When You're Smiling...

...the whole world smiles with you.

That Whiting Girl

Last night, we had the good fortune to attend an absolutely fantastic tribute show to Margaret Whiting at Carnegie Hall's Weill Recital Hall. It was such a wonderful, lengthy program, with so many excellent performances, that we shall keep it to bullet points about each performer -- and, again, we must stress that the entire program was simply superb. We were stunned by how beautifully it was cast and programmed; not one clinker in the bunch, which, as some of you may know, is definitely not the norm for most benefit/tribute shows. Margaret's daughter (and the evening's co-host) Debbi Whiting, the brilliant musical director Tex Arnold, and whomever else was instrumental in really putting the nuts and bolts of this show together must be praised to the skies for their efforts.

Hubert "Tex" Arnold: The musical director of this glorious occasion, and a longtime accompanist to Margaret Whiting, Mr. Arnold provided the perfect tone and setting for this event. His is a truly elegant, musical style which can only enhance the performers for whom he is playing.

Carole J. Bufford: We caught a glimpse of Ms. Bufford's act a few years back at The Metropolitan Room, and it was clear then that she had a lot going for her: a big, lustrous voice; expressive stage technique; and an elegant, glamorous persona. All of these qualities have culminated in full flower, and she was a commanding, stylish presence. Her full-bodied renditions of "It Might as Well Be Spring" and "Any Place I Hang My Hat is Home" were heartily appreciated by the audience, as were Ms. Bufford's eye-catching four costume changes, all stunning.

Jim Caruso and Billy Stritch: These two gentlemen are such masters of their crafts, and watching them perform together is sheer joy. Duetting on a medley of two of Margaret's later hits, which began with a lovely "Far Away Places" and wound up with a hot, swingin' rendition of "The Gypsy in My Soul," Jim and Billy took their respective turns in the spotlight (Billy singing and playing on the piano, Jim ever the effortlessly stylish and dapper showman), but really dazzled the audience with their harmonies. We only wish they had performed one or two more songs. (Oh, and memo to Billy: we loved your Maggie Isn't Margaret Anymore line -- and next time, we think you should end the medley with a rousing "Winchester Cathedral" or "There's a Kind of Hush" singalong.)

Elegant Jim Caruso and ebullient Billy Stritch: the perfect pair.

Eric Comstock: A throwback to the nonchalant elegance of a Fred Astaire, Mr. Comstock's sprightly piano-and-vocal performance of "You Couldn't Be Cuter" led to one of the cutest moments of the evening: as he played and sang, we noticed the quite elderly lady sitting a row ahead of us suddenly come alive, bouncing her head to the music and singing along word for word. It, and Mr. Comstock's performance, was utterly delightful.

Mary Foster Conklin: Besides duetting with Wayne Hosford on a fun rendition of Margaret's first #1 country hit with Jimmy Wakley ("Slipping Around"), Ms. Conklin -- of whom we were previously unaware, and who bears a striking resemblance to Bebe Neuwirth -- also performed a dramatic version of "Ballad of the Sad Young Men," that (in)famous Fran Landesman dirge which some contemporary critics call the musical equivalent of "The Boys in the Band." But some, the fine folk at SSUWAT included, consider it one of the finest songs of all time, and, frankly, it's nearly as truthful and timely today as it was in the pre-Stonewall era it was written in. (Margaret, incidentally, must have been one of THE first vocalists to record it, back in 1960, for her Past Midnight! album. Aside from one other recording by Anita O'Day a year later, most singers were either unaware of the song, or leery of its content, and it didn't begin receiving wider recognition until much later, post-Stonewall, namely by Roberta Flack and Shirley Bassey.) It was a treat to hear it performed live, and believe us, darlings, looking around the audience, quite a few "sad young men [who are] growing old" were wiping away tears after Ms. Conklin finished.

