Hitting the 'Heights'

Lexi Lawson and Joseph Morales scale the "Heights" of the barrio.

But how about a fiddler in a bodega?

Nontraditional! But not quite to Quiara Alegria Hudes, the West Philly wonder woman whose mixed musical heritage of Hispanic/Jewish geography has her fiddling her own tune.

She is at her apex with "In the Heights," coming in for a limited engagement on Jan. 18, arriving at the Academy of Music as the original company just completed its Tony Award-winning Broadway run.

All roads lead right to Hudes' hearth on the street where she lived -- and learned -- in West Philadelphia: St. Bernard Street must seem far away now for the two-time Pulitzer Prize finalist, including a nod for the "Heights" book. She has come so far from those early days as the daughter of the since-divorced Virginia Perez of Puerto Rico and Henry Hudes, a Jewish man whose talents as a house builder were later used by his now- 33-year-old "baby" to build bridges between cultures.

It's what "Heights" hits and hints at, with its salsa-style salute to Latino life in New York even as it evokes everyday traditions that trade off the commonality of all people.

Can Anatevka be far behind? Could Tevye have packed up all his belongings and settled in Washington Heights, the locale of the show, with Papa peddling papa rellenas, rather than reams of cheese?

To life, to life -- buena suerte! "Tevye would feel comfortable here," says the writer, brought into the project about Latin culture, shtetl-style, in its early stages by show creator Lin-Manuel Miranda.

Quiara Alegria Hudes

Miranda's rites and rituals depicted on stage are arroz con pollo powerful -- he won the Tony for best musical score as the show scored its own for best musical in 2008 -- and he and Hudes hewed to a major model of emotional empathy in heightening their musical's impact.

A sunrise, sunset surprise? "There are many nods to Tevye in this show," concedes the writer, "and we did use 'Fiddler' as our major example structurally.

"Everyone thinks 'West Side Story' was our example, but 'Fiddler' " -- with scenes of him communing solo with God and directly addressing the audience -- "was our touchstone."

All with a touch of tapas: With multiple honors and major kudos for its saucy style and score, "Heights" hugs the heritage of its sumptuous history; its sole music has its own hip-hugging sway and tempo -- and tiempo.

"It is such a celebration," Hudes says of what "drew me in." She concedes that some of her other works, such as a trilogy of treasures on growing up in West Philadelphia, with crossover cultural trips to North Philly, "are somewhat dark."

"But this is all about love and beauty, a real gift."

Tie up her pastiche of a past in ribbons of red, gold and Judaic jewels: Hudes' Aunt Linda -- on her father's side -- showed her a side to life that she hadn't experienced in the less flashy, albeit fulfilling, West Philly fulcrum that formed her early years. "She was my music teacher as I grew up," says Hudes, who graduated from Yale University (music composition) and Brown University (MFA for playwriting).

But it was Aunt Linda who limned her lessons. This big-time composer for the Big Apple Circus "taught me about musical stylings" and subsidized her training. She may not have taught her klezmer, laughs Hudes, but she had a huge influence on her phrasing.

One phrase she cherishes is "mazel tov," which Hudes has gotten used to hearing -- whether for receiving a recent prominent writing fellowship from United States Artists; a parade of Pulitzer nods; a children's book -- she and her Philadelphia-born husband, a lawyer, are parents of a 3-year-old daughter -- or the plays that play seemingly everywhere, including a JCC in Brazil.

But then, being of mixed heritage makes her feel ill at ease "when I'm in only one box," rather than breaking down the walls of many. Outside the box, it is her melodious stories from childhood "which I bring to the table," in a way distilling both Jewish and Hispanic histories into "In the Heights."

Write on, Early on
This proud product of Philadelphia Young Playwrights -- now serving on its board -- considers herself "a scholar of family stories, which I realize now are the American story."

Hudes has an eye and ear for street poetry, helping her "put a foot in the door for more roles for Latinos," she says proudly.

One day that door will open, and there will be someone bearing a brisket as well. Hudes intends, she says, "to deal with my Jewish heritage" on stage, even as she is "considering the adaptation of some Jewish pieces."

It's all at peace with the same dream. "Growing up Jewish and Latino, I learned to deal with the discrepancy" of the two cultures, seeing the abandonment of homes where she lived and the abundance of opportunity when she visited her aunt in New York, who would buy her tickets to Broadway, "getting orchestra seats."

Neither took a back seat to the other. Hudes realized that her Jewish side was rooted in "having a few generations" in place to work on achieving their place in the sun, unlike her sun-splashed Latino relatives, who are relatively recent arrivals to the mainland.

Now that Hudes has arrived, she knows that Tevye would not only be happy with Washington Heights, but would have a high time at her other hangouts as well. Indeed, she visits Philly often; now a roving New Yorker, with roots in other cities as well, Hudes recently received a Philadelphia city resolution recognizing her as a valuable rainmaker in her hometown's cultural climate.

She was dreaming of a wide Christmas -- with room to accomplish all her visits in one night on her last local visit. "For Christmas Eve, we celebrated Noches Buenas at my abuela's (grandmother's), then went to my husband's family for a traditional secular celebration."

Plans to tie in her Chanukah celebration with that of her Christmas visits were not to be. "We had to cancel the Jewish portion in New York because of the snow," but if Judah Maccabee's oil can last for eight days, maybe there's enough light left for a postponed celebration, she notes.

After all, Hudes is a huge equal-opportunity storyteller-- and her heritage hits home these days. She has more than thousands of people anxious to hear her verbal mambo movements at the Academy.

But more important is that special audience of one at home.

That one, her daughter, "will learn about both her heritages," encouraged to hit her own Jewish/Latino heights whether on stage or off.