I’m going to admit something super selfish right now.

Yesterday, Mike Nichols, the genius writer/director/actor/superhero passed away.

And I never got to work with him.

(Told you it was selfish, but damn it, it’s the truth.)

Then again, who didn’t want to work with him?  I recently asked an agent if a certain mega movie star would ever consider doing Broadway and you know what the agent said?  “You can forget it, Ken.  He’s not doing Broadway.  The only way it would ever happened is if Mike Nichols called and asked him to do something.”

Everybody wanted to work with him.  Including me.  And now I won’t.

I was in the same room with him a few times.  And I’m telling you, you could practically see the artistic aura around him.  To say he was brilliant is like saying that a cat is a cat.  He was synonymous with brilliance.  I mean, who else could direct Broadway shows as diverse as The Odd Couple and Death of a Salesman while hopping over to Hollywood in between to snag an Oscar for The Graduate?

And he showed no sign of slowing down.  He was working with our It’s Only A Play author, Terrence McNally, on the film version of Master Class right up until his untimely death.  And you know . . . you just know that another Broadway show was coming soon.

He loved the theater.  He was great at the theater.  And he never deserted the theater.

And we owe him . . . well, we owe him his own theater.

I hope to see his name on one shortly.

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