A Shaky Start Off-Broadway
When actors Gerome Ragni and James Rado first conceived of a musical about the hippie counterculture, their goal was to bring the energy of the streets to the stage. After teaming with composer Galt MacDermot, a clean-cut family man who surprisingly vibed
with their rock-and-roll vision, they found a champion in producer Joseph Papp. Papp agreed to stage Hair as the inaugural show at his new Public Theater in October 1967. The initial production was raw and exciting, but it had its issues. The plot was thin, the staging was relatively conventional, and while it generated buzz, it wasn't a runaway hit. After its limited run, it moved to a nightclub called The Cheetah for a short stint, but its future looked uncertain. The show that aimed to start a revolution was in danger of fizzling out.
The Director Who Changed Everything
The show's savior didn't carry a pen, but a radical new vision for what theater could be. His name was Tom O'Horgan, an avant-garde director known for his wild, experimental productions at places like La MaMa E.T.C. The show's writers had wanted him from the beginning, but he was in Europe. Now, with producer Michael Butler securing a Broadway house, they finally got their man. O'Horgan's involvement wasn't a simple script rewrite; it was a complete conceptual reinvention. He saw Hair not as a traditional musical but as a “singspiel” or popular opera, a kind of “kinetic sculpture.” He employed improvisational games and exercises to encourage spontaneity, pushing the cast to break down traditional barriers between actor and character, and between the performers and the audience.
A Revolution in Staging and Spirit
O'Horgan's “rewrite” was visceral. He dismantled the plot, added 13 new songs, and encouraged a chaotic, joyful energy that felt truly authentic to the era. His most famous contributions were transforming two key moments. First, the nudity. While discussed for the original, it was O'Horgan who fully integrated it, staging the Act I finale as a powerful, dimly lit tableau of communal vulnerability and defiance, rather than cheap shock. Second, and perhaps most importantly, he reshaped the ending. The original conclusion was more of a downbeat mourning for the drafted and deceased Claude. O'Horgan, however, ended the show with the newly written song "Let the Sun Shine In." The song became a tribe-led anthem of hope and resilience, with the cast famously inviting the audience on stage for a final, celebratory "Be-In."
From Risky Bet to Broadway Legend
When the O'Horgan-helmed version of Hair opened at the Biltmore Theatre on April 29, 1968, it was a sensation. He had exploded the very form of the Broadway musical. Actors swung over the audience Tarzan-style, broke the fourth wall, and filled the theater with an energy that was celebratory, profane, and deeply political. This was the version of Hair that became a legend, running for 1,750 performances and sparking productions worldwide. The changes weren't just cosmetic; they were philosophical. O'Horgan and the writers didn't just tell a story about the counterculture; they created a theatrical happening that embodied its spirit. They proved that experimental, boundary-pushing art could be a massive commercial success.
