* Thank you for typing this up, Birana! *

Nine Lives, Nine Memories
By ROBIN POGREBIN

	Nearly every morning for 18 years, Millie Beener has descended the five steps from 
her house, taken two subways into Manhattan, pulled open the stage door of the Winter Garden 
Theater, loaded about 30 sweaty cat costumes into the washing machine, poured in the 
detergent and started the gentle cycle.
	This is the work that enabled Ms. Beener to hang a chandelier in every room of her 
beloved brick home in the Bronx, to put her granddaughter through law school and to save up 
enough money to pay for the eventual college tuition and weddings of her two 
great-grandchildren.
	When "Cats" closes, as it is scheduled to do in June, it will not only be the end of 
the longest-running musical on Broadway, a show that has grossed more than $1 billion in 
the United States and Canada.  It will also conclude an unusual chapter in the lives of 
those who have been associated with it the longest.  For them, "Cats" has been precisely 
what theater rarely is: a steady job in a business in which most shows close within a year, 
a source of continuity and community in an industry known for transience and fleeting 
intimacy.
	While most people who have worked with "Cats" - either on or off stage - have come 
and gone, there are those who, for all or most of the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical’s lengthy 
run, stayed the course.  This is the story of nine of them.  Nine lives that became bound 
up with the production.  Although some people came to dismiss the show as a tourist 
attraction or grist for comedians, for these individuals, the show was a point of pride if 
only because - on a career path typically riddled with rejection, disappointment and 
financial uncertainty - "Cats," until now, was forever.

The Dresser

	Born in Savannah, Ga., Ms. Beener landed her first job on Broadway as a dresser in 
1968 on "Mame."  Now in her 70’s - she won’t be more specific - Ms. Beener has been working 
backstage ever since, dressing actors and maintaining costumes.
	After "Mame" came "Irene," with Jane Powell and then Debbie Reynolds, then "The 
Great White Hope" with Yaphet Kotto.  "Cats" followed "Evita."  "I was never out of work," 
she said.  "Seemed like folks just liked me."
	Arriving at the theater between 10:45 and 11:30 a.m., Ms. Beener changes into a 
button-down shirt, slacks and her own pair of the cat slippers work by the rest of the cast.  
She sets about doing her daily six loads of laundry, including towels and washcloths 
embroidered with each cast members name, undergarments and the skintight one-piece outfits 
worn by each cat.
	During performances she helps with quick changes like the one for "The Old Gumbie 
Cat" number when, with her trusty flashlight, Ms. Beener hustles the dancers into their 
shoes, hats, gloves, and leg warmers into the backstage darkness.
	Ms. Beener said she was surprised by the announcement that "Cats" was going to 
close but that she had spent her entire career preparing for such an inevitability.  "I 
wasn’t only looking for today as I was working," she said.  "I was looking for tomorrow."
	Fingering a "Cats" Playbill she has saved that is signed by the original cast 
members, Ms. Beener said she had no intention of retiring but that it would be difficult to 
approximate her "Cats" experience.  "I’m going to miss a whole lot about this," she said.  
"I’m missing it right now.  The shock still has not got out of my system, you know.  
Eighteen years is a long time to be close to something."

The Ticket Taker

	Ken Costigan, 66, has been just about everything you can be in show business: 
actor, director, producer.  But what he has been the longest is a ticket taker at the 
Winter Garden Theater, a post he has held on and off for 20 years.  It means standing a lot, 
but Mr. Costigan has a stool in the lobby where he can sit and read his murder mysteries 
during breaks.  And the people who come to see "Cats" have made his job interesting.  "I 
enjoy the public and the crowd," he said.  "I’ve always liked the theater."
	Mr. Costigan grew up in Long Island City, Queens, attended Fordham University and 
Yale Drama School, and now lives in Manhattan.  He has landed a few movie and television 
roles: the bartender on the ship that blows up in Stanley Tucci’s film "The Imposters" and 
the judge who performed Morgan Fairchild’s soap opera wedding.
	He has also done some Broadway, as the doctor who takes Blanche DuBois away at the 
end of Blythe Danner’s "Streetcar Named Desire," for example, and as the understudy to the 
dentist in the Eli Wallach version of "The Diary of Anne Frank."
	Taking tickets, Mr. Costigan said, requires its own set of skills.  "Some people 
try to sneak in," he explained.  "You get a second instinct after a while.  If someone’s 
trying to pull the wool over your eyes, you spot them."
	Sometimes people ask him about the history of the Winter Garden Theater, and he is 
happy to oblige: at the turn of the century, it was a stable.  Then it became a theater 
featuring Al Jolson.  When Mr. Costigan started tearing tickets he wore a tuxedo; now the 
theater’s atmosphere is much more casual.
	Although it is hard for Mr. Costigan to imagine coming to work without hearing the 
opening bars of "Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats," he said he was at the Shubert-owned 
theater before "Cats" and hoped to be around long after.  "For us on this side of the wire, 
it’s not bad," he said.  "We work for the Shuberts, so it’s always another opening, another 
show."

