Hugh Panaro

Seldom does a performer come along where, as soon as they draw in their first breath and prepare to sing, you find yourself suddenly holding your own breath, waiting, anticipating, not daring to let yourself make a move, lest you miss even the smallest sound they make.  You sit in still and silent anticipation, knowing that what’s coming is not to be missed.  And then it starts, sometimes quietly, almost a whisper, sometimes boisterously, full of exuberance, in one moment sweeping you back to the reveries of the past, and in the next demanding you stay right here in the present.
 
And you listen, breathless, quietly feeling the goosebumps start to rise, a lump inexplicably creeping into your throat, tears suddenly stinging at the back of your eyes.  And when you dare to breathe again, you do so silently, almost reverently, measured, respectful of this moment, this magic you’ve been privileged to share.
 
Such is the case with Hugh Panaro.  Singer, actor, performer, Broadway star, colleague and friend to so many.  To encapsulate Hugh’s long career in a few words would do him a great disservice; his work and his resume speak for themselves and are easy to find.  To those of us who know him, he’s simply Hugh, one of those rare and generous individuals who can make you feel like you’re the most important person in the room, even when you know everyone has come specifically to see him.  Just him.
 
Hugh is a friend and colleague from way back.  We went to college together, voice performance majors at Temple University in Philadelphia, hometown to both of us, mastering music theory, obediently learning Italian, French and German diction, memorizing music history, practicing pedagogy, dozing off during choir practice, picnicking in the practice rooms and finally performing our voice juries.  We were both performing on the local dinner theater circuit at the time, though by graduation Hugh had clearly outgrown the local venues and his feet were turned to NY and Broadway.
 
We later reconnected in the dressing rooms at the Majestic Theater where he was performing in the Phantom of the Opera and I was the assistant company manager, running around behind the scenes handing out paychecks.  He was a brilliant and powerful Phantom and performed the role over 2,000 times throughout his career with the show.  He left to do Elton John’s “Lestat” around the same time I left for Hong Kong and China with my new husband, but we stayed connected through mutual friends and colleagues, as is so often the case in the world of theater.
 
Our paths most recently crossed when I saw him perform in Sweeney Todd at the Barrow Street Theater a few years back – he was brilliant in the role of the demon barber, as he is in every role he embodies.  We stood outside the theater for over an hour after the performance talking about his career and his beloved puppy, Soot, and I asked if he was ever going to record an album or do his own show, offering to help in any way we could.  At the time his mind and creativity were firmly focused on Sweeney, and he couldn’t see a solo show or an album in his future.  Thankfully, for his friends, family and fans across the globe, that changed this Fall.
 
His show was magnificent.  Once I finally started to breathe again, I swallowed the lump in my throat, tasted the salty tears on my lips, and became once more aware of the generosity of his performance.  His creative vulnerability, his emotional honesty, the magic of that astounding voice resonating with a truth and clarity that comes only with time, age and experience - all of it was simply mesmerizing.  Breathtaking.  Perhaps that’s why he waited.  For the feelings to land, for the heart to be ready, for the right moment to share the stories.  I can only say, after seeing his first solo show last night, it’s truly been worth the wait.  Thanks, Hugh.