Gershwin Theatre

Listen for a moment. Car horns drift in from Broadway, a doorman calls out a name, and somewhere nearby a street vendor scrapes a grill. Then the doors open, and the noise of Midtown falls away. You stand on a carpeted floor, and the air feels cooler. Ahead of you, escalators climb upward, carrying people towards a stage they cannot yet see. Welcome to the Gershwin Theatre, on West 51st Street, in the heart of the Theater District.

Here is the first surprise. Most Broadway houses are old buildings, many of them built in the early twentieth century, with ornate plaster ceilings and gilded boxes. This theatre is different. It opened in 1972, and it sits inside a modern office tower. From the street, you might walk past and never guess that a large auditorium hides within the glass and steel. The theatre is part of the building, not a separate structure beside it.

Why would a developer put a theatre inside an office tower? The answer comes from city planning. In the late 1960s, New York created a special zoning rule for the Theater District. Developers who included a new theatre in their project could build more office space above it. For a city that was losing old playhouses to demolition, this was a way to keep live theatre alive. The Gershwin is one of the results of that bargain between business and the stage.

At first, the theatre had another name. It opened as the Uris Theatre, after the family firm that built the tower. For about a decade, audiences came to the Uris for concerts, revues, and large musicals. Then, in 1983, the theatre took a new name. It honours George and Ira Gershwin, the brothers who wrote songs that many people still hum without knowing their source.

A short word about the brothers. George wrote the music, and Ira wrote the lyrics. Together they created songs and shows in the 1920s and 1930s that shaped American popular music. George also wrote concert works, such as Rhapsody in Blue, which blends jazz with classical forms. George died young, in the 1930s. Ira lived for decades more, and he kept the family name close to the theatre world. Naming this house after them linked a modern building to an older Broadway tradition.

Now look at the size of the space around you. This is the largest theatre on Broadway by seating capacity, with room for roughly 1,900 people. That scale matters. Big theatres suit big productions, with large casts, heavy scenery, and complex stage machinery. A small drama might feel lost here. A spectacle with flying effects and sweeping music can fill every corner of the room.

Here is the second surprise, and it is easy to miss. Before you reach your seat, take time in the lobby areas. On the walls, you can find names of the American Theatre Hall of Fame. These names honour actors, writers, composers, designers, and directors who shaped theatre in the United States. Many visitors hurry past them on the way to the bar or the restrooms. Slow down, and read a few. You may recognise more than you expect.

The theatre has a notable history before its current long run. In 1979, while it was still called the Uris, it hosted the original Broadway production of Sweeney Todd, the dark musical by Stephen Sondheim about a vengeful barber in Victorian London. That show is now considered one of the major works of American musical theatre. So the stage in front of you carried one of Sondheim's most ambitious scores in its first life on Broadway.

Today, the name most people connect with this building is Wicked. The musical opened here in 2003, and it has run ever since, for more than two decades. Wicked tells the story behind The Wizard of Oz from the point of view of the witches. It draws on a novel by Gregory Maguire, with music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz. For many visitors, especially younger ones, this was the first Broadway show they ever saw.

If you are here for a performance, notice how the production uses the room. Above the stage, a large mechanical dragon looks down at the audience. A map of the Land of Oz covers the curtain before the show starts. Green light appears again and again, because green is the colour of the Emerald City. Long-running shows often change small details over the years, so what you see tonight may differ slightly from earlier seasons.

There is also a neighbour in the same building. Circle in the Square Theatre sits within the same complex, below street level. It is a very different kind of space, with the audience wrapped around a central stage. So one tower holds the largest Broadway house and one of its most unusual. Two styles of theatre share an address, separated by a few floors of concrete.

Step back outside for a moment, if you can. Look up at the tower above the marquee. It rises plainly, in the style of office buildings from its era. Then look along 51st Street towards Broadway. On a show night, crowds gather, phones flash, and people in green scarves or witch hats pose for photos. The street turns into a waiting room for the evening ahead.

Before you move on, take one last look at the entrance. Think of the long line of people who have climbed those escalators — audiences for Sondheim, for revivals, and for twenty years of witches. The building is modern, but the habit it serves is very old: people gathering in the dark to hear a story told with music. As you walk away, listen again for the horns, the voices, the grills. Midtown is loud. For a few hours, though, this room asks it to wait.