Chad Jones’ Theater Dogs

I share the above photo not because I have a huge ego and want the world to know I had a few quality moments with Dame Julie Andrews, one of my favorite people on the planet. Wait – that’s exactly what I wanted by sharing the photo, which was taken at a stem cell research benefit in San Francisco that Andrews spoke at.

The first movie I ever saw was Mary Poppins (actually the very first movie I “saw” as a babe in arms was when my parents, in their VW bug took me to a drive-in showing of Barbarella, and apparently I cried all the way through and they left early). Andrews as the practically perfect nanny made quite an impression on my 4-year-old brain, and from then on, my world revolved around Julie Andrews, who had a TV variety show on then (this was the early ’70s), and then my mom and grandma took me to see The Sound of Music. Well, that was it. I’ve been a Banks-VonTrapp child in her charge ever since.

I reveal these personal details as a form of memoir and to introduce my thoughts on Andrews’ memoir Home: A Memoir of My Early Years (Hyperion, $26.95). The book takes us from her childhood in Walton-on-Thames, her career in the dying days of vaudeville as a child performer with a freakishly adult operatic range, and then on to New York and her Broadway stints in The Boyfriend, My Fair Lady and Camelot.

The book ends right as Andrews and her infant daughter are heading for Hollywood, the open arms of Walt Disney and the filming of Mary Poppins.

One thing you notice right away about the book is Andrews’ distinctive voice. You can hear her crisp pronunciation in every sentence. It’s also clear that she’s a writer – no surprise to those of us who have enjoyed her children’s books such as The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles and the more recent The Great American Mousical.

That said, there’s still an element of distance between Andrews and the reader. She’s happy to tell us a few things – even unpleasant things from her childhood (like a stepfather who had designs on his pretty stepdaughter and the revelation that she was a product of a one-night stand) – but she won’t tell us everything. Andrews reveals just enough to protect her privacy, and that’s respectable (though not as juicy as some folks might want).

The closest the book comes to scandal is Andrews’ revelation that during the run of Camelot, Richard Burton made advances toward her, which she basically laughed off, and then he became cold and distant – even onstage, which seems highly unprofessional, even for a Welshman. Eventually he got over himself and reverted back to the warm and wonderful (if slightly sozzled) co-star Andrews adored.

One of the book’s nicest surprises is the deep friendship Andrews and her husband, Tony Walton (an esteemed Broadway designer), developed with T.H. White, the author of The Once and Future King, the source material for Camelot. Tim, as Andrews called him, comes across as quite a character, especially when he tricks Andrews and Walton into buying a little house on his home island of Alderney.

Andrews admits that her account of My Fair Lady’s birth isn’t as thorough as Alan Jay Lerner’s On the Street Where You Live or Moss Hart’s Act One (one of the best theater books ever), but it’s fascinating to hear about it from her perspective as a young performer who feels she’s in way over her head.

My favorite passage in the book about what the theater means to Andrews. Here’s a taste:

Once in a while I experience an emotion onstage that is so gut-wrenching, so heart-stopping, that I could weep with gratitude and joy. The feeling catches and magnifies so rapidly that it threatens to engulf me.
It starts as a bass note, resonating deep in my system. Literally. It’s like the warmest, lowest sound from a contrabass. There is a sudden thrill of connection and an awareness of size – the theater itself, more the height of the great stage housing behind and above me, where history has been absorbed, where darkness contains mystery and meaning.

Reading her book made me adore Andrews even more – if that’s even possible. Now I’m anxious for the next volumes. I envision the second book concentrating on the ’60s, from Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music up through Darling Lili. This would, of course, take us through her divorce and her marriage to Blake Edwards. Volume 3 would deal with her TV work, her taking a break to concentrate on family, her reemergence in 10 and SOB and Victor/Victoria, her return to Broadway and the loss of her singing voice.

There’s still so much to tell. I hope she’s busy writing.

Here’s a treat: Carol Burnett, a great chum of Julie Andrews’, recalls her 1962 Carnegie Hall concert with Andrews and their spoof of The Sound of Music.

Growing up, watching “The Carol Burnett Show” on Saturday nights was a highlight of the week. As far back as I can remember, I was a Saturday night TV junkie, with “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” and “Carol Burnett” as my earliest and still most cherished entertainment experiences. Those actors became, as silly as it sounds, like family — reliable, hilarious, touching, surprising.

Harvey Korman’s death Thursday at age 81 wasn’t exactly a surprise. Anyone who had seen him in recent years saw age dimming his light a little. In his appearances with old cohort Tim Conway, Korman seemed to be feeling the years.