Natalie Douglas: We have been privileged to have watched and followed this amazing talent almost from the very beginning of our time in New York City, twenty years ago. We first heard Natalie when she was a hard working singing waitress at The Duplex in the Village and Brandy's on the Upper East Side. Even then, to our callow ears, we knew that she was destined for much bigger and better things, and her truckload of awards and rave reviews bear witness to our good taste! We recall, in those early years, Natalie would, with good humor and finesse, firmly refuse to honor requests to sing, say, "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going," which customers would ask for based solely on the fact that she is a.) black, and b.) a larger woman. Beyond the vaguely insulting assumption that she should be singing that song, Natalie's voice is less gospel grit than crystal clear beauty, yet with dazzling reserves of power. She proved that by closing the first half of last evening with a stunning, soaring "Can't Help Lovin' That Man," recorded by Margaret for her classic Sings the Jerome Kern Song Book album, and of course, introduced by the legendary soprano Helen Morgan in Show Boat.

The prodigiously gifted Natalie Douglas

Baby Jane Dexter: Full disclosure, and with all due respect: this cabaret legend has always left us cold. We found her performances overwrought and her persona not larger than life, but simply overbearing. It's all a matter of personal taste -- Ms. Dexter has enough fans, awards, and raving critics to not give a flying fig about what we think! But last night, Baby Jane absolutely floored us with a beautiful, deeply felt interpretation of Peter Allen and Carole Bayer Sager's "I'd Rather Leave While I'm in Love." Like Margaret did, Dexter manages to cut through the inherent 1970's pop schlock of the material, and find surprising nuances and hidden, penetrating truths in lyrics which, in other hands, could merely come across as cheap sentiment. It was a lovely, lovely performance. Dexter, whose vocal range and physical mobility have both been severely limited in recent years by ill health, seemed to have to rely more on interpretive skill than primal roaring (which is how we can only describe how we felt about earlier performances we'd seen), and the effect was spellbindingly effective.

Barbara Fasano: One of Margaret Whiting's signature hits is the lovely "Moonlight in Vermont," which we never noticed, until Ms. Fasano pointed it out in her introduction, doesn't contain one single rhyming lyric! Yet it's so perfectly constructed, it sounds as if it does, and Ms. Fasano's elegant, precise phrasing made the most of those beautiful lyrics. She was also joined by Eric Comstack for a wonderful, jaunty duet of "Ain't We Got Fun?"

Lauren Fox: One of the hallmarks of Margaret Whiting's career was versatility; and her inroads into the world of country music were not only commercially successful, but also wholly credible: unlike many pop stars who attempted to conquer that field, Whiting both gained the respect of the tough-to-crack Nashville old guard, and introduced her more mainstream audience to the likes of Hank Williams. Tall, cool, and serene, Ms. Fox performed a wistful rendition of Williams' "I Can't Help It (if I'm Still in Love with You)" with an affecting fragility.

John Fricke and K.T. Sullivan: Many Judy Garland fans know of Mr. Fricke as one of the Garland historians par excellence. What we sure as hell didn't know was that he can also sing! Fricke and co-hostess Sullivan did a charming duet version of a show-stopping medley Margaret would perform in her club act, comprised of the hit songs that her father, Richard Whiting, had written. Beginning with "Till We Meet Again," winding up with a rousing "Beyond the Blue Horizon," and packing in "Breezin' Along with the Breeze," "On the Good Ship Lollipop," and "Too Marvelous for Words" in between, the enthusiastic, boyishly wide-eyed Fricke seemed almost awe struck at sharing the Carnegie stage with the celebrated cabaret vet Sullivan (whose madcap, 1930's persona was in delightfully full throttle all evening), yet held his own admirably. Fun, fun, fun.

