My Musical Theater Voyage of Discovery; The Jerry Herman Files -- Mame

I was sitting on a bench outside of a strip mall in Cleveland, Ohio. My mom and dad were in a store; I had been with them but got bored and stepped outside. I was eight or nine years old. A young man came out of a record store in that strip mall. He was young – in his twenties (maybe even late teens) and he was well dressed (though not necktie well dressed – just neat) and was carrying a stack of record albums. I would guess he had just bought about 7 or 8 new records – they were all shiny in their plastic cellophane wrap and the sun glinted off of them as he pulled them out of the package and sat beside me. He flipped through them, one by one, examining his new treats. I sat beside him, watching him enjoy these treasures.

As the young man flipped through his record albums, as I looked over his shoulder, I saw that cover.


Wow. That was eye catching.

I understood his excitement. I had some record albums at home. I had the movie soundtracks to Hello, Dolly!, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Doctor Dolittle, Bedknobs and Broomsticks and one or two others. I, regularly, checked out records from the library – specifically, the Channing AND Bailey Hello, Dolly cast albums, the soundtrack from Oliver, the cast album from My Fair Lady, the cast album from The Music Man and the cast album from The Sound of Music. Clearly, I had been bitten by the musical theater bug.

Then he turned it over and I saw the liner notes and two black and white photos – one of a glamourous and beautiful lady and one of a handsome young brunette man. (Do you remember those wonderful liner notes on the back of the Columbia records? Oh I LOVED reading those! They were my first educational tool in musical theater.)

I never forgot that record album.

I was watching the Tony awards at my grandmother’s house. There was a chorus of men singing and dancing to this lilting melody and this glamourous and beautiful lady was dancing her way down a staircase. I was mesmerized by her. I was just a kid and I didn’t really know who she was or what the song was or what made it all so special – I only knew it was special. At the bottom of the staircase, she looked at the last man (he had snuck onstage when she wasn’t looking) and when she saw his face, she burst into peals of laughter.

It was Angela Lansbury, the song was Mame and the man was the mayor of New York, John Lindsay.

Eventually, I would get myself a copy of the record to MAME and listen to it, devouring every word on the back of the album. I found a copy of the Random House book publication of the play and read it, gazing at the black and white photos and trying to picture everything from the Broadway production. Then I got the book AUNTIE MAME (it was a paperback and there was a drawing of Lucille Ball on the cover – I didn’t understand). Then I got the Random House play script to AUNTIE MAME and compared the two. As an adult I picked up copies of the book (with the original cover art of the hand and the cigarette holder and the bracelet) and the sequel AROUND THE WORLD WITH AUNTIE MAME. I own all these books, today; they are stacked on the bookcase around the corner from where I am sitting, at this moment. This is a household where Auntie Mame Dennis Burnside lives in the hearts of all. No matter the incarnation, we love this character and all the women who have played her (that we have seen – and some we haven’t seen but wish we had). Even the lamentable film version with Lucille Ball has some merit (and I will tell you what it is: Theodora Van Runkle’s costumes, the chance to see a too old Jane Connell do what she did onstage, and Robert Preston singing Loving You). MAME is one of the most important musical theater entities to enter my life and our life. Pat and I view Two-A as our family circle’s number three Beekman Place.

Pat, by the way, has actually been to number three Beekman Place for an event, a few years ago.

So when considering the genius of Jerry Herman and the genius of Angela Lansbury and the genius of Bea Arthur; when considering how important all things MAME are to me (the movie Auntie Mame is in my Ipod), is it any wonder that I keep the entire score in my Ipod and listen to it frequently?

Hello Dolly may be Jerry Herman’s most famous show but Mame is my personal favourite. My brother, John, in fact, once gifted me the original Broadway window card, matted and framed in a presentation so big that I have never been able to transport it from Texas to hang in my home; a grave error I will be correcting on my next trip home to see my family.

I think I’ll turn on my Itunes and listen to it right now; even though I don't actually HAVE to.

I can close my eyes and hear every note, any time I want.

Well.

Actually, I don't have to close my eyes.