Thank you for sharing stories with us below.
Bernie was such a lovely and supportive friend and producer to me during my time at Lincoln Center and beyond. His family has always been so good to me. I am grateful for wonderful holiday parties and positive collaborations with Cora and Jenny as well.
I will never forget a long and sensitive conversation we had on the occasion of my leaving his show (The Light in the Piazza) to do another (The Pajama Game). It was one of the most difficult decisions I have ever made. He came to my dressing room and told me that I had to follow my heart. He told me that I would be missed but also that I would be welcomed back. He spoke of the importance of allowing artists to grow and the hope that those artists might bring back that growth to benefit Lincoln Center. In a way, he didn't just give me permission to leave. He gave me a goal to achieve. I hope I made Bernie proud.
Kelli O’Hara
I met Bernie in 1988 when Stephen dragged me to a meeting at Lincoln Center I had no business being at. I had on a leather jacket, short skirt, and army boots--with some insane colored hair. Bernie welcomed me without question. And I met you all shortly after---you followed his lead and welcomed me like family. I"m honored to have been involved with each of you in completely different aspects of the work I've found myself doing over these decades. You each carry his ethos---a love of and commitment to the people who make theater. One Bernie story that always stuck with me: we were leaving a show by a director he was friends with and I started talking arrogantly talking about some aspect I didn't think quite worked. Bernie gently and firmly shut me down, "I loved it. I love what he does." Love above all. Thank you Bernie.
Lucy Sexton
What a mensch. He was an amazing human being. I work for a huge producer that often did business with LCT and Bernie. I would often be in the company of this producer and I never felt like I was a third wheel. Let's be honest, Bernie was a huge NYC mogul and I was an assistant and yet, he always went out of his way to say hello to me, BY NAME, and include me in any conversation. We were at an event at Shakespeare in the Park and his whole beautiful family was present and he was telling stories, cracking jokes and I saw an influential POWER-HOUSE being human with all the love and joy of his family surrounding him... and that family included the people of theater and the arts. Yesterday someone referred to Bernie as a LION. He was as fierce and loyal as a LION and as gentle and cuddly as a LION... a LION is befitting our beloved Bernie! RIP you wonderful, loving, beautiful man, father, grandfather, husband and friend!
Anonymous
I was introduced to NY and to Cora and Bernie’s beautiful apartment on 7th Avenue by Jenny when I was 18. Everything on that trip was exciting and glamorous – a trip to Lincoln Center, sneaking into Bernie’s plays on Broadway, tea at the Plaza, eating meals cooked by Bernie and drinking the freshly squeezed orange juice that he prepared every morning for his family. I loved staying with the Gerstens and was lucky to do it many times over the next ten years – I always felt welcome – Bernie and Cora were generous hosts. But my favourite story about Bernie – which I’ve told many, many times over the last 32 years – is from a time before I had met him. Jenny and I were in her dorm room trying to remember a word. She said ‘I can ask my Dad’. She told me he had a rule that calls at work from Cora, Jenny and Jilian were always put through, no matter what he was doing. So she called and asked ‘Dad, what’s the name of young man who takes an older woman to the theatre, to restaurants, and out on the town?’. ‘Gigolo, darling. Is there anything else I can help with? I’m in the middle of board meeting?’. What an amazing way to live and what an amazing man.
Harriet Gugenheim
My first not-quite encounter with Bernie happened when I was in high school, and an apprentice at the Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park. A man in, as I remember, a wood-paneled station wagon drove up the winding drive to the theater and stole away our dance instructor Cora Cahan, to take her back to New York and marry her. We apprentices all pooled our money to buy them a wedding present, which I was charged with selecting: a Lazy Susan. I must have learned her new married name, but it did not stick.
Maybe 6 years later, after I graduated from college, I interviewed with Bernie, whose name was not familiar to me, for a job at the Public Theater, about which I knew very little. He sent me along to Alison Harper, and I worked in the box office for a year. We all got tickets for the opening of TWO GENTS on Broadway, and there I saw two familiar faces. I turned to whomever I was with and snarled: “What is Cora Cahan doing with Bernie Gersten? She is MARRIED!”
.........
A couple of years later, by an indirect route and great good fortune, I became Bernie’s assistant at the Public. (This was for the better part of the Seventies.) Just a couple of memories among a decade’s worth:
Bernie was quite a wordsmith, and a doodler. An artist friend of mine liked one of his usual doodles so much that he had it framed; Bernie wasn’t interested, and so I still have it. Another was a commentary on a season in formation, after Joe decided to do a play with a title that would be....difficult to promote. Here was the season, laid out in a banner (and without the asterisks):
SU** THIS
FU** THAT
HAMLET
EAT SH**
And his words, and grace in expressing them.....he was simply one of the best writers I have known, and he helped unknot my rather turgid and academic style.
Bernie had an uncanny genius for budgeting. I assisted him on our grant applications, in which we had to forecast budgets for unknown seasons of an unknown number of productions, in theaters big and small. Somehow, somehow, he was always close to the mark. (I was later advised, at another theater company, that to do your budgets you had to start with the price of nails.) I would go with him to meetings at the NEA and the NYS Council on the Arts. The faces of the staff would light up as we passed through. One year our mounting deficit was a matter of some concern to the NYSCA staff. Here was Bernie’s response: we will just have to have an enormous hit, and I believe we will. He was held in such regard that...they took him at his word. And shortly after that, Michael Bennett came in with his idea that became A CHORUS LINE.