Eric Yves Garcia: This ridiculously beautiful man could probably just stand still on a stage without singing or playing a note, and people would still pay admission to see him. But he's talented, too, gosh darn it, which really means that life is terribly, terribly unfair. Garcia sang a wistful ballad from Rupert Holmes' musical, The Mystery of Edwin Drood (Mr. Holmes was in the audience, and introduced Garcia after a very sweet anecdote about how Margaret "discovered" him), "The People You Don't Get to Love," with an oh-so-slight world-weary rasp in his voice which suggested a young man beginning his trek down the path of the Sinatra of In the Wee Small Hours, No One Cares, Sings for Only the Lonely, etc. Picking up the tempo and the mood, Garcia then took to the keys to accompany himself on a sprightly, delightful "You'd Better Love Me" from the musical High Spirits. Did we mention that he's beautiful?

But beautiful: Eric Yves Garcia

Terese Genecco and Shaynee Rainbolt: Unlike many of her contemporaries, Margaret Whiting somehow escaped the fate of being inextricably tied to an inexplicably popular novelty song: there was pop fluff in her catalog, to be sure, but she didn't have to gamely give her public a concert version of "C'mon-a My House," "How Much is That Doggie in the Window," or "The Rock and Roll Waltz" against her will and better judgement. So it was that the one "comedy" number in the last night's repertoire was of the high order of Frank Loesser's "Baby, it's Cold Outside," which Margaret made into a standard with the aid of Johnny Mercer, moonlighting from his day job as lyricist extraordinaire. Terese Genecco and Shaynee Rainbolt performed it to comic perfection, giving it a winking, thoroughly modern twist.

Heather MacRae: We're ashamed to admit that we had no idea that the daughter of Gordon and Sheila MacRae was still an active performer. Thus, we had no idea what to expect, especially since the warm, motherly-looking person who took to the stage was in such contrast to the be-gowned, be-jeweled women who had preceded her. Then Heather opened her mouth, and out poured a heartbreakingly beautiful "My Favorite Year," which left much of the audience (and our hostesses) awash in tears. We need to find out more about this lady, and when and if she's performing again. She was that good.

Marilyn Maye: Really, what more can we say, that we haven't already said about the one and only Miss Maye? The Great Lady came, she saw, she paid tribute to Margaret, she conquered Carnegie -- again. The last time she played there, it was to honor Stephen Sondheim on his 80th birthday, and she drew a standing ovation for her "I'm Still Here." And last night, MMM (marvelous Marilyn Maye) earned yet another standing ovation -- the only one for a single performer -- for her three-song set of Johnny Mercer songs, "Drinking Again," "One for My Baby (and One More for the Road)" and "Blues in the Night." The level of professionalism, charisma, and complete mastery of the stage and her craft which La Maye displays simply leaves nearly everyone else in the dust. Introducing Maye to the stage, daughter Debbi Whiting mentioned that Margaret's last public outing was to see Marilyn perform at The Metropolitan Room. We were there that night; prior to the show, we had dinner next door to the Metropolitan, and Margaret and her party were seated next to us. She looked glamorous and beautiful, but obviously very, very frail. We were also seated next to her party at the Metropolitan; and when Marilyn introduced Margaret to the audience, the place exploded. And when Marilyn had us all join in a singalong of "Hello, Maggie" to the tune of "Hello, Dolly," Margaret just lit up and beamed. It was one of our most unforgettable experiences.

The one and only: Marilyn Maye

Tanya Moberly: One of the finest songs in the latter-day cabaret canon is Francesa Blumenthal's devastating "The Lies of Handsome Men," of which Margaret quipped, "Honey, that's my life." Ms. Moberly began the song with a wryly comic, self-deprecating air, which had turned to eviscerating regret by the song's end. It was a wrenching, touching performance.

Marissa Mulder: A gorgeous redhead poured into a slinky gown, Ms. Mulder was the essence of 1940's glamour when she opened the program with an unfettered, beautifully shaped performance of "My Ideal," Margaret's first hit at Capitol when she was but a teenager. In spite of her sophisticated looks, Ms. Mulder still perfectly captured the youthful longing -- perhaps still lingering in all of us, regardless of age -- in those lyrics, which had been penned by Leo Robin to a melody by Margaret's father, Richard.

