Bibbity-Bobbity-Obits

Here's a guy whose reputation in the theatrical and film communities is probably unmatched, though folks outside those industries are unlikely to have heard of him:

John Willis

1916-2010

As long-time editor (over 45 years) of Theatre World, he amassed statistics, photographs, and production details for every Broadway and most Off-, Off-Off-, and regional theatre productions. The annual publication is routinely used as source material for anyone who has any kind of question regarding an American theatrical production or individual. He did the same for Screen World, covering just about every film which received distribution; he contributed to Dance World and Opera World as well. He was widely regarded as an expert historian in theatre and film, and is informally acknowledged to have attended more theatrical performances than anyone in history (during his tenure at Theatre World, he attended 7-9 performances per week, which amounted to over 20,000 shows in his career).

Willis curated the annual Theatre World Awards, created in 1945 to honor young performers making their New York stage debuts. Here's a shot of Willis, on the far right, standing behind Anthony Perkins, who won the award in 1955 for Tea and Sympathy, and Richard Benjamin, who won in 1967 for Star-Spangled Girl:

The first winners of this prestigious prize included Marlon Brando, Burt Lancaster, and Barbara Bel Geddes; other winners over the years included Warren Beatty, Jennifer Holliday, Liza Minnelli, Dustin Hoffman, Julie Harris, Kristin Chenoweth, Matthew Broderick, Meryl Streep, Lucie Arnaz, and John Leguizamo. Alan Arkin's 1963 win for Enter Laughing became especially poignant in 1991, when his son Adam won for I Hate Hamlet:

While editing his publications, John Willis supported himself with a 20-year career as an English teacher in the New York City School System. He won the Tony in 2001 for Excellence in Theatre, and was listed in "Who's Who" for decades. He died last month at the age of 93.

The same year Theater World premiered, 1945, a single picture was snapped which capsulized the excitement which accompanied the end of WWII.

Edith Shain

1919-2010

On August 14, 1945, Shain was working as a nurse in a New York hospital when Truman announced the end of WWII. Everyone in Manhattan headed to Times Square, and shortly after she spilled out of the subway, she was grabbed by an exuberant sailor and bent over into a passionate kiss. The photographer who took the shot, Alfred Eisenstaedt, reported that he spotted the young sailor running down the street, snagging any woman in sight for a celebratory smooch. Young, old, small, fat, he was grabbing every female within reach, and the photographer started snapping pictures. "V-J Day in Times Square" was published a week later in Life magazine, and became an iconic illustration of the spontaneous patriotism and joy which erupted at the end of the war.
Shain remained anonymous until the 1970s, when she finally wrote the photographer claiming to be the girl in the picture (there have been several other claimants over the years, and the identity of the sailor has never been settled). She became an activist for WWII veterans and an invited guest to ceremonies commemorating the 50th and 60th anniversaries of the war's end. She died last month at the age of 91.

Regular readers of these pages know my affection and respect for actors who spend their careers in support. Here are a couple we recently lost:

James Gammon

1940-2010

He was one of those craggy-faced character actors who worked all the time. His film debut, in 1967's Cool Hand Luke, began a long career in Hollywood; he made memorable impressions in Urban Cowboy, The Milagro Beanfield War, Leaving Normal, Ironweed, Silverado and Cold Mountain. He is particularly loved for a comic turn as the coach in Major League and its sequel.

His resume includes over 135 roles on TV, ranging from Gunsmoke to Grey's Anatomy, and he had recurring roles on The Waltons and Nash Bridges (though only nine years older, he played Don Johnson's father in the latter series).

Like so many other actors, his first love was the stage, and he founded the tiny (50 seats) Met Theatre in Los Angeles in the 70s; he opened the space with a trio of Inge plays, Bus Stop, Picnic and Dark at the Top of the Stairs, which attracted positive critical attention. Above all, his stage career was dominated by Sam Shepherd's work, with which he had continued success. He appeared in major productions of Curse of the Starving Class, A Lie of the Mind, Simpatico, and The Late Henry Moss, and won a Tony nomination for the Broadway production of Buried Child.

James Gammon died last week at the age of 70.

Vonetta McGee

1945-2010

In 1972, the New York Times called her “just possibly the most beautiful woman currently acting in movies.” Blacula, Hammer, and Shaft in Africa provided starring vehicles for her, and though she appeared with Sidney Poitier in The Lost Man and with Clint Eastwood in The Eiger Sanction, she was unable to parlay her earlier successes in the "blaxpoitation" genre of films into more mainstream fare. She had a recurring role on L.A.Law for a time, and played Carl Lumley's wife during the run of Cagney and Lacey (the two actors ultimately married). McGee died July 9 from cardiac arrest at the age of 65.

