Final Curtain for ‘Annie’ Composer Charles Strouse at 96
Look, I don’t *want* to be the downer here, but Broadway bigwig Charles Strouse has taken his last bow at the grand old age of 96. The man behind the earworm “Tomorrow” and the jittery teen chaos of Bye Bye Birdie shuffled off this mortal stage in late August, according to reports from the New York Post and Variety. Born in 1928, Strouse spent nearly a century composing scores that made us laugh, cry and sometimes cringe at overly peppy or bittersweet choruses—trust me, he’d be the first to roll his eyes at that last bit. You know him best for Annie’s hopeful anthem and the high-school-meets-rock ’n’-roll satire of Bye Bye Birdie, which landed on Broadway in 1960 and snagged a Tony. I told you so: show tunes never really died off, they just muttered “hold my drink” and got a makeover.
Before those big two, Strouse was already grinding away with collaborations for Off-Broadway productions and TV specials, but his real breakthrough came when director Michael Kidd tapped him for Birdie. Critics hailed the score as a breath of fresh air—like someone actually invented tap shoes and jazz hands for the postwar crowd. Annie hit in ’77, and suddenly orphans everywhere had earworms so sticky they became part of the cultural DNA. That show earned him another Tony and a Pulitzer nod, if you can even imagine a world where musicals compete for journalistic awards. Meanwhile, he was moonlighting on Sesame Street jingles—because if anyone could teach a Muppet to sing about numbers, it was Strouse.
He wasn’t all sunshine and showbiz sparkle, though. Colleagues recall his grumbling perfectionism, the tall fellow with thick glasses who’d sigh over a misplaced accent or a fudged lyric. Yet that same grumpiness drove him to craft melodies that stick around longer than most wannabe divas. He waded through the rock ’n’ roll revolution without flinching, proving that composers in their fifties could still swagger with the kids.
Last week’s announcement prompted tributes from Broadway World and The Guardian, with fans and theater pros sharing behind-the-scenes stories of late-night sessions and frantic rewrites. Even now, high school drama clubs aren’t safe from another round of “Tomorrow” auditions. I can practically hear him muttering, “I told you this score would outlast your fleeting TikTok fame.”
He’s left behind a catalog that ensures you’ll never catch “Easy Street” without humming a few bars, even in your sleep. There you have it: the man who gave us orphans, rock-ing teens and a Muppet math lesson is gone—proof that creativity outlives us all. And that, dear reader, is why we can’t have nice things.
Sources: Celebrity Storm and New York Post, Variety, Broadway World, The Guardian
Attribution: Creative Commons Licensed