Karen Oberlin: Looking resplendent in a glittering gold gown, Ms. Oberlin came out, sang simply, and simply stunned. Nothing more was needed. Jerome Kern's "Remind Me" is one of our all time favorite songs, and this interpretation was just perfect. No frills, no excess, no unnecessary drama: just a pitch perfect, wonderfully phrased, beautifully executed performance of a masterful example of the Great American Songbook -- which, really, is the essence of Margaret Whiting.

Stacy Sullivan: Proving that talent and taste are genetic, K.T. Sullivan's sister, Stacy, gave us an excellent medley of Harold Arlen's "That Old Black Magic" ingeniously interspersed with Rodgers and Hart's "Lover." Her sexy, sultry, swinging, cool-hot performance called to mind the best of Margaret's former Capitol label mate, Miss Peggy Lee -- which shouldn't be a surprise, as Ms. Sullivan's tribute to Lee has received multiple awards and accolades.

Carol Woods: This Broadway vet (currently treading the boards as Matron "Mama" Morton in the long-running revival of Chicago) brought flair and sass to the devil-may-care lyrics of John Meyer's "I'd Like to Hate Myself in the Morning" -- a gin-soaked anthem originally written for, and performed to a fare-the-well, by Judy Garland in the last years of her life. It also was a wonderful summation of the glamorous, larger-than-life Margaret of the 1970's and 1980's, painting Manhattan all shades of vermillion into the night. Ms. Woods capped the evening with a magnificent "Come Rain or Come Shine" by those maestros, Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer.

Saadi Zain: Besides the brilliant accompaniment and direction of Tex Arnold, special mention should go to Mr. Zain on bass, who made Carnegie Hall's stately, refined Weill Recital Hall swing.

The heartbeat of the evening: Debbi Whiting, Hubert "Tex" Arnold, and Saadi Zahn

Debbi Whiting: Beyond being Margaret Whiting's daughter, we had no clue what to expect from Debbi co-hosting this evening. Frankly, we thought that K.T. Sullivan would do most of the heavy lifting from both a hostessing and performing standpoint. Au contraire! Debbi was witty, funny, and a most engaging hostess, plus she performed a very, very fun tribute to Margaret's time with the legendary 4 Girls 4. Gamely slapping a huge black bow on her head, Debbi was "Rose Marie"; Heather MacRae was "Rosemary Clooney"; Lauren Fox was "Helen O'Connell"; and Carole Bufford was "Margaret Whiting." Debbi and K.T. really kept the proceedings going at a brisk pace, and peppered the entire evening with humor and high spirits. The one unabashedly tearjerking moment, though, was when Debbi spoke movingly of her mother's final days, and how it brought Margaret such happiness when she learned that her recording of "Time After Time" had been used in the hit film, Julie & Julia. After that, Debbi recounted, her mother would watch the film over and over again on DVD, always asking to see "the pancake lady" one more time. The final time they watched the film together, and her glorious voice once again came through the speakers, Margaret turned to her daughter and said, "Somebody really likes me!"

They still do. They LOVE Margaret Whiting, and the feeling was palpable all evening. It was evident, not only in the joy these performers obviously took in being there and paying tribute to a lovely woman and a tremendous singer, but also in the extreme care which was obviously taken to mount a respectful, but also hugely entertaining, evening of song. It was just brilliant, and we are so grateful that we were able to attend.

Behind the scenes photos and a selection of performance videos at the official Margaret Whiting page!

