Every day is opening night.

“Oh! Ain’t That Sweet”

Ladies and gents,

Well, it’s officially upon us.  Every day it seems like there’s another awards organization announcing nominations, all leading up to the Big Prize on Tuesday, when the Tony Awards will crown the cream of the crop in current theatrical achievements across a range of categories ahead of its June 9 ceremony.

Everyone – yes, everyone – complains about this time of year in the theater world.  “I’m exhausted!”  “It’s a cruel process!”  “Art isn’t about awards!”  And yet everyone – yes, everyone – loves to be honored.  Such public validation must make up for something we didn’t get during our collective childhood.  It’s hard, you see, not to ruminate on the meaning of “honors” this time of year.

So imagine my surprise when I wind up having my own personal season of honors.  Now, I know what you’re thinking, “They’d sooner give a Tony Award to a common street walker than to a lowly gossip monger such as yourself, Scoop.”  Well, as sure as there are many ways to skin a coconut, there are many ways to celebrate someone.

It all started when the building in which I file from (when I’m not filing from bed, as I’m doing right now), 333 West 39th Street, was recently renamed The Scoop Building.  My little piece of the New York skyline may be more humble than those of the likes of Mr. Dakota, Ms. Flatiron, and The Beresford family, but it’s mine.  It was all done very quietly – no ribbon cutting ceremony or rooftop photo op – but when word of the renaming reached me, I wept right into my lox scramble at E.A.T.

Then, a loyal reader happened to visit Le Cirque this past week, on the heels of my 500 word homage to the cathédrale de cuisine, and noticed that my darling Sirio has added a new tea to their list of infusions, as something of a return-homage.  So next time you’re there, indulge in a cup of Mint-Verbena and think of me.

And speaking of menus, after catching the Divine Miss M in her divine new role as my beloved old nemesis Sue Mengers (a different story for a different column), I popped into Juniors for a little nosh.  What do I notice but a salad with my name on it!  It turns out I’m the third most ordered dish, behind the cheesecake and the chopped liver.

I hope you don’t find this column braggadocious, my loves.  When you do something for as long as I’ve been churning out copy, people tend to start rewarding your for it.  It might be their way of telling you to hang it all up and quit whilst you’re ahead.  But no matter how much Verbena Tea and Scoop Salads show up on menus around town, no matter how many Scoop buildings dot the Isle of Manhattan, I’m going to keep banging away at this word processor to bring you the latest and greatest news on the Rialto.  But now I’ll be doing with that most comforting knowledge that you like me.  You really like me.

As always, a toast of something sparkling to you and yours!