Friday Evening, February 26, 2016, at 8:30

Charles Busch: The Lady at the Mic

Tom Judson, Music Director and Piano

The The Program Guy Klucevsek, Accordion Joe Gallant, Bass

Carl Andress, Director

This evening’s program is approximately 75 minutes long and will be performed without intermission.

Please make certain all your electronic devices are switched off.

Major support for Lincoln Center’s American Songbook is provided by Amy & Joseph Perella. Endowment support provided by Bank of America This performance is made possible in part by the Josie Robertson Fund for Lincoln Center.

Steinway Piano The Appel Room ’s Frederick P. Rose Hall American Songbook

Additional support for Lincoln Center’s American Songbook is provided by The DuBose and Dorothy Heyward Memorial Fund, The Shubert Foundation, Jill and Irwin B. Cohen, The G & A Foundation, Inc., Great Performers Circle, Chairman’s Council, and Friends of Lincoln Center. Public support is provided by the New York State Council on the Arts. Artist catering provided by Zabar’s and zabars.com MetLife is th e National Sponsor of Lincoln Center

UPCOMING AMERICAN SONGBOOK EVENTS IN THE APPEL ROOM:

Saturday Evening, February 27, at 8:30 Terri Lyne Carrington’s Mosaic Project: Love & Soul featuring Valerie Simpson & Oleta Adams

IN THE STANLEY H. KAPLAN PENTHOUSE:

Wednesday Evening, March 16, at 8:00 Luluc

Thursday Evening, March 17, at 8:00 Anaïs Mitchell

Friday Evening, March 18, at 8:00 The Cooper Clan All Together

Wednesday Evening, March 30, at 8:00 Liz Callaway sings Maltby & Shire

Thursday Evening, March 31, at 8:00 Imani Uzuri

Friday Evening, April 1, at 8:00 Grace McLean

The Appel Room is located in Jazz at Lincoln Center’s Frederick P. Rose Hall. The Stanley H. Kaplan Penthouse is located in the Samuel B. and David Rose Building at 165 West 65th Street, 10th floor.

For tickets, call (212) 721-6500 or visit AmericanSongbook.org. Call the Lincoln Center Info Request Line at (212) 875-5766 or visit AmericanSongbook.org for complete program information.

Join the conversation: #LCSongbook

We would like to remind you that the sound of coughing and rustling paper might distract the performers and your fellow audience members. In consideration of the performing artists and members of the audience, those who must leave before the end of the performance are asked to do so between pieces. Flash photography and the use of recording equipment are not allowed in the building. American Songbook I Note on the Program

Why You Gotta Love the Lady at the Mic By Charles Busch

A deep love and fascination for actresses has very much defined my career as an actor/playwright. Many of my plays have paid homage to the pantheon of iconic women of film and theater, from Sarah Bernhardt to Greer Garson. For the past few years I’ve been immersed in the world of cabaret and find myself inspired by another feminine icon: the lady at the mic. There is something magical about the image of the vulnerable but indomitable woman standing in the spotlight commanding an audience. Whereas in my theater performances I sometimes evoke Bette Davis, Susan Hayward, and Rosalind Russell, in my cabaret work I manage to slip in elements of Judy Garland, Marlene Dietrich, Edith Piaf, and Peggy Lee. There have been, of course, great male performers, but I tend to think of them as part of the tradition of the “saloon singer” best exemplified by Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett.

This is a very personal view, but somehow the intimate cabaret stage seems to be more the province of the lady at the mic. I may have come to this conclusion because of the many movies that featured the character of a world-weary dame performing in a usually disreputable establish- Note on the Program the on Note ment. She often enters to spotty applause, sings one number, and then quickly retreats to the bar to engage in tough banter with the man who’s giving her trouble. Indelible images were etched on my mind of Rita Hayworth performing “Put the Blame on Mame” in Gilda and Ida Lupino grinding out her cigarette on top of the piano and then croaking her way through “One for My Baby” in Road House. When she finishes, Celeste Holm memorably quips, “She does more without a voice than anyone I’ve ever heard.” Sometimes the singin’ woman’s warbling is barely tolerated, as when poor Gladys George in The Roaring Twenties is dismissed as “that off-key canary.”

The concept of the chanteuse also conjures forth a glittering, glamorous post–World War II Manhattan. One can fantasize about showing up at one of those great supper clubs of the past such as the Persian Room, the Empire Room, or Le Directoire to see Lena Horne, Lisa Kirk, or Kay Thompson wowing a crowd of elegantly dressed sophisticates. And it must have been great fun going to the less opulent but edgier rooms like the Blue Angel or the Bon Soir and discovering a young Barbra Streisand or Carol Burnett.

This even ing’s show, The Lady at the Mic, pays tribute to a group of extra- ordinarily talented women who made notable contributions to the world of cabaret: Elaine Stritch, Julie Wilson, Mary Cleere Haran, Polly Bergen, and Joan Rivers. All of them passed away during the last few years and all were, to different degrees, friends of mine. Well, in the case of Elaine, I wouldn’t say we were “friends” in that we’ d run off to a corner movie. American Songbook I Note on the Program

The thing is that Elaine Stritch was such a vivid, tough individualist that any five-minute encounter left you with an anecdote to dine out on. In my case, I’d say I have around a dozen comic encounters that I’ve been dining out on for years. A somewhat cynical colleague of mine says that “cabaret is what you do either on your way up or on your way down.” That’s true in many cases, but not with these five ladies. Julie Wilson performed almost exclu- sively in nightclubs and cabarets for her entire career, as did Mary Cleere Haran. Polly Bergen and Elaine Stritch reinvigorated their later careers with now-legendary cabaret appearances. Joan Rivers continued playing small cabaret rooms at the height of her latter-day career as a way of honing material for her big ger venues, but I think mainly because she enjoyed performing before an intimate, hip New York audience. Indeed, she was doing her act at the West Bank Café the night before she died.

It was a challenge choosing songs appropriate to each of these musical women. Except for Elaine with “The Ladies Who Lunch,” none of them actu- ally introduced famous songs. Mary Cleere was a great archivist, rediscover- ing forgotten gems of the American songbook. Polly “covered” so many songs that you can track the history of mid-century popular music from her catalogue. Elaine and Julie took songs originated by others and transformed them into highly personal dramatic statements. Sometimes their repertoire intersected. Elaine, Polly, and Julie were all great interpreters of the songs of Stephen Sondheim. Each of t hem turned his “I’m Still Here” into an individual anthem of survival.

Years ago, I was friendly with the late veteran movie character actress Iris Adrian. True film aficionados know her as a wise-cracking blonde in over 100 films from the ’30s through the ’70s. When I would ask her about her experi- ence with tempestuous stars such as Joan Crawford and Betty Hutton, Iris would only reply sagely, “Kid, you gotta love an actress.” Well, I’ve come to believe the same applies to women singers. It ain’t easy. It’s a tough life. If asked about each of the women to whom we’re paying tribute in this show, I’d have to simply say, “Kid, you gotta love a lady at a mic.”

—Copyright © 2016 by Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, Inc. American Songbook I Meet the Artists DAVID HOWARD

Charles Busch

Meet the Artists