I became the father of this Phantom on a New York evening befitting a Gothic novel. Brad came into the world on an up-state New York night lit by lightening. Some how the energy has never subsided. Over the years the spaces between the flashes and the booms may have increased by a few seconds (that birth night they were simultaneous) but the effect has remained pleasantly exhausting. Teri is Brad's sister and the first of the Little progeny. It was Teri who taught him how to endure pain silently, when, given the diaper changing responsibility, carefully managed to pin the corners of the diaper together but also thrust the pin through his baby pink skin and Brad's response was to suck it up. Ouch!

His three o'clock in the morning, parent-waking cries, were simply a theatrical fore-shadowing of those I now hear when I sit, watching a 6' 2" cape-clad figure crying from a gilded angel in a darkened theatre. Brad, you've improved.

Growing up was not achieved without the customary bruises of body and soul any kid experiences. He idolized his older brother, Jeff. This idolatry has remained unchanged. But when you are ten years younger you can be a lingering pest in the life of your high school brother. More than once he heard, "Bradley, get out of here!" punctuated by a frustrated slam of his brother's door.

The first show Brad did was Fiddler on the Roof. He was in the first grade. His Mom and I were playing Tevye and Golde, and rather than spend long rehearsal hours away from him we brought him along and he became the youngest villager in Anatevka. On more than one night he fell a sleep in the carpeted aisle between Row M and N with "Far from the Home I Love" his sub-text lullaby.

Brad has always been a "sports nut". He played on his share of Little League Championship baseball teams and was the skinniest out-side line backer I ever witnessed play Pee Wee Football. Those days are gone but his obsession with sports has remained. As a kid I saw his vanity swell in him when he made a touchdown saving tackle or accepting his trophy for a championship season, but never more so than one beautiful day in Central Park when he hit two home runs in a Broadway Show League game against the team from "Grease." His only major error in sports judgment is an inexplicable loyalty to the Oakland Raiders. It was early and on Gray's Landing on Big Bear Lake when and where he garnered from his Dad, his obsession for fishing. I am often asked where he got the amazing vocal instrument with which he has been blessed. That is a gift, but his obsession with fishing he got from me.

Brad's vulnerability is something which those who know him well and love him more are very aware. He has had to fight the dragon on the printed page all of his life. At no point was he more alone than that day when he sat with 350 other high school juniors in a college auditorium and suffered through the PSAT exams. I was the official tester on that occasion and I ached for him as he heard the rustle of the turning of the pages by rushing students on his left and right. That nadir experience may, however, have become a symbol for his confidence in his ability to achieve in the area of his considerable talent and expertise.

For one year Brad and I lived in Salzburg, Austria. I was conducting a university study abroad program for college students and Brad lived in a tiny little room of his own, surrounded by 31 coeds. We did Greece and Italy. We did Vienna and Prague. Brad was supposedly tutored for his ninth grade by his dad and mom. But his real tutors were those coeds. As one so gently told him, "Brad, your summer of '42 lasted nine months!"

Graduation from high school came and the decision to go first to LA and then to New York rapidly followed. And for the next few years Brad paid his dues.

So many special moments that rush by like "...bits of a shattered rainbow" to quote Tennessee Williams. So how do I pick from the collage of those moments, the few that, when strung together on the fragile thread of "And then there was...." will help make clear to you all the not-so-quiet pride this father has in his son? Let me try.

And then their was that night when you sang "If Ever I Would Leave You" and I knew you had found your first signature song. And then there was "Damn Yankees" in that regional theatre gig when the manager of the team was a worn-out second-lead film guy who couldn't remember a line and you told me not to tell Mom how bad the dump was that you were staying in. And then there was our common love affair with Mary Martin. Oh, how she did love you. And then there was that opening press night in Darien, when Che couldn't go on and you did, without ever a full run-through. The press loved you and you got your Equity Card. And then there was "The Robber Bridegroom" and that absolutely striking lady with the phenomenal voice which led to a wedding on a Cape Maye beach that is etched clearly into the pantheon of my special moments. And there was that sad day in Germany when you were playing Jesus in "JC Superstar." One of the company was killed in a train mishap. I will never ever forget how you held me when I came into the dressing room that night. I learned more about you and what a true "company" was about as we all walked to the distant church, and we held a memorial service for your artist friend. And then there was that night when your Mom and I left the theatre in Atlanta after "South Pacific" and you kept us from being mugged. And then there was finally getting to be on stage with you in "Fiddler" And then there was "Cyrano!" I'll let that one go.

To you who may have read this far, I simply say that when this father sat in that sixth row center seat in the Majestic Theatre in New York City and for the first time saw my son in Phantom of the Opera I was truly proud. However, it was but one of many, many occasions when this dad, sat back, smiled inside and tried to remain dignified. I failed in the attempt. Bravo!

Birthdate:

April 10, 196?

Fan Club:

To join the Brad Little Information Highway or tojust find out more, please click here.

Tidbits:

Brad has his 20 year high school reunion coming up (according to the Redlands Daily Facts). And yes, Brad is from Redlands, California.