On Broadway

Huntington Quarterly, Autumn 1991

I have only seen my mother cry on two occasions in my entire life – the first was when her mother passed away; the second was when I walked past her one afternoon in the living room while she listened to the song “Bring Him Home” from the Broadway musical “Les Misérables.”

In the past several months, I found myself bumping into readers of the magazine who suggested we do a story on a young man from Huntington who had the lead part on Broadway in “Les Misérables.” It seemed that wherever I went I kept hearing the name “Mark McVey.” I finally decided to round up some money and catch the next plane out of Huntington to New York City to see what all the talk was about. I took along my faithful photographer, David Fattaleh, to capture on film what I originally planned as a small feature in the magazine. The photo shoot with McVey was scheduled for a Friday afternoon but, at the last minute, he politely asked to reschedule. We then made plans to do the shoot Saturday afternoon, following McVey’s matinee performance where we had fourth-row seats.

I had been told that the musical ran nearly three-and-a-half hours and had mentally prepared myself for what I thought would be a long sitting. However, as McVey took the stage for the first time, I was immediately consumed with an overwhelming sense of pride. There, in front of all of the New York upper crust, was a Huntington native with the lead in the city’s most popular musical. I became entranced by the show. Time passed quickly as the story unfolded. Nearly three hours into the production, the theater fell silent as McVey prepared to deliver the solo that, years earlier, had brought tears to my mother’s eyes. As he sang, I remembered the music from the living room in my home, and suddenly, to my surprise, I could feel an electricity in the air as the hair on the back of my neck stood up. In all my life, I had never heard such beautiful music. In one song, McVey seemed to produce the ultimate union of the arts – music, song, poetry, acting. I was uplifted by the performance yet, at the same time, humbled by his overwhelming talent. It was a strange feeling. And it was at that moment I finally understood why my mother had cried that afternoon in our living room. As I left the theater, I turned to David and told him, “Load up some more film. We’re putting this guy on the cover.”

I took away from that afternoon the realization that one can find God in music. For there is no other form of expression, in my opinion, that is a greater gift than that of music. There is no other art form that has the power of music. And if that is true, for all of those who have ever heard him sing “Bring Him Home,” Mark McVey is indeed heaven blessed.