The Musician

	Since Ethan Fein started playing the guitar in the orchestra pit of "Cats" when the 
show opened in New York on Oct. 7, 1982, his other gigs have fallen away as the music 
business has tightened up.  "I haven’t been as busy as I would have liked," he said.  "I 
used to do a lot of weddings, but they stopped calling me."  This has made Mr. Fein even 
more grateful for the steady "Cats" paycheck, as well as the pension and medical benefits.
	He has also taken on more responsibility; in addition to playing acoustic and 
electric guitar, he is the orchestra contractor who hires musicians, coordinates substitutes 
and oversees the payroll.
	And while one might assume that playing the same show over and over could be 
maddening, Mr. Fein said that it had made him a better musician.  "You have a choice of 
falling apart and just coasting, or getting better," he said.  "And I lucked out.  I got 
better."
	Mr. Fein varies his routine with other things: teaching guitar, writing a musical 
version of "Red Badge of Courage" and playing in a band called Men Without Hope.  Two of 
the band’s most popular songs are "I’m Bald" and "God Is a Dentist."
	Last year, for Mr. Fein’s 50th birthday, the "Cats" band bought him a zipper sign 
that is now posted above his head in the orchestra pit.  Mr. Fein punches in the running 
electronic messages, which lately have included quotations from Bob Dylan ("Oh Mama, can 
this really be the end?") and T. S. Eliot, on whose poems the musical is based ("In the 
room the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo").
	"We do some things to kill the time," he said.
	Because the "Cats" orchestra was one of the first to play out of sight - the band 
is hidden behind the set - the 23 pit musicians demanded early on that a photograph of them 
be posted in the lobby so the audience would know that the music was live.  Many of the 
musicians, like Mr. Fein, have been with the show from the beginning.
	"A couple people have died," Mr. Fein said.  "A couple people have disappeared."

The Understudy

	For the last 12 years Heidi Stallings has gone on as Grizabella, the glamour cat, 
under all sorts of difficult circumstances: five minutes before showtime, in the middle of 
a performance, the night before her father died of heard disease, the night she had to 
euthanize her cat.  She likened her role to that of Mariano Rivera of the Yankees.  "He is 
not only a relief pitcher, but a closer," she said.  "He goes out there to win the game.  
And that’s what I do."
	While most understudies are on call, Ms. Stallings is one of four "Cats" cast 
members who sing in a backstage booth during every performance to add a fullness and 
fluidity to the choral parts because the dancing takes a vocal toll on the performers 
onstage.  "I would rather be in the theater every night than be on a beeper," Ms. Stallings 
said.
	By contrast, her colleague Suzanne Viverito can step in for six roles.  She, too, 
broadened her involvement in "Cats" during the last 15 years to become dance captain and 
assistant stage manager.  She auditions potential cast members, teaches new ones their 
parts and helps maintain the quality of the show.  
	Both understudies said they often found themselves defending the musical against 
what Ms. Viverito called "‘Cats’ bashing."  Ms. Stallings said it was unwarranted.  "People 
forget that ‘Cats,’ like ‘A Chorus Line,’ changed musical theater," she said.  "It’s easy 
to target it or to deride it."
	As for the future, Ms. Viverito said she planned to take time to "dream" and to 
consider her next move.  "I feel like I’m graduating from ‘Cats’ College, and I’m looking 
forward to what’s out there," she said.  "I haven’t auditioned in 15 years."
	Ms. Stallings, who has spent the last five years exploring animation as a producer 
and director, was similarly upbeat.
	"As they say, cats have nine lives," she said.  "This is another life for me, 
another beginning."

