote in five minutes over after-dinner coffee in a crowded room.) Result of the Boston change: Don't Marry Me, one of the brightest numbers in the show.
Big Brother. Throughout the road try-out of any of their shows, and beyond the Broadway opening, R. & H. are omnipresent. In their separate ways, they are intensely paternal toward their cast—Hammerstein gently smiling but a little shy and withdrawn, Rodgers quick, effervescent and always ready with a hug for a chorus girl. Says one member of the cast: "Hammerstein is the Great White Father, but Rodgers is Daddy."
If there is anything about the R. & H. paternalism that the Flower Drum cast dislikes, it is the installation of closed-circuit TV in the St. James Theater, where the show has settled down for its New York run. Not that anyone objects to the stage manager keeping track of the action. But Hammerstein has ordered a cable run to his town house so that he too can monitor the show. Says Larry Blyden: "It's like Big Brother looking over your shoulder. It gives me the willies."
But this is a minor irritation, considering that they will all be around New York for a long time—Great White Father and Daddy, Miyoshi, Pat and all the kids—just a big Oriental family beating their flowery drum. Meanwhile, the girls are getting accustomed to New York. Pat is getting vitamin injections for extra energy, and Miyoshi, in a remarkable East-West synthesis, has taken to champagne. "I can't stop drinking it," she says. "It tastes like sake."
* Rashomon, Kataki, Cry for Happy and The Cool Mikado are all on the way to town. The World of Suzie Wong is pulling in crowds right across the street from Flower Drum.