"Class Is Not Something You Teach, You Either Have It Or You Don't"

It's funny Ellen Burstyn didn't mention this in her memoirs.



I remember the Ellen Burstyn Show pretty vividly. I certainly didn't know who Elaine Stritch was, and Megan Mullaly wasn't anyone at that point.

Oh well. Talent. They didn't like that off the ground.

Best eBay Purchase Ever

If there's one thing this non-diabetic wants to do, it's to get diabetes advice from Elaine Stritch.


The internet is the best thing EVER.

The Two And Only

I have to admit, I had no idea Jane Russell was still alive. But, she was, and until yesterday was 89 years young. She died too late to make the Oscar R.I.P. list, but at least she didn't get skipped, poor Corey Haim.
Anyway, I only really knew her from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, which is certainly a fun romp. Thanks to jet lag, I woke up at 4am today so I've had plenty of time to do research.

The duet with her & Marilyn is fantastic, but for fun here's "Ain't There Anyone Here For Love," her solo number where the boys are wearing skin colored trunks (we'd now call that peach). Hollywood sure was racy back then.



Furthermore, I hadn't heard the story of how Howard Hughes claimed to have created a special "cantilever bra" to hold up her 38D rack. I mean, I had only learned the word "cantilever" last year, so maybe I had heard this but didn't know what it meant.

I had heard the Bob Hope quip though, he once introduced her as "the two and only Jane Russell." Boobs!

I had no idea there was a sequel to Blondes: Gentlemen Marry Brunettes. Yikes. And really, she guest-starred on Hunter? I bet she played Dee Dee's mom.

More importantly, I had NO idea that in 1971 she took over for Stritchy in Company. I kinda wish there was a youtube of her doing "The Ladies Who Lunch" with those bathing suit boys in the background.

In conclusion, here she is doing "Looking for Trouble" from The French Line. Ladies and Gentlemen, here they are, Miss Jane Russell:

One of The Greatest Cuts Of All Time

Recently I learned that Tommy Tune is selling his penthouse - here's the listing, if you're in the market. Also recently I saw Elaine Stritch vamp it up in A Little Night Music, a Broadway revival.

This made me remember this bit, perhaps the greatest documentary editing of all time.



God Bless, you Stritchy. God Bless you lots and lots.

Good Times And Bum Times

Reposting from Gothamist, but what else are you supposed to do with Stritchy news?
Dame Elaine sang at the White House for the President. From an audience member's tweet:

Stritch forgetting the lyrics to “I’m Still Here,” her musical director screaming the lyrics at her multiple times, and ultimately making them go back (was actually painful, endearing and unique all at once — kinda like Stritch). Then getting a standing ovation led by the Obamas and clearly apologizing to them afterward.

And then the WaPo reported:

Stritch "pleaded guilty to a whopping case of nerves, reported how thrilled she was when Obama was elected and then said, 'I'd love to get drunk with the president.' After the whoops subsided, she added diplomatically: 'And the first lady.' "

As Stritchy herself reported earlier this year, it's an easy song to flub.

My Personal Venn Diagram Exploded: or, There Goes Another Stritchy Clone

On her new album Laurie Anderson just swiped a joke from Stritchy. (you can stream the album at NPR right here)
It reminds me of the time I saw Stritchy at the Cafe Carlyle, and in the middle of "Send in the Clowns" she sang "We should put some mountains over there. Otherwise what will the characters fall off of?" Or not.

Isn't it? Isn't it just like a performance artist?

"Stuffed Ukeleles In My Shoes"

If I were Sir Stephen Sondheim, what would I want for my 80th birthday?

Elaine Stritch doing an Eartha Kitt impersonation about flubbed lyrics from "I'm Still Here."



Happy 80th, Steve-o.

In Her Very Own Loaf Pan

So on our way in to see Barb Jungr, Jazz Chanteuse, at the Cafe Carlyle, we got to see Elaine Stritch AGAIN. This time she was finishing up her dessert at her table from the early show. She didn't so much perform as just pick at some fruit on her plate, but it was still a delight.


Anyway, this is what Rex Reed, star of Myra Breckinridge, had to say about Stritchy recently in his New York Observer column:

Most of today’s singers emerge like raw dough, desperate to be kneaded into some recognizable shape. Ms. Stritch arrives fully baked in her own loaf pan. There is nobody quite like her and never will be.

God Bless, everyone.

Two Things, Times Two

Stritchy! ME!

I sure got to cross something off my Bucket List last night!

Everything's Coming Up Stritchy!

Hooray! I just bought my tix for Elaine Stritch at the Cafe Carlyle, one week from today.



This here article in today's paper sure makes it sound like this is her final hurrah. I am so glad to be donning a dinner jacket (required!) and busting my piggy bank to spend it with her.

See you soon, Stritchy!

How The Stritch Stole Christmas

Christ on a Crutch, this is a good one. I get to use my Stritchy tag!

Riddle Me This, Stritchy-style

So, on Friday my friend Brian and I attemped to go to the MoMA for their Free Friday Night Fun-fest. I was a little tardy on account of not being a good person, but it didn't matter anyway, as the line to get in literally (that's a popular mis-used adjective these days, second only to irony) wrapped around the block - it looked like Election Day 1994 in Johannesburg.

Clearly even if we did wait in the line the experience would have been a bad one - the hordes of tourists with Black Friday shopping bags would have crammed themselves between us and the Tim Burtons, with children's grubby paws fingering all of the "art."

Instead, we wandered over to the "Museum" of Television & Radio. Brian had never been, and since we're both corporate members, it seemed like a lovely and free option.

