Variety (January 1961)

8 PICTURES Fifty-fifth P^RIETY Anniversary January 4, 1961 Pappy Was An Impersonator Chevalier s Tall Memory A Zany Reminiscence (Hallucination? ) By the Author of *My Brother Was an Only Child 9 and ‘AVr er Trust a Xaked Bus-Driver 9 Bv JACK DOI GLAS Mv father was a professional female Impersonator lorn* btio. e Julian Eltinte or T. (’. Jones or Eartha Kitt ever thought of it. Dad was a female impersonator for almost 65 years and had appeared on the stage of every famous theatre in the world. He finally quit with the advent of short skirts. They just didn't become him. Poor Dad. His knees were turning gray 'which was quite ail right for the “September Song” hut out of place during Dad's finish, which was the Charleston*. Actually, my father didn't quit show business. He was forced out of it. It all happened during World War I. My father, unfortunately, was breaking in a new female impersona¬ tion act at the Moulin Rouge in Paris. I say, unfortunately, because my father, in order to give his act an entirely new f!a\or had changed his name to Mata Hari. In no time at all, a mixed-up corporal by the name of De Gaulle mistook Dad for the other Mata Hari and three days later. Dad was facing a firing squad, where he refused a rose-colored blindfold because it clashed. And he also re’used a cigarette, because he had promised his mother. All this refusing of course, had a tendency to shorten the proceedings, and Dad found himself suddenly porous. Thus ended a long and lacey dynasty. Before going on. I must explain that in Dad’s day female Impersonation was an honorable profession, like tsetsefly¬ breeding is today. I use tsetsefly-breeding as an example of what I mean, because not so long ago tsetsefly-breeding va'' looked at with a jaundiced eyed 'particularly by people with liver trouble-. Now, of course, anyone with a spare hathroom (to insure a steady supply of running water) can , ar.d docs breed tsetse flies, usually to augment their income *a good pair of tsetse-breeding flies who like each other* can bring as high as S50. Incidentally if you are considering going into this thriving little sideline don't forget the running water. T>etse files will breed only under a turned on tap *and they have to be damned quick about it or down the drain they go*. But that's the story of the whole world today. “Dangerous sex" seems to be the rule rather than the exception ;in the California papers am way. Getting back to Dad and his frilly career. Dad started his female impersonation act. at the turn of the Century (which may have had something to do with it'. Tony Pastor spotted Dad, strolling up the avenue, carrying a large pink parasol, and asked Dad if he had ever considered the stage. Dad. peeping at Mr. Pastor over his Japanese fan, asked h in what he had in mind, and Tony said that the public had become tired of Lily Langtry and Mrs. Patrick Camp¬ bell and Lillian Russell and Perle Mesta and Sir Herbert Bterholm Tree and Lad — a dog — and that the public wanted to see new faces, so Dad said okay he’d take the jo t and over night he became a star, and Tony Pastor put his name up in candles. Dad, it turned out. was the best female impersonator the world had ever seen, in spite of the fact that he wore a full heard. Dad’s beard was very full and very long, so" to complete his female impersonation, he used to tuck it under his gown and lump it in the right places. Of course, being a female impersonator with a full beard sometimes d'd confuse people. They thought it was Charles Evans Hughes on his way to the “April In Paris’* Ball. According to Chapter 3, Volume 6, in Pinky Lee’s Life¬ time Reading Plan lemale impersonation is. the world’s 86th (Jdest profession. It comes right after beaded bag beading and snake-cooling snakes are born hot, you know Il Figures! The first female impersonators were, of course, women. This led to a great deal of contusion, and embarrassment, especially on the small French island of Lcs Bos. Lcs Bos is a small French Lland off the coast of Westport, Connecticut, or I should say it was a .small French inland oii the coast of Westport. Connecticut. It's not there any¬ more. They broke