Peter Thompson (stage publicist)|Peter Thompson

It feels utterly surreal to be writing this, to say goodbye to Peter. Peter Thompson – stage publicist, friend, brother, and the most wonderfully chaotic human I’ve ever known – slipped away on March 21st, leaving a hole in so many lives, including mine. He was born January 1st, 1945, and lived a life brimming with color, a life he approached with a relentless enthusiasm that was utterly infectious. I remember when I first met him, fresh out of college and utterly terrified of the theatre scene, he just grabbed my hand and said, “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll wrangle the press for you.” And he did, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and a talent for making even the most grumpy critic crack a smile. Peter’s career was legendary, of course – he’d worked with some of the biggest names on Broadway and beyond, crafting press releases that were as witty as they were effective. But for me, it wasn’t about the accolades or the star power. It was about the stories he’d tell, the backstage dramas he’d witnessed, and the sheer joy he took in championing the artists he believed in. He had this incredible ability to connect with people, to see the heart behind the persona. He’d call me at all hours, usually with a frantic update about a diva meltdown or a last-minute change, but always with a genuine concern and a booming laugh. He adored his sister, Susan, and their bond was a constant source of warmth and laughter in our family. And let’s not forget his passion for collecting vintage postcards – his apartment was a glorious, slightly overwhelming, museum of travel memories. Beyond the theatre and the postcards, Peter was a devoted gardener, spending countless hours coaxing life from his small backyard plot. He found immense peace in nurturing those plants, a quiet counterpoint to the whirlwind of his professional life. He also had a surprisingly competitive streak when it came to board games, and woe betide anyone who dared to challenge him at Scrabble. More than anything, Peter loved people. He had a knack for making everyone feel seen and valued, and he genuinely cared about the well-being of those around him. He leaves behind a legacy of kindness, humor, and a profound appreciation for the magic of storytelling. He’ll be deeply missed, but the echoes of his laughter, his passion, and his unwavering spirit will continue to resonate within all of us who were lucky enough to know and love him. Rest in peace, Peter. You were, and always will be, one of a kind.