Because one of my best, oldest buddies in Los Angeles is a successful voice actor, I am always aware of the deaths of some of his peers. It may mean more work for him. The voice of this guy died last week:

SPEED RACER

Peter Fernandez

1927-2010

This guy deserves respect because he was responsible for a lot of the success of Speed Racer. He was an actor, making his Broadway debut at the age of 11, but had been writing for pulp magazines when a friend asked him to write dialogue for a Japanese cartoon series being imported for American television. That series was Astro Boy, which was followed by Gigantor. When Speed Racer came along, Fernandez was writing and dubbing these very Japanese characters into English. His rapid-fire dialogue on Speed Racer was necessary to fill the multi-syllabic mouth movements of the original language.

The series which Fernandez Americanized in the 1960s set the stage for the respect which Japanese anime now enjoys. He died last week at the age of 83.

A while ago, I mentioned the death of Jiminy Cricket's vocal interpreter, and now comes word that another Disney voice has been silenced. (That is, the original voice has been silenced. Disney replaced this gal years ago, with Jennifer Hale. )

CINDERELLA

Ilene Woods

1929-2010

Our future princess was only 18, and beginning a career as a singer, when a couple of friends asked her to sing a few songs for a demo. She complied, singing "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo," "So This Is Love," and "A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes," accompanied by a lone piano. A few days later, Uncle Walt himself called and interviewed her on the phone. A few days after that, she was the voice of Cinderella, beating out over 300 other actors.

And here's a fun fact: Ilene's costar, at least musically, was future TV talk-show host Mike Douglas, who provided the singing voice for Cinderella's Prince:

The film was a last-ditch effort to erase the studio's debt, which in 1950 was considerable. Disney had not had a blockbuster hit since Snow White had shacked up with those seven little pervs in 1937. The film cost a whopping three million dollars, but Walt's gamble paid off, and with Cinderella's profits, he formed his own music publishing house, his own film distribution arm, entered into television production, and began building his personal dream, Disneyland.

As for Woods, she continued a singing career based on her Disney work, and appeared at the White House during the Truman years. In 1963, she married Tonight Show drummer Ed Shaughnessy, with whom she remained until her death on July 1 at the age of 81. She suffered from Alzheimer's disease, and was in a nursing home in California at the time of her death. Her husband reported that, though his wife had lost most of her memory, she seemed comforted whenever her nurses played her big Cinderella ballad:

Friday Dance Party: Let Yourself Go

These pages have been silent since last week's Dance Party, which I think is a first. In the three-plus years I have been at the helm of this gabfest, I don't believe a full week has gone by without my posting an entry. Until now. It's been an active, exhilarating, exasperating week. You want to hear all about it, right?

I have no doubt you will, but not in this posting. Suffice it to say that this week involved some travel, some singing, some dancing, and shmacting. There are a few career possibilities ahead, with the emphasis on POSSIBLE, even as one or two fell off the radar. More details will follow, but for today, it's the Dance Party!


Nothing raises my spirits more than a good dance-off, especially one which includes tap. Who better to prove the point than Astaire and Rogers? Fred has appeared several times before in these pages, once with our Ginger; go here for that truly delightful routine.

Here is another swell dance, in honor of Ms. Rogers, whose birthday is today. She would be 99 years old if she were still alive and kicking (and if she were alive, she would most assuredly still be kicking). Hope this improves your mood as much as it improves mine!

Friday Dance Party: Lads from Liverpool

The stars of this week's Dance Party do precious little dancing (and by "precious little," I mean none), but when has that ever stopped me?

The following clip has some personal significance for me. In 1965, The Beatles were already a world-wide phenomenon, with huge hits on the charts, and their famous appearances on the Ed Sullivan Show already behind them. Though they had toured quite a bit in Europe, the Beatles had not performed a live concert in the US. They changed that on August 15, 1965, with this appearance at Shea Stadium in New York. The fact that there is news footage of the concert proves that the guys generated mainstream media attention, even back then. Not only was this concert a first for the Beatles (that is, their first American concert), it also changed the way music concerts were presented. Their appearance at a sports stadium was a first for a musical act; the superstars of today can thank The Beatles for proving that people will attend a concert in a sports arena, an arrangement which is now common.

