Album Droppings: Final Edition: Funny Ladies

I can't believe I actually finished this herculean task. I am not known for completion. After nine years, my condo remains unpainted, my fridge still whistles, and I'm about two years behind in filing my important papers. But I've finally finished something, and it's a biggie. Almost two years ago (November 17, 2007, to be exact), I began a project which I thought would be a fun and useful way to kill some time between gigs. The thing took on a life of its own. For the first four months, it swallowed my life, so much so that I had to abandon the project for a while. That "while" lasted about a year and a half. Recently, I returned to the task, and today, I finished it.


I'll backtrack. Two years ago, I ran across a machine at Costco which converts vinyl recordings to MP3 files, and I began the task of turning my massive collection of records (several hundreds) into digital files. This was during the early months of this blog, and I chronicled the various discoveries I was making as I slogged through my collection, most of which I had not even looked through in 20 or more years. If you are twisted enough to be interested in such things, you can access the entries I wrote during the process here.

I am relieved the project can now be put to rest. The final recordings I converted were comedy albums which I collected when I was a young pup dreaming of a show business career. Not that I ever wanted to do Stand-Up; I have very little interest in the gents who stand in front of a mic and tell jokes. But I've always been attracted to ladies of wit, even as a kid, when I watched Moms Mabley, Dodie Goodman, Joanne Worley, and others on the Merv Griffin show. Decades later, I enjoyed the Domestic Goddess routines of Roseanne Barr (back when she had two names), and the soft-spoken observances of Rita Rudner. (I have a feeling that, without acknowledging it, I am one of Kathy Griffin's gays.)

But it would not occur to me these days to buy a CD of any of the current crop of funny ladies. Years ago, though, I purchased several comedy albums by the leading comediennes of the day.

I have two albums by Joan Rivers. These live comedy concerts were both recorded decades before she became the gargoyle she is today, but even back then, she had a relentless, needy quality which can only be taken in small doses (it's no wonder her husband offed himself). But Rivers is always mentioned as a role model for current female stand-ups, and among contemporaries like Totie Fields and Phyllis Diller, she was the quickest with the quip.

I've already written a bit about Laugh-In, and its importance as a touchstone for political and social satire; the show's cast was uniquely funny, but only one member of the ensemble emerged as a true comic genius: Lily Tomlin. I have two of her early comedy albums, including her first, This Is A Recording. All the routines on this album involve Tomlin's most famous character, Ernestine the Telephone Operator, a character of which Lily herself grew tired (there were several years there, after the Laugh-In period, when she refused to include the character in her live performances). Tomlin joined Laugh-In during its second season, and was an immediate hit. During her hiatus from the show, she toured her stand-up routine to various small clubs around the country. I saw her in a tiny cabaret/comedy club in the basement of a strip mall in Atlanta during this period; she was a scream. Her brand of character-based stand-up was pretty new back then, and she specialized in improv with the audience. I knew I was witnessing something very special when she was playing little Edith Ann, the kid with the thpeeth impediment, taking questions from the audience. And her sequence playing Lola the Party Lady at a funeral (she propped up the corpse to use as a ventriloquist's dummy) was wickedly funny.


I purchased one album by the comedy team of Burns and Schreiber, but only because of the presence on the disc of a woman absolutely nobody has heard of, Ann Elder. She was an occasional performer back in the late 60s; in fact, she was hired to replace Goldie Hawn on Laugh-In. But she was much more successful as a writer, winning Emmys for two of Lily Tomlin's TV specials. This particular album is called The Watergate Comedy Hour, and was released during the Senate's investigation into the scandal which brought down the Nixon presidency. Elder wrote much of the album, and appears on it as Nixon's embattled secretary, Rosemary ("I erased 18 minutes") Woods. Along with Burns and Schreiber, the ensemble included Fannie Flagg (Fried Green Tomatoes), who's a hoot as loudmouthed whistle-blower Martha Mitchell, and Jack Riley, who later found fame on Bob Newhart's first sitcom.

Another funny lady represented in my collection is Bette Midler. The Divine Miss M released a stand-up comedy album in 1985, recorded live at the Improv in LA. I don't know why this musical diva wanted the experience of stand-up, and truth be told, her jokes are better when they are surrounded by musical interludes. Mud Will Be Flung Tonight includes some very raunchy Sophie Tucker jokes, and has only two songs, one of which, "Otto Titzling," was successful enough to be included in later film and talk show appearances.