it up to make room tor water skiing accidents. Well . . . after my father had been executed as a spy. The National Spy Club of America erected a monument to him in Central Park, which d'dn’t work out too well, bec ;. ;se it was a huge bronze hor<e with Dad's face.. .The reason Dad was honored in the shape of a horse was b< cause another group. The “Let's Keep The Civil War Green'’ Association had picked the same location for a monument. That's why Dad’«= got General Robert E. Lee on Ins back. Visit tills monument some time. For AA's it's part of the cine. Dad had started h > career in Holland selling Dutch Po>? cards pictuio <-t dir‘y tulips: then he had gone to night sciiool and studied Vo.ksv. auen ‘dealing, at which he w;.-) quite adept even hti'oie lie went to night school. After this, while still living in Holland he became a dike linger tii'-tr.bulor. I):ke tnue.-'. were part of living in Holland, because of the numerous leaks that always seemed to be springing up. Dad's line features two kinds of dike fingers. Whih or without I boy. Ac.uaily. the story of the small boy sticking ids finetr in the dike and saving ail of Holland from inundation .s fiction. What really happened was this small boy spied a leak in the dike, and instinc¬ tively put ids -i,Ue lingtr m it and got the "hock oi his young life. There was another little finger on the other Ssde. The small boy immeri.ately got the hell out ol there anti Holland quickly became the North Sea. Ever the Lamniister In his travels about the world. Dad saw many curious things besides Dear Mother . lie saw the Taj .Mahal, and the Maj Tahal. and the Jat Laham. and the lnkspot>. all by moonlight. He saw the mighty Krine River which rises in Tule Lake and empties into the Maharajah of Ranjiput's washroom {giving him flu* only indoor plumbing ea \ of Sot/..'. lie saw Ike condensed veision of the Dead Sea Scrolls shoved into a small jar by the Reader’s Digests He visited Buda and Pest. He studied Budism and Pestism. In Germany he had Rhine maidens on the rocks, and rock maidens on the Rhine. Dad always said you haven’t lived until you've tried everything once, so he tried knockwurst and icecream. Once. He liked it, and so did Mother. SLe died from it but she liked it. . After Mother had gone to that big Laundromat-In-TheSkv. like they say in children’s stories, Dad started playing the field and in no time at all he was in love with a meadow. But he married a fork in the road, because he thought it was sexy. This led to frustration and the pyschiatrist’s couch. W’ith the aid of pentathol Dad ad¬ mitted he had always hated his mother but he had done something about it. He had killed her — by stacking the Encyclopedia Britannica, then having her pull out the bottom book. The jury decided that the Ensyclopedia could not be considered a dangerous weapon, except in certain situations, like Tennessee Williams, or Clifton Fadiman. and Dad was exonerated, and also given the Pulitzer Prize (in those days they gave one for ingenious homicide'. The Pulitzer people have since discontinued this particular prize, because they were going broke. After a year or two with Dr. Oom, the psychiatrist, Dad was more or less cured. He still chased cars, but only on weekends or when someone left the gate open. It was about this time that Dad wrote a bestseller: “How To Lose A Thousand Dollars In Real Estate In Your Spare Time,” From the proceeds of this book he. started a winter theatre. In’ Nome. With the winters being what they were in that part of the world. Dad figured he could put on something by O’Neill, and not run out of night. It was at this little Off-Broadway Icebox that Dad dis¬ covered much of the great off-Broadway theatrical talent that is around today. Names like Dody Mumphv, the titillating comedienne and leper. Clarence Curd, the famous off-Broadvvay playwright, who penned such off. Broadway masterpieces as: “Toys In the Basement,” “The Tenth Man Upon A Mattress” and the never to be for¬ gotten “Long Days Journey Into The Tomb At The Top” fa musical smash*. Dad also discovered that dimpled daring of the off-Broadvvay stage’, Trixie, the famous talking dog and producer. Trixie was first