Lenya, the Love of Kurt Weill

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I’ve put off writing about this because there’s too much to tell, to show, and for me, to re-live. But first, let’s talk about passion - how passion for anything, dedication to a cause, an artistic vision, a sudden awareness, a realization of a calling - how this passion can carry us beyond ourselves, we transcend what we thought possible. It is as though we are possessed by some power we don’t fully understand. It is part of what makes us all divine

I guess it was the showmanship of my singing at Cafe Beaujolais. Many diners asked me if I was familiar with the music of Kurt Weill. I certainly knew the name. I knew he wrote Mack the Knife, which we associate more with Wayne Newton than Kurt Weill.

And so, I began my long ride. It was the year 2000, the 50 year anniversary of Weill’s death. The name Lotte Lenya had floated by me over the years, but I had no idea who she was, or that she was married to Kurt Weill.

I devoured a Lenya biography and the recently published book of the exchange of letters between Lotte Lenya to Kurt Weill.

I visited the Kurt Weill Foundation in NYC, a font of information, but also a Kurt Weill gatekeeper. More on that later.

Weill’s music appealed to me. It was different, with dissonant harmonies, curious lyrics - not easy listening tunes for the local bar. More like curious stories meant for the theater. I was absorbed in the Weill/Lenya letters. I knew of A.R.Guerney’s ‘The Love Letter’, with its simple set of two writing desks. Seemed perfect…and easy enough.

Oh, the bravado of youth (or in my case mid-life)! Good fortune and a large dose of luck filled my sails along the way. Many talented people helped make LENYA happen. Marshall Hughes, founder of OperaUnMet, was my guiding light. OperaUnMet presented our piece. His accompanist, Ellen Polansky, could tickle the ivories like nobody else. She made playing those Weill Three Penny Opera tunes look easy. Jonathan Rosen, businessman by day, and his daughter Alena, a whizz-bang theater student at Cambridge School of Weston, became lighting and sound engineers. And then there were the musicians. Oh, the musicians. We took a page out of the German Brecht/Weill book and had an old upright piano, a violin, a banjo, an accordion and a tuba - on stage, as though we were all hanging out in a speak-easy.

Evans Travis became our Kurt Weill. Only Lotte’s letters were saved. Kurt hadn’t kept his. Well, I thought, we’ll have Kurt read his letters to Lotte from his desk and Lotte will answer with the songs.

The letters were a very loose timeline to hold together a string of very different songs.

Homemade props and paintings, mailing lists, a publicist who made us look legit. (sold out crowd). I remember so vividly, walking into backstage for the first rehearsal at Somerville Theater, hearing all the instruments warming up and thinking, They’re all here because of me. It all amazed me.

Weill and Brecht met and worked in Berlin in the 30’s. They created Mahagonny and The Beggars’ Opera, among many other works. I sang most of the songs with a mixture of German and English, making sure they intertwined enough that no one would feel lost, but everyone would get the feel for where these songs all came from.

A man approached me after one of the Somerville shows to tell me he knew that if the play were just a little big longer, he would have been able to speak German. Made a Fräulein happy.

The storyline came to an end with Weill’s death in 1950.

I sat center stage, lit a cigarette and told the story of those last days.

The final monologue was a poem by Brecht as a young man. Lenya used it to express her sorrow for losing the love of her life.

See those cranes in a great circle wheeling
At equal heights they fly, with equal daring
Aus einem Leben in ein anderes Leben
Each seems to give the other life
They fly along enthralled by one another.
Fliegen sie hin, einander ganz verfallen.
To go where? Anywhere.
In flight from whom? From everyone.
Ihr fragt, wie lange sind sie shon beisammen?
You ask how long have they been together?
Just briefly.
Und wann werden sie sich trenn? Bald.
And when will they be parting? Soon.

It was a stunning moment in the sold-out Somerville theater. You could hear a pin drop. The night my daughter Olivia was in the audience, I started in…See those cranes wheeling?… and I was dead in the water. I had NO IDEA what came next. It was probably a few beats before I came up with the next line (or made something up), but in those few seconds, Olivia was having a heart attack in the balcony. She was familiar with the lines, but even more familiar with me. She knew something was wrong. We still laugh about it.

The show moved from a weekend in Somerville to a two weekend run in the old Chickering Piano factory in Boston - a perfect brick cellar of a spot. Word had spread. It was a packed house. The foursome at the table in the corner seemed to really be enjoying the show. It puzzled me that they weren’t there after intermission. I found out why when a telegraph greeted me when I got home. CEASE AND DISIST or we will sue. Love, The Kurt Weill Foundation. I was already paying them to sing the songs, but they objected to my use of the letters. The whole thing frightened me. What, was I afraid they’d take my money away? I didn’t have any. Ah well. We shut down.

I later thought it would have been grand to hire a few actors, dress them up like cops, and have them drag us off as part of the show. German Weimar verisimilitude.

I have folders full of reviews and programs and, of course, the script, which sits in a folder, waiting.

Boston Globe Theater Review March 26, 2000

Boston Globe Music Review April 1, 2000

WARNING: This is a film of the entire show. Watch bits and pieces if you wish. Thank you for coming along with me on this memory journey. This is for my kids, who may want to know, in 30 years, what mum was up to!

And so, my friends, tap into your best selves, your inner passions and strengths. The world awaits.