Fryer Loved Theater, Its Glamour and Its Stars

On the day I received the news that producer Robert Fryer had died, I was in New York, sweating through just the kind of hot, muggy New York afternoon that Bobby hated. (Though his name was Robert, I can’t think of anyone who didn’t think of him as Bobby.)

There, in the heart of Broadway, among the garish marquees, limousines, hawkers and flowing masses, his presence was all around. And yet Bobby Fryer, who died May 28 at age 79 from complications of Parkinson’s disease, was so unlike the tempo of New York. That tempo, the sticky weather and the fact that he made movies were at least three reasons he had moved to Los Angeles nearly 30 years ago to become the managing director of the Ahmanson Theatre.

I don’t think he planned to stay at the Ahmanson as long as he did--almost two decades from 1971 to 1989 marked by star turns, some more successful than others. But he had a way with women; he knew how to court the Maggie Smiths, the Katharine Hepburns, the Carol Channings, the Mary Martins. He would cast them in his films and lure them into his stage productions. It was a role that suited him perfectly. He was one of the last gentlemen producers, a man who adored not just theater but the glamour of theater, loved its stars, loved getting to know them, presenting and finessing them, putting it all together and not for the personal glory. He cherished his reputation as a fine and respected showman in all media. But for him, it was the doing of it all--on film and stage--that was its own reward.

In contrast, the inner Bobby was surprisingly private. It took a while to get to the real man. He was very soft-spoken; he would announce his seasons as if he were giving you the weekly shopping list. And he was quick to credit others, especially those who worked with him. At one point, he changed his title at the Ahmanson from managing to artistic director not so much because he wanted greater recognition, but because he wanted the late Jim Hansen, his brilliant right-hand man, to assume the more important-sounding title of associate artistic director.

Our own relationship developed gradually during his years at the Ahmanson. Since I was usually the one who announced his seasons in The Times, it started on a strictly professional footing. But Bobby, I discovered, was not calculating. If he thought you could be trusted and he liked you, you became a friend. He didn’t categorize. At my end, as a reporter, I had to maintain a professional distance. But mutual respect inevitably blossomed into what could only be called friendship.

Once a year he’d take me to lunch, always at Le Dome on the Strip. There was never an agenda, and it was always fun. Bobby loosened up. He loved gossip, enjoyed spotting “names.” He’d whisper, “See that woman over there in the red? That’s so-and-so” or “See that man walking in? That’s Michael Ovitz.” The two would exchange nods. “Want to meet him?” Not particularly, but thank you. And on to the next subject.

The lunches continued after he’d left the Ahmanson and I’d left The Times, when all that was to be gained was the sheer pleasure of the company. He was always free with his stories, mostly about his adventures (or misadventures) with this actor or that, and he was the first to chuckle softly at his own tales. I would drive up in my little Honda CRX, and he would roll in with his stately if somewhat bruised Rolls-Royce that always looked two sizes too big for him. (I suspect that Bobby was much better at steering a theater than at steering a car. We lived in the same West Hollywood neighborhood and sometimes our paths would cross at the local car wash. That Rolls had scraped a few walls. . . .)

I can’t say we were close; there were parts of his life I knew nothing about. But the parts I did know were all I needed to know. The man was a mensch. He has left a trail of awards and other manifestations of his many talents, but his greatest talents were his kindness and his sense of humor. Le Dome will never be that much fun again.

Sylvie Drake, former theater critic for The Times, is now an artistic associate of the Denver Center Theatre Company and director of media relations and publications for the Denver Center for the Performing Arts.