Dear Family and Friends,
Happy November! And ( despite COVID times) what a happy November it is. First, thank you to everyone who voted, text-banked, phone-banked, canvassed, donated, and worked the polls. That is what democracy looks like and I am so proud of us. Second, the headline is true. Of my own volition, today is my last day at Playbill.
It has been five incredible and astonishing years. I published 3,067 bylines, including 1,222 features; hosted over 100 live red carpets; led 17 panels at four BroadwayCons; executive-produced three digital concert specials; made two appearances on NPR and one on the Broad-Way. But more than any number can describe, these five years have fundamentally changed who I am for the better. There are too many days I screamed “BEST DAY EVER” and “THE MOST INCREDIBLE NIGHT OF MY LIFE!!” into voicemail boxes.
People often say to me “you have your dream job,” but I always reply I never even knew to dream of this. Never would I have imagined when I first moved to the city for college—pretty much choosing Barnard because it was in New York City and I’d be able to go see a Broadway show whenever I wanted—that I would become a part of the coveted “theatre community.” At this job, I found my people.
Choreographers, performers, composers, playwrights, directors, designers, all of whom I looked up to from afar, have become friends and colleagues. Every time I met a new one and bonded with them, it felt like I won the lottery. Speaking to Spencer Liff (who I followed for years as an ensemblist) about his choreo for Deaf West Spring Awakening; swimming in Sonya Tayeh’s brain in interviews after obsessing over her on So You Think You Can Dance; talking with Andy Blankenbuehler about his choreo in Hamilton (ok a lot of dancers, guilty); digging in with Steven Levenson for Dear Evan Hansen or Dominique Morisseau or Ayad Akhtar. I will never forget sitting down with Aaron Sorkin, Nathan Lane, and Judith Light in the span of three months, or the day I got an email in my inbox with “Stephen Sondheim” in the sender’s line. The list of unreal moments goes on, and I know how lucky I am.
But what I'm truly proud of are the buried stories I got to tell. I’ll never forget when I went to a hospital for a shoot of working Broadway professionals who were all cancer survivors, as they rallied around Karen Walsh for her last treatment. That was the day I realized I could say something important with my writing and I made it my mission to find more of those stories. From raising awareness for homeless youth and Covenant House to the powerhouse women changing theatre, my goal was—and is—to shine light on important and often under-recognized people, causes, and works.
But this doesn't just happen because I want it to. I am forever indebted to every person I ever interviewed. They trusted me to share their stories and their processes, to let me take you all behind the scenes to see how art gets made. Also, let it be known press reps are heroes who stay late on every opening red carpet and said yes to every unconventional idea.
In seventh grade, we took classes called RETs (heck if I remember the acronym but art, music, gym, tech ed, etc.). That year we had a “Research” RET. We had to come up with a question that we would answer through...research. My question: How do you make a Broadway show? Now, thanks to the zillions of people who answered my zillions of questions, I know. And it is the most beautiful, crazy, collaborative, back-breaking, heart-wrenching, worthwhile work there is. I feel so proud and honored to have been able to share this world with you.
As I cleaned out my desk yesterday and walked around the Playbill offices as an employee for the final time, memories flooded me. Glamming up in the “Playbill makeup trailer” (a.k.a. the women’s bathroom), giving tours to school groups, epic photoshoots in the studio. There is a lot of magic in that place, I just got to hold the wand for a bit.
So, in the words of my favorite President: What’s next? After a bit of rest and recalibration, you’ll get more Why We Theater, which just wrapped Season 1 with Episode 10, as well as a new video series Remotely, Ruthie (one-on-one longform interviews with theatre luminaries about the childhood and artistic experiences that made them who they are). I’m also going to be consulting on content creation for a new business—more to be revealed later. I plan to freelance, as well, until I take up a new full-time position. Don’t worry. Theatre can’t get rid of me.
And, neither can you! Because you all have followed me in this transformative chapter of my life and I hope you will continue to join me. I’ll say it again and again: I can only do what I do because you are here. YOU make my dreams come true.
We are in our eighth month of COVID and I hope that you and your loved ones are safe, healthy, and sane, above all else. I hope that you’ve been able to find joy and beauty even in the tumult and fear. As per usual, I’ve got a slew of new features for you, resources to keep theatre in your life while theatre buildings are closed, news from working the polls (the most rewarding day of my life—for real), tips so you can help #democracy, and recommendations! Sending you each love, light, and strength (and gratitude for making it through possibly my longest letter yet). With love and all that jazz, Ruthie