Korman is the first of the Burnett crew to go, and it’s such a loss. The good news is that all of his best TV and movie work (he was so great in Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles and High Anxiety) continue.

When I think of him on “The Carol Burnett Show” I think of him padded up with boobs and hips as Mother Marcus on the soap opera spoof “As the Stomach Turns.” And he and Carol as the old folks in the rockers singing songs and making sexual innuendo. I also recall the sort of sitcom-within-the show in which Carol and Harvey were a married couple (I think his name was Roger), and Vicki Lawrence was Carol’s little sister.

Of course, my favorite Korman character was Ed Higgins, Eunice’s belligerent and none-too-bright hardware-store-owning husband. Korman could do dramatic work — look no further than these family sketches as proof.

Korman’s other claim to fame on the “Burnett” show — other than the ease with which he cracked up during a sketch, especially opposite Conway — is that he could neither sing nor dance terribly well, so during those splashy musical finales, he was always pretending to shuffle along as best he could.

The best way to honor Korman is to laugh at him. Here’s a classic “Carol Burnett Show” sketch involving Harvey as the patient and Tim as the bumbling dentist.

And here’s a snippet from “As the Stomach Turns” with Korman in full comic drag as Mother Marcus, Canoga Falls’ resident yenta.

One of my favorite people in the world, Carol Burnett, turns 73 today.

I think one of the reasons I love theater so much was that growing up, my favorite show was “The Carol Burnett Show.” From as early as I can remember, Saturday nights were my haven because of two women: Mary Tyler Moore and Carol Burnett. Mary (via Mary Richards on “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”) showed me the kind of grown-up life I wanted to have (and did sort of end up having). And Carol, along with her crew that included Harvey Korman, Tim Conway and Vicki Lawrence, showed me the joys of music and comedy and, blessed be, musical comedy. “The Carol Burnett Show” was like a new Broadway show every week with the sketches, the singing, the dancing, the groovy ’70s sets and the wild Bob Mackie costumes. Oh, and the guest stars — hard to complain with a heaping helping of Steve and Eydie, Jim Nabors, Alan Alda, Ken Berry and the like. God, how I miss variety shows!

I got to see Carol live on stage in 1999 when she was in the Stephen Sondheim revue Putting It Together alongside George Hearn, Ruthie Henshall, John Barrowman and Bronson Pinchot. Wish I could have seen her in her Broadway debut in 1959’s Once Upon a Mattress. The cast album from that show has long been a favorite (as have Carol’s solo albums — not exactly chart-toppers but charming). She’s such a pro. I hope I get to see her perform again. And I really hope I get to sit down and interview her (came close with the made-for-TV Mattress with Burnett and another of my favorites, Tracey Ullman).

A Web site called Complete Series TV offers the complete DVD set of “The Carol Burnett Show,” which was originally sold through Columbia House. It’s two complete episodes per disc (12 discs), which is not the complete series by any means, but it’s the best we can do for now, and it’s a whole lot better than those truncated, 30-minute versions that went into syndication in the ’80s (hey, they were better than nothing, but I sure missed the lavish production numbers and the cheesy musical guest spots).

I’m still completely fascinated by the “Family” sketches (which later evolved into the mostly lame “Mama’s Family” TV series). Burnett played Eunice Higgins, a shrill harpie desperate to leave her small town existence for the bright lights of Hollywood fame. Korman was Eunice’s hardware store-owning husband, Ed. Lawrence played mama Thelma Harper (the crankiest beer-swilling matriarch of all time), and various guest stars played Eunice’s sister (Betty White) and brothers (Alan Alda, Roddy McDowell, etc.). After Burnett stopped doing her show in 1978, she appeared in a three-act made-for-TV play called “Eunice,” which I remember being extraordinary when I saw it as a kid. Many years later, I watched it again at the Museum of TV and Radio in New York, and it was every bit as good as I remembered it, and there I sat in my viewing booth, bawling my eyes out in the third act (after Mama’s death and Ed leaves Eunice). If there’s anyone out there who knows how I can get my hands on a copy of “Eunice,” please let me know! (P.S. — Theater Dog Michael wrote in to say he watched “Eunice” in its entirety on YouTube in 9 parts!). Also, due credit should be given to writers Dick Clair and Jenna McMahon (and co-director Harvey Korman!).

In tribute to Carol Burnett, here’s one of my favorite clips from “The Carol Burnett Show.” It’s one of the “Family” sketches, and Tim Conway is on a roll telling elephant stories. Burnett, Lawrence and guest star Dick Van Dyke are in hysterics.

Here’s another one with Lawrence on a tear as Mama:

And finally, here’s Burnett singing the goodbye song: