Nobody Don’t Like Ben

Celebrating his golden anniversary on the New York stage, Ben Gazzara returns to the Off-Broadway arena — where he made his debut as Jocko de Paris in 1953’s End as a Man — to play baseball legend Yogi Berra in Thomas Lysaght’s one-man play Nobody Don’t Like Yogi, directed by Paul Linke.

Over the decades, Gazzara has created memorable roles on Broadway (Brick in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Johnny Pope in A Hatful of Rain) and in movies (Anatomy of a Murder and three films made in collaboration with his close friend, the late actor-director John Cassavetes: Husbands, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, Opening Night). His television credits include QB VII and An Early Frost. In September, he won an Emmy for Hysterical Blindness, a cable TV movie that co-starred Gena Rowlands (Cassavetes’s widow).

Gazzara fathered a daughter, Elizabeth, with his second wife, the late actress Janice Rule. Since 1982, he has been married to his third wife, the former Elke Stuckmann.

Nobody Don’t Like Yogi takes place on opening day of the 1999 baseball season as Berra returns to Yankee Stadium to make the first pitch, filling in for the recently deceased Joe DiMaggio. Berra had sworn never to set foot inside the ballpark as long as George Steinbrenner, who had fired him as Yankees manager in 1985, owned the team.

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THEATERMANIA: So, you’re playing Yogi Berra.

BEN GAZZARA: How about that? We did the show in Syracuse for three weeks and in Sag Harbor for a couple of weeks. The audience really eats it up.

TM: How did the opportunity come about?

BG: I was in Sweden, making a film called Dogville with Nicole Kidman. They don’t let dogs into Sweden — even for a movie named Dogville — so my wife had to stay home with our dog. We don’t leave her with anyone; she’s a miniature dachshund, the love of our life. I get a call from my wife: “Ben, a play was sent to you that I find so funny and touching. You have to do it.” I said, “No, no. I don’t want to do a play. If it’s a hit, you have to stay with it for months and months.”

TM: But she insisted?

BG: Yes. I said, “All right, send it.” It made me laugh and cry, so I decided to do it. The main thing you’ve got to stay away from, when you’re doing a one-man play, is showing off. I’m obliged to play a simple man — kind, self-effacing, who doesn’t dissemble. So, I don’t dissemble as an actor on the stage. [The role] has kept me honest. Playing this man has taught me a lot about acting — about how less is more. When you play Yogi, less is indeed more. The audience reaction has led me to believe that maybe I’m succeeding.

TM: Has Mr. Berra seen the play?

BG: No, and I don’t know if he will. I don’t know if he’s even read it. He’s so private and he’s uncomfortable visiting that part of his life [Berra’s rift with Steinbrenner]. We went to meet Yogi to tell him that we wanted to do the play, and I was so taken by his gentleness and warmth and sweetness. When we said goodbye, he hugged me so tight — with such affection — it almost broke my back. The man has such class and dignity.

TM: I imagine that many of his humorous sayings are used in the play.

BG: Yes, but they’re not painted on; they’re done organically, very well done.

TM: You’re a native New Yorker, born Biagio Gazzara.

BG: Yes — and if I were a young actor starting out today, I would have kept that name. They even suggested I change Gazzara. I said, “You come with me and tell me to do that in front of my family. See what they do to you!”

TM: When did you know that you wanted to act?

BG: When I was a kid, acting became my love — next to baseball. Then it became my first love. Across the street from where I grew up — on 29th Street, between First and Second avenues — was a boys club. A friend said, “Want to come see me in this play?” I went. He got applause and I was so jealous. I said, “Will you get me into this group?” He got me in and I became the star of that group. After I got applause, that was it. I fell in love with applause.

TM: Your professional debut was at the Pocono Playhouse; you played Micah in Jezebel’s Husband.

BG: Right, with Claude Rains. A wonderful man!

TM: End as a Man marked your debut Off-Broadway — and on Broadway.

BG: We could have run Off-Broadway for years but we got greedy, moved it up, and only lasted about four months. Pat Hingle was in that. I also did Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Strange Interlude with him. Jocko de Paris was such a flashy part; it had all the colors in the rainbow. It had tongue-in-cheek humor, rage, danger. It was dark, light — a hell of a part. That also became my movie debut. [The film version of End as a Man was titled The Strange One].

