She’s been on Broadway in a drama, a musical, a comedy, and a one-woman show — and got Tony nominations for all of them. How many other performers in Broadway history can say that? Probably only Tovah Feldshuh, who was heartbreaking in Yentl, sassy in Sarava, hilarious in Lend Me a Tenor — and simply astonishing in Golda’s Balcony. Now she’s got a new project, Irena’s Vow, that’s currently playing at the Baruch Performing Arts Center on East 25th Street (www.irenasvow.com). We had a chat about her and the show in her West Side apartment.

Peter Filichia: So who are you this time?

Tovah Feldshuh: Irena Gut Opdyke, a Polish Catholic blond-haired, blue-eye Christian.

PF: Typecasting, huh?

TF: Right on the money. In 1939, she rescued a number of Jews who were being hunted by the Germans. She claimed she was 17 at the time, but I recently went to Poland and found her birth certificate, which said she was really 21. Even if she was, I’m impressed: I have a daughter that age a junior at M.I.T. and the idea of her saving 12 people is far out.

PF: How did it happen?

TF: She was studying to be a nurse and was caught in the web of the war as the Nazis advanced from the west, and the Russians advanced from the east. While looking for her parents in western Poland, she was rounded up by the Nazis, and sent to a munitions factory there. The commandant, Major Eduard Rugemer, saw her and took a shine to her because her German was fluent and her looks were Aryan — so he made her the head of laundry in the barracks.

PF: And expected sexual favors?

TF: Not then he didn’t. He was a very strict schoolmaster type, a proper man in his ‘60s. But he did expect her to make sure the Jews toed the line. Then she saw a mass killing of Jews, people murdered in front of her — old people, young people, women and children — and at the time, she could do nothing. She felt that God put her at a crossroads and gave her a choice between a moral and an immoral life, between complicity and redemption, between death and life. She didn’t ask for it, but He put all those people’s lives it into her hands. So 11 Jews who worked in the laundry that they had to hide.

PF: Where could they possibly hide?

TF: That was the problem. The youngest one — someone around her own age — turned to her and said, “You hide us.” Irena said, “Where can I hide you? I live in a room that’s barely big enough for my cot. I can’t hide you in my pockets.” Another Jew said, “Then we’re dead.” But around the same time, Rugemer decided to move out of his barracks to a big villa once owned by a Jew on the outskirts of town, and he made her — this kid — his head executive housekeeper. There, Irena heard that the entire ghetto would be liquidated on July 22, and got a notion that she could hide the Jews in an air vent over the Major’s toilet.

PF: That sounds utterly impossible.

TF: This is a documented story; 11 people have corroborated this. So, on the 21st, she snuck the Jews into the air vent, which ran the length of the bathroom and, as luck would have it, connected to the other rooms on that floor. They stayed there for over 24 hours, and certainly couldn’t use that bathroom below them. When the soldiers arrived, Irena took them into the cellar; when they finished searching and they came and rested on the main floor, she managed to get the Jews into the cellar before they searched the attic.

PF: If it weren’t so serious, this would seem to be a French farce.

TF: It was crazy. But as the likelihood of their getting caught was increasing, one of the Jews said, “This was originally a Jewish house. There’s got to be a secret room in it somewhere.”

PF: And they went looking for one?

TF: And found one: A hollowed-out area of a coal chute in the cellar that went to a tunnel that led to a room with a wooden slat roof — because it was actually the floor of the gazebo out in the lawn. They stayed there when they couldn’t use the actual cellar.

PF: Could there possibly be other more complications?

TF: One couple even gave birth to a child there. And the major forgot his briefcase, and came back for it — and discovered what she was doing. And the story, as they say, goes on from there.

PF: I know plenty of Jews who can’t bear to hear a word about the Holocaust. You face it square in the eye, don’t you?

TF: It’s very important to. Interesting, though, when Goering came to see the killings in Auschwitz, he threw up. That was the end of any high-ranking German officer coming to see what was going on in the camps. Some of the Germans themselves couldn’t stand to witness what they were doing. That’s why they put the gas chambers underground, so no one would have to see them. When they turned the lights off, that was for the solders, not the Jews. They made one or two holes in the ground so that they could drop in the gas pellets, close off the hole, and walk away. They soundproofed the gas chambers so they couldn’t hear the screams, and, just in case, Germans ran their motorcycles loudly. Really, if you go to Auschwitz, I won’t say you’ll feel as if you’re at Brown University, but it looks — forgive me now, I’m sorry — cozy, with its terra cotta buildings and grass growing.

PF: Did you find this story yourself?

