“Fabulous Palm Springs Follies” performer Randy Doney and stagehand Kevin Charbeneau reflect on their beloved show upon the Plaza Theatre’s reopening.
See the restored Palm Springs Plaza Theatre before Cynthia Erivo show
After two years of construction and restoration, the Palm Springs Plaza Theatre is ready to welcome audiences inside.
More than a decade after “The Fabulous Palm Springs Follies” took its final bow at the Plaza Theatre, and after a massive multi-year restoration project, the historic venue reopened Dec. 1 with a performance by Cynthia Erivo.
But as the theater enters a new era, former Follies performer Randy Doney and longtime stagehand Kevin Charbeneau are looking back on the packed houses, the seasoned entertainers in their golden years, and the show that became a living archive of mid‑century American performance.
The Follies was more than a revue — it was a celebration of music, dance and humor from the 1940s through the 1970s, capped with a patriotic finale that became its signature.
Giving seniors the spotlight
Founded and produced by the late TV and theater producer Riff Markowitz, the Follies was known for its age rule: performers had to be at least 55.
Doney, a Palm Springs resident since 1998 with a career spanning Broadway, TV and dance, said he joined the cast “almost by accident.” He bumped into another cast member while shopping at Jensen’s, who suggested the show to him after a male performer injured his ankle and Markowitz needed a replacement.
Doney, then 58, admitted he didn’t enjoy revealing his age — even to Markowitz during the interview — but he got the job.
“I went into the interview with Riff, and he said, ‘We put this show together in three months because with the older people, it takes longer for them to learn everything.’ (However) That Monday, I went into a rehearsal, and they went into the show on Tuesday,” Doney recalled.
Charbeneau’s path to the Follies began with his background in theater management and film distribution, working for Columbia Pictures and Universal Pictures before moving to Palm Springs in 1997. He discovered his passion for theater design in high school and loved creating Broadway-style sets. He joined the Follies in 1998 as a stagehand and quickly became indispensable. Over five seasons, his role expanded to prop design, set construction and other backstage duties before leaving in 2001 to relocate to the United Kingdom.
At his Rancho Mirage home, Charbeneau recently showed The Desert Sun a scrapbook filled with photos and a performance report. The report detailed everything that happened on a night he called in sick, listing six employees who filled in for his usual responsibilities.
“I was just hired as stage crew. Basically, move the set pieces in, set them up, take them down and carry them out, and store them,” Charbeneau said. “But with my experience, Riff took notice, and that’s when he started giving me little jobs because he knew I could do them. I took on props, and I would buy props or make props.”
His added roles included soda jerk, first aid team member and occasional costume repair. Though not old enough to be a cast member, he performed small acting bits during interludes and patriotic finales. His daily schedule often stretched from 9 a.m. to 12:30 a.m.
“The Follies was magical, tiring, grueling, back-breaking, and agonizing. But, at the end of the matinee performance, you got your collective fire relief. You got to have your lunch and then you set up for the next show,” Charbeneau recalled.
Pushing performers to their limits
The popularity of the Follies was largely due to the captivating spectacle’s focus on Broadway-style dance numbers, comedy and musical performances. The show took pride in showcasing senior cast members who performed tap, jazz and chorus line numbers rivaling those of younger performers. The show also included comedy sketches, musical solos and vaudeville‑style acts.
Headliners included “Singin’ in the Rain” singer, actor and dancer Donald O’Connor, actress and comedian Kaye Ballard, Donald Mills of the jazz and pop vocal quartet The Mills Brothers, and many more sharing the stage with featured Follies such as Doney, Hank Brunjes, Jill Owens and Ann Murphy.
Charbeneau said he admired the work ethic of older performers, many in their 70s and 80s, who refused to take sick days. For him, the Follies embodied the resilience of a generation.
“I’m seeing performers in their 80s that are like, ‘I have to perform. I’m physically exhausted, but I want to be here, and I want to do this,” Charbeneau said.
As a veteran of touring and Broadway productions, as well as television and film, Doney shared that he and many of his fellow performers in the Follies came from a time when they had to perform regardless of their physical condition. This was largely because, in the television industry, there were often no replacements available for specific roles. In other productions, if someone called in sick, they would simply be replaced.
“I worked with a lot of stars, and off stage, they were crippled and could barely walk to the wings. (However) The music would start, and they would walk out like nothing was wrong,” Doney said. “I’ve done shows with sprained ankles and it’s not easy to do that, but there’s nobody to replace you.”
Doney added that performers often missed family milestones such as their children’s and grandchildren’s graduations or other major life events because “the show was the show.”
“Riff set the example. He never missed a show. If he could do it, we had to do it too,” Doney said.
Sometimes, the stagehands became part of the show too. Charbeneau, who served in the U.S. Navy, was sent to the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center in Twentynine Palms to be fitted for a Marine uniform to appear in the patriotic finale of the show. He played other small roles, and one he remembered specifically was a mobster who appeared in one of the proscenium boxes with a prop machine gun aimed down into the crowd.
One night, the Follies were told that former President Gerald Ford would be attending a performance. During a production meeting, Charbeneau immediately voiced a concern.
“I thought, ‘Wait a second, Secret Service will be here. Should I be pointing (a prop machine gun) at the crowd?’ I asked, and they said ‘Absolutely not. Aim it up.’ Good thing I asked, because those guys are excellent marksmen,’” Charbeneau said.
Working around limits of then-aging Plaza Theatre
The Plaza Theatre, with its historical charm and elegance, was a fitting venue for productions like the Follies. However, it faced several challenges during its early years, especially before sets were replaced with video screens and digital production. Charbeneau noted that the theater lacked wings, fly space and a sufficient backstage area to store large props. As a result, every set change had to be built and deconstructed in real time.