—with love to Cora and Jenny and Jilian from Peggy Marks
It's not that our relationship was ever professional, or that we saw each other very frequently. We met in the mid 1970's when we became neighbors in Katonah, NY, each looking for a place outside of Manhattan, but not too far, to spend weekends or weeks with family. Jenny and Jilian were close in age to our sons, David and Peter, and became friends, playing at our place or their's. Many times the Gersten Nanny (Carol) would supervise all four. We last saw Cora and Bernie in the Fall of 2019. While contacts were few, they were mostly memorable because of Bernie's calm, warmth, humor and his ability to make you feel that the conversation you were involved in was the most important thing in the world. Whether he wast telling a Joke about a shipwrecked Jew isolated for years who identified one of the many buildings he constructed as "the synagogue I don't go to", or graciously accepting my only call to his office to request a favor for the first and only time for four tickets to see Kevin Spacey in The Iceman Cometh. He responded promptly and positively, but he gently teased me that it was not one of his plays. We did, however, see "Anything Goes" on three different occasions, with different guests, without Bernie's intervention. On one of those occasions, we were surprised to meet Bernie in the theater lobby with our four sons. He greeted us warmly and enthusiastically.
We asked if he attended running performances frequently, and he said no, this was a special occasion: apparently the understudy for Patti Lupone was going on for the first time; he said she was extremely nervous, and he was there to keep her calm!! How typical of Bernie; how rare this combination of expertise, compassion, humility, and humor.
Paul Slotwiner
I last saw Bernie two years ago at the opening of My Fair Lady. We opened well over 100 shows together in his 28 years as producer at Lincoln Center Theater and me as its adman. But that night we were both guests. We opened Napoleon at Radio City Music Hall and in 20 cities across the country. He showed me around Zoetrope Studios. We walked the set of One From The Heart and premiered the film at Radio City. We opened A Chorus Line at the Shubert in New York and the Shubert in Los Angeles. Three Penny Opera, The Cherry Orchard and Hamlet at the Beaumont; Runaways, For Colored Girls… on Broadway, and maybe another 20 or 30 at The Public. The infamous Birthday Party at the Delacorte. Bernie added The Feld Ballet to my portfolio and Cora added The Joyce Theater and The New Victory, oh and I have Cora to thank for Judy Garfinkel the dancer who became my wife. I worked with Bernie for 39 years, Cora for 37. He kept me with him through two ad agencies I founded and three that employed me. I know he rooted for me to become more prosperous, more prominent. But like Bernie, I loved the work and I wasn’t the best self-promoter. Unlike Bernie, I wasn’t organically kind to everyone. Were we friends? We had lunch about once a year. We were at Cora and Bernie’s for decades on New Year’s Day at their two bedroom apartment that grew to the entire 20th floor. And at Cross River in the summer for volleyball and a swim. They came to my 40th birthday way out in New Jersey and offered their apartment for Judy’s 30th. A unique relationship? There are hundreds of us who could have written this. Hundreds who’s professional life was lovingly nurtured, mentored, enabled, cheered, curated and rewarded by this brilliant and generous man and wife. Back to the infamous Birthday Party at the Delacorte. John Guare had written a sketch, perhaps too knowingly, in which a crazed playwright gunning for Joe Papp accidentally shoots Bernie (played by John) to which Joe says, “get me another Bernie Gersten.” Not in a million years.
Jim Russek
Ours was a small relationship over parties and food. First we met planning for the grand party that The Public had for A Chorus Line in 1983 but I really met Bernie and his special family year after year on New Year’s Day when I cooked for his fun New Year’s Day feast. It was a big open apartment and everybody in or around the theater dropped by for Bernie’s famous baked beans with other food made by me. The apartment became a big club that anyone was welcome to belong to. Everyone treated everyone like a friend whether they knew each other or not. It felt like the old days at The Public when I used to cater there.
An afternoon at those Gersten Cahan get togethers made you feel like this is the way the world should be...everyone feeling valued and loved.
Especially in these times I miss the memories of those warm New Year’s Day parties when I departed Bernie would hug me and say “next year darling”.
I’ll make some baked beans tonight and toast you Bernie.
David Ziff
Dear Cora, Jenny & Jilian,
My heart is with you all and your family.
Bernie. What a VIVID, extraordinary, LIFE-GIVING and life-affirming, LOVING man. And my GOD, did he have a good run.
So many memories. Working as his assistant at LCT, from 1987 - 1989.
He was a teacher. He taught me so much more than I ever learned in school. Never start a letter (or an email) with the first-person pronoun, “I.” “It’s self-centered, off-putting.” To this day, I think of him every time I start an email. Really, he taught me how to write. He taught me the art of the spin - I learned the hard way. The Times was running a story about him & Gregory. I ran out to pick up the early edition of the paper (the real paper) - and I found a factual error in the story. I phoned the NY Times culture desk, provided my credentials, and informed the copy editor that Bernie was 65 - NOT 67 - years old. I knew this because Bernie had just told me. And so the NY Times corrected the “fact” for the late edition. The next morning, I proudly told Bernie the story - and he laughed and said to me, “Nicholas, I was lying to you… I’m 67!” As much as he cared about getting it right, he also taught me not to worry too much about it - or anything for that matter - because it’s all “tomorrow’s fish wrapping." Hell he even taught me how to cook pasta - put the al dente pasta BACK into the pot with just a touch of olive oil before you serve… He taught me how to throw a party (God, how he loved to throw a party!), how to design an invitation, how to talk to a Board member… The list goes on & on...