TF: Not at all. This is the third time in my life that something wonderful has come my way through other circumstances. I played the mother in Kissing Jessica Stein because the young woman who wrote it, Jennifer Westfeldt, was once my assistant, and she asked me to do it, and I was very glad she did. Then my working on Law & Order for a wonderful director named Matt Penn turned out to get me Golda’s Balcony — because Matt’s father is Arthur Penn, who directed Two for the Seesaw and The Miracle Worker by William Gibson. So when Bill wrote Golda’s Balcony, Arthur told him, “There’s this actress that my son loves,” and that happened. This happened because I was doing a play called Kilt at The Directors Company, and met an actor named John Stanisci, who co-founded a company, Invictus Theatre, with Thomas Ryan. They approached me two years ago to do a reading of Irena’s Vow by Dan Gordon — for the family rate of ZERO. I said, “John, you have to give a hundred dollars honorarium to every actor.”

PF: Oh, this isn’t a one-person show?

TF: Hardly — there are 10 actors in it. Thomas Ryan is playing Rugemer, and John Stanisci the head Nazi stormtrooper. But when we were starting out with these readings, I said, “John, you have to cover the actors’ expenses. Actors should not go in the red to help you. It’s not moral.”

PF: Very nice of you.

TF: Look, I’m not righteous heroine. I love making a living. I’ve been a professional fund-raiser. I’ve raised millions and millions of dollars for very important causes — and I’ve been paid thousands and thousands of dollars to do it. So don’t pin a medal of honor on me. This is one of the ways I make my living, and I’m glad it does good in the world, but I’m well-paid. Actors have to be paid, too.

PF: Partly so they can afford to go to Poland and do research. What did you find there?

TF: Poland is beautiful, and so is Krakow. But I also have to say that I saw a wood carving of a Jew holding money. “What is this?” I asked a Pole, who told me matter-of-factly, “Oh, the Jews are good with money.” I said, “In my country, that’s called racial profiling.” The Pole said, “Why? We’d put an Arab next to an oil well.” So this is their “compliment” to the Jews.

PF: The country has had a controversial relationship with Jews over the years, hasn’t it?

TF: To say the least. Poland was the only country where helping a Jew was punishable by death. Remember Miep, who helped Anne Frank and her family? After the Franks were found in the attic, she wasn’t killed by the government. But the Polish people who helped any Jews were strung up in the town square, along with their spouse and children, along with the Jews that had been caught. Hundreds of Polish Jews who were able to survive the war and the camps came back home to reclaim their property which had been appropriated by the Poles— and were shot in the head.

PF: How awful.

TF: On the other hand, let’s not overlook the thousands of recorded acts of heroism in Poland to save victims of the Reich — Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, and Communists. Irena was one of them. And now, when this play needed seed money, the Polish Cultural Institute provided it. That allowed us to proceed, and then an angel came along. Stan Raiff has provided a great deal of funds, and the Directors Company is a producer, too, with Michael Parva directing. I have a feeling it’s going to be pretty good.

“THIS IS AN UNCORRECTED PROOF. It should not be quoted without comparison to the finished book.”

These two sentences may be in very small type, but they are prominent on the front cover of the book sent to me: The Complete Lyrics of Oscar Hammerstein II, as edited by Amy Asch. Granted, the tome won’t be officially published until Dec. 1, but it’s so good that I want you to know about it before you buy any other holiday presents for your friends, relatives, or yourself. This is the gift that they — and you — will want.

Granted, it cost $65, which may be a little more than you’d care to spend on others — or yourself. To put it another way, you probably could have bought an orchestra seat to each of the original nine Broadway productions that Hammerstein wrote with Rodgers, a ticket to the first-run ticket to the movie they did together, and pay the electricity expended on their made-for-TV musical and still have not spent $65. But, my, this book is something wonderful.

But how can I at this point in time tell its wonders when I’m commanded not to quote? I’ll do the best I can to work around that constraint. Should I start at the very beginning, which, as we all know, is a very good place to start? Well, yes, just long enough to tell you that Hammerstein’s first-ever lyric, written in 1916 for a Columbia varsity show, shows a good deal of dexterity and wit. Hammerstein is often accused of being the least funny of the major lyricists, with precious few belly laughs in his work. There are some in this song, though.

However, we may be better off starting on page 279 (of the book’s 448 pages). That’s where the lyrics he wrote with Richard Rodgers begin. For better or worse, they’re the ones most readers know far more than the ones he did with his other collaborators — who included no less than (in alphabetical order) George Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Sigmund Romberg, Arthur Schwartz, Herbert Stothart, Richard Whiting, and Vincent Youmans. Oh, there was Georges Bizet, too, with whom Hammerstein “collaborated” when writing new lyrics to his Carmen music to result in Carmen Jones. Given that here are almost TWO DOZEN unused lyrics from that show, those familiar with the original opera will have fun guessing which of Bizet’s melodies Hammerstein set to these lyrics. Then they can sing along.

So let’s concentrate on those 11 projects by H&R. (Yes, H&R. When talking about this book, H should, for a change, get first billing over R.):

Oklahoma! — From the first H&R blockbuster, you’ll discover the original plan for the song that became “It’s a Scandal! It’s a Outrage!” In addition to two cut songs you’ve probably heard — “Boys and Girls Like You and Me” and “When Ah Go Out Walkin’ with Mah Baby”— there are four more discards with which you probably aren’t familiar. One was replaced by “People Will Say We’re in Love,” another by “All ‘Er Nothin’,” and a third by “Out of My Dreams.”