There is a personal reason I enjoy this clip. Two nights after that history-making concert in New York, I saw The Beatles at Atlanta Stadium. My parents had succumbed to the entreaties of my older sister, who was a big fan of the Fab Four, and bought tickets for us to attend the Atlanta concert. I have very few memories of the event (I was quite young), though the following clip is a pretty decent account of the things I remember most: screaming teen-aged girls. We were seated in the nose-bleed section, and the performers were mere ants on a stage plopped on the mound of the baseball diamond. I don't remember hearing any of the music, only the screams of the girls surrounding us.

My sister, age 12, had more composure than others, perhaps because my father was with us as chaperon. My parents went through a whole lot of trouble to get us to a 30 minute concert which we could not hear nor see clearly, but I am awfully glad they did. The Beatles gave fewer than 50 American concerts in their entire career; only a year after I saw them, they gave up on performing live, and who could blame them? How much artistic satisfaction could they get with the chaos which surrounded their live appearances? Despite the fact that their extraordinary musical output continued for another five years or so, they could not be persuaded to return to the concert stage.

In my adult life, whenever The Beatles come up in conversation, I can be counted upon to bring up the fact that I saw them in concert. Other than my father and sister, I have never run across anyone else who saw them perform live. I've been "dining out" on that event for decades.

I'm glad to have come across this clip for the Dance Party. It shows me some of what was happening on the stage, and in the audience, during that concert I attended, and barely remember, back in 1965.

Everybody knows John (they don't need last names, do they?) was assassinated in 1980, and George died of cancer in 2001. Paul, who was knighted in 1997, is in the Guinness Book of World Records as the most successful composer of popular music. Ringo turned 70 years old on Wednesday.

He Was the Very Martin of the Bader Ginsburg Marital

Martin Ginsburg

1932-2010

His marriage to Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg had just begun its 57th year when he died last week from cancer. They met on a blind date, as undergraduates at Cornell in the early 50s. They both became lawyers of note, with Marty's specialty tax law. He practiced with several firms in New York and DC, and became a professor at Georgetown University when his wife was appointed to the DC appeals court by Jimmy Carter. The Ginsburgs were one of DC's most visible couples, and Martin, though well-known in tax law circles, had no problem with the spotlight being turned so much more often on his wife.

He had a smart, self-deprecating sense of humor, about both himself and his wife. His story of her first attempt at tuna casserole has become legend. Seeing the two of them together was pretty precious. I should know, as I met, and performed for them, twice.


(You don't mind if this obit wanders off into Me-land, do you?) The first time was just a few years after I arrived in DC. I was a member of a musical revue which presented satirical songs of a political nature, called Mrs. Foggybottom and Friends (Foggy Bottom is the high-class neighborhood which houses the Watergate, as well as the Kennedy Center and George Washington University). Our little troop performed for various corporate functions, and were occasionally hired to provide entertainment at private parties.



One such event actually happened in one of the swanky Watergate Apartments, and the Ginsburgs were guests (they lived in the building for years). It was the first time I had performed our very political material for such high-level politicos, but the show went off well, and we were congratulated by Madam Justice and her husband. (I remember being surprised that Justice Antonin Scalia was also at the party; I would learn later that, though Ruth and Tony were on opposite sides of the political spectrum, they enjoyed each others' company and the Ginsburgs and Scalias saw each other often socially).

I wouldn't be able to spend an evening with that right winger, so I give kudos to the Ginsburgs.

Several years later, the Ginsburgs were responsible for one of the most memorable evenings I have ever spent as a performer. Back in early 2001, I was asked to participate in an evening's entertainment being planned for Martin Ginsburg's birthday party. Interact Theatre Co., with whom I had done Christmas at the Old Bull and Bush the previous holiday season, was hired by Ruth Bader Ginsburg to provide the entertainment at a lavish birthday party she was throwing for her husband. At the Supreme Court. Yep, the members of the Supreme Court have access to various large banquet-type halls in the building, and Ruth was using one for Dinner and a Show.

Martin was a huge fan of Gilbert and Sullivan, and Interact Theatre was an expert at presenting those operettas, so it was a natural fit. All the songs were to come from the G&S canon, and Justice Ginsburg had one very specific request: that one of the numbers include her husband's favorite phrase in all of G&S, originally uttered (or sung) by the Major General in Pirates of Penzance. In the show, the phrase, "Yes, but you DON'T go!" is issued in frustrated response to the policemen's exaggerated protestations of their own bravery, and their willingness to hunt the pirates. "Yes, but you DON'T go" had become a catchphrase the Ginsburgs used throughout their marriage. I was entrusted with that very important lyric.