The Carpenter

	Philip Feller comes from a family of stagehands.  His grandfather Peter was a 
stagehand for the Metropolitan Opera and other organizations.  His father, also Peter, set 
up and ran Feller Scenery Studios in the Bronx, where the "Cats" set was built, and was the 
technical supervisor and general contractor for the show.  His memorial service was held at 
the Winter Garden Theater.
	Mr. Feller’s brother, also named Peter, owns Feller Precision, which designs and 
builds remote-control machinery for theatrical scenery and supplied the automation for 
"Cats" in New York and on the road.
	Mr. Feller, 51, was part of the crew that moved the "Cats" set into the Winter 
Garden, an undertaking that lasted about five months and often went into overtime.  "It was 
the biggest show to date in New York ever," he said, "and probably anywhere else."
	Mr. Feller, his father and his brother sat in the audience on opening night, which 
is unusual for stagehands.  "We knew this was big," he said.  "It wasn’t just big in the 
technical, physical sense.  It was big in that we put 20-hour days into it.  We wanted to 
partake of the joy of that, the completion."
	With occasional leaves to work on other shows, Mr. Feller has been in the bowels of 
the Winter Garden night after night, operating the immense tire on which Grizabella rises 
to "the heaviside layer," or cat heaven.  "I have run the tire more than almost anyone most 
of the time," he said.  Having grown up around the theater he has never stopped marveling at 
the longevity of "Cats."  Before he joined the production, he said, he worked on seven 
musicals in one year, all of which closed within three weeks of opening.
	"Commercial theater is generally so fragile; there had never been anything like 
‘Cats’ before," Mr. Feller said.  "There had never been a guaranteed show, so it was like a 
miracle.  You didn’t have to think about whether the show was going to close.  I needed the 
stability.  I had three children."
	"Except for the guys who run ‘Phantom’ and ‘Les Miz,’ ‘Cats’ was the first monster," 
Mr. Feller continued, "the first monster with legs that just went on and on and on."

The Choreographer

	"It’s sad, of course," said Gillian Lynne, the choreographer of "Cats," who was in 
town from her home in London for the show’s final rehearsal on April 11.  "So many hundreds 
of people have said to me, ‘We won’t feel right going down Broadway without seeing those 
eyes.’"
	Ms. Lynne has made a point of visiting the New York production at least once a year.  
When she comes, she sits in the audience and takes notes, then follows up with a rehearsal 
of sections that need work.  "It’s very easy for it to get out of hand because there’s so 
much of it, so much detail," she said.  "Human nature is, things slip a little.  And people 
develop their own things.  Some of them are wonderful and some of them are terrible."
	Ms. Lynne describes her annual rehearsals as humbling, given that the cast members 
tend to treat her with reverence, like royalty.  "They do hand on every single word," she 
said.  "I think to myself, ‘You’d better be interesting, Gillian, you’d better be worth all 
this adulation.’"
	With all the cast members who have come and gone, Ms. Lynne said it had been 
impossible for her to remember every name.  "I end up calling everyone Darling," she said.
	She said she wanted to make the final rehearsal extra special.  "I want them to go 
out with a bang," she said.  "I want to try to inspire them."
	At the three-and-a-half hour workout, Ms. Lynne ran the cast through splashy 
numbers like "The Jellicle Ball" and quiet songs like "Gus: The Theater Cat," pushing the 
dancers to make certain moments more specific or dramatic.  At the end, after the 
choreographer had gathered the cast in a circle onstage for a final word and been steadily 
applauded, the stage manager, Paul O’Brien, spoke on behalf of the company.  "Thank you," 
he said, for taking care of us."

The Fan

	Hector Montalvo first saw "Cats" four days after it opened on Broadway.  "Oct. 11, 
1982," he said.  "I still have the ticket stub."
	He has seen the show precisely 678 times since.  Mr. Montalvo, 42, who sells 
software at a Comp USA store, attends every Sunday performance.  It isn’t just that he 
loves cats. (He lives with two in the Manhattan apartment he shares with his mother.) And he 
isn’t seeking fame, though he was recently the subject of a profile by the cable show 
"Comedy Central."  "I don’t look at myself as a person out to set a record," he said.  "I 
just love the show."
	In addition to the usual memorabilia, Mr. Montalvo has some rare "Cats" 
collectibles: an alarm clock, a yo-yo, Christmas ornaments.  He has two copies of Eliot’s 
"Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats," autographed by every actor who has ever appeared in 
the New York cast of the show - more than 250 signatures.  He puts out a newsletter, The 
CATS Meow.  He waits outside the stage door to greet cast members and to give them the 
cartoons he sketches of each one.
	He usually buys standing-room tickets ($15), and the ushers, who know him well, 
guide him to the empty seats.  When the cats prowl the audience during the show, Mr. 
Montalvo said, they often interact with him.  "Little paw swipes at me, friendly hisses," 
he said.  "If they get close enough, they would do a head rub.  One particular actress 
would swat at me with her tail."
	He said he had witnessed some bloopers in the show over the years.  "I have stories 
I could write a book about if I had the right connections," he said.
	When the show’s closing was announced, Mr. Montalvo said, some of the cast members 
expressed more concern about him than about themselves, apparently with good reason.  "I 
felt," he said, "as if a part of me had just died."

