He was the doorman at The Gershwin
The first person you saw coming to work
The sentry
Guardian to the main castle
He looked older than his actual age which was hard to guess
more Don Quixote
than bouncer
but he kept order
Letting those he knew sign in and pass
His voice
was classic New Yorker
with slide and slur added
Still though
he was a pro
comfortable in his little nook
When he signed up for the softball team I was surprised
When he stepped in to take grounders at THIRD my eyes widened
He hobbled onto the field
a little left right wobble
smacked his fist into his glove a few times
bent over at the waist
spit
and proceeded to snag ball after ball
firing them over to first with an odd side arm flip
that popped my glove with a light snap when the ball sunk home
Back at work you'd hear his voice after the show
At the sound of the mic opening up on the intercom we'd all pause in various stages of undress to listen
The speaker would crackle. "Mia Price. You have a guesst at the stage dowa"
It was the way he said door that made us all smile
Not door with an R
But dowa
"Jusstin Bohon, You have a guessst at the stage dowa"
"Jimmy," someone would say with a chuckle
He made us smile
Jimmy the doorman was our friend
And our complicit confidant
for the greatest underground club Broadway's ever seen
Club OK!
He ushered up
the kids from Hairspray, the adults from Chicago, and other Broadway ne-re-do wells
to the Men's ensemble dressing room
We'd slip him a few bucks and a couple cold ones as thanks
And for a while it was GRAND
Eventually The House found out and shut it down
But for that brief moment
there was no hotter spot on The Great White Way than Club Ok!
He was a great guy
A fixture at the building
Like an old brass plaque bolted to the foundation
He belonged to the building
and the building belonged to him
Jimmy The Dowa Man
