I knew Peter Allen from the "circuit" back in the day. Although he certainly had his ups and downs, he also was a lovely charmer, a “character”, and beyond wonderful when he was going through his happier times. One night, we bumped into each other at Tout Va Bien, a French restaurant in the theatre district near Times Square run by ex-pats and refugees from Paris and WWII. He came in and sat down with a friend at the next booth, and when he saw me, he came right over and gave me a giant Aussie hug and kiss... well, our separate-tables dinners became ONE dinner, and we laughed and reminisced about the good times, the triumphs, and the friends in common.... and we also comforted each other about the losses and the sadness that were part of the deepening AIDS catastrophe. We both had lost partners (and most of our friends) as the disaster unfolded, and Peter was bravely battling on with his own health. He continued performing, and brilliantly, right up until just six months before his own death in San Diego.
But on that night, in 1991, at dinner, he was as radiant, funny, naughty, generous, and loving as could be! I remember I told him about a show of his that I saw at the great Radio City Music Hall in 1982. It was one of those times when you wanted to sit as close as possible to the stage as opposed to sitting back in the enormous theater for the panorama of the production. And he sang and danced to "Arthur's Theme". His eyes widened as I described how he had played the song and sang at the grand piano, and then as the orchestra took over, he stood and danced as well. The stage began to fill with fog, and the entire skyline of Manhattan came out of the mist in the background and the moon began to rise, and Peter then did his signature semi-improvised style of dancing around, then up onto the bench then up onto the piano, and the entire stage began to rotate with the piano and Peter rotating separately on the giant disc.... and then, as he continued to sway and sing the lyrics, he and the piano, swung up and out, and then floated into the clouds, higher and higher and vanished into the distance as the entire audience gasped... and wept...
Peter, and our two friends sat there in the restaurant staring at me. I said that it was one of the most breathtaking things I had ever seen… To break the silence, I said, "And Peter, I want you to tell that story at my funeral!"... a line that I often use. Peter, with his eyes sparkling, chuckled, "… and will you say that at my funeral?"... because... well, we all knew.
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