There was a small revolution recently at the Shubert Theatre, during the waning days of “Memphis.”
Nearly 15 minutes into intermission, several women on the long, slow-moving line into the ladies’ room stormed into the men’s, causing one startled urinal user to cup his privates. Moments later, an usher secured the area — the men having zipped up and fled — and waved in more women desperate to make the Act 2 curtain.
So, ladies and gents, how’s that “facility fee” working for you? The $1.50 or $2 charge slapped onto every Broadway ticket goes to the theater owners, who — judging from a random sampling — probably aren’t spending it on the facilities. No matter how flush Broadway may be, where you go when you have to go is pretty much, well, a crapshoot. For each well-designed bathroom, there are several sad little rooms in need of a face-lift, if not outright demolition — like the Shubert. “We’re working on it,” promises Philip Smith, chairman of the Shubert Organization.
Turns out, there is a recipe for restroom success.
“The good-practice standard is basically one fixture per 20 seats for a large theater, and one per 25 seats for a smaller one,” says Duncan Hazard of Ennead Architects LLP, architects behind the recent redos at New York City Center and the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre. “You make them one-third for men and two-thirds for women because, to be perfectly candid, it takes women longer.” His firm gave the 622-seat Friedman a total of 12 women’s stalls, he says, because artistic director Lynne Meadow “couldn’t be clearer, when we started the job, that there be enough fixtures for women so they didn’t have to wait on these unbearable lines!”
Now, as many theaters sit dark awaiting their next tenants, let’s plumb the depths of the Great White Way’s dirty little secret: the ladies’ room. Let the number of toilet-paper rolls — from one to four, the more, the better — tip you off as to the state of these loos.
BELASCO
111 W. 44th St.
Seating capacity: 1,018
Bottom line: This beautifully renovated theater may be haunted by Belasco’s ghost, but at least his Woman in White spirit won’t be kept waiting: One floor below the orchestra is an old-fashioned but serviceable restroom with a small sitting room. Beyond it lies 14 avocado-green stalls, with nearly as many sinks to match. There’s a separate entrance and exit, which keeps the comings and goings collision-free.
3 out of 4 toilet-paper rolls
CORT
138 W. 48th St.
Seating capacity: 1,084
Bottom line: A feng shui nightmare. A narrow staircase wends its way from the orchestra to the Restroom That Time Forgot: a cramped room with three toilets — one more than you’ll find in the ladies’ room one flight above the mezzanine. “Three stalls — unbelievable!” several women hissed during a matinee of the Cort’s last tenant, “The Lyons.” There’s a grim-looking sitting room to the right that might have come from a David Lynch film, its couch — like the one in “The Lyons” — “the color of dashed hopes.” As far as we know, no woman’s ever sat there.
1 out of 4 toilet-paper rolls
GERALD SCHOENFELD
236 W. 45th St.
Seating capacity: 1,078
Bottom line: More generous than the Cort’s, but still difficult. Just one staircase leads down from the orchestra to both the men’s and ladies’ rooms, and the traffic requires vigilant monitoring: “Ladies, stay as close to the right as possible,” an usher called. “Gentlemen,” cried another, “the line is over here, to the left.” The Pepto Bismol-pink bathroom boasts 10 stalls, but the sinks are on a wall opposite the paper towels, and you exit through the same door you came in through, an uneasy passage at best.
2 out of 4 toilet-paper rolls
MUSIC BOX
239 W. 45th St.
Seating capacity: 1,010
Bottom line: Very good, with more stalls than most theaters. The lower-level bathroom has 11 stalls, with a system that lets you enter one way and exit another, so there’s good flow. The little anteroom has a comfy couch, and everything’s spotless. One recent night, there were no lines before the show and during intermission.
4 out of 4 toilet-paper rolls
SHUBERT
225 W. 44th St.
Seating capacity: 1,513
Bottom line: Shameful. The ladies’ room, 17 steep steps down from the orchestra, has three “No Smoking” signs — but plenty of fuming. “Ridiculous!” cried one woman; “Maybe I’ll just hold it” sighed another. There are seven stalls, all of them raised several inches off the floor, including one marked “Handicapped.” (A plaque on the wall in the lobby says, “A wheelchair-accessible restroom is located off-premises. Assistance available.”) Upstairs are three stalls in the mezzanine and two in the balcony, the latter’s doors battered, as if some poor souls tried to brazen their way in.
1 out of 4 toilet-paper rolls
ST. JAMES
246 W. 44th St.
Seating capacity: 1,690
Bottom line: Bring it on! Like the musical that opened here this summer, there’s enough space to cheer about: a capacious, two-chambered ladies’ room with eight stalls on one side, 11 on the other — plus, a separate area for primping. And that’s just the orchestra level. There’s also what an usher called the “secret bathroom” on the mezzanine, which has an additional four stalls. A handicapped-accessible facility is just off the lobby.
3 out of 4 toilet-paper rolls