Appreciation: Theater producer Steve Fickinger, of ‘Dear Evan Hansen,’ left behind a trail of joy

A portrait of the late theater producer Steve Fickinger.

(Photo from Jessica Roy)

Steve Fickinger didn’t drink hot drinks, and he wasn’t afraid to let people know it.

Sitting in a booth at Little Dom’s in Los Feliz, he often gathered with friends. They called themselves the Siddons Society, a club of sorts made up of theater lovers—many displaced from New York to the west coast. As per tradition, Fickinger always took his seat under a portrait of Gary Cooper, the actor known for “High Noon.”

The group is named after a fictional award described in the 1950 film “All About Eve” — a film that served as the glue that brought the fold together and described who each person at the table represented. Siddons member Deborah Warren, the director of marketing at Center Theatre Group, says Fickinger was the Addison DeWitt of the group because he was “always with a quip, always incredibly funny with language.”

She recalls that Fickinger would tell jokes with “a very tall glass of Chardonnay” in hand, and would “keep us laughing hysterically with stories.”

Fellow Siddons member Robbin Kelley, the head of legal affairs at DreamWorks, shared that one of Fickinger’s typical quips concerned his distaste for hot drinks. After a waiter would ask him if he wanted coffee or tea, she recalls him saying, “I don’t drink hot beverages.”

“It’s not information they asked for,” Kelley says. “We’d all love to see the first reaction we get.”

These poignant memories are what Warren and Kelley hold close following Fickinger’s recent death on June 17 at age 62.

“It’s hard to separate out him walking down the hall at work or going to dinner or going to the movies or just everything,” Kelley says.

The Tony Award-winning producer was known for his work on “Dear Evan Hansen,” “Newsies” and many other onstage projects he spearheaded as vice president of creative development for Disney Theatrical Group.

His death was announced on Facebook by his niece Jessica Roy — an assistant editor on the Utility Journalism team with the Los Angeles Times — after he “suddenly” passed at his Laguna Beach home. The cause of death is still unknown.

He passed away just two weeks before “Dear Evan Hansen” opened at the Ahmanson Theatre. In his honor, Warren planned an informal gathering before the show so friends of Fickinger’s could share a glass of Chardonnay together — his favorite.

“I think we’re all reeling because it was so unexpected,” she says. “The perfect way to honor Steve is to be together in a theater space. I can’t think of anything greater and that he wouldn’t have loved more.”

Before attending the pre-show gathering, Kelley looked back at the memories of going to the theater with Fickinger, recalling, “How many times have I gone through that door with him and been there? It’s hard to imagine.”

Kelley and Warren met Fickinger during their time at Disney Theatrical Productions. While Warren worked on the marketing side and Kelley worked on the legal side, Fickinger still found a way to connect with them.

“Steve appreciates everybody that works in our field, not just people that are on the producing and creative side,” Warren says.

She adds, “There never was a moment during any time with Steve where I felt like I wasn’t being celebrated.”

Kelley says that Fickinger was known for having a “great love of people.”

“I think everyone is one of Steve’s closest friends, I really do,” she says. “I think he had that amazing gift to be in touch with people.”

Kelley explains that it was hard not to be friends with him because of the welcoming energy he had with everyone. Fickinger created a “rare” friendship circle where joy was an everyday priority in any environment — even in the office — no matter how stressful things got. One of his other priorities included uplifting new talent, Warren says.

“He’s mentored people over the years,” Warren says. “He has brought along with him people that are now major players in the industry, and they were mentored by Steve. He had a joy for our business, one in which you can’t imagine ever wanting to do anything else.”

She says the world of theater is small, and people like Fickinger make the industry thrive.

Before people knew Fickinger as the man behind some of the biggest onstage Broadway productions, he was a theater student at UCLA alongside Thomas Schumacher, the president of Disney Theatrical Productions.

Schumacher says they were performing on stage together at UCLA in the 1970s before parting ways. Schumacher made his way to Disney and Fickinger went to New York to pursue acting. When Fickinger quit acting, he joined Schumacher in Los Angeles at Disney animations as a production assistant. The two’s bond only grew stronger, and Schumacher says Fickinger then blossomed as a creative.

“His greatest impact was putting the pieces together of ‘Newsies,’” he says. “’Newsies’ wouldn’t have happened if Steve hadn’t been there.”

As with any environment he was in, Schumacher says Fickinger did it with joy and connection front and center.

“Everyone remembers his beaming smile and his ability to get any room to burst out laughing,” he says.

More recently, Kelley remembers one of those burst-out-loud-laughing moments just 10 days before his death. The Siddons Society gathered at their usual spot: Little Dom’s. They talked about the upcoming revival of “1776” by the Roundabout Theatre Company in New York City. Suddenly, Fickinger started singing “Sit Down, John” from the musical.

“Sit down, John! Sit down, John! For God’s sake, John, sit down!” Fickinger sang.

Fickinger had done the musical in high school and somehow still remembered each word. “People in Little Dom’s thought we were crazy all the time because we’re always breaking out into song, but it was just such a fun thing to do these past few years,” Kelley says.

It’s one of those memories that encapsulate the man he was.

Schumacher says one thing he remembered and admired about Fickinger was his love for his mom. “When something would come up, he would often quote his mother or share a thought that his mother would have had about it,” he says.

Schumacher recalls him sharing his mother’s advice in her voice — as a natural theater performer would — introducing each nugget of wisdom the same way. “When he passed,” he says, “the first thing I was hearing in my head was Steve doing his mother’s voice saying, ‘Now Steve, don’t forget…’”