He was a hedonist. Of course, I knew what that word meant - but I didn’t really understand it until I saw Bernie living it. He sketched out his philosophy for me - always anticipate the best possible outcome. And, if there’s disappointment, so be it. At least you’ve had all that wonderful time anticipating success. Whether it was a Tony nomination or an opening night. It was a revelation to me. He truly lived that way - and it’s not easy. I’ve tried.
He was a father figure, at a time when my own father was swimming in drink and despair, his marriage crumbling. Bernie took me in - introduced me to all of you, made me feel like a part of the family, invited me to Katonah, to your ever-expanding home on the 20th floor at 56 7th, then found me an apartment (12C) in the same building so we could be neighbors. He invited me to your most comfortably glamorous New Year’s Day parties, with those baked beans, so sublime, where I felt both intimidated, awed, excited - and at the same time just part of the family. The great big glittery, interesting, warm, embracing extended family. I don’t recall whether he told me - or if I just observed - that having children relatively late in life had kept him young. Well, whatever the source, he was easily the most youthful 65 (sorry 67) year old I’ve ever known. And I thought the same when I saw him more recently, after his Whipple surgery...
Here’s a birthday card Bernie wrote to me dated, in his unique date stamp, “23-XII-87:"
“Dear Nicholas - Happy Birthday to you and to the other Jewish kid born around now and celebrating his 1987th birthday. I think you’ve both turned out O.K. Love, Bernie” On the note’s cover, he lovingly hand-lettered my name on the ‘marquee’ of the Beaumont. What a thoughtful, kind, generous gesture. And such wit. Always such wit.
He was a mentor. Knowing I was launching a small theater company, he introduced me to the formidable Alexander E. Racolin, who not only became my landlord, but also our theatrical patron - granting our small company, “The Sticking Place," unimaginable gifts that allowed us to create work at Naked Angels, La MaMa & elsewhere. And he modeled - every day - in his life and in his work, the PASSION, DELIGHT and child-like WONDER at his life in the theater. He got to do all this cool, fun stuff - and be paid for it. He loved it all. All the bells and whistles, the opening nights, the parties, the tuxedos and gowns, getting to park his car in Shubert Alley! He was a kid in a candy store, a twinkle perpetually in his eye.
Bernie looked out for me. “Nicholas," he said - and I can hear his voice so distinctly (the way I can hear my own father’s voice still, 18 years after his death), “Nicholas, fear nothing. I’ll be at thy elbow.” Because Bernie was always quoting Shakespeare - the way other people mutter “Like” or “Um.” I’ve only now discovered that Iago was speaking the line to urge Roderigo to murder Cassio. But no matter. I knew how Bernie meant it. He had my back. He always had my back.
There were so many of us that Bernie took under his prodigious wing. We were all slightly wary of each other, perhaps a bit competitive, jealous even. And yet we all knew that we were blessed by the warmth, generosity and INTEREST of this most extraordinary man. Jenny and Jilian, I sometimes felt bad that you had to share him with so many - but somehow I know he saved the best parts for you.
Nicholas Gottlieb
Your dad is a legend, and a hero to me. I am sorry for your loss. Please know that I am thinking of you, your mom, your sister, your entire family. I’m sending you love and a big hug from LA
Your dad was such an influence on how I’ve tried to live my life. I remember one day at Lincoln Center, there was suddenly on everyone’s desk a xerox of an article in the New York Times about, I believe, the philosopher Frantz Fanon (full disclosure: it might have been Claude Levi-Strauss, but no matter, the story is true and it works with either guy)… now I was only a couple of years out of college, and I had read Frantz Fanon in a European Intellectual History class, so I knew who he was. After college ended, I was pretty confident that I would not live in a world where I encountered the name Frantz Fanon again.
But there it was, an article about Frantz Fanon that your dad put on EVERYONE’S DESK. I couldn’t believe it. He wanted to share the fascinating ideas of this person with everyone in his office. Including me, a lowly production assistant. There was no quiz attached, no obligation to read, it wasn’t an assignment. I remember thinking, Bernie Gersten is simply trying to shake up everyone’s Tuesday (might not have been a Tuesday) with an invitation to look at the world through Frantz Fanon’s lens for a couple minutes. I’ve thought of this often over the years…it made a huge impression… it said to me, as an aspiring young creative person looking to understand what I should do with my life, that as adults we can be as curious about the world as a student… we SHOULD be as curious about the world as a student. Your dad made me realize that it was healthy to aspire to learn and grow….he embodied a world where the mind was always alive…it made me understand that great men lived a life of big, bold ideas that they joyfully shared with everyone…. (also, that great men got in to work early enough to read the paper, cut out an article, knew how to use the copier, make copies, and leave them for everyone to read or not read. I don’t know why he didn’t just get Beth to do it.)