Happy Mother's Day

Audrey Hepburn with son Sean Ferrer

Betty Grable with daughters Vicki and Jessica James

Susan Hayward with sons Timothy and Gregory Barker

Lauren Bacall with son Stephen Bogart

Linda Darnell with daughter Charlotte "Lola" Marley

Rita Hayworth with daughter Rebecca Welles

Sophia Loren with son Edoardo Ponti

Joan Crawford with daughters Cathy Crawford and Cynthia Crawford

Jayne Mansfield with daughter Jayne Marie Mansfield

Judy Garland with daughter Lorna Luft

Angela Lansbury with daughter Deirdre Shaw and son Peter Shaw

Lana Turner with daughter Cheryl Crane

Doris Day with son Terry Melcher

Elizabeth Taylor with son Michael Wilding, Jr. and daughter Liza Todd Burton

Ladies & Gentlemen...

...at this performance, the role of Diana Ross will be played by Judy Garland.

With Friends Like Jackie...

"I'm the only one in the book who doesn't take pills!" -- Judy Garland on being cast as "Helen Lawson" in the film adaptation of Jacqueline Susann's Valley of the Dolls (1966)

"I just read the most marvelous book. It's called Valley of the Moon." -- Bette Davis to Johnny Carson

"Karla! At fourteen, he had masturbated with her picture propped up in front of him. His friends had their school lockers filled with pinups of Doris Day...But with him it had always been Karla." -- Jacqueline Susann, writing in Once is Not Enough (1974)

 

"Ethel [Merman] and I have an old score to settle, but she might not realize it because she doesn't read books." -- Jacqueline Susann on modeling the "Helen Lawson" character in Valley of the Dolls on Merman



"Ethel Merman is a lady and a philanthropist compared to Joan [Crawford]. If I had known Joan when I was writing Valley of the Dolls, Helen Lawson would have been a monster." -- Jacqueline Susann

Punch and Judy

After watching the train wreck that was last night's Oscars telecast, and the shoddy way they treated Kim Novak, Liza Minnelli and Dame Angela Lansbury, all we can say is thank goodness that The Punchy Players are around to keep the legends alive, kicking, tapping, hoarding and cashiering! Bless you, Jeff and Chris!

 

For Those Who Fancy Coloring Books

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Could Go On Planting My Own Tree

"Do you think Barbara Parkins can make me sing??? Do you think YOU can...Do you think Ted Casablanca can make me sing??? You can build a crappy mobile, SURE, but can you make me SING under it???"

A Fellow Needs A Girl

Montgomery Clift and Marilyn Monroe

Roddy McDowall and Elizabeth Taylor

Cesar Romero and Joan Crawford

Rock Hudson and Judy Garland

Mart Crowley and Natalie Wood

Pardon Our Absence...

 

...but in addition to the holiday weekend and the rigors of the everyday, we have been granting interviews, darlings. We shall resume normal posting soon, but sometimes, it's all too, too much.

We Never Will Forget...Jeanette MacDonald

Just to think of her gives our heart a pang.
 

JEANETTE MACDONALD

June 18, 1903 - January 14, 1965

Poppies...

...poppies will make me sing 'em all, and we'll stay ALL NIGHT!

Judy, Judy, Judy

JUDY GARLAND

June 10, 1922 - June 22, 1969

"Always be a first rate version of yourself, instead of a second rate version of someone else."

Rudie the Day

1948: Kay Thompson, the soignée singing sensation of café society, has created a character to amuse her friends and colleagues. "I am Eloise," Kay announces in piercing, screechy tones, "and I am six."

By 1954, people were insisting that she turn her Eloise characterizations and anecdotes to book form; and so, with the immeasurable help of a young artist named Hilary Knight, Kay Thompson's Eloise, with drawings by Hilary Knight, (note the billing: important, important, important) was published by Simon and Schuster in the winter of 1955.