The cover of Flip Wilson's album, The Devil Made Me Buy This Dress, leads one to believe the entire recording will be centered on his famous drag persona, Geraldine, but in fact, his female alter-ego appears in only a couple of routines on the album. Wilson had a break-out variety show in the early 70s, a series which landed in the number 2 slot in the Nielson ratings its first two years. He broke with convention and had no chorus, and his performance space was in the round, resembling an intimate nightclub. His style was hip and up-to-date, and was very accessible to a wide demographic. Flip's salary demands escalated just as he was facing stiff competition from The Waltons, and the show was cancelled after its fourth season. Wilson's "Geraldine" skits were always stand-outs on his show; ditto this album.

The last comedy album I converted to MP3 was recorded by another legendary funny lady, Paul Lynde. It's a disappointing effort; Lynde is much funnier on the various Hollywood Squares albums. Recently Released was recorded while he appeared in his breakthrough role of Harry McAfee in Broadway's Bye Bye Birdie, and he is clearly not a star at stand-up. But I've always been his fan, and this album is a rarity.

And with that, I've finished the project at hand. This week, I'll be boxing up my hundreds of LPs and hauling then to Raleigh, NC, to be donated to a thrift shop started by my sister's animal rescue organization. I'm told they have various experts who examine their incoming merchandise and assign realistic prices; I bet most of my collection would go for two bucks apiece or so. But there are a few actual gems hidden among the mountains of vinyl, which I hope might bring a nice price.

And, even better, I will finally get these record albums out of my closet.

Friday Dance Party: Thoroughly Modern Mame

The upcoming revival of A Little Night Music is one of the most eagerly anticipated shows of the new Broadway season. Angela Lansbury will be playing the aging courtesan Madame Armfeldt, and warbling one of Stephen Sondheim's lesser-known gems, "Liaisons." Our Angela will surely be nominated for a Tony for her upcoming role, and should she win, she will break the tie she currently has with Julie Harris, as the performer with the most awards (they both have five, though Harris also has a sixth, non-competitive Lifetime Achievement Tony...it's only a matter of time before Lansbury gets one of those, too). They ought to give this gal a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Emmys, come to think of it. Lansbury is the Susan Lucci of the Primetime Emmys, having been nominated a whopping 18 times, and losing every one (that's an actual record). Most of those noms were for her long-running role in Murder, She Wrote, though she has received several further nods for guest shots, and two for hosting the Tony Awards. We think of Angela Lansbury, at least on stage, as a musical star (four of her five Tonys were for musical roles), but back in the early 60s, nobody remembered she could sing. She had already received three Oscar nominations for film work (including one for her screen debut in Gaslight) when she was tagged to star in Stephen Sondheim's 1964 musical, Anyone Can Whistle. Though the show flopped, it launched Lansbury's musical theatre career. I've been privileged to see two of Angie's Tony-winning performances. As a teenager in London, I was blown away by her work as Mama Rose in Gypsy, a performance which obliterated any residue left by Ethel Merman's iconic creation of the role. Six years later, she brought another of her Tony-winning performances, in Sweeney Todd, to Los Angeles, where I was in the audience during the videotaping of the show (once that videotape was broadcast on TV, she received another Emmy nomination, which of course, she lost). But I wish I had seen her in what was probably her most triumphant (and was certainly her most commercially successful) stage role, Mame. Posterity was robbed of her performance when the film role went to Lucille Ball, to disastrous effect, and there are only a few, very grainy bootlegs out there of Lansbury singing some of the show's catchy tunes. For this week's Dance Party, I've chosen a clip which embodies much of what Angela must have brought to the role of Mame Dennis. It's not from the show, it's a performance she gave of an Oscar-nominated song on the 1968 Academy Awards. But Lansbury looks and sounds like Mame in this clip; she's sassy and sophisticated, and get a look at those gams! In honor of her 84th birthday, which is today, please enjoy: 

Rainbow High

It's been a week sprinkled with fairy dust here in DC. Saturday night's swanky fundraiser for the Human Rights Campaign made a bit of history with its keynote speaker, Barack Obama. He is the first sitting president to attend such a function, and gave what some claim was a speech full of the same pro gay-rights rhetoric which helped his election. He continues to promise to repeal the military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy, and to work to revoke the federal Defense of Marriage Act, which cowardly Bill Clinton signed into law (Clinton claims to regret that decision, an easy remark to make, now that he will never be running for office again). Anyhoo, the current president is receiving mixed marks about everything from everybody of late (except the Nobel committee), and has made nary a move to fulfill the promises he made to the gay community during his campaign. Many 'mos are tired of waiting.

