NR: Did you think about staying with the show for the second version?

ED: No. Ozzy was the first part I ever took in New York that didn't have his own song. It was a kind of humor that I hadn't gotten to do in New York. I'd played a part that was very similar to Ozzy in Iolanthe, a Gilbert and Sullivan piece in Boston. I had such a great time with him. I just loved that dithering, English, half-drunk, upper-class loser. I had so much fun doing it that when I saw it I thought that I had the opportunity to bring this to life. I was so tempted to do it, but I really fought with myself. I didn't want to do a role with no song in New York. I thought about it and finally I decided to do it. There wasn't a very long prognosis for the show's future when I signed on. I thought I would do it for a few weeks and then I would do something else. (laughing) Imagine my surprise!

NR: You made it all the way to October.

ED: I signed a year's contract but I just didn't think I would be there for a year. It was such a great experience working with Douglas (Sills) and seeing him come into his own. That was probably the greatest joy. That and the fact that Allen Fitzpatrick and I are old friends. We'd never worked together because we tend to do a lot of the same kind of parts. We're different, but for some reason we tend to do the same parts. Normally, if a show is going to have a particular kind of character man, it would be one or the other, but never both. For example, I did the national tour of Sunset Boulevard playing Max and he's doing the "bus and truck" right now. He's got the driest sense of humor of just about anyone in the world, so on days when I'd be blue, he would cheer me up.

NR: Well, it wasn't a solo, but "Into the Fire" looked like it was a fun song.

ED: Oh, that was definitely fun.

NR: And "The Creation of Man" looked like it was a fun song.

ED: Yeah, but nothing is fun after a hundred times. It is just really hard.

NR: Now, did you know that Douglas was going to torture you on October 1st? (the last performance of SP1)

ED: No, I didn't know that. That was so swell. We had played around so many times, and so often, and knew each other so well, that he felt safe to do that, and I felt safe to do it too. That was the aspect of it that was really remarkable. First of all, when was anything ever so free-form that such a situation could come up? Never. There was one day on the tour of Pippin when Ben Vereen was doing his farewell. He had also directed it. He was the star, he had created the role, he was the director and he was in charge. On the last day, we were in Florida somewhere, and he said, "I'm the director and I'm telling you that you can do anything that you want to do, and I mean anything." (laughing) On that one day, people did some very funny things, but the promoter came back and got very upset. It's a very rare situation when you get to do whatever.

NR: That was an interesting performance. (laughs)

ED: Yes, it was. I don't know that I've ever had more fun than that. That was so much fun.

NR: And it broke up the tension because I'm sure a few people were a little sad.

ED: Oh, sure.

NR: So now it seems like you're dealing with a hundred things at the same time. You're in a show that's a marathon. How are you doing all of these other things at the same time?

ED: Here's an exciting week - check this out. The Sunday of the Tonys...Bebe Neuwirth is an old friend. Her boyfriend was out of town so she asked me to be her date. She had on a quarter million dollars worth of diamonds. I had on an eight thousand dollar set of tails that I was given when Sunset Boulevard closed. It was such an event. We got home at two or three in the morning. At ten the next morning we started casting for Fanny Hill. I cast all day, went directly to the theater to do the show, got out at midnight. At ten, we started casting for Fanny Hill again. It went that way all week. Plus, we were doing a reading of my new play, Pere Lachaise which is about the famous cemetery in Paris where all these famous people are buried - Victor Hugo, Oscar Wilde, Isadore Duncan, Sarah Bernhardt, Jim Morrison, Rossini, and it's them sitting around talking about who's important and who should be remembered. We got half of the cast of Iceman, so we had to rehearse that and do the reading the following Sunday. That was a hell of a week. That was a week when you know you're in showbiz. But we seem to have picked up backing and it looks like that's going to come to Off Broadway. In the middle of all this, that's also going up.

NR: When do you think that will be?

ED: Hopefully next year. We're doing the papers right now. It's been a helluva year.

NR: How did you write Fanny Hill and your CD? How do you write all of these at the same time?

ED: I worked with Cy Coleman a lot in the old days. I used to listen to his music when I was a kid in Oklahoma and then we became friends and I did a number of his projects. I did a number of fund-raisers with him. I once did a fund-raiser with him of On the Twentieth Century. It was Cy Coleman, Betty Comden, Adolph Green and me. I used to listen to Sweet Charity all the time. The first show I saw - the first day I came here - was Sweet Charity with Gwen Verdon, and I worked with him ever since. I noticed that he always had three or four projects going at once so you don't have all of your eggs in one basket. You don't have that terrible feeling of "I'm living for this one project" and then you watch its ups and downs too closely. Besides, if you enjoy creating, you can't keep creating on one project all the time. I've really noticed some writers get attached to one particular project and then if it doesn't go well, they're just devastated.

NR: I can imagine. Look what would have happened if Frank Wildhorn only had Civil War.

ED: Imagine if that's all he worked on for ten years.

NR: Do you write the words first or the music first?

ED: Always the words first. To me, in cocktail music or cabaret music or in background music, you can always do the music first. But in theater, it has to be theater. So, if it ceases to move a dramatic idea forward, it's no good, even if the song is beautiful. I feel very strongly about this so I try to always have a piece be cohesive. Any high school kid of sixteen with a guitar can write a lovely melody or a lovely love song, and they all do, but a musical is a very different situation. You can have a great tune, but if it comes in the wrong place, and with no setup, it falls flat as a pancake.

Interview conducted and photographs by Nancy Rosati.