TM: You created the role of Brick in Tennessee Williams’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

BG: That was not a bad part, either! It was more difficult because it was much more interior; you had to remain alive while saying very little. I really enjoyed working with [Elia] Kazan. He didn’t over-direct. He was happy with what I was doing so he left me virtually alone; I took that as a compliment. We got along famously. I liked all of the people. Burl Ives [the original Big Daddy] and I became dear friends. And Millie Dunnock [Big Mama] — dear Millie!

TM: Now the play is being revived on Broadway.

BG: They try every once in awhile. [laughs]

TM: A Hatful of Rain was another hit that you were in.

BG: We created that at The Actors Studio, out of a few scenes. I was a dear friend of [playwright] Mike Gazzo. We’d walk the streets talking about the play, and we had readings. It was a very exciting time. The creation of a project is really what I prefer [to actual performances]. I did that also with End as a Man. The rehearsal period, finding a play — that’s the fun! At first, Shelley [Winters, his Hatful co-star] was very scared, but she relaxed after a while and was very good.

TM: Night Circus was also by Michael Gazzo, but it was short-lived.

BG: I thought it was a better play than Hatful of Rain but it just didn’t connect.

TM: You did the all-star Actors Studio version of O’Neill’s Strange Interlude.

BG: That was terrific! Such a wonderful cast: Janie Fonda, Gerry Page, Betty Field, Franchot Tone, Pat Hingle, Geoffrey Horne — and Jose Quintero staged it beautifully. We found an ingenious way for the characters to speak their inner thoughts. When characters do something like that, they usually look out front, speak their thoughts, then turn back to the others; but we did it as a flow and continued to look at the other person. It worked like a charm. The audience was never confused.

TM: Traveler Without Luggage was your next Broadway venture.

BG: That could have been a terrific play. A lot of people still mention it as a beautiful evening in the theater. I think we missed an opportunity: It was a very difficult play to do and, unfortunately, we didn’t quite get it. Working with my dear Millie [Dunnock] again was nice.

TM: Hughie/Duet came next.

BG: Virtually a one-man show, all in my lap. I had a wonderful time creating the character of Hughie and then playing the desk clerk, a total opposite, in Duet. There were changes of costume, changes of accent. It was a tour de force.

TM: Then you did a revival of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf opposite Colleen Dewhurst, directed by Edward Albee.

BG: Ah, well! I think we did a hell of a production. Working with Colleen was a joy. A lot of people say that’s the best production of the play they ever saw.

TM: Shimada didn’t last very long.

BG: It had been a hit in Australia. I turned it down; then they got Ellen Burstyn and Estelle Parsons, and came back to me. I said, “Maybe we can make it work.” An actor has to fall in love with what he’s doing. So, when the critics didn’t accept it, my feelings were hurt — even though I knew it was a tough sale. Basically, I was more hurt for the Australians [the playwright and director]. They didn’t know what hit them. They went home licking their wounds.

TM: Congratulations on your Emmy for Hysterical Blindness, which reunited you with Gena Rowlands.

BG: How about that? She called me afterwards. I said, “The family won, Gena.”

TM: You were recently mentioned on Broadway. In Elaine Stritch at Liberty, Stritch told the story of how she dated you and then made the mistake of switching to Rock Hudson.

BG: Ah, Stritchy! She rewrote that story, but what the hell. Let her get a laugh! The real story is in my memoir, which people will see if I can get it published.

TM: So, you saw her show. Are you two still friendly?

BG: Oh, sure! Are you kidding?

TM: How did you meet your wife?

BG: I was in Korea making a picture. She was passing through with her daughter, Danja, and I fell in love. My wife designs dog sweaters for small dogs: “A Warm Hug by Elke G.” They’re going to be sold in Saks Fifth Avenue and other stores. I’m going to become rich on her idea — not from acting!

TM: Did you enjoy doing Run for Your Life [Gazzara’s 1965-68 TV series in which he played a lawyer who, after being told he has two years to live, starts to travel]?

BG: At first, it was hard. Then I started directing quite a few of them. Looking back, the quality was quite good for those times.

TM: And how did you like making Anatomy of a Murder with Otto Preminger?

BG: A wonderful time. Loved working with Jimmy Stewart and Lee Remick. And Preminger was on his best behavior!

TM: Do you prefer one medium to another?

BG: No, they’re different. In theater, you’re in command of the material; in film, you’re acting in two-or-three-minute scenes. It’s another kind of focus. But when you’re working with real artists — like I did with John Cassavetes and Peter Bogdanovich — it’s a joy to make movies. To create with the director is great.

TM: Is there a particular role that’s given you the most satisfaction?

BG: This is it: Yogi Berra! I’ve never gotten the kind of audience reaction I’m getting for this play.