Happier times: Hilary Knight and Kay Thompson at The Plaza, 1955

Eloise was a pot-bellied hellion who lived at The Plaza with her pug dog Weenie, pet turtle Skipperdee, and her English Nanny; a rawther naughty little girl prone to such observations as "An egg cup makes a very good hat," and "Sometimes I go into the Men's Room which is very good for playing Railroad Station or something like that." She was also an instantaneous success, resulting in enormous press coverage (including a spread in Life); a boon in popularity for Kay, who would soon land a plum co-starring role in Funny Face (1957) with Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn; and a surge in business for The Plaza -- which Kay cannily parlayed into a free, permanent suite. "Eloise" even made it onto the hit parade, courtesy of the voice stylings of Ms. Thompson (portraying both Eloise and Nanny) and her ragtag chorus of crooner (and Thompson paramour) Andy Williams, songwriter Ralph Blane, and Simon and Schuster publicist Larry Vinick.

Kay's flights of fancy, and the brilliant way Hilary Knight captured them in ink, naturally lent themselves to the idea of Eloise on the screen; from her unique appearance to her outrageous pranks, Eloise was a thoroughly visual creature, almost leaping lifelike from the pages of her book. And Kay had the ideal child in mind to bring her creation to living, breathing fruition: Portland Mason, daughter of the debonair and distinguished actor James Mason.

Happier times: James Mason and daughter Portland, early 1950's

Portland Mason had just celebrated her seventh birthday when Kay Thompson's Eloise was published, and already was notorious in the gossip columns. A brawl had broken out at her christening when a photographer pushed his way to the front of the church and began taking flash pictures, enraging her father. When she was three, James decided that the sensible way to ensure that his daughter would never touch cigarettes would be to let her smoke one, recoil in a coughing fit, and swear them off forever. The result of this reverse psychology? "She's up to two packs a day," he lamented. Portland Mason had her own mink coat, the papers tattled, and tagged along to adult nightspots like Ciro's and the Mocambo (where she reportedly jumped onstage and did an impromptu bump-and-grind routine). When daddy made 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954) at Disney, his contract included "The Portland Clause," requiring that the studio supply, free of charge, any film his daughter requested to be screened privately in their Hollywood mansion. And in 1956, Portland made her screen debut for 20th Century Fox with no less a leading man than Gregory Peck, in The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit.

Portland Mason and Gregory Peck on the set of The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit (20th Century Fox, 1956)

There were setbacks, however. The concept of a big screen Eloise was rejected by Fox, to whom James Mason, with Kay's urging and approval, had first pitched the idea. Every other major studio in town also passed, the consensus being that live action "kiddie films" didn't bring in profits. There was also the general feeling that the Eloise book simply didn't have a plot -- rawther, it was a string of loosely-connected, very funny anecdotes and epigrams. Not the stuff movies are made of, but perhaps...television?

Never one to sell her talents or her merchandise cheap, Kay was able to pitch Eloise to CBS's new, ninety minute anthology series, Playhouse 90, for a cool $15,000 -- for a single live broadcast! Originally set to air in January 1957, the broadcast was pushed to November 22, Thanksgiving night, 1956, in order to scoop ABC's December airing of a live adaptation of Madeline -- Eloise's French counterpart, written by Ludwig Bemelman. To up the ante, Eloise would include five musical numbers written by Kay herself, and boasted a huge, stellar cast that included matinee idol Louis Jourdan and American stage royalty Ethel Barrymore, as well as Mildred Natwick, personally selected by Kay as the ideal Nanny, and everyone from Monty Woolley to Conrad Hilton. But missing from the final cast line up was Portland Mason.

Another one for the kids: Louis Jourdan and Judy Garland sing a medley of children's songs,

The Judy Garland Show (Episode 19, originally aired February 2, 1964)

Along the way, it had been decided that Portland wasn't physically similar enough to Hilary Knight's depiction of Eloise. Besides the contrast between Eloise's blonde, straggly hair and Portland's sleek brunette bob, the biggest problem was that, although described as having a pot belly, Eloise was essentially gangly, all arms and legs, while Portland had grown frankly plump. Briefly considered as a replacement was Patty McCormack, then the hottest child property in town after her chilling portrayal of the evil Rhoda in The Bad Seed (1956). But McCormack was eleven, and deemed too mature to play a precocious six year old. Enter Evelyn Rudie.