That was apparent at the Equality March on Sunday. Tens of thousands of gays and straights marched down Pennsylvania Avenue, passing in front of the White House on their way to the Capitol, where they gathered to rally for Equality Across America. They had a lovely day for it, beginning with, appropriately enough, wisps of a rainbow:

Folks came from around the country to attend, including a nice contingent from Broadway (a place rife with homosexuality, from what I hear). Sex and the City star Cynthia Nixon, who has been a lesbian for several years now, spoke, and musical theatre cutie Gavin Creel brought his tribe from the current revival of Hair. (In fact, the producers shuttered the show for the day, to enable the entire cast and crew to attend the rally. Let the Sunshine In!)


Attendance at the rally exceeded expectations, but who knows how much good it may do. Some think such rallies are meaningless, including the highest-ranking gay elected official in the United States, Barney Frank. Earlier this week, he called the planned rally "useless." Thanks, Barney.

Someone who never thinks such gatherings are useless, who has become a recurring presence at gay rallies for the past decade, is Judy Shepard. She was thrust into the role of activist when her son Matthew was pistol whipped by a couple of homo-hating thugs and strapped to a fence to die. Today marks the eleventh anniversary of that horrendous hate crime (I wrote a bit about it last year), and to mark the occasion, a world-wide theatrical event is happening, as I write these words. The folks behind The Laramie Project, which documented the reactions of the locals to the Matthew Shepard murder, returned to that infamous Wyoming town to see if attitudes had changed in the past decade. The Laramie Project, Ten Years Later, An Epilogue is being presented in staged readings across the country tonight. Glenn Close is leading a starry cast at Lincoln Center, while Richard Dreyfus is participating in California. Here in DC, Arena Stage is producing the local event.

I heard a report on the new play on NPR, and am frustrated by the level of denial the residents of Laramie, WY continue to have. It seems easier for some folks there to remember the murder as a drug deal or robbery "gone bad." The victim was beaten senseless, stripped to his underwear, then lashed to a fence and left to die; exactly how is that a robbery gone bad?

As much as I believe in the power of live theatre, this new piece will not have the same force as the legislation which just passed the House of Representatives on Thursday. "Hate Crimes" will now include gay, lesbian, and transgender people; once the measure is approved by the Senate, it will give federal authorities the ability to prosecute hate crime offenders when local authorities fail to do so. The bill carries Matthew Shepard's name.

There are a couple of other pieces of gay legislation on the horizon (I'm not sure what "gay legislation" actually encompasses. I guess it means any gay law which sleeps with another gay law). Voters in Maine will head to the polls in November to ratify, or reject, their own legislature's recent law allowing same-sex marriage. In much the same way that California's Prop 8 referendum reversed existing law, those lobster-catchers up north are poised to do the same.


Closer to home, the DC City Council will soon be voting on a measure to legalize same-sex marriage here. The nation's capital already recognizes such unions from other jurisdictions, and is now poised to allow the ceremonies to take place here. The measure has received the vehement objections of council member, former mayor, and convicted felon Marion Barry (I am continuously confused by the widespread resistance to this issue by blacks, who ought to know a thing or two about having civil rights withheld). Despite Barry's objections, the bill is likely to be passed; it will then be sent to the United States Congress for ratification.


For those of you in ignorance, all DC city ordinances, taxes, proclamations, and EVERYTHING must be approved by the federal government. (This while DC residents do not have a voting member of either House of Congress...don't get me started on this again.) Word has it that the usual right-wing subjects will mouth off about the bill for a while, but their objections will not prevent the bill from becoming law. The Republicans have their hands full preventing health care to all Americans, and will apparently not have the political capital to fight this particular fight.

It seems likely, then, that the District of Columbia will become one of the very few places in the nation to allow same-sex marriages to be performed, as well as sanctioned.


And speaking of same-sex marriages, this week of rainbow news is being crowned by George Takei, of all people. Star Trek's Sulu and his husband (they were legally wed in California and, so far, that marriage remains legal) have become the first same-sex couple to appear on The Newlywed Game, which I did not even know was back in production. Apparently, that risque old chestnut has been revived by the Game Show Network, and its second season premiere episode, airing tonight, features Takei and spouse, going where No Man Has Gone Before. Kirk would be so proud.

Friday Dance Party: Kudos for Kristin

I'm a big Kristin Chenoweth fan, though I know some people (you know who you are) are not. What the hell's wrong with you? More accurately, what the hell's wrong with her? Nothing, that I can see. Perhaps you think her tone is too perky, her voice is too high, her height is too short?

