I'm doing a rather unexpected update, dear readers, and one that is very sad indeed. I just received a call from Todd Ellison, my main musical director (currently conducting 42nd Street on Broadway) who told me the sad and shocking news that Donald Johnston, a friend and a terrific orchestrator, died late yesterday of cancer. None of us knew anything about it. I'd met with him over the summer about a project and he seemed fine, and, in fact, that he and the person he'd been seeing romantically were most likely going to marry (they did, in October). Donald and I worked together four times, on albums I produced while at Varese Sarabande. A Superman film music compilation, a Godzilla film music compilation, and my album Titanic: The Ultimate Collection, which was my biggest selling album ever, and an album that spent forty-two consecutive weeks on the Billboard Classical Crossover Chart. The other album we worked on was my favorite of all: The concept album of Claibe Richardson and Stephen Cole's musical of The Night of the Hunter. He had recently done the Broadway revival of 42nd Street. He was wildly talented, but more importantly, one of the nicest people who ever walked the planet. I will miss him. RIP, dear Donald.

Well, dear readers, this morning I awoke at six o'clock for no good reason. I just woke up and that was all there was to that. I stayed in bed like so much fish, trying to go back to sleep, but sleep was done with me, so I got up. I remembered the expression "the early bird catches the worm", so I went outside and tried to catch a worm, but it was so early it was still dark out and so I couldn't tell what I was catching, outside of, perhaps, a cold. The singing bird wasn't even up, because it knew there were no worms to catch, and besides the singing bird was very tired from having performed the entire score to The Threepenny Opera (in German yet). I really have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm just blithely typing away, because I am quite tired and also because I didn't even catch the fershluganah worm.

You loyal and true Hainsies will be happy to know, that despite the dearth of unseemly comments posted recently, the traffic here at haineshisway.com has been great. Lots of visitors, and many radio show listeners. That makes my heart go pit-a-pat, it truly does. Sometimes, when I'm really excited, my heart not only goes pit-a-pat, it also goes pat-a-pit. Sometimes, when my excitement can't be controlled, my heart goes a-pit-pat-a-pat-pit. Sometimes it does the whole routine backwards, just to confound me (tap-a-tip, tip-a-tap, a-tip-tap-a-tap-tip). I haven't fully awakened yet, that much is clear. Perhaps if I play an early morning variation on The Pediatrician and the Randy Vicar, that will wake me up pronto. If we're all tired of playing The Pediatrician and the Randy Vicar, might I suggest we now play The Ear, Nose, and Throat Man and the Deep Sea Diver. Although, to play that naughty game, one must have a stethoscope, a swab, a rubber suit and a snorkle. What one does with those items in entirely up to the various players, and that is what makes everything interesting.

I really feel we need to get off this page right now. On the count of three, let's all click the Unseemly Button below. One...two...three

Whew. A new page. A new beginning. Since I rarely talk about musicals, I thought that over the next few days and/or weeks, I'd tell you about some of my favorites.

Whenever I list my favorite musicals, Promises, Promises invariably finds its way onto the list, even though I know it's not a "classic" like My Fair Lady or Gypsy or Oklahoma! or Carousel. The plain and simple fact is that I adore it and have ever since hearing the cast album and then seeing the show in December of 1968. First of all, it's based on a pretty terrific film, Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond's The Apartment. Second, the adaptation is by Neil Simon, who is nothing to sneeze at. Well, I sneezed at him once, but he took no notice. Third, and most importantly, the score is by Burt Bacharach and Hal David, who, to me, are in the pantheon of great songwriters. Fourth, the choreography was by Michael Bennett (his first big Broadway show). I had just moved to New York in late 1968 to pursue my dreams of being an actor (I thought I would never work in film or television, so off I went - after a year of no jobs in New York, I returned to LA and started working immediately - in film and television. Go know). The night I arrived I saw Pearl Baily in Hello, Dolly! at the St. James. The next day, I ran over to the Shubert and got a seat for Promises, Promises. The minute that Overture began I knew I was in musical comedy heaven. It was absolutely electric, no overture had ever sounded like the Promises overture. It had that classic Bacharach sound and rhythm and was fantastic (from then on, even if I couldn't afford to see the show, I'd go hang out in the Shubert lobby on matinee days, just to hear it). The show was a non-stop laugh-fest, courtesy of great Simon one-liners, and a powerhouse performance by Jerry Orbach. I felt then, and feel now, that the role of Fran, unlike the film, is underwritten in the musical. I've never really seen a great Fran on stage, and that was certainly the case with Jill O'Hara, who was fine, but didn't shine. A. Larry Haines as the doctor next door got so many laughs it was unbelievable. The Robin Wagner sets were incredibly fluid, the Jonathan Tunick orchestrations were properly Bacharachian (Tunick told me that Burt had taught him how to do a proper rhythm chart) and Robert Moore's direction was smooth as silk. In a show that has many musical highpoints, Turkey Lurkey Time, the Act One closer, brought down the house in a way I'd never seen before. If you've ever been lucky enough to see the Tony broadcast tape of this number, you know what I mean. I have it, and I never tire of watching Donna McKechnie (who is simply amazing), Baayork Lee and Margo Sappington (along with the ensemble) do the incredible Bennett choreography. It is a lesson in how a musical dance sequence should build and continually top itself. And, of course, the one-two punch of I'll Never Fall In Love Again and the title song, end the show perfectly (actually, the show ends with a scene, not a number). There are certain shows that you'd love to be able to go back in time and see once more in their original production - just to relive that magic one more time. For me, Promises is one of those shows.

What am I, Ken Mandelbaum all of a sudden? What am I, Peter Filichia all of a sudden? Shouldn't we all be playing The Ear, Nose, and Throat Man and the Deep Sea Diver?

I tried Jeff Kauffman's posted suggestion regarding my hanging fingernail, but it didn't work. The whole damn nail is loose and hanging, but for where it is attached on the right, and it will simply not become unattached. I tried, don't think I didn't try, but I hate pain and I had to stop yanking. Hopefully it will get tired of just hanging there like so much fish and it will just unattach itself very soon.

Well, I must go back to doing my final final final proofing of my novel, so that it can be sent to the publishers tomorrow.

Don't forget to post some unseemly comments in the Unseemly Comment Box below. If you've never done so, be bold, be brave, take a chance, it won't hurt and is really quite fun in an unseemly way.