Happier times: Kay Thompson and Evelyn Rudie in rehearsal for Playhouse 90 production of Eloise (1956)

Like Portland Mason, seven year old Evelyn was already a Hollywood veteran with several credits to her name (but no scandalous column items), including playing the daughters of Yul Brynner in The King and I (1956) and John Wayne in The Wings of Eagles (1957). Moreover, she looked almost exactly like Eloise, as described by Kay Thompson and illustrated by Hilary Knight. "I knew it the first time I saw her picture," Kay enthused when the casting was announced, although her enthusiasm would eventually wane and then descend into outright hostility.

Kay Thompson in rehearsal for nightclub act at Ciro's, November 1947

Kay Thompson was many things: prodigiously talented, fiercely intelligent, brilliantly witty, scathingly funny, wildly imaginative. She has also been described by those who knew and worked with her as uncompromisingly megalomaniacal, unyieldingly stubborn, maddeningly mercurial, and bewilderingly self-destructive. Not unlike Diana Vreeland, the extravagantly eccentric fashion editor she satirized in Funny Face, Kay's idiosyncrasies infuriated her enemies as much as they charmed her admirers. One of our favorite Thompson tales: seething at the dowdy Edith Head wardrobe she had to wear in Funny Face (while Audrey Hepburn swanned about in Givenchy couture), Thompson took revenge by wearing her own Balenciaga hats and Capezio shoes throughout the film, effectively drawing more attention to her accessories than the drab gray suits Head had designed for her. And when rain threatened the Paris location shooting of the big "Bonjour, Paris!" production number, Kay bravely suggested that they carry on in spite of the weather, but, oh dear, shouldn't she have some sort of rain coat? Yes, director Stanley Donen agreed, but how could Edith Head, all the way over in Hollywood, possibly come up with something on such short notice? No problem, Kay must have called over her shoulder, as she dashed to Givenchy's salon, picked out an elegant raincoat from the designer's collection, and filmed "Bonjour, Paris!" with barely a trace of her hated Head duds peeking out from underneath. (Read our take on Edith Head here.)

Kay Thompson in Funny Face (Paramount, 1957)

It was this steely determination of Kay's to control all aspects of her image which led to the biggest turmoil on the Eloise set -- an environment which was already chaotic, thanks to the shortened preparation time due to the earlier-than-anticipated air date; a script that everyone agreed was problematic; budget restrictions; and that ridiculously large, unwieldily cast. As one would suspect by the official, proprietary title of her book (Kay Thompson's Eloise, if you please, please, please, and Lord help the booksellers who didn't promote it as such), as far as she was concerned, Kay was Eloise, and vice versa. When it suddenly dawned on her that this little Rudie sprite was actually going to be giving form and life to Eloise, and likely be looked upon as Eloise, Kay didn't like it one bit. What began as a warm relationship turned downright arctic once Kay -- who held creative control over the entire project -- made her decree: she, and she alone, was Eloise, and it would be she, Kay Thompson, providing the voice of Eloise. 

Frankenstein's monster?

The idea was sheer madness, patently absurd, especially for a live broadcast: Kay would be required to hide behind furniture and crouch in corners, speaking Eloise's lines in the direction of the microphone, while Evelyn held a book over her mouth, or turned away from the camera. Kay's folly was indulged through the arduous rehearsal period, but naturally, it simply didn't work; and Evelyn had to scramble to make sure she had all of Eloise's lines down pat, as it was decided at the eleventh hour that Kay would not be voicing Eloise, after all. She did not cede graciously, however; once it became clear that Evelyn would have to play and speak the part of Eloise, Kay had her lawyers draw up new contracts for CBS, forcing them to surrender all future rights to the Eloise franchise. Evelyn's handlers were presented with similar terms: she could never claim to be Eloise, only that she had played her. "Make sure," Kay ominously warned the director, the esteemed John Frankenheimer, "when this is over, that you never have anything to do with [Rudie] again."