There must have been about 8 of us performing that night, and we had rehearsed only a day or two in advance. I was new to Gilbert and Sullivan, so I struggled with the patter lyrics of some of the songs, but was confident that all would be well.


The dinner, as I said, was actually held at the Supreme Court, which is walking distance from my house. We gathered late in the afternoon, and were ushered through the security set up for the building. Though this was prior to 9/11, there was still a security check on all of us who were to be up-close-and-personal with the Supremes, and a physical patdown as we entered the building, too. You haven't lived until you've been frisked by the Secret Service.

It must have been a Saturday or Sunday night, and the building was closed to tourists at the time. Our ushers took us on an intimate tour of the inner sanctum, into rooms where your average tourist is not allowed. I was particularly impressed, and surprised, by the justice's deliberation chamber, or whatever they call it. It is a simple room, with a long table around which the Supremes sit, like a normal conference room. The walls are lined with books, but who knows if the judges ever use them. We were told that, during their discussions, clerks sit poised outside the door, ready to be dispatched to locate any precedent case which a justice may require.

I still get a kick out of the mental image of the nine Supreme Court Justices sitting around that conference table arguing, like opposing attorneys in a divorce case. We were also told that any notes which the justices may make while they are deliberating are burned.

After our tour, and running through our routine in the banquet hall, we were released, as the best of DC society began to arrive. We were the "entertainment", so we were not invited to the dinner portion of the evening, but Mrs. Ginsburg had arranged for us to have dinner around the corner at one of DC's nicest, quaintest restaurants. We trooped over to Two Quail, resplendent in our evening wear, and had a delicious meal courtesy of Ruth. (I was too nervous to eat much, so I took most of my filet mignon as a doggy bag, which the Secret Service searched when we returned to the Supreme's building).

The show went very well, no horror stories to tell, and the Ginsburgs were particularly grateful for our efforts. The whole room howled when I sang "Yes, but you DON'T go," I suppose because all of Marty's friends had heard this phrase from him over the years. We received a very nice, hand-written note from Justice Ginsburg a few days later, thanking us for our part in providing a life-long memory to her husband. (The note is in my scrapbook, yes, I'm that guy).

I bet just about everybody who met the Ginsburgs were impressed with their relationship. Martin came from a generation of men who was not used to being in their wives' shadows, but he didn't seem to resent his wife's higher profile. In fact, he enabled much of her success, and when she returned to the bench only 24 hours after his death last week, she did so because "Marty would want me to." He had many accomplishments in his own field of tax law, but I'll always think of Martin Ginsburg as the Prince Phillip of the Supreme Court.

Friday Dance Party: Those Were The Good Old Days

You may not know this is a very special day. July 2nd is the exact middle of the calendar year. (I guess it's the exact middle of the solar year, too, depending on when you start counting.) 182 days of 2010 are now behind us; beginning tomorrow, we have 182 days ahead. How can I avoid taking a bit of stock in how the year has gone, thus far?

It certainly has not been the worst year on record, for me, but not the finest either. Started the year with a swell gig with the Washington Stage Guild, a fine group of players who have taken me under their wing in recent times. They throw the best BBQs around.

Also had a grand time for a week at Fords Theatre, trying to keep up with the best voices in town, in their staged reading / concert of Parade. It's a good thing that experience was so artistically satisfying, as my wage for that gig was $3.44 per hour. So was everyone else's. Welcome to the Theatre!

Otherwise, professionally, it's been slow going. Back in March, I gave a terrific callback for a summer stock show, one of the best all-around auditions I've offered in years, only to lose the gig because I have male genitalia.

I'm still waiting to hear on a thing or two for the future, but have given up on the audition promised to me, twice, by the artistic director of a local house for their show which begins rehearsal within the month, an audition he himself offered out of the blue. After all these years, I'm still not sure why directors lie to actors about such things, instead of dealing with us in a professional manner ("Thanks for your interest, but as it turns out, we are going another way" is never fun to hear, but at least it's honest, and treats us as the professionals we are.)

It's a good thing I've had such fun traveling lately; my trips to North Carolina and to California have kept the personal spirits way up. Professionally, though, I'm feeling a bit wistful for last year. Exactly 365 days ago, I wrote about the great Pat Carroll, who introduced me to the privilege of performing two shows on your birthday. I was that lucky last year.

