Hey, let’s put on a show. That’s been my mantra since I was 12 years old when my sister, Margaret Cohen, and I would lip synch to our favorite musical numbers, move to our own elaborate choreography and entertain our parents who were sitting on the living room couch.

And I’m talking "Mein Heir" from Cabaret, complete with chairs and fishnet stockings, "Flesh Failures" from Hair, and "Take back Your Mink" (Take back your poils)" from Guys and Dolls.

So my desire to put on a show goes way, way back. Years in the film business sort of satisfied that longing. But not really. Later, particpation in director’s workshops at Playwright’s Horizons and Ensemble Studio Theater filled a need.

Years later, my film background and my theater background merged when I worked with Batwin + Robin Productions to design projections for Twilight Los Angeles with Anna Deavere Smith, and Bring in Da Noise, Bring in Da Funk at the Public Theater and Swinging on a Star on Broadway.  Now that was cool.

Nuff said. I love the theater and always, always will. But these days I am wearing a different hat – a writer’s hat. Still, I do get exercise my producing chops with Brooklyn Reading Works, where I present writers of fiction, non-fiction, memoir, poetry, and plays at the Old Stone House.

So last March when I saw Louis Rosen and Capathia Jenkins at the Public Theater (one of my favorite venues in New York) I was so blown away by the songs and the singing that I got to thinkin’: It’s literary – the songs are based on the poetry of Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes, and Louis Rosen – it kinda fits the Brooklyn Reading Works model.

But it was after seeing another performance at Makor on the Upper West Side that I said to myself: I really, really want to bring this show to the Old Stone House.

"You’ll never get a piano into that room. The stairs or too narrow," Hepcat said knowingly. "Oh, I bet we can," I said without a clue.

Soon, Kim Maier, the board of the Old Stone House, and I decided to present Louis and Capathia in a benefit to support their cultural programming this summer.

There were a lot of conversations with Louis and Kim  about scheduling, budget, renting a piano (whatever you do DON’T get a spinnet), and all the other various and sundry details involved with putting on a show.

When we finally decided on the date (coordinating with three busy artists is no piece of cake), postcards designed by Peter Joseph were sent out and…

WE WERE PUTTING ON A SHOW!!!!

Saturday morning (the day before the show)  I walked over to the Old Stone House to watch the piano movers move the piano up the narrow staircase. They seemed to be having no trouble at all – aside from the usual trouble of carrying a piano up a flight of small stairs.

"It’s a spinnet," Kim said. "My husband saw it and said it’s a spinnet."

Ain’t that always the way, I thought. The one thing Louis kept warning us about –  here we were with our spinnet.

Later when Alex, the Russian piano turner and owner of the piano rental shop, was tuning the small upright upstairs I said:

"Too bad it’s spinnet."
"Eeets not a spinnet," he said commandingly
"Oh, I thought it was a spinnet," I said.
"Eeetss a console. Not a spinnet. Eeets a console," he said.

Relieved  I went downstairs and told Kim.
"My husband was pretty convinced it was a spinnet," she said.
"My husband said we’d never get the piano upstairs," I reminded her. "and your husband said it was a spinnet…"
"Why listen to husbands," one or the other of us said.

For more on the show see: Let’s Put On A Show #2