She did work in this town again: Evelyn Rudie with Lauren Bacall and Robert Stack in The Gift of Love (Fox, 1958)

Against all odds, Eloise made her debut on Playhouse 90 as scheduled, on Thanksgiving night, 1956. The comparisons to turkey were painfully obvious, as critics ripped apart everything about the plodding, clumsily-presented show, even Kay's musical numbers -- everything, that is, except for the unanimously-praised performance of Evelyn Rudie, who in short order, was nominated for an Emmy (the youngest performer so honored) and presented with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. 

The opening of Eloise: Kay Thompson performing "3 A.M. in the Persian Room"

"Not to be discussed," Diana Vreeland told her associates tersely after watching Kay Thompson's fire breathing caricature unreel before her eyes. After the resounding failure of Eloise, television star, Kay felt the same way: "Let's forget it," she firmly told an inquisitive reporter a year later. "I'm trying to." Luckily, the public's affection for the Plaza's resident pot belly as a literary heroine had not waned, and three further collaborations with Hilary Knight followed: Eloise in Paris (1957), Eloise at Christmastime (1958), and Eloise in Moscow (1959). But with each book, tensions between Kay and Hilary Knight grew -- she increasingly jealous over the praise and attention paid to his drawings, he indignant at being left out of a fair share of the credit, and profits. As Kay grew more and more erratic, relations between the two eventually broke down beyond repair. A completed fifth installment, Eloise Takes a Bawth, was ready to go to print in 1964, when Kay abruptly pulled the plug -- and withdrew the other three Eloise sequels from circulation, to boot. Eloise Takes a Bawth was finally published, with the approval of Kay Thompson's estate, in 2002.

Always an angle: Eloise in Moscow inspired the LP Kay Thompson Party: Let's Talk About Russia (Signature, 1959)

Kay's fabulous, frenzied, frantic 88 years ended on July 2, 1998. (A life detailed in Sam Irvin's fabulous biography, Kay Thompson: From Funny Face to Eloise, and an invaluable source of information for our little blog entry.) In recent years, Kay has once again been in the spotlight, thanks to Irvin's biography and a show mounted by her goddaughter, Liza Minnelli, which featured a tribute to Kay and her musical arrangements as its centerpiece. (Read our review here.)

With a long career encompassing over 50 books, magazine illustrations, album covers and Broadway posters, Hilary Knight still lives in New York, and continues to waive the banner for Eloise. Whatever their differences in life might have been, upon the publication of the long-thought-lost Eloise Takes a Bawth, Hilary remarked, "Kay and I were like parents to Eloise... [and] I guess my job now is to continue what Kay might have thought she was doing when she pulled the books in the first place -- to protect Eloise." 

Portland Mason abandoned acting for writing in 1968, and spent much of her adult life trying to live down the spoiled-little-rich-girl reputation which preceded her. When James Mason died in 1984, his second wife, Clarissa Kaye, inherited his entire $15 million estate, with the understanding that it would pass to Portland and her brother upon Kaye's passing. Instead, the monies wound up in a trust with unnamed beneficiaries, and a bitter legal battle ensued; Portland couldn't even locate her father's ashes until 2000. She died at age 55 in 2004.

Evelyn Rudie made her last, unbilled film appearance in Bye, Bye Birdie (1963). Since then, she's turned to the theater and playwriting. She has appeared at various Eloise events and given interviews about her experiences; and today, we are happy, happy, happy to celebrate her birthday, as well, well, well!

EVELYN RUDIE
March 28, 1949 

Visit the official Eloise site here.

Visit Sam Irvin's Kay Thompson site here.