I've been reminded of Ms. Chenoweth's talent quite a few times in the past weeks, beginning with the Primetime Emmy Awards a short while ago. She was part of the ensemble of that kookie show Pushing Daisies, a program I really tried to love, but couldn't. I promise, I gave it more than one chance, but there is just only so much whimsy a guy can take. The show was the critics' darling, but was sabotaged by the writers' strike and by the network's foolish decision to refrain from broadcasting reruns. Instead, they "re-launched" the show a year later. Bad, bad mistake. Despite the presence of stage actor types like Swoozie Kurtz, Ellen Greene, and of course Chenoweth (plus the superbly talented Jim Dale narrating the thing), I just could not hook into the show. Nobody else could, either, and Pushing Daisies has been pushing up daisies for many months. So it was one of the few surprises of the recent Emmy Awards that our Kristin snagged the prize as Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy.

It's not her first major award. That would be the Tony, which she won for the Broadway retooling of You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown, in which she stopped the show as Sally Brown. She attracted a lot of attention for her work in what was, apparently, a mediocre production. She snagged several films and a short-lived TV series, the latter of which did not showcase her talents well. She now moves easily between the stage and screen and, more importantly, actually does so. Lots and lots of stage actors who become regulars in Hollywood claim their heart is still with the stage, but actually abandon the theatre. Not our Kristin. She returned to Broadway in a very big way, playing one of the witchy roommies in one of the biggest smashes of the past decade, Wicked. There are several bootleg videos out there, of Chenoweth singing her various songs from the show, and in all of them, she is clearly overplaying her charm factor. I bet she knew the same thing that all my friends who have seen the show recognized: the show is a technical behemoth, but is emotionally slender.

I mentioned there were several reasons Kristin has been on my radar lately. In addition to the Emmys, she guested on Glee last week, a performance which gave her the opportunity to show off her lower register, as she belted Cabaret's "Maybe This Time." She's popping up on my TV screen even more during the day; I've been revisiting The West Wing, which is being rerun on Bravo. I had forgotten that Kristin had a large recurring role in the show's final season, a performance which included no singing and no dancing (but it does have her requisite charm...I doubt she can give a performance without it. But why would we want her to?) The West Wing was not known for its sight gags, but they provided a doozy in an episode I watched this week. They placed Chenoweth in the same frame, side by side, with the show's star Alison Janney. Kristin is 4'11". Alison is 6'. Hilarity ensued.

I admire Kristin Chenoweth for a reason other than her talent. She is a woman of devout faith, and does not hide the fact. But unlike other mouthy Christians, she does not torture herself (or us) over Leviticus. She lives her life according to the WWJD belief system; she asks herself, "What Would Jesus Do?" The answer is always one of inclusion, and as a result, she is the only born again Christian I can think of who is also a gay favorite.

This week's Dance Party is a clip from Chenoweth's visit to the Boston Pops, videotaped for PBS. She is at her best with comic numbers like this one, from an old Jule Styne show called Two on the Aisle. If you love our Kristin, prepare to love her even more. If you dislike our Kristin, this may change your mind. Or you're just crazy. Watch the clip anyway, and enjoy the physical comedy of the unnamed actor playing the corpse. He should be a star, too:

Theatre Droppings: Stage Guild Does Its Bit

I was tickled pink (or some other, more Shavian colour) to attend the opening night of Strange Bedfellows, offered by the Washington Stage Guild at Catholic University, Saturday night. It was a welcome return to full production by the Guild, which has been on hiatus for the past two seasons; I'll get to that in a mo'. First, it's a pleasure to report that the double bill of one-acts by George Bernard Shaw is hilarious. Why wouldn't it be? Not only is the cast filled with my friends (well, perhaps one or two are mere acquaintances, but why quibble), they are all experts at translating Shaw's humor to the stage.

Director Bill Largess assembled an outstanding ensemble, filled exclusively with old hands who attended Catholic University back in the day, and who were all important contributors to the formation of the Stage Guild in 1986. I especially enjoyed seeing Alan Wade, who directed me in Of Mice and Men, play a couple of wildly different roles. Alan is a well-respected professor of theatre at George Washington University, and the academic gravitas which that position requires suits him well. So it was a double hoot to watch this genteel gent let loose onstage, first as a harried prime minister crawling under the furniture (in ladies' heels!), then as an hilariously drunken clerk. If he did not already have a very full career on campus, he would be a much more frequent player on local stages.

The rest of the cast are all folks I had the pleasure of working with in the Stage Guild's recent Staged Reading Series. I may be prejudiced toward this unique theatre company; regular readers of these pages already know that one of my favorite onstage experiences was provided by WSG, when I appeared in their production of Opus. That lovely show was, until last Saturday, their last fully produced production. The intervening two years have been more than difficult for the Guild.


