In her new memoir, Chita Rivera says she could never relate to the song “I’m Still Here,” Stephen Sondheim’s beloved ode to persevering despite the odds. She liked the song just fine, but, as a nose-to-the-grindstone professional, there was no time for nostalgia — she was always looking ahead to the next gig. Then the pandemic arrived and, “like the rest of the world, there I was.”Even when the pandemic presented her with an occasion to hit pause, her urge to look back was borne out of a desire to pay it forward. “I really wanted a memoir that kids could read and apply themselves to,” Rivera, 90, said over tea last month at the Laurie Beechman Theater in Midtown Manhattan. “It’s not as much of a memoir as it is an opportunity for kids to realize that if they want this, they can have it — but they have to work hard.”“Chita: A Memoir,” written with the journalist Patrick Pacheco and available on April 25, traces the three-time Tony Award winner’s life with a veteran’s clarity and insouciance. Over its 320 pages, the Puerto Rican-American performer, who was raised in Washington, D.C., fondly recalls her early dance classes, her move to New York City to study at George Balanchine’s School of American Ballet, her breakthrough as Anita in “West Side Story” and her continued success on Broadway (18 appearances total) and beyond.Chita Rivera, right, and Liane Plane in a scene from the Broadway production of “West Side Story.”Hank Walker/The LIFE Picture Collection, via ShutterstockUpon reflecting on all she learned from the likes of Balanchine, Jerome Robbins and Bob Fosse, Rivera, who had long been approached about writing a memoir, decided finally to tell her story. She’s no stranger to sharing her experiences and playing mentor. The actress Laura Benanti, with whom Rivera starred in the 2003 Broadway revival of “Nine,” said in a phone interview that Rivera’s generosity during the production was almost maternal.“She makes you feel immediately part of a team,” Benanti said. “She’s not just out there for herself. She taught me that you’re only as good as the person you’re playing opposite, so you want everybody to thrive.”The book also delves into Rivera’s fruitful collaborations with the composer John Kander and the lyricist Fred Ebb. Their “triumvirate,” as Kander described it over the phone, led to her Tony-nominated performances as the publicity-hungry murderess Velma Kelly in “Chicago”; Anna, the roller-skating rink owner who makes amends with her daughter, in “The Rink”; and Aurora, the object of a gay prisoner’s diva worship, in “Kiss of the Spider Woman.” She often joined the national or international tours of those productions, which deepened Rivera’s ties to her best-known roles.Kander called her a composer’s blessing. “When you hear Chita, you see Chita. When you work with somebody like that, their range is so enormous that there’s nothing you can’t write,” he said of developing characters with Rivera. “It’s a spirit that I hear. If there’s a natural feeling when you imagine Chita singing it, then you’re on the right track.”Rivera, with her sharp, sensuous agility, has been a regular stage presence, from her professional debut in 1952 as a featured dancer in the national tour of “Call Me Madam” to her final Broadway bow in 2015 for “The Visit,” another collaboration with Kander and Ebb (and their frequent book writer Terrence McNally). She’s never gone more than three years without a major, regional or touring production — even when raising her daughter with Tony Mordente, Lisa, though her birth did delay the London premiere of “West Side Story” — and she continues to perform her cabaret act. This constant work is all she knows, Rivera said, though it has left her with a slight blind spot when it comes to the business she so loves.“Whenever you hear that vamp, you think of ‘Jazz,’” she said.Philip Montgomery for The New York Times“Who sang ‘Jazz’? I did.”Philip Montgomery for The New York TimesShe first saw her friend Fosse’s 1978 revue, “Dancin’,” for example, when it was revived on Broadway this spring. “I didn’t have much time to see the shows,” she said. “That’s how the golden age was for me: one show after another, one fabulous lyricist after another fabulous composer, all growing up at the same time. It was great for me because I learned constantly.”The “Dancin’” revival, directed by one of the original cast members, Wayne Cilento, reminded her of her heyday. “Because it’s full of fabulous dancers that work really hard, and that’s all they do, is dance.”To help her revisit that time for the memoir, Rivera turned to Pacheco, whom she met in 1975 while he was writing about her nightclub act at the Grand Finale cabaret for the entertainment magazine After Dark. They also got together over cosmopolitans in 2005, when Pacheco interviewed her at length; his notes shaped McNally’s book for her solo Broadway show, “Chita Rivera: The Dancer’s Life.”Rivera first worked with Patrick Pacheco almost two decades ago, when he interviewed her as part of the development process for her 2005 show, “Chita Rivera: The Dancer’s Life,” above.Sara Krulwich/The New York Times“He’s funny, he likes the spirit to be uplifted, and he found me amusing,” Rivera said. Pacheco later added that the two bonded over being Latino and Catholic — “a key to her personality,” he said. Interviews for the memoir began in the summer of 2020, from her home in Rockland County, N.Y., originally as informal conversations. They pitched it to publishers once a narrative structure came together.“I don’t think she would have ever done it if Covid hadn’t come around,” Pacheco said, “because she is unstoppable when it comes to her career. That’s what she really lives for — to be on that stage.”“She was less enthusiastic about revealing her private life,” Pacheco continued, noting her reluctance to discuss her romance with Sammy Davis Jr. “But she really was a good sport. Once we read a chapter together, she rarely asked for any changes. I would say, in 100,000 words if she asked me to delete 50, that would be major.”Those seeking gossip might be disappointed, though. Aside from some light naughtiness when describing her love affairs and weakness for Italian men, the book’s juiciest disclosure might be that Rivera turned down the playwright Arthur Laurents’s request to star as Rose in the London premiere of “Gypsy” in the early 1960s.In her 30s at the time, Rivera writes she felt she was too young, polite and distant from her inner “renegade” to play an overbearing stage mother. That renegade emerges in the book as her alter ego, Dolores. (Rivera was born Dolores Conchita Figueroa del Rivero Anderson.) Whereas Chita is the sweet one “who tries to bring everything together, solve problems and likes to laugh,” she said, Dolores doesn’t hold back, and gets her jobs. “She was the one that protected me,” she said. “Thanks to Patrick, we brought her out.”“I feel that you can’t replace the person that originates a role,” Rivera said of being replaced in the film versions of “West Side Story” and “Chicago.” Philip Montgomery for The New York TimesThese personas sit atop her shoulders, Rivera said, battling it out like a Boricua Jekyll and Hyde. When mulling over replacing her friend Gwen Verdon in the title role of “Sweet Charity” for its national tour, she remembered, “The two angels on my shoulders were saying, ‘You can’t.’ ‘Well, yes, you can — if you bring your own shoes.’”It is Dolores who provides the bulk of the book’s snarky wit and shrugs off being passed over for film adaptations, though she originated the characters onstage. “They’re always winning Oscars for roles that I’ve done, but that’s cool,” Rivera said with a confident smirk, referring to a comment in the book about Rita Moreno’s and Catherine Zeta-Jones’s wins for “West Side Story” and “Chicago.”“I feel that you can’t replace the person that originates a role,” she continued. “I say in my act: ‘Catherine, you keep your Oscar, I’ll keep my vamp.’ And it’s a great vamp. I would hold it as long as the first two rows would let me.”She recalled the vamp — Kander’s introduction to “All That Jazz” from “Chicago,” a seductive eight-count that can be teased out forever — and how, when performing that signature number, she would glare at the audience and “just pulse.”“Whenever you hear that vamp, you think of ‘Jazz,’” she said, tapping her fingers like a drumroll. “And who sang ‘Jazz’? I did.” More