It was a joy to be around Bernie Gersten. I couldn’t believe that this towering figure in American theater also had such a buoyant sense of humor, such a lethal wit, and so much simple humanity— I remember your sister, as a high school student, stopping in to the office…. I was so struck by the fact that you could be the boss, and be a loving dad. I was lucky enough to observe that quality in my dad. But I had never seen it before in my new world, living in Manhattan.
I could go on. Promise me that when you and I are in the same city again, that I can take you out for coffee or a drink, and we can reminisce about your father. And I can honor him.
Bill Wrubel
There are producers who sit in vast offices, peering over desks, and pattern their behavior after the likes of Zeus. And there are the rare ones who possess vision, a passion for theatre, and a joy at being among and responsible for artists, like a zookeeper of an endangered species, up to their very elbows in the defense of creativity..
Bernie Gersten virtually led and inspired that second category. His delight in taking the great, breathtaking risk was not only contagious, it fed his years at Lincoln Center and lit candles within each and everyone of us lucky enough to benefit from his tenure. The audacity that led him to green light and then put his shoulder behind a massive “if” like the Stoppard COAST OF UTOPIA, to engender and maintain a young company explicitly for an entire year to do three plays in repertory about the intellectual birth process of the Russian people defies description! Not only did he do this in tandem with his great partner, André Bishop, but when the vision that Bob Crowley and I had developed for the play necessitated drilling a hole in the basement of the Beaumont Theatre, he was in all the way. To feel the glorious support of a producer for something as insane as what we were asking shows the depth of his commitment, the range of his passion, and the value of his presence among us for all those magnificent years. When comes such another? Never in my lifetime!
Jack O'Brien
Bernie was my idol, my mentor, and my champion, as he was for so many others who worked for him and loved him. As a student of theatrical history, I was awestruck by his legendary experience and yearned to hear stories of his famous projects. But one had to pester him for these, because Bernie was not interested in dwelling on the past. He lived in the here and now and the future. He did not want to reminisce or recall the reason that something had failed. He thought up new ways for new things to succeed. He was an inventor, an innovator of the possible in our industry. Many today do not know that before Bernie conceived it for A Chorus Line, it was unheard of for a not-for-profit organization to be the producer of a Broadway hit or even to make money from a successful production. Not-for-profits were expected to spend only on plays that had no prospect of returning their investment. Even years afterward, Bernie’s business model (he would never call it that) was controversial, and he defended it fervently and with tremendous wit in several colorful debates. He was a brilliant advocate, because he understood fully all aspects of any argument and could muster his unrivaled eloquence to either side. His motto for the resolution of a conflict was “whoever has the most passion wins.” I once asked his opinion of the controversial plans for a new skyscraper near Central Park. He said, “I’m for the people who want to put up the building, and I’m for the people who want to keep it from going up.” He was an enthusiast, and he loved enthusiasm in its many forms.
David Brown
When I had the good fortune to work at LCT in John Guare’s CHAUCER IN ROME, whenever Bernie would be present, there would be a palpable brightening in the room. Even though he was a big cheese at the theater, his warmth and decency was calming, rather than intimidating. I looked forward to our occasional chats. We’d have a few words, and Bernie always lifted my spirits. I’m certain Bernie didn’t always have his radiant smile on, but I can’t think of him without it. Thank you Bernie for what you gave to me. What you gave to so many of us.
Lee Wilkof
I have had the great good fortune to have had Bernie in my life for my entire life, and that moreover so many formative memories for me took place in Katonah. Lucky me that Jenny and Jilian and I got along so well, and that he and Cora welcomed me in as much as they did. My strongest early memory of Bernie must have been when I was around 4 and the memory was of him diving into the swimming pool wearing a very sleek bathing suit. I was sitting on a little underwater bench at the other end of the pool--the end that people like me who didn't know how to swim stayed mostly--and I watched in awe as he dove in. I felt like he was some mighty creature that could possibly take flight. Then somebody, I don't know who, said to me, "Do you know how old he is? He's 50!" And I thought, "50! That man is ancient! That's the oldest person in the universe... and still, I suspect he can fly."
There are hundreds of other moments that spring to mind, but I suppose the thing I will carry most with me for the rest of my life is the consistent feeling of well-being his presence gave me. Little moments (parking the car, talking while cooking dinner, taking our seats at the theater) were infused with a spirit of...joy? Connection? Love I think. I always felt that this was one special place to be, or thing to be doing, because Bernie made me feel that way.
In these last years most of the occasions I spent time with him were at the New Victory Theater. I always parked myself next to him and chatted with him for as long as he could tolerate (and perhaps a little more than that sometimes as well), and I felt that same feeling. He grew trees, shows, theaters, a family, and little tiny moments into magic. Alchemist, wizard, mighty creature, loving family man. Love to you Cora, Jenny and Jilian and hugs to your whole family.
James Waterston
Bernie had the most extraordinary smile. He was one of whom it could truly be said that he beamed. When Bernie smiled it broke out like the sun, radiating beautiful bright light rays around him.