discovered on 59th Street, near the Plaza Hotel, walking a blonde. From there, Trixie went directly to a headline spot in Dad’s Nome Playhouse. First she did Sadie Thompson in “Rain.” Then in no time at all Trixie was the star of “The Visit,” playing both parts. A Man of Many Parts Dad. in his time, had been many things. President of General Motors, Standard Oil and DuPont. Premier of France, and for a short time. Queen of England (he gave up the throne because he couldn’t stand Danny Kaye). Always far advanced in his thinking. Dad, although he didn’t invent the automobile, knew' that something had to -be done to get rid of pedestrians. And it’s really working out nicely. Other kids sometimes never get to know their fathers. But I did. I got to know mv father very well. We were more than father and son. We were pals. Almost every night we d lie on the floor in front of a roaring fire and read the Boy Scout Instruction Book. Then one day, we went to his lab and took a Boy Scout apart and put him back together again. We lost some of him through care¬ lessness. Dad took me everywhere with him. Fishing. Hunting. Hiking. He even took me with him the day he bombed Disneyland <in a rented Piper Cub*. Even though Dad’s gone things are just as be left them. The walls of his den are still covered with the mounted trophies of the hunt. Gun Bearers. Guides. Guides’ wives. Assistant Guides. Assistant Guides’ wives. Innocent bystanding pygmies. Tourists (still focusing their Pplaroids). Watussis. Wahutus. Zulus, Mangbettus. Kanuris. and a stuffed ant-eater 'which had been killed un-premediatedly by a cornered anti. In the bathroom. Dad’s favorite toothbrush still riood in his favorite glass, along with Dad’s favorite teeth. The bat’nmat. which had been woven especially out of th:n water repellent former Broadway pressagenls. And the bathtub was still filled with water and a nude Miss America of 19Q8r whom Dad had always kept in the tub, because as he explained, although she was deaf and dumb, she was a lot less slippery than a bar of soap. This explana¬ tion actually doesn't make a helluva lot ot sense, but Dad always felt he should say something to the press during those bathroom conferences. Home 19 What You Make It Nothing in Dad’s bedroom was touched either. The Rockettes were still there in the kingsize bed. Still trving to kick their way out. The June Taylor dancers were warm¬ ing up in the closet, and Leonard Bernstein was still posing his baton in front of the orchestra, wailing to give the downbeat at a signal from Dad. A signal, that alas, would never be given again. Leonard Bernstein may be just sprayed with a fixative and left there 'if all goes well'. And in the combination barn-garage, six black shiny Budweiser Beer horses stood ready to pull Dad’s shiny gold Valiant in the Mobilgas economy run 'Dad always won it1. The old slave quarters was just as Dad had left it. Full of slaves Tiie last batch having been brought over on the lie De France. The old Mississippi River steamboat that Dad had worked on as a boy was still there in the swimming pool. Dad had known Mark Twain when his name was Melvin Gleckle. Dad bought the old Mississippi River steamboat and put it in the swimming pool just in case Mark Twain ever visited him. He wanted to give him a surprise *the gangplank was sawed half way through 1. Dad had a lot of humor to him. But Dad is gone now. The greatest female impersonator the world has ever known. Laid to rest in the tomb of the unknown sailor 'bunk slabs', but bis magnificent spirit lives on in his only son, my brother. Paris. The first time Irving Thalberg came in 1928 to . visit me with his lovely wife, Norma Shearer, in my dressingroom at the Casino de Paris, I thought he was. bluffing me because he looked to me too young for a big Hollywood producer. So I almost smiled him off. Later we became warm friends in Hollywood and after my five years at Paramount I signed to work for him at MGM. We made “The Love Parade” together fwith Ernst Lubitsch) and after I refused to see eye-to-eye with him for a picture he wanted to make with Grace Moore — it was actually because of a rather jambon (French for “ham*’.) problem