The Original

	While most Broadway dancers have spent the last 18 years moving from show to show, 
Marlene Danielle has remained in Room 16 - the women’s dressing room in the Winter Garden 
Theater - as the only original cast member.  She stayed with "Cats" to support her son, now 
26, ant to build her home in Jersey City and her country house in Pennsylvania, "making 
myself secure in my surroundings and being a normal person with a family and garden," she 
said.  "I did this as a job, and I didn’t really pursue my career.
	"It’s time for me now to focus in on what I would like to do next and be ready for 
when that day comes."
	Ms. Danielle said she had written a television pilot called "Room 16," based on her 
years in the dressing room.  "There’s something about the feeling you get when you have 12 
women from different walks of life stripping ourselves naked and allowing your innermost 
insecurities to come out," she said.  "You find out how much you’re alike or different, and 
that bolsters you; that enriches you.  We mother each other."
	Ms. Danielle has other projects in mind: a children’s book, a documentary on the 
show’s closing days.  Her dream, she said, is to portray a female action hero on television 
or in the movies, "some kind of Arnold Schwarzenegger thing that exploits the fact that I’m 
a physically strong person."
	Looking back, Ms. Danielle - who started as an understudy and quickly took on her 
current role of Bombalurina - said she had no regrets.  She is proud of having used each 
paycheck to turn her beloved country home into a personal spa: one Jacuzzi and Olympic-size 
equestrian ring down, one miniature-golf range and tennis court to go.  All courtesy of 
"Cats."
	"I understand people when they feel they have to go," she said.  "But I’ve been 
happy.  That’s not to say I don’t want to evolve and do other things.  I think that’s going 
to happen.
	"But as far as I’m concerned, I don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed to be identified 
as the cat woman of all time."

The Producer

	Philip J. Smith, president of the Shubert Organization, vividly remembers when 
Trevor Nunn, who originally directed "Cats," came to him and wanted to paint the interior 
of the Winter Garden black.  The theater had just been renovated, using five subtle colors, 
including beige and gold.  
	After much hand-wringing, Mr. Nunn got his black theater.  He also got a hole in 
the ceiling that enabled Grizabella to ascend to the heaviside layer, and a hollowed-out 
orchestra pit in which to place the hydraulic lift that levitates the tire.
	"Cats" was the biggest musical ever mounted on Broadway at the time, with a $5.1 
million budget now considered modest.  Looking back, executives of the Shubert Organization, 
which helped produce the show and owns the Winter Garden, said it was worth the risk.  
"‘Cats’ really was a landmark kind of show in the pop-opera tradition," said Gerald 
Schoenfeld, chairman of the Shubert Organization.  Although it had been preceded by Lord 
Lloyd-Webber’s "Jesus Christ Superstar" and "Evita," Mr. Schoenfeld said, "None had the 
spectacle of ‘Cats.’"
	The show also redefined touring productions, the producers said.  Shows used to 
pass through cities once, but "Cats" kept coming back.  "Can you imagine a show returning 
to a city 15 times?" Mr. Schoenfeld said.  "That’s the history of ‘Cats.'"
	So the gamble has paid off.  As of April 16, Mr. Smith said, more than 28 million 
people had seen "Cats" in the United States and Canada.  And the show has become a New York 
institution.  "It’s been a part of my life," Mr. Smith said.  "Every morning, it’s ‘Cats.’  
Every weekend, you looked at the grosses; there was always a ‘Cats.’  It’s sad to feel it’s 
going to be gone.  The happiness is, it happened in the first instance and you were some 
small part of it."
	During the last few years business began to decline and the executives took a hard 
look at the bottom line, given that the show needs to earn $300,000 or more a week to break 
even.  "Over the last year we had good weeks and bad weeks," Mr. Smith said.  "There came a 
point in time when we had only bad weeks."
	For opening night, the producers gave a party for 1,100 people in the grand 
ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.  To celebrate the show’s record-breaking 14th year 
in 1997, when it surpassed "A Chorus Line" as the longest-running Broadway musical, the 
producers closed Broadway outside the Winter Garden and invited all the previous casts and 
the public to celebrate outdoors.  Mr. Smith said he was not sure what they would do to 
mark the show’s final performance on June 25.  
	"We have to give that some serious thought," he said.  "I don’t think this can go 
quietly.  I don’t think it should."