It wasn’t until after Bernie‘s retirement from LCT that I was blessed to know his smile’s light. Bernie was brilliant, witty, wise, and a natural gentleman, but the quality that most distinguished Bernie for me was his great sense of appreciation. He had lovely remembrances of growing up in Newark with his parents, brothers, grandparents, aunt and sisters-in-law, all in one big house. He enjoyed helping his wonderful Mother on noodle making day, and loved his valiant Father, who managed to support the family by sewing in the garment district, despite having lost the use of one arm in World War II. He spoke of the various religions, races and nationalities of his neighborhood playmates, all sharing camaraderie and love. Camaraderie and Love. The same sense of camaraderie and love he expressed for the actors, playwrights, directors, designers, and poster artists with whom he worked. With actual delight he relayed the story of sneaking, with Joe Papp, into a decrepit theater at night, laying on the ratty floor, and with flashlights, unscrewing the ancient theater seats for use at the Public. He spoke with appreciation of Francis Coppola’s fulsome offer after his departure from the Public. But of all the people he loved and appreciated, Cora, Jenny and Jilian, his son-in-laws and grandchildren won the lion’s share. CORA. He loved remembering the first time he saw Cora, atop someone’s shoulders in a dance at The Delacorte, and their second meeting on a subway platform. He spoke of the day they painfully but necessarily parted - driving separate ways at the Holland Tunnel, and of their blissful courtship following their reunion. I never knew a man who so absolutely adored his wife. Cora and their family brought such immense joy and satisfaction to Bernie’s life.
Bernie wrote beautifully. I’m sure he could greatly enhance this, my writing. He spoke with equal mastery and charm. Even a casual conversation was a creative collaboration. In a generous, supportive spirit, Bernie suggested more apt words I might use. We shared enthusiasm for Shakespeare, and my heart swelled when he praised my reading. Praise came easily to Bernie. His essential hopefulness and optimism prevailed. I know that Bernie felt blessed in life. He seemed not so proud of his accomplishments as grateful for his accomplices. I hope Bernie knows how grateful I am for his singularly endearing and enlightening company. My heartfelt condolences to Cora, Jenny, Jilian, and all of Bernie’s family and devoted friends.
Winni Troha
Beginning with his decision, after my fourth poster for Lincoln Center Theater, to offer me the chance to become the official poster artist for the Theater, Bernie changed my life. Nothing I had done as an illustrator would have the kind of impact that this long procession of posters has had. It was Bernie's confidence in me and his spirited defense of my work that made it possible for me to take creative chances and establish a particular kind of seriousness in the Theater's visual advertising.
Bernie loved art of all kinds and was often willing to respond to a sketch with intuitive pleasure whether or not he felt it would finally pass muster. He seemed to see what had given me pleasure esthetically in the making of the sketch even when he could also see that I had gotten off on the wrong foot thematically. It made it so much easier to go back to the drawing board and rethink my metaphor.
One of the highlights in our history of our collaboration is when he asked me, somewhat mischievously, to come up with a "behind-the-scene" solution to the poster for South Pacific while the agency was working on the kind of image others had asked for. I think he took as much pleasure as I did when my painting won out over the other design and became the printed poster.
If there was any one person that I would have to thank for having an enormous impact on my career it would be Bernie Gersten. I would also thank Cora, Jenny and Jilian for befriending Kate and me during those early years where we felt like such outsiders at the opening parties and dinners. A poster artist never quite knows where to sit at a dinner where the tables are organized by all the basic categories of theater art, but Cora and Bernie fixed that -"Come sit with us!" they said.
Jim McMullan
I'm thinking of Dietrich's famous line in "Touch of Evil" -- 'what does it matter what you say about people...' as it applies to me remarking about Bernie. For I was only in Bernie's presence a few times. Maurice Sendak and I had a few memorable visits with him and Cora in Katonah during the era of our Night Kitchen Theater days. Yet it was undeniable; we both felt the radiance of his devotion to theater, his enormous spirit, inspiration, and in our case patience. Which brings to mind another Dietrich line - 'he was quite a man.' To Cora and the family, with love, may his memory be a blessing.
Arthur Yorinks
My life divides neatly into Before Bernie and After Bernie.
I met him in the summer of 1985 at his office at LCT. He was in the midst of reopening the theaters. (my memory, which could be faulty, tells me the painters were working in the offices that day.) I remember being surprised that he was willing to take time out of his day to meet me. I was a few months out of college, new to New York, completely unknown to him, and dreaming of a life in the theater. Bernie was, of course, funny, graceful and calm in the midst of the stress and chaos. He welcomed me, with a warm smile, – to his office, to New York, to the theater and to his family (Bernie, Cora, Jenny and Jilian became my New York family. What a gift that has been.) Over the years I learned not to be surprised by Bernie’s capacity for nurturing and mentoring, for noticing and valuing everyone who came into his orbit. Since that day, I have tried to embrace Bernie’s belief that the theater, and all the people in love with it, can be humane, silly, joyful, caring, and, more damn fun than anything else, if we create the properly loving and supportive environment.
When he brought me into his office that day, I had never worked in the theater. In the 35 years that have followed, there have been very few days when I haven’t been working in a theater somewhere. Every one of those jobs, and all the friends and companions I have met along the way, link back to Bernie and that meeting in his office. I carry the diagram of all those connections in my head. I have been retracing its branches this week, reconnecting with people and remembering Bernie.
It has been a great joy to hear so many people mention Bernie’s love of planting trees. I never knew that about him. But it makes perfect sense. That diagram that I carry in my head is shaped like a gorgeous, branching, sheltering tree.
