Ben Vereen Asks’ How Do We Preserve the Soul of Broadway?’ Amid CATS Closing

Amid the news that CATS: The Jellicle Ball will be closing on Broadway, the theatre community has continued to speak out about the current state of Broadway. Andrew Lloyd Webber recently addressed the closing, pleading for “theatre owners, unions and producers to come together urgently to address what is a crisis coming to a head.” Randy Weiner, the producer of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s immersive Masquerade Off-Broadway, revealed he would like to take over the production. Ben Vereen has now joined those who have commented on the closing of the show, and released the following statement: 

I’ve spent more than six decades on the Broadway stage.

I’ve watched audiences rise to their feet in celebration. I’ve watched them sit in silence, transformed by a story. I’ve seen people from every walk of life laugh together, cry together, and leave a theatre carrying something they didn’t have when they arrived: hope.

That is the miracle of Broadway.

Which is why the closing of CATS: The Jellicle Ball weighs so heavily on my heart.

This is not simply about one production. It is about a question that affects all of us who love the theatre.

What kind of Broadway are we leaving for the next generation?

We are living through a time when our nation is hungry for healing. We are divided by politics, burdened by violence, isolated by technology, and searching for places where our common humanity can still be felt.

Broadway has always been one of those places.

A theatre is more than a building. It is a sanctuary where, for two or three hours, we remember who we are. We remember compassion. We remember joy. We remember that every human being has a story worth telling.

That is why theatre is not a luxury.

It is medicine for the human spirit.

I understand that producing Broadway is expensive. I understand that investors take risks and that difficult financial realities cannot be ignored. This is not about assigning blame.

It is about accepting responsibility.

If an acclaimed production that fills hearts with joy cannot find a sustainable path forward, then perhaps the challenge is bigger than any one show. Perhaps it is time for producers, artists, investors, unions, philanthropists, civic leaders, and audiences to gather around one table and ask a different question:

How do we preserve the soul of Broadway?

Not just its business.

Its soul.

We have protected museums. We preserve historic buildings. We invest in parks because we understand that some places nourish the public in ways that cannot be measured by dollars alone.

Broadway deserves that same vision.

The arts are not an extra. They are essential to a healthy society. They teach empathy where there is division. They create community where there is loneliness. They remind us of our shared humanity when the world encourages us to forget it.

As an elder of this community, I am asking us to dream bigger.

Let this moment become more than another closing notice. Let it become the beginning of a national conversation about protecting one of America’s greatest cultural treasures.

Because when the lights dim on Broadway, something dims in all of us.

But when the curtain rises, so do our hearts.

Let’s not wait until more theatres go dark before we act.

Broadway has given us generations of joy, courage, healing, and possibility.

Now it is our turn to give something back.

Let us protect it.

Let us cherish it.

Let us make certain that the next child who walks into a Broadway theatre discovers the same wonder that changed my life—and the lives of millions of others.

The curtain should never fall on hope.