This week's Dance Party, coinciding with my birthday (in case you haven't picked up on that), should be all about me, don't you agree? Here's a rinky-dink clip of one of my favorite roles way back when. The show is Damn Yankees, and I was thrilled to land one of my dream roles in it, just a year before I left Los Angeles for good. As you can see, the show was performed in the round, at Glendale Centre Theatre. Musicals in the round are pretty challenging, but the group there seemed to know what they were doing. My director

was Ellen Wheeler (above), an Emmy-winning actress who went on to become an executive producer of daytime soaps. The choreographer, Lee Martino, continues a high-profile career on the West Coast. Not quite sure what happened to the gal playing Lola (left), but I know

what happened to me. I left L.A., thankful that I had accomplished one of my dream roles. Wouldn't mind tackling that devil again...

I'm sure you'll forgive the poor quality of the video itself; tapes of live performances are never much good in these situations. Happy Dance Party!

Prideful Husbandry

I spent the weekend in Durham, NC, attending the wedding of one of my closest friends. I may write a detailed report later, I'll have to decide if such a thing would annoy my friend. Deborah, though one of my dearest comrades, is only mentioned in these pages in connection with her work as an actress. Hard to believe (for a performer who is often in the public eye), but she guards her privacy voraciously, and would be furious with me if I were to post candid pictures of her wedding, or even write a play-by-play account of the event.

But another wedding caught my eye this weekend. It was no coincidence that its announcement took place during the final week of National Gay Pride. Actually, the entire month of June is designated for Gay Pride, and during that period, parades and festivals commemorating the Stonewall Riots are held throughout the country. I wrote a bit about those riots here ; I have often mentioned the event as the birth of the modern gay civil rights movement. The actual anniversary of the Stonewall Riots is today, June 28th, though the 27th is often commemorated as well (the police raid which ignited all the fuss took place around 1 AM, the morning of the 28th and the night of the 27th). Nobody cares much about that actual date these days, since there is so much Pride Partying going on all month long.

It was only a few years after the riots began to be commemorated with annual celebrations that some smart homo decided it was financially stupid to hold each and every Pride celebration on the same weekend. In case you didn't know, homosexuals have all this disposable income (the unemployment check in my hand is proof), and are very willing to spend it celebrating their own Pride. So, years ago, organizers across the country discovered that, if they scheduled their individual Gay Pride Festivals on different weekends, gays would likely attend more than one. Thus, the big parades in San Fransisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego are all held on different weekends. The celebrations in New York and Philadelphia never coincide, and those in DC and Baltimore are always scheduled separately as well.


I recognized this phenomenon when I lived in L.A., but was pretty surprised when I got to Columbia, SC to attend grad school. The two years I spent there, the Gay Pride festival was held in April (and this year, their celebration happens in early September!). Clearly, there are a lot of queens out there who will travel from city to city to show their pride over and over and over again.

Which brings me back to the very special marriage announcement I caught in the Washington Post on Sunday. After being together over 60 years, Henry Schalizki and Bob Davis took advantage of the recent legalization of same-sex marriage in DC, and became husband & husband. These two stylish gents have been on the radar of all theatre types in this area for decades; they attend more opening nights than the critics, and have been so supportive of the local theatre scene that they received an honorary Helen Hayes Award in 2008. I was in the audience that night, and can verify that the crowd rose into an immediate standing ovation when they took the stage to accept the commendation.

Do you think these guys were meant for each other? Get a load of this story. They met in Providence in 1942, striking up a conversation in a hotel bar, so taken with each other that they ignored Boris Karloff, who was also in the room. Three years later, Davis was appearing in a USO production of Room Service being presented on a military base in Hawaii, and was spotted by Schalizki, who was in the audience. They missed a connection there, and three more years passed. In 1948, they wound up in the same bar in Baltimore, and they've been together ever since.

Of course, they could not publicly acknowledge their relationship for many decades. They were well-liked and popular, and the fact that they were "confirmed bachelors who lived together" did not stop them from becoming two highly visible, highly sought-after members of DC society. The tacit acceptance of their relationship did not extend to the law, however, so in 1990, Henry legally adopted Bob, who was a year older than he. In this roundabout way, they hoped to get legal protections afforded traditional families, including inheritance tax breaks and the right to make medical decisions for each other.

That adoption was voided a few weeks before the couple took their vows on June 20th, exactly 62 years (to the hour!) after they had begun their relationship in that Baltimore bar in 1948.




I doubt those drag queens, hustlers, and homeless homos who started the riot at the Stonewall Inn 41 years ago could ever have imagined that one day, they might have the right to marry. And even as Don't Ask, Don't Tell is being gradually rolled back, Henry Schalizki and Bob Davis, who both served their country in WWII, have two decorative urns waiting in their penthouse overlooking Pennsylvania Avenue. When the time comes, their remains will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

How's that for feeling proud?