I've worked for Dustin Hoffman on several occasions and I am crazy about him. I first waitedon him at the Drama Book Shop, and I latwr did several projects for his production company. He had a wonderful staff that I was quite fond of. My big job for him was research for his Shylock in Peter Hall's London and Broadway production of The Merchant of Venice, the production where I got to know Ben Browder.
In December 1983, I was unemployed and a friend who manged the long-gone Minskoff rehearsal studios asked me to manage the place for two weeks while she went home for Christmas. At the time I was orchestrating John McGlinn's first recording "Songs of New York" for Book-of-the-Month Club. So, every day, I opened the rehearsal studios, sat at my friend's desk, made bookings and cancellations and wrote music. Hoffman and the company of DEATH OF A SALESMAN were rehearsing there, and every morning Dustin would show up with Arthur Miller, the actress who played the secretary, and spend the day in the largest rehearsal space. Dustin supported himself through acting classes by playing piano for dance classes, and while he's very shy, he never spoke to me the first week I was there but he did ntice there was music paper all over my desk. Beginning the second week, every night when he left, he would walk by my desk and say "Good night, Mr Schubert" or "Good night, Mr Lizst," and i would yell after him, "Call me Franz" or "Call me Richard" if I were Mr Wagner that day.
The last day I was there, it was the birthday of the actress who played the secretary, and around 3 in the afternoon, Dustin sent a slice of birthday cake and a glass of champagne to my desk. He remains one of my favorite celebrities. John Malkovitch was in that production. I feel the complete opposite about him.
