Every day is opening night.

Ladies and Gents,

Occasionally, a show comes along that conjures ghosts so vividly, you’d swear they were rattling chains in the row behind you (and not because of the average age of a particular theater’s subscriber base). Dead Outlaw—a sharp, haunting, and surprisingly heartfelt new musical from the creative team behind The Band’s Visit (book by Itamar Moses; music and lyrics by David Yazbek and Erik Della Penna)—has done just that. And among its cast of curious characters is none other than my old pal, Dr. Thomas Noguchi – Los Angeles County’s infamous “Coroner to the Stars.”

Before I was clinking glasses at Sardi’s or sneaking into Tony afterparties, I was a cub reporter at the Los Angeles Herald Examiner. Back then, my beat was what we affectionately called “hot gossip about cold bodies,” and Dr. Noguchi was my go-to source for the morbid and the mysterious. Brilliant and composed, with a touch of quiet flair, Tom always gave the best quotes—on or off the record.

We first crossed paths during the Dorothy Dandridge case. I was green, hungry for a scoop, and he had the unflappable cool of someone who’d already seen it all. Her death was clouded in confusion—early reports said it was an accidental overdose, but his theory of the case involved a fat embolism from a foot fracture. “Not every tragedy is tidy,” he told me, examining his notes like they were holy scripture. He had an elegant way of making the forensic feel poetic, and I, in turn, made sure his name ran above the fold.

As his reputation grew—Monroe, Belushi, and other sad chapters—so did the distance between us. I traded case files for casting news and moved east. Turns out, I prefer celebrities of the still breathing variety (“boldface names,” as it were).

So imagine my surprise and quiet delight when Dead Outlaw brought him back to life onstage. The show centers on Elmer McCurdy (a sensational Andrew Durand), a failed outlaw who became a posthumous celebrity. Noguchi appears in the musical’s later chapters, giving the whole story a coda of unexpected poignancy. For me, it was utterly surreal.

Now vying for seven Tony Awards, including Best Musical, Dead Outlaw is more than a novelty—it’s a meditation on fame, mortality, and the strange ways we try to outlive ourselves. It’s also, in its own way, a tribute to people like Tom—those who tend to the stories no one else can tell.

Tidbits from around town…

Spied Cate Blanchett speedwalking through Central Park with the posture of a fencer and the focus of someone on a mission.

Overheard a wannabe couturier muttering “Symmetry is cowardice” while adjusting a shawl on a mannequin at Housing Works.

Caught Jon Hamm on the front porch of The American Hotel in Sag Harbor, sunglasses on, baseball cap low, leisurely working through a shrimp cocktail. The look said “don’t notice me”—but in a way that felt ever so slightly curated for maximum visibility. Even with my cataracts, I knew I was approaching an A-lister from 100 yards.

A toast of something sparkling to you and yours!

Kisses,