of billing — I went back to France, troubled. To this day I wonder if I was wrong not to have accepted his judgment and not to have con¬ tinued accepting his advice which had been so sound. This is separate and apart from the fact that Grace Moore later did make a fine musical film al¬ though it was not for Metro but for another company, Columbia Pictures. I still have a soft spot of sadness in my heart about it. Maurice Chevalier R.I.P.: The ‘He-She’ Brand of Comedy A Doddering Character Weaned On ‘Madison’s Budget’ Mourns ! Its Passing j By BENNETT CERF Where, oh where, are the “he-she” jokes of ye«tleryear? The magazines that featured them have folded. ^Vaudevillians who purveyed them, under the guise of hayseeds (rememher Mr. and Mrs. Jimmy Barry?* or blackface comics, or spluttering Germans (with pillows strapped under their v£sts and square whiskers under their; chins) disappeared along with the medium that sustained them. Timid ty spon¬ sors, even when offending accents are eliminated, will have none of them. Madison Avenue has suAplatiteld Madi¬ son’s Budget. '“Madison's budget,” published profitably foif;50 years by James Madison, was jf'pnperbound book filled with corny* but surefire “he-she” material*. Only in a few hardy campus “humor” magazines do “he” and “she” still exchange brickbats, and even there, trusteeintimidated faculty advisors rigorously restrict the field of operation. The ’’he-she” joke’s death warrant was really sealed, signed, and delivered by one man: the late Harold Ross, inspired and unfathomable founder of the New Yorker Magazine. Ross sensed the fact that a more sophisticated approach to American humor was in order. Under his leadership, captions for cartoons were reduced from an average of five lines to an average of five words; “jokes” were replaced by “anecdotes"; and such hitherto flourish¬ ing periodicals as Puck, Judge, and Life withered and died. Puck succumbed first. It achieved national prominence by its satirical thrusts at a ready-made traget— the corrupt Tammany machine — and reached its zenith under the editorship of John Kendrick Bangs who first printed the work of such future greats as Franklin P. Adams, George Jean Nathan and Ralph Barton. By 1917, however, it had run its race. The name Puck was acquired by the Hearst organization, and used for years for a weekly comic supple¬ ment. Life went next. Founded in 1883 by two bright Harvard graduates. Life thrived via the efforts of Oliver Ilerford, E. W. Kemble and Charles Dana Gibson, whose stately "Gibson girl” first appeared in Life’s pages. After World War I. the late Robert E. Sherwood gave the languishing magazine a temporary shot-in-the-ann, but the top-grade contributors drilled New Yorker-ward, and by 1936, all it had left was its name, which was sold to Time Inc. Judge hung on until 1939, but it was a losing battle all the way, and the remnant of the “he-she” type of humor was interred with its bones. High time. too. you may say alter running vour eyes ove these typical examples: 1. HE: Du yon ■t’cc winter sporty-? SHE: I certainly do. Especially 1/ they have money. 2. HE: Have >ou a hobby? SHE: No. Ay bane single. 3. HE: Have urn heard about my friend Kerch? SHE: K n-i who? HE: Go:; dheit! 4. HE I’ll stnk to you like glue. SUE: The leeling's mucilage. 5. HE: I will now play the Huuoarian Rhapsody by Cn./t: h. SHE. Gr (.'•?/ is a st * w. HE: So drink*! Who cans? He writes swell n usu 6. HE. 1 hear you neck. SHE: Pauion me. I'll be more quiet next time. 7. SHE: Hu n you done well wnh your bes this year? HE: Yes <:, d no. They haven't given much how 11. (.;/,• n,| I'm other hand, they u'ung my motl er i-i die. 8. HE: I'jn glad l‘m not a Frenchman. SHE: Why? HE: I can t speak French. .9. HE: Wh 1 were you hanging around so long at that s:“u--roHer accident? SHE: r was just scraping up an acquaintance . 10. HE: Where do all the bugs go in winter? SHE: Scauii me. HE: No, thanks. I just wanted the information. A parting thought: could it be that those comedians who have been riruggling so desperately in "situation series” on tv aren l so bad alter all? Let's give that little old knob another turn! Jack Douglas Bennett Cerf