Mormons in Manhattan

For better or for worse, Manhattan is becoming aware of "the Mormons."

According to the LDS missionaries I saw in Columbus Circle the other day, it's definitely for the better. The two elders were standing next to a prominent signboard which displayed information about the LDS church, trying to talk to people about the Book of Mormon. When I asked them how they felt about The Book of Mormon musical, one elder said, "Honestly, I think it's the best thing that has happened to the Church in a long time. People recognize us, and they're starting to ask questions."

The other elder grinned and pulled out his missionary handbook. Flipping to the back page, he showed me a picture that he'd tucked into the cover. It was a photo of the two elders standing with their arms around the leading actor in The Book of Mormon musical. "He told us that he really admired what we were doing and that he hoped we found success." "Sometimes people think we're part of the Broadway cast," added the first elder. "We've had a lot of people yell: 'Congratulations on all your Tonys!'"

In a sense, every advertisement for The Book of Mormon musical is also an advertisement for the LDS Church. If nothing else, the massive pictures of well-groomed missionaries in white shirts and black name tags are sparking a fad-ish kind of interest in the peculiar people known as "the Mormons." The Church recently launched a huge advertising campaign in Times Square, and the words "I am Mormon" can now be seen on a 20-foot billboard alongside advertisements for Wicked and Mama Mia.

This Mormon girl is witnessing the growing interest in the LDS faith from within her own personal realm. A few days ago at dinner in the residence hall, the conversation turned to The Book of Mormon musical. "Why does everyone seem so interested in seeing that show?" I asked. "It seems unique," said one of the girls. "And it won all those Tonys." When I explained that I was a Mormon myself, and that I was concerned about the way it portrayed members of our church, one girl said, "Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you. People understand that it's Broadway and that it's written by the creators of South Park. Those guys do whatever they have to do in order to be funny. It's comedy--not reality."

My Mormon standards are also gaining me a reputation at the Strouse house. The other day, Richard Maltby dropped by to work with Charles Strouse, and I was invited to join the brainstorming session. If you've ever heard of the musical Miss Saigon or seen the movie Miss Potter, then you'll be impressed when I tell you that Richard is the writer of both. If not, you'll just have to take my word for it: He's a big deal. He and Charles are currently working on a new musical adaptation of the literary trilogy North and South. Charles had finished a new piece for the musical, and Richard (who doesn't read music) asked if I would play it through for him. "No offense, Charles," he said, "but you're not a very good pianist. It's always two notes and a %*!@ followed by two more notes and a &^$(!" Charles, who can have a rather foul mouth himself at times, looked genuinely stricken. "Erica doesn't understand all that!" he said. "She's a very pure young woman." :-)

Just sitting in the room with those two great minds, listening to their caustic banter and watching them fling around ideas was quite the experience. I tried jumping into the middle of things with as much self-confidence as I could muster, and when Richard found out that I was working on a musical myself, he asked me to send him some demo tracks. "I'd love to hear what you've been working on." he said. "So would I!" said Charles. "Jewel, help me clear some space on my computer so I can listen to Erica's files. . ." As we left the Strouse's apartment, Richard and I chatted a bit, and it sounds like he would be open to offering me a more long-term working arrangement in the future. There was a definite bounce in my step as I headed home after that conversation.

For the first time in my life, I'm realizing that my unique hodge-podge of skills might eventually be profitable! People actually want what I do. Sure, I've always composed out of a love of music and a desire to uplift others, but to think that somebody might actually be willing to PAY me for doing that? It's a new and interesting idea. And to think that there's actually a way of bringing together all the things that I love (music, theater, composing, writing) in a professional setting? It's almost too perfect. Because I have a solid background in classical composition with just enough stage performing/writing experience to make me theatrically-savvy, it seems I'm a rarer breed than the theater gurus who know just enough about music to make it on Broadway. Manhattan has become a sort of dreamland for me this summer where even my craziest artistic wishes might eventually be granted. I don't think there's any other place in the country--or in the world, really--where that could happen.

I'm also realizing that people actually want my skills as a piano teacher! If I could, without annoying my friends, I'd probably spend most of my time babbling on about music theory and trying to convert every new acquaintance to the joys of classical music. When I realize that I'm getting paid to do just that every time I teach a piano lesson, I'm always amazed. The best payment of all is watching the dawning comprehension and excitement in my students' faces as something clicks into place for the first time. That's the magic of music--of creation in general. I'm a fairy godmother granting people's musical wishes, and I'm getting paid for the job!

From what I can gather, The Book of Mormon musical seems to imply that Mormons choose to live a Disney-like dream by simply ignoring reality. Maybe that's a half-truth. Mormons don't ignore reality; in fact, most of us try to clear away distractions so we can see things as they truly are in a pretty level-headed way. We do, however, choose to focus on potential--to demand the best of people and circumstances and to consciously build up a better world. In that sense, then, maybe life can be like a big, happy musical. And why not? When a person enjoys the self-respect that comes from staying true to his/her beliefs and from involving himself/herself passionately in the good and the uplifting, what's to keep such a person from bursting out into song from time to time? Beneath all the heartache and frustration, there's an undercurrent of faith and stability in the life of a Mormon. Life is a journey into eternity, and heck, we Mormons believe in enjoying that ride!