Charbeneau said the Christmas productions were especially challenging because the trees were too tall to store backstage, were driven around to the front door, pushed past ticket holders and through the lobby before being placed on stage.
“There wasn’t enough space to hide a staircase or a Christmas tree backstage. You had to wheel it through the lobby or around the corner, bolt it together and make it look seamless. The audience never saw the chaos, but it was there,” Charbeneau said.
During his five seasons, the shows centered around themes such as World War I, World War II, the Great Depression, the St. Louis World’s Fair and much more. Large sets included a battleship that could lower guns and shoot confetti, a B-29 bomber, a PT boat, a theater marquee with opening doors and full light bulbs, and a giant polystyrene elephant that would raise up on its hind legs and shoot confetti from its trunk.
Moving these set pieces between scenes was a challenge that required safety, precision and silence.
“Everything larger than life was heavier than s—, and the sets were huge. You wore a back brace because if you didn’t, you felt it when you went to bed. I don’t care if you were 30 or 90,” Charbeneau said. “There were plenty of smashed fingers and bruised toes, because pieces dropped. You stuck your foot under it so that it wouldn’t go clunk, but you had to, so the audience didn’t hear it.”
Markowitz, who was also the emcee, would stall with jokes to cover the noise of screwdrivers and hammering while Charbeneau and other stagehands would assemble each set in between scenes.
“That’s how Riff learned to talk to the audience. He had to fill the time while they built or tore down a set. Eventually, he became a comic emcee because the sets demanded it,” Doney said.
The dancers also faced their own logistical hurdles with giant feathered backpacks strapped on, and Doney remembered the women being lined up “nose to butt” to squeeze onto the stage without colliding. Stagehands often guided them onto the stage like air traffic controllers.
Looking back on it all, Doney said “It’s amazing how it all worked” and Charbeneau remembered the thrill of pulling off the impossible over the many nights as a stagehand.
“You’re sweating, hauling, bolting things together, but out front it looks effortless. That was the beauty of it. The audience saw glamour. We saw nuts, bolts and duct tape holding it all together,” Charbeneau said.
Focusing on humor that ‘wasn’t cruel, it was affectionate’
As the emcee, Markowitz often worked the crowd with humor that included politically incorrect jokes reflective of the eras showcased in the production. Doney noted that “being a comedy emcee was not his forte,” recalling one performance in which he told a Japanese couple, “Oh, by the way, we won the war.”
He also leaned into self‑deprecating humor, particularly about his Jewish background. Charbeneau remembered being asked to don a “Jewish eagle” costume for a bit alongside another cast member dressed as an American eagle, with Riff orchestrating the skit.
“Riff asked, ‘What do you think of my Jewish eagle?’ Then he would ask the audience, ‘Oh, you can’t tell it’s a Jewish eagle?’ The audience would say, ‘No!’ I took my cue. My wing went to my beak, the audience would get the joke, and Riff then would say, ‘No Jewish jokes, I do the jokes!’” Charbeneau said.
Looking back, Charbeneau compared the style to the humor of comedians like Jack Benny and Bob Hope, adding, “You can’t do the show that we did (now), times have changed.”
In later years, Doney said, Markowitz grew more comfortable as an emcee, finding an easier rhythm with the audience. Doney emphasized that Markowitz’s intention was always to lighten the mood and uplift, never to demean.
“He would tease the seniors in the audience, make jokes about walkers or hearing aids. They laughed because they recognized themselves. It wasn’t cruel, it was affectionate,” Doney said.
Even though every season brought a new show, one tradition remained: the show always included a patriotic finale. Performers sang the “Star-Spangled Banner” and service songs of each branch of the U.S. armed forces, including the U.S. Coast Guard. Veterans in the audience stood and saluted.
Charbeneau and Doney described how many of the older veterans who served across each branch would stand and shout battle cries such as the Army’s “Hooah,” the Marines’ “Oorah” and the Navy’s “Hooyah” and salute the cast.
“It was thrilling. My father served in World War I, my brother in World War II. That finale meant something. It was beautiful,” Doney said.
Before the end of Charbeneau’s final season and move to the United Kingdom in 2001, the Follies were invited to participate in a 9/11 memorial concert at the McCallum Theatre. Doney performed as part of the cast and remembered the emotional weight while performing during that show.
“People understood what happened and related all this sorrow that we had for 9/11, and it was a big deal that they let (Riff) do that and asked him to be a part of it, because they knew how we did our finale,” Doney said.
Preserving the legacy of the Follies
Both Doney and Charbeneau have returned to the Plaza Theatre since it reopened, and they said the building felt transformed. Doney pointed out the new air‑conditioning system — a stark contrast to the aging infrastructure that once struggled to keep Follies performers cool.
“It was nice to see it all restored. The windows, ceiling paintings … all of it looks beautiful. It’s good to see the theater working again, and it deserves to shine,” Doney said.
The upgrades also include backstage space that would have solved many of the technical challenges the Follies faced.
“Back then, we didn’t have wings, we didn’t have fly space, and we didn’t have storage. Everything was muscle and timing. Today with the upgrades, you could do things we never could,” Charbeneau said.
Many would love to see the Follies return. So, could someone revive the production today?
“The Follies wasn’t just about sets, it was about the people. Those performers came from a different world — Broadway, nightclubs, and early television. They had that ‘show must go on’ mentality. That’s hard to find now,” Charbeneau said.
“Could you do a show like that today? Maybe, but you’d have to promote it as a blast from the past,” Doney said. “You’d have to tell people exactly what they’re coming to see. The humor, music, the style — it all came from the era we grew up in. You can’t recreate that unless the audience understands the context.”
(This story was updated to add a link.)
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