Celso Gonzalez-Falla
By Robert Simonson1997 has been a good year for composers Jeanine Tesori and Brian Crawley. Their show "Violet," which played an extended run at Playwrights Horizons in the spring, has become the most honored Off-Broadway musical of the season. It earned nominations from nearly all the awards groups who recognize Off-Broadway work, and won the New York Drama Critics Circle and Lucille Lortel awards as best musical. In addition, Tesori won an Obie for her music, and Crawley a Kleban for his libretto.
One year ago, however, long before anyone had heard of Tesori and Crawley, the duo won another award: the Gilman & Gonzalez-Falla Theatre Foundation Musical Theatre Award. The trophy carried, as it does every year, an unrestricted cash prize of $25,000. "We're usually the first award that anyone has ever received," observed Sondra Gilman, who founded the organization with her husband Celso Gonzalez-Falla.
In the world of philanthropic institutions, the Gilman & Gonzalez-Falla Theatre Foundation is probably the closest you'll come to a mom-and-pop outfit. It is largely run by Gonzalez-Falla and Gilman out of their Upper East Side townhouse. The foundation is only nine years old, and has been giving out awards for a mere six; it is, nonetheless, shaping up into a bellwether of the future of the musical theatre. It has bestowed either its top prize or lesser commendations unto nascent works by such now established composers as Michael John LaChiusa ("The Petrified Prince"), Ray Leslee ("Avenue X"), Polly Pen ("Bed & Sofa"), and Jason Robert Brown ("Songs for a New World"). Winners Craig Carnelia, Tesori and Crawley went on to win the prestigious Richard Rodgers Award. And long before "Rent" became a phenomenon, GGFTF gave Jonathan Larson two commendations toward the development of that work.
So it will be small wonder if on Mon., June 9, when the foundation presents it sixth annual Musical Theatre Award, more than a few people pay attention.
Born of a Mission
Husband and wife are both lovers of the musical form. Gonzalez-Falla fondly remembers childhood trips from his native Cuba to New York City, of which the highlights were invariably his attendance of Broadway musicals such as "South Pacific," "Brigadoon," and "The King and
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I." He moved to America in 1961 and became an attorney in tax and entertainment law. Gilman, for her part, was one of the original producers of "Sophisticated Ladies," and serves as trustee of the Drama League, Lincoln Center Theater, and RKO Pictures.
By the early '80s, however, the couple grimly appraised a New York theatre landscape crowded by British mega-musicals and starved for new American composers. "Suddenly, we found that one of the authentic expressions of the American culture was disappearing," noted Gilman. In direct response, the foundation was born.
"The first year and a half we did a lot of interviewing, a lot of traveling, trying to find out how we could help the musical theatre." explained Gonzalez-Falla. The couple met with the heads of all the nonprofit theatres which staged musicals. "Some people said, 'Well, give us a grant and we'll take care of it,' " he related, with a hearty, rising laugh. "That's not necessarily the answer we were looking for."
The theatres' main complaint was the lack of new talent; willing but impoverished musical writers were abandoning the form for the more lucrative fields of television and film. The Gonzalez-Fallas saw their niche: Their annual $25,000 prize would honor promising young composers.
Tesori, for one, thinks they chose their quarry well: "They understand that the thing you need as a writer is money."
No Rules
Though many people associate foundations with bureaucracy and imposing marbled halls, GGFTF has a charmingly loose setup. Artists who submit their work must have had at least one produced work, to prove their seriousness and dedication; and two professional recommendations must accompany each submission. Beyond that, the means of qualification are rather liberal.
Composers submit tapes and accompanying material. Some provide up to five hours of music; others, merely a few songs. "You send what you think shows your work," said Gilman.
Desperate artists are often cash poor, however, and sometimes they can't even muster up the price of a tape. In such cases, the foundation--which has no set annual budget--has often stepped in to inch along its candidates.
"One year, one of the applicants-- who subsequently won the award-- was in such bad financial shape, that [he submitted] a kind of homemade tape that was incomprehensible," remembered Gilman. "So we gave him a grant to make the tape. Another composer couldn't afford a piano, so when he composed something, he had to rush to somebody else's house to play it. We gave him a grant to buy a piano. There are no rules. It's wonderful, because it depends on the individual circumstances."
Composer Polly Pen, who has received two commendations, has found the Gonzalez-Fallas to have had uncanny timing. Her first award came just as her typewriter had broken, and went toward fixing the writing instrument. The second arrived in time to repair a recently busted piano keyboard. "I consider them my saviors for mechanical disasters," said Pen.
Awards and Encouragement
The 50 or 60 annual submissions are heard by two members of the award committee. (This year's panel is comprised of Lincoln Center's artistic director, Andrƒ Bishop; composer Jerry Herman; Circle In The Square's artistic director, Gregory Mosher; director Robert Falls; ad exec and producer Jon Wilner; and Gilman and Gonzalez-Falla.) These are narrowed down to 10 finalists, to which all of the committee members lend an ear. The listening process alone can consume 200 concentrated hours annually, says Gonzalez-Falla.
The committee then meets to choose a winner. Surprisingly, the selection is often an easy and unanimous one. Bestowing the lesser commendations, however, is trickier.
The Gonzalez-Fallas established these commendations--lesser awards of $1,000 to $2,500--when the couple found it wished not only to reward composers, but spur them on.
"Theatre is basically rejection," mused Gonzalez-Falla. "If you want to get involved in theatre, you have to be prepared to be rejected many, many times. We're surprised by some of the people we contact who are very appreciative, knowing that we're going to give them a good chance, we're going to hear the work, and that we're taking an interest."
"So many of our winners have said it's wonderful to be recognized; the recognition is so encouraging," echoed Gilman. "Quite often somebody will receive a commendation, and then win the final award."
A Computer Named Sondra
The no-rules flavor of the foundation extends to the cash prizes. As with the famous MacArthur Foundation awards, the $25,000 prize has no strings attached as to how it may be spent.
"They can take a vacation in Hawaii," offered Gilman. Some winners take a sabbatical from the daily grind. One remade his den, so he could work more comfortably. Another bought a musical computer and named it "Sondra," after his benefactor.
Such largess and obvious affection for musical theatre has inevitably created a small artistic community around the Gonzalez-Fallas. "The wonderful thing about them is, they have been very sweetly and quietly helpful to a lot of people," said Pen.
"They've been only great," said Jason Robert Brown, whose "Parade," directed by Harold Prince, is due in New York in the fall of 1998. "They're deeply committed to the arts, and to writers. And the grant is very unusual in that there are no stipulations to it.
"It also hasn't been burdened by a certain dogma," he added. "Michael John LaChiusa is a far cry from Craig Carnelia. There's no agenda going on."
The couple are close to several of their winners, including Brown, Jeffrey Lundun, Jeanine Tesori, and Brian Crawley. Periodically, they hold Sunday brunches, where the composers mingle with artists and photographers (practitioners of the couple's other passions).
"There's a lot of communication," said Gilman. "It's a very personali