Carousel — Four lines of The Bench Scene that didn’t make the vocal score are here. “June Is Bustin’ Out All Over” includes the sanitized lines written for the movie. Asch’s introduction to “You’ll Never Walk Alone” informs that a professional soccer club in England uses it as its anthem. Ted Chapin, the president of H&R, also points out a discrepancy involving an article — “a” vs. “the” — in one lyric. Most delightful, though, is Asch’s thinking to include the six lines that Carrie Pipperidge Snow sings a capella when she’s telling Julie about the show that she and Enoch saw on their trip to New York. (Well, it IS a Hammerstein lyric.) However, the one big surprise in this section is that there are no cut-out songs. Apparently, H&R knew what they needed from the outset.

State Fair — One dropped song is here, though no one knows which character was supposed to sing it. From the title, though — which involves a character’s belief that a kiss does not mean any type of commitment— I’ll bet it was for Margie Frake.

Allegro — Many of us only know this show from the very truncated 1947 cast album, so here are the lyrics at least of the 10 songs that didn’t make the disc. (They’ll have to suffice until the upcoming studio cast album comes out with R’s melodies attached.) Five songs that genuinely didn’t make the cut are there, too — as well as a delicious parody that H wrote about one of the show’s producers. Finally, there’s the info that “So Far” was originally written for a movie that didn’t get made.

South Pacific — We know “Loneliness of Evening” and “My Girl Back Home,” but there are seven less familiar cut-outs. Most are for Cable — including two intriguing ones lyrics that morphed into “Getting to Know You” for the next H&R show. Read them, and hum along to the melody you know and (probably) love. And that next H&R show, was, of course:

The King and I — Five cut songs, one for the Kralahome, one for Anna and the Kralahome, one for Anna and the King, and two for Son Klin. Who, you ask? That was the early name for Lady Thiang. Also included is a written complaint that Hammerstein had with Constance Carpenter’s rendition of “Hello, Young Lovers.” But here’s a good place to tell you that before each show, Asch includes a list of all the awards it received, so here you read about The King and I’s Tony-winning original production, the Oscars that the film snagged, followed by a sentence about the 1999 animated film. A blank space instead of a list of awards finishes THAT paragraph.

Me and Juliet — After a theatergoer wrote H to point out a flaw in logic in “Intermission Talk,” H wrote him back and admitted he was right — and that response is reproduced here. There’s also a dropped verse from the opening number, as well as a verse H wrote after the musical opened to lukewarm reviews, in hopes of strengthening the start of the show. Of the five dropped songs, two are quite elaborate numbers from the show-within-a-show.

Pipe Dream — The closest song that this show had to a hit was “All at Once You Love Her.” Would the song have been more successful had it used any of the three lyrics that H discarded? Read ‘em and judge. There’s also one song that didn’t make the cast album that uses a euphemism for “bitch,” which once again suggests that Billy Rose was right when he said that the prim and proper H wasn’t the right writer for a show mostly set in a whorehouse. There are five cut lyrics, including “Cannery Row,” which just as easily could have been the show’s title song.

Cinderella — “In My Own Little Corner” offers an unused ending. Otherwise, there are only two cut songs here, both involving the King. But, after all, this show wasn’t as lengthy as a stage musical, so we can’t expect as much extraneous material.

Flower Drum Song — Find out why H had to make a change in the show’s very first lyric. And just as the Carousel section includes Carrie’s singing a pop song she heard, so does this section include the six-line “rock ‘n’ roll” lyric that younger brother Wang San sang to Linda Low at the graduation party. (Once again: It IS a Hammerstein lyric.) “My Best Love,” which showed up in the 2002 revisal, is here, along with a song about unrequited love that was to be sung by Helen Chao.

The Sound of Music — We learn that H used up 45 pages of notes, ideas, and potential rhymes before getting “Maria” in finished-product condition. There’s a fascinating if clunky excised section of “How Can Love Survive?” as well as a cut song that Maria was going to sing as the nuns dressed her for her wedding. The one other cut song isn’t assigned to a character, but given its thrust, it seems to be for the Captain who is determined not to fall in love on the rebound.

None of what I’ve written, of course, conveys the wonder and the poetry of H’s achievements. And, of course, before we get to H&R, there’s H and everyone else in 278 pages of pithy, fascinating, intelligent — and perfectly rhymed — lyrics.

You might infer that The Complete Lyrics of Oscar Hammerstein II would end with “Edelweiss,” the last song he wrote. No -- 15 other lyrics end the book; they’re songs that couldn’t be identified or attached to any one project. That’s fine, but I would have somehow preferred the book to conclude with “Bless my homeland forever,” for I like to think of it as H’s parting wish for his own homeland of Broadway. How much or little Broadway has been blessed since Hammerstein left us is, of course, debatable, but we do have this blessing to have and to hold from Dec. 1 forth.