I loved Bernie and felt loved by him. Cora, Jenny and Jilian, thank you so much for sharing him with so many of us. It is a great blessing to be in the extended Gersten/Cahan family. Sending all of you great heaps of love.
Neel Keller
Bernie was a great man. He was so kind of heart and led with a calm, moral hand. He had an aura of beauty and grace about him. And his brain was amazing and, let's face it, sexy. The things he knew, the way he thought, the wit, the brilliance. It was an honor just to be around him.
When I was at LCT doing South Pacific for 2 1/2 years, 3-4 times a week he would come downstairs to my dressing room and we would talk shop for half an hour. We would tell jokes, talk about the show, other shows, his past, mine, our families. He just loved doing what he did so damn much. He loved the life he led.
One day he asked if I wanted to come to a ceremony the next day where he would be honored by Local 1. Turns out they were giving him a Lifetime Membership Card into their union. There weren’t many people there, all of the house stagehands, a few scattered people. I was the only actor I could see. I assumed he’d invited everyone. The Local 1 Union President spoke and said it was the first presentation of its kind to someone not in the Union. That’s how much he was loved and respected in the community. I was so touched when everyone spoke about him reverentially. And that he’d thought to ask me witness it.
I was honored to be his friend and will treasure every single memory of him.
I love Bernie. I always will.
I’m sending you, Cora, Jenny & Jilian, and your family all the love & strength in the world.
Danny Burstein
I have a distinct image of Bernie perched at the kitchen table at Katonah in the late morning. He reads his paper but is tuned into every conversation happening around him, speaking seldom but wittily. His image has been traced into my mind over many years as a guest in the Gerstens' welcoming home, and I will keep his image with me always. An outstanding guy, any way you want to put it.
Cora, Jilian, Jenny: I love you so much and I can't wait to give you all a big hug when all of this is over.
Gabe Reale
You dear three. You have been on my mind and on the minds of my entire family these last two days. During a long conversation with my father yesterday I told him about the deep and lasting effect Bernie's words on happiness not being a goal but perhaps a byproduct of something larger (I'm doing a horrible job at paraphrasing) has had on me. I immediately took it to heart and adopted it as a big part of my life philosophy. Those words are something I am always reminding myself of which means I am constantly reminding myself of your wonderful man.
The time I've been lucky to spend with all of you has always felt so rare. For that and many other reasons, I have always thought it to be so valuable. I can see all of your faces, hear all of your voices, and I wish you all the love.
peace to you all,
Graham Waterston
Jenny, your dad !
Always felt close to him. Bernie was there at the beginning of the HAIR odyssey when Rado & Ragni on vocals & MacDermott on piano auditioned the H-score in Joe Papp’s office for Joe & Bernie.
And Bernie was there 50 years later for the Jazz at Lincoln Center Public Theater’s 50th Anniversary Tribute/Party/Performance of the show directed by Diane Paulus. I sat at a table with Bernie.
Over 50 years ago when Joe (& Bernie) decided HAIR would be their opening attraction, we were in rehearsal, and I remember being alone in the Public offices sitting at the desk of Bernie Gersten (his name on a little placard). Sat there for about half an hour making up the H-sub-title. You see, the script which Jerry Ragni had given to Joe Papp on the NYC-train back from New Haven & Yale University (where Joe Papp taught a class & Jerry R. was acting in Megan Terry’s “Viet Rock”), that script, which was now in rehearsal, had a one-word title on it, that four-letter word HAIR. The show was in rehearsal & I was sitting alone inspired to create a sub-title. Came up with: “The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical”, sitting at the magical desk of Bernie Gersten.
Always will remember Bernie’s kind demeanor & that twinkle in his eyes, with great fondness.
Love to all,
Jim Rado
Cora is my aunt. The hospitality was wonderful in the world !, the atmosphere was pleasant, the place perfect with the right people. We traveled with Cora and Bernie in a car in New York to Katonah. We sat and talked a lot, we drank, and the conversations were smart. When Bernie made B.B.Q put a piece of fillet on the grill, when we were done eating we asked, what is this wonderful and delicious thing? The first time I tasted such an amazing thing. This morning Bernie made corn flour rolls, even gave me a tip on how to peel carrots ha ha. There are many more memories of how high quality
Aviv Lave (Dahlia Amibar)
Love the photos, the family, and the chance to peek in on the arc of Bernie’s life, especially the one on the street, hands in pocket, maybe 12, ready to go. Of course, my most deeply felt and strongest memories go back to the Public, and that remarkable time we shared, but they span to recent years when I might encounter him and Cora when the fates arranged for us more than once to bump into each other in the underground approach to a production at Lincoln Center. The moment was always enriching for me, and sweet.
David Rabe
I still can’t believe I wound up at Lincoln Center – but I did. By luck of timing. And a mighty fine typewriter. I had been John Guare’s assistant for a number of years (I told you I was lucky) and had settled into a routine of “taking dictation in play form” down at John’s in the morning and then coming up to the LCT offices because Steve Clar, in his position of Gregory Mosher’s asst, had this mighty fine electric typewriter. It was separate from his desk - on a little cart under the big hall mirror leading down to the Finance Office..
Fast forward to Clar moving on to Stephen Sondheim’s office and Gregory essentially just pointing me from the little cart desk to the big one just outside his door.