I've learned a bit of the history of the group, from program notes and from chats with the current artistic director (the same Bill Largess mentioned above), and from the executive director, Ann Norton. This group of CU grads performed Shaw's Heartbreak House back in 1986, a production which encouraged them to form their own theatre company. From the start their focus has been on the plays themselves, which has yielded a high threshold of quality ("rare plays, well done!" is their motto), and anyone who has been in the DC theatrical community for a while knows and admires their ambitious work.

Over the years, while WSG concentrated on the work, other DC companies spent a lot of energy on institutional growth. Studio, Signature, and Woolly Mammoth, for example, expanded their boards and launched fundraising campaigns, ultimately resulting in those institutions landing in swanky permanent digs. But the Stage Guild took a different route, continuing to concentrate on, well, rare plays, well done.




They had what seemed a permanent space for a decade or so, at St. Patrick's Catholic Church, where the chief priest was a big supporter. Eventually, Rome became displeased with the idea of a secular theatre group performing on Catholic grounds, and threw them out. OK, I made that part up, just to add to the dramatic narrative. Carroll Hall, the performance space occupied by WSG, was slated for demolition. (But I think that was just an excuse; I know the real reason the Guild was evicted: the Pope was mad that WSG refused to do Nunsense). Anyway, the group moved on, performing at Source theatre for a handful of years, and in a small black box owned by Arena Stage for another five or so. It was in that latter space where Opus was performed, and was so successful that it was remounted several months later. The show was promoted as the final Stage Guild production before the company moved into its own, permanent theatre.

Yes, it seemed the muses really did like rare plays, well done, and WSG had been invited to become the arts component in a new office building going up in Penn Quarter (the developers received incentives from the city in exchange for allowing some sort of arts organization to occupy their new basement space). A Capital Campaign was launched, and I'm told a good bit of money was spent to design a theatre space which would afford the Stage Guild a unique home of their own. This was terrific news. The types of plays WSG produces really cry out for a bigger space (the farcical elements of their current show at Catholic, for example, would fit very nicely in a larger venue). The new theatre was to hold several hundred patrons, and was designed with all the bells and whistles necessary to produce high quality work.

Plans for this new space were well underway when I began to hang with the Guild gang. (This was back when I worked with many of them on a staged concert reading of 1776, about which I wrote a while ago.) If my memory serves, everyone was truly excited and optimistic about the future, with only one snag. Well, maybe two. The first: several millions of dollars were needed to turn the basement space of this new office building into a theatre. The second, and perhaps more alarming snag: there could be no kitchen. Herein lies a crucial difference between the Stage Guild and so many other companies; founders John MacDonald and Ann Norton lived and worked as family, and treated others the same. Dating back to the first years at the Catholic Church, when the group had the use of a large kitchen, rehearsals and performances were accompanied by generous "family time," usually taking place around a long table full of food. This was an important aspect of the Guild's production model; Ann used to joke to her actors, "You're not well-paid, but at least you're well fed." The prospect of shrinking full-course meals down to frozen food from a microwave was not a pleasant one for this crowd.

Still, the future seemed bright until, as Bill mentioned to the Washington Post last week, a "perfect storm" hit. The Capital Campaign hit bumps, then hills, then walls, and worst of all, John MacDonald suffered a fatal fall at his home. For a company which believed that an artist's work should be harmonious with an artist's life, this was a terrible blow. Then, the economy tanked, and hopes of achieving funding for the new theatre fell, as Bill put it, "out of reach."

For the last couple of years, the Washington Stage Guild has not had a full production, presenting their Staged Reading Series instead, and taking the time to reassess. And of course, to grieve for the loss of their founder. I know that process continues, even as WSG is now offering its first fully produced piece in such a long while. Strange Bedfellows consists of two very funny Shavian playlets, and will be a centerpiece of the International Shaw Conference, which is in town next week (the conference is in DC, at least partly, due to Washington Stage Guild's presence here).


After thoroughly enjoying the show on Saturday, I started to think about this specific group of actors who has spent the last several weeks returning to the scene of their college crimes. It reminded me of a production of Bye Bye Birdie (below) produced waaaaaay back in the late 70s. I played the lead, and though the show was being produced by a church group, we performed in the theatre at JFK High School, on the very stage where I had spent my senior year of high school. Memories flooded back, and ghosts were hiding in every corner. The same thing must be happening to the cast of Strange Bedfellows.

The most powerful ghost they are encountering is probably John MacDonald, who was instrumental in the creation of the Washington Stage Guild, and who dreamed of a permanent space for his troupe. That goal remains in the long-term plans for the theatre company he created, but for now, it's one show at a time...