One of the programs we ordered up in the viewing carrel was an episode of The Dick Cavett Show with Elaine Stritch, which was from about 1979. It was a fascinating half hour of TV, prompting Brian to say "They don't make shows like this anymore. I wish Dick Cavett were still alive." Well, some wishes come true anyway.

One wish I had was to find this clip on the youtube, but no such luck.

The point of this tale is not that Elaine talked about her experiences with alcohol, or diabetes, or did impressions of a native Chinese speaker (almost as bad as Rosie's) and a Black maid at the Hotel Carlyle, or even her Christopher Walken-like recitation of "Anyone Can Whistle."

What I found most interesting is she was telling Cavett about some trait or other that she had, which emulated her parents, and she said "I didn't lick that off the ground."


Neither Cavett nor anyone in the audience got the line, and she explained that it was something she picked up in England. I guess the closest cliche I can think of is "the apple didn't fall far from the tree." I did a google for the term, and the only non-dirty result I had was on a blog dedicated to that gay British boy band member who died earlier this year, but it didn't shed much light for me.Anyway, if I had a point in mind I've certainly misplaced it by now.

In Conclusion, Robert Redford didn't lick Stritchy up off the ground. Or something like that.

Happy Monday!

Happy Birthday, America!

233 years young.

Speaking of aging, let's all hope we do it as well as Elaine Stritch.

From today's paper:

...Ms. Stritch, wearing girlish short shorts and a sweater vest as she drank a Buckler nonalcoholic beer...

Go get 'em, Stritchy!

Holy Trinity, Camp-man

Who knew these three Titans of Hollywood performed together?



I mean, what else could one ask for?

Murder, She Trod The Boards

If you're looking for me tonight, you can find me at The Theatre.

Of course, if you live in NYC, you're probably not looking for me - as you can see I have five tickets, so a good percentage of this blog's readers will be sitting with me.

We're off to see Blithe Spirit, which I'm pretty excited about. Not only does it feature the Grande Dame herself, Miss Angela Lansbury, but her costar is none other than Elaine' Stritch's favorite, Christine Ebersole.

Here they are with the full cast. Mr. Rupert Everett has a beard on (not that kind, he's out) which kind of hides his recent plastic surgery, which I think makes him look a bit like a scary Kevin Kline.

If we're lucky, Dame Angela will swing from the moon,

or get all Mame on us, even without her former costar, Bea,

Or really just be a smokin' pin-up gal.

See you tonight, Mrs. Fletcher!

Friends-Ship

Yesterday was a stinker. It sure reminded me of the beauty of Friendship.

Sometimes Friendship means you go to your chum's house after work and she pours you the big share of the last beer.

Sometimes it means your old co-star comes to your new Broadway play. Stritchy Alert!


Sometimes it means you have someone to snuggle with at bed time.


And sometimes, Friendship is made up of real talent. Now THAT, is coffee. Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Peggy Lee.

Posts-card from the Edge

I feel bad about not blogging on Friday, but I was just too hung over. I know I let the 15-20 of you frequent visitors down, and I apologize. I apologize to you too, person who googles the names of Hortense Calisher short stories and ends up here on accident. I did the best I could to make it up to everyone by live tweetering over the weekend with my activities.

One of the fun things Amber and I did that WASN'T tweeted was watch Postcards From The Edge, starring my pal Shirley MacLaine. I had recently read the novel and really enjoyed it.

Sadly, we weren't so enthralled by the film. Maybe it's because the bar was set so high from our matinee, the weekend's top box office movie? Either way, one thing we did like was ol' Shirl putting her spin on one of our favorite Sondheim songs for Dames.

And so, with apologies to my friend Elaine Stritch, here's a pretty dang good "I'm Still Here."



Thanks, Shirl.

Everything But The Bloodhounds Yapping At Her Rear End

I have to say, dang the cliches, All About Eve is one of my favorite movies. It's a great tale, and fantastically acted, from Little Miss Bette Davis to Anne Baxter to the original Wanda Sykes - Thelma Ritter, to the young Marilyn Monroe. It's a movie I can watch again and again, but never at Chelsea Classics, on account of all the queens that shout out the lines ahead of Margo Channing.

Last year Tyler and I went to see a revival of Applause!, starring Christine Ebersole. I sort of blogged about it at the time, but to recap: in 1970 the creative teams behind Annie, Bye Bye Birdie, & more decided to make a Broadway musical out of All About Eve. It starred Lauren Bacall in the Davis role and television's Bonnie Franklin as the ingenue.

The show itself wasn't so good, and I think it's OK for it to go back in the vault for another 38 years. As Stritchy says, Christine Ebersole is coffee and a wonderful time was had by all (even by Amber, who spent the night on my couch watching the entire series run of Ellen Degeneres' hit sitcom, Ellen, costarring Cloris Leachman).

My favorite number was NOT the Buckle Up Your Seat Belt Dance, but this one here, "But Alive." What I like so much about are the genius rhymes.

Check it out here, from a TV production they did of the original show:

I feel half Tijuana, half Boston!

Partly Jane Fonda and partly Jane Austen!

Doesn't get better than that.

A Stritch in Time

I love 30 Rock and would never deny it, even if the cock crowed three times before midnight.

There's a lot to like about this program, but probably my favorite thing is when Elaine Stritch guest stars as Alec Baldwin's mother. I love Stritchy: I have all both of her albums, and I always light up when she's on screen. It's really probably her greatest role since the lesbian landlord in Who Killed Teddy Bear. Or maybe since Company.

This scene made me laugh so much that I shook the laptop and hulu reset. All you need for the set-up is to know that Baldwin accidentally hit his mom with his car, and then waited eight minutes before calling 911. Stritchy has just figured it out and is confronting him.



Pure genius.