With THAT luck — came my sudden and very close proximity to the office of Bernard Gersten.
I have so many wonderful memories of this extraordinary man. His theatrical accomplishments are enshrined in history. You don’t need me for those. But his moments as a mensch are enshrined in my heart. I’ll share one about attending Bernard’s and Cora’s New Years Day gathering - one of the first I was invited to. I arrived way too early – ridiculously early — as is my want in life. I don’t even think the coat rack had been placed in the hall. Bernie still had on his apron. But he (and Cora) sat down with me, engaging me in conversation as if I was the only person on earth - and we seemingly had the entire afternoon ahead of us. Not one hint of me interrupting their final preparations for this huge annual event about to take place in their home.
I’ve never forgotten it. I never will.
Thank you, Cora, Jenny and Jilian, for sharing him with all of us. What luck.
Becky Browder Neustadt
The staff at Charles Dept. Store in Katonah, NY have fond memories of Bernie shopping with us over the years. Most guys aren’t great shoppers like there wives but our store was a place where most guys like Bernie felt comfortable doing so.....what a great run 97 years. He will be missed....cheers!
The Raneri Family and Staff at Charles Department Store
“Who are we, if not measured by our impact on others? That's who we are! We're not who we say we are, we're not who we want to be – we are the sum of the influence and impact that we have, in our lives, on others.” – Neil deGrasse Tyson
“The highest tribute to the dead is not grief, but gratitude.” – Thornton Wilder
I could never repay Bernie for all he did for me, personally and professionally. He had such a huge impact on my life and for so long. From the minute we met in December 1983, he instantly embraced me as part of his extended chosen family and eagerly brought three additional treasures – Cora, Jenny, and Jilian – into my life. And then all of their families and all of their friends. The New Year's Day parties, the seders, the visits to Katonah, countless meals, and all that theatergoing. We would run upstairs from LCT's offices on a Wednesday matinee, and I would stand next to him in the back of the Beaumont, as we beamed with happiness at a full house watching Patti LuPone singing "Blow, Gabriel, Blow" or, years later, at the astounding first 8 minutes of Nick Hytner's production of "Carousel." Over and over again we would do this, just for the sheer pleasure of it.
He also arranged for me to get not one, but TWO amazing apartments at 56 Seventh Avenue and reconnected me to my dormant Jewish heritage. And of course, he made the improbable decision to put me in charge of marketing for Lincoln Center Theater when I was only 24 years old and mentored me for the next 17 years.
Bernie used to say the perfect gift was an ice cream cone, because it brought immediate pleasure and didn't pile up in your home along with other stuff you had. But for me, the perfect gift was an hour spent with Bernie -- the wild stories, the often inappropriate jokes, the slightly off-key singing, the always wise counsel... oh, the sheer joy of it all. I feel so lucky to have spent so many hours in his company. He was and remains my north star for how to live a full and happy life.
Forever in my heart and head.... Thank you, Bernard.
Thomas Cott
I met Bernie at my own wedding when he came with Cora to celebrate. "Marry him," I said. "You must marry him." And she did, and they loved one another and lived an amazing life together. And I was happy to be at their wedding. During the next years in our lives, I spent many hours at their home, eating late dinners that Bernie cooked, talking about theater but also about our children. One of my wonderful memories (repeated many times) is of Bernie holding my infant son and bathing him most tenderly in their kitchen sink. So my now grown son was in part "fathered" by Bernie. With this early history, how could I not help loving this wonderful man? And I do, and shall, always. With my love, Florence (Falk)
I started work in the Play Department down at the Public a few weeks after Bernie's departure. I heard great things about him but I never met him until many years later when Thomas Cott introduced me to him when I had my job working on cast recordings at RCA Victor/BMG Classics. Over time and a fair number of recordings (11 over as many years) I felt got to know and admire Bernie both from a business standpoint as well as a personal one.
In terms of business I remember questioning him about spending 2 million dollars on the thrilling production of Abe Lincoln in Illinois when it couldn't be extended and would have to have a very short run. (3 weeks of previews and a 5 week run; Carousel was the next production). He looked a bit irritated and said, "Billy, sometimes in the theatre you spend money not to make more money, but to make something more important: to allow artists to stretch and to give audiences something which they'll remember for the rest of their lives. Abe Lincoln is money well-spent." It was at that moment that I actually truly understood the power and importance of non-profit theatre and his commitment to it. I've never forgotten that.
And on a personal level there's this:
One evening I was seeing something at the Beaumont and Bernie was there on the steps leading down to the theatre greeting virtually every member of the audience by name and with a pleasantry of some sort. I said to him: "God, you're good." and he said, "That may be true but I'm no Gordon Davidson."
A few weeks later I was in my window seat on a flight from Toronto to Los Angeles (we were both there for some Drabinsky event) and who should be sitting next to me but - Gordon Davidson! I introduced myself and he introduced himself and then I told him about my exchange with Bernie and he laughed and then paused for a moment and said, "He may not be Gordon Davidson, but I'm no Bernie Gersten."
No one is.
I send my love to Cora and Jenny ( and everyone else.)
Bill Rosenfield
I will miss his buoyancy, his excitement, and his enthusiasm. It was damn exciting for me to turn professional, to be at Lincoln Center, and he made that feeling palpable. There were no small parts. He was excited for you. LOOK AT US! ISN'T THIS WONDERFUL?! AREN'T WE LUCKY? Then, when Atlantic reappeared a few years later, different Artistic Director, same open-hearted feeling. WELCOME BACK! Bernie beamed. He embodied the feeling of being supported. And when you reach those levels, with all those business responsibilities the likes of I can't imagine, it strikes me to still be that warm, playful, happy, childlike...to me those are the true and enduring artists. The ones you always want to be near. My love to Jenny, and to the entire family. What a man.
Todd Weeks
Anne Cattaneo wrote the LCT staff an email on April 30 after a Zoom staff meeting call where some staff members discussed memories. The email is excerpted here:
I may be mistaken, but for so many years I believe we were one of the largest (if not THE largest) not-for-profit theater in the country. And we had a staff of just over 20. "The greatest Indianapolis 500 pit stop crew of all time," Bernie used to say.
As Andre so eloquently noted during our Zoom call, Bernie's world was a world of "yes." "Why not try it?" The staff was invited and involved in discussions in his office with great frequency where he would try out ideas of many kinds, let's just say. I too, Bob, had the $30,000 Speed the Plow/ Sarafina!/Anything Goesbillboard idea run by me. Or "What do you think about the idea of doing Jim Cartwright'sRoad down at La Mama? It requires a promenade production and we can't do that up here- but they have the perfect space and we could help Ellen Stewart out a little. On the other hand, none of our members would come- they wouldn't want to go all the way down to East 4th St. But maybe that would be a good thing - only the adventurous ones would end up buying tickets and they'll love the show."
I wonder how many of you know that the seating/performance space that you now see running on the upper level along the walls in their big theater, along with the very nice lighting grid, were built by LCT and left to LaMama when our successful production closed?
Another summons: "Patti wants to get married on the Beaumont Stage. What do you think?" I had absolutely no way of even imagining how many of our leading ladies in the future would want to follow suit - that was a little worrying - and what on earth would be the overtime union costs, I mused silently.
I heard the wedding was wonderful. And I know that during the long, long run, every Wednesday at exactly 3:20pm Bernie could be found at the back of the house watching "Blow Gabriel Blow" at the end of Anything Goes' act one. It was a show-stopping number that he liked almost as much as Joan and Joe Cullman did. And he and Joan enjoyed nothing more than going out to East Hampton in the spring to think up brand new ways to spend her money to support LCT. Even now, so many years later, we continue to celebrate the unique Cullman Awards each September. The power of 'yes.'
On Wednesdays, his routine was to head backstage at the late morning crew call to first see Jeff and the guys, then walk down the hall on the ground floor to stick his head in to say hi to the porters as they went off work, and then take the elevator up to 5 to check in with Rheba and then Officer Charles. I'm sure Charles was asked his opinion about Patti's wedding too. "And how's the audience liking the show this week?" And of course after the go-in, he had a good schmooze with his beloved box office staff, and all was well.
This is not to say that he always wanted agreement. Bernie relished nothing more than a good debate - or rather what I would call a Talmudic investigation of the pros and cons of a proposal. We testified in court on opposite sides in the Rent lawsuit. That was a few months' worth of conversation. Internships: "Why is it that we don't have them, exactly?" "Good question! What is an internship, Anne?" "I've never really thought about that." "Well I have given it a lot of thought. It's an exchange of experience for protection, and we're not in the protection racket!"
Unlike Andre, Bernie was, let's say, of very mixed mind about creating a lab for directors - that was another few months of discussion. And I too was uncertain how it would work for a long time. But of course, ever curious, after Andre kicked it off, he came to a number of sessions during the first Lab back in 1995 and then I had a bigger problem: he would start hocking me (as Wendy Wasserstein would say) in January about giving him a date for the following SUMMER! "And can I have a full three hours?" I'm attaching below one of a number of emails from Lab members that arrived this week - here from a director from the 2006 Lab, now well known in Holland, who sweetly and inadvertently elevates Bernie in his memory to their beloved Prince Bernhard, husband of the Dutch queen. Such was the impression he made, and it was shared by decades of young artists world-wide.
Finally, to end this with Bernie himself, one day Bernie arrived in my office for his weekly catch up and information sharing and told me about a brand new program NPR was launching called StoryCorps - where colleagues in a workplace would discuss their jobs. He asked me if I would be his interlocutor. I was honored. And so two days later, we walked over to Damrosch Park, where the program was rolling out nationwide, to find a small recording tent and inside a sound engineer in a soundproof booth. We both signed release forms with a young administrator and we entered the booth and had a 40-minute conversation. This was in 2009, I believe. I vividly recall that when we exited the small booth into the bright sunlight, we were suffused with joy. We actually hugged.
And then I forgot all about it. This past winter, more than a decade later, an email popped up in my inbox saying that StoryCorps had traveled the country and completed its mission. Before it closed down, "Would I like to claim my story?" With Kerry's help, I did.
I don't believe I had the option to edit the recording, nor do I have the technical ability to do so even if it were possible, or i would edit myself out. But of the 40-minute recording, 80% is Bernie anyway - pure, vintage Bernie at the height of his powers.
Should you choose to listen, it will give you a window into our time together. We lucky few.