SHE TOOK MANHATTAN and the whole world loved her …

Video posted to YouTube by ojamiguel.  1946 Ziegfield Follies [film] excerpt “Norma, the Sweepstakes Winner” staring Fanny BriceHume Cronyn, and William Frawley. This is a reprise of a skit Ms. Brice did on stage in the Ziegfield Follies [stage]. Hume Cronyn looks great here and is about twenty years younger than Ms. Brice. Many people wont remember William Frawley from his movie star days, but will certainly remember him as Fred of Fred and Ethal in I Love Lucy.

File:FashionableFannyBrice.jpg

Public domain photographs from the George Grantham Bain Collection of the U.S. Library of Congress.

Top photograph is not dated: estimate from fashion: c. late 1910s.

Lower photograph: c. 1911.

File:Fannybricebain.jpg

Fania Borach, a.k.a. Fanny Brice.

Star of radio, television, stage (mainly the famed Ziegeld Follies), screen. Comedienne. Chanteuse.

October 29, 1892 (New York City, NY) – May 29, 1951 (Hollywood, CA)

Though a Yiddish accent was her signature shtick*, she didn’t speak the language.

I breathed and ate and drank and lived theater — in my neighborhood were all the nationalities of all of Europe. That is where I learned my accents; the Polish woman with her intonation rising up like chant. I saw Loscha of the Coney Island popcorn counter and Marta of the cheeses at Brodsky’s Delicatessen and the Sadies and the Rachels and the Birdies at the Second Avenue dance halls. They all welded together and came out staggeringly true to type in one big authentic outline. Fanny Brice, 1936

She made such an impression on folks that though she died when I was one, I feel like I remember her because my elders talked about her so ofen and her movies were shown as reruns. I apparently was not the only one so impressed: some fifteen years after her death she was honored with a portrayal by Barbara Streisand in Funny Girl. I saw the play on stage with Mimi Hines. Lily Tomlin‘s Edith Ann owes more than a nod to one of Fanny Brice’s most well-know and loved characters, Baby Snooks:

Copyrighted David Stone Martin illustration under fair use, NBC Publicity; web source: http://www.drawger.com/kroninger/?section=comments&article_id=4635.

Ms. Brice was born on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, the child of Hungarian Jews. She grew up dreaming of the theatre, was fired by George M. Cohen, and saved by Irving Berlin. When she was fired by Cohen, she did the usual dance with small-time vaudeville venues that were typical of her day, but she remained determined to make it to Broadway. She went to see Berlin when she needed an act for a charity show. He introduced her to his new vamp Sadie Cohen song, Sadie Salome (go home), which I think morphed in Sadie, Sadie Married Lady in the movie Funny Girl. After that, she was hired by Zeigfield and her career took off. Her success was unprecedented. America embraced her despite her ethnic act. In fact they loved her, particularly the confrontational Baby Snooks, whom she played until shortly before her death of cerebral hemorrhage.

I breathed and ate and lived theatre — in my neighborhood were all the nationalities of all of Europe. That is where I learned my accents; the Polish woman with her intonation rising up like chant. I saw Loscha of the Coney Island popcorn counter and Marta of the cheeses at Brodsky’s Delicatessen and the Sadies and the Rachels and the Birdies at the Second Avenue dance halls. They all welded together and came out staggeringly true to type in one big authentic outline. Broadway, the American Musical, by Michael Kantor and Laurence Maslon.

Ultimately, there’s a lot we can say about Fanny Brice; but the truth is, she was simply yet another really funny smart New York girl.

Video posted to YouTube by preservationhall01.

* schtick-Yiddish-a device (trick, cheating) to get attention.

LESSONS FROM THE PAST

Like most people, I never particularly cared for cemeteries, never would think of visiting one for pleasure or education. That’s changed. But let me go back to the beginning. Picture it: 1958. On the subway one day, going from Brooklyn to Manhattan, mom and I met one of our 100,000 relatives, Julia. It seemed that wherever we went, we met relatives. How could that be? Our family wasn’t that big and most of its members were still living in the Middle East. I speculated that maybe in Lebanon if a water pipe ran under your house and the neighbor’s, then you were related.

I think these New York relatives were what some Americans would refer to as shirt-tail cousins. There was my grandmother’s cousin’s wife, whom we had to call “aunt” out of respect for her advanced age. Currently she is 104 (if her date of birth is to be believed) and she’s still kicking – literally – no walker or wheelchair for her. There was my grandmother’s cousin’s wife’s mother whose arms still had the hint of the indigo dye the women of Yemen used to dye cloth. I remember she always colored her hair black just in case her dead husband looked down from heaven. She didn’t want him to see her with grey hair. There was also my “uncle” who was my second cousin’s godfather. There were many more, but you get the drift. It can be a bit of a mind-spin for a kid.  Oddly, the mystery was cleared up when I visited the midwestern United States.

I was newly married and getting to know my in-laws. They lived in a small town in Iowa, my second husband’s hometown. It’s population is under five hundred. I grew up in an apartment complex in Brooklyn that housed at least that many people. The visit gave me some new perspectives. I had never been someplace where there were more cows and chickens than people and more corn than weeds. I found myself in the cemetery one day and was surprised to see so many people had the same last name or were married to someone with that same name or were somehow related to about half the others in the cemetery. The light went on …

For the most part, the members of our family came from a couple of small mountain villages. The people like Julia that mom said were relatives probably were related to us, however distantly. It hit me too that cemeteries where neither scary nor depressing. They offered an opportunity to connect with the past and to let it speak. That thought came back to me recently when my photographer friend, Wendy Alger, and I went to Redwood City for a photo shoot at the historic Union Cemetery, home to approximately 2,400 people who died during or after the American Civil War.

As I walked around the six acre site, the number of graves for babies and toddlers made me appreciate living in a time when infant mortality isn’t so common. I was struck by the clear expressions of love in the way graves of married couples were juxtaposed and in the sentiments carved on headstones. I was intrigued to see fresh flowers on a grave that was about a hundred or more years old. I wondered who put them there. I noted graves with a date of death but no birth date, and this is the second western cemetery I’ve visited where Native Americans appear to be buried in a communal grave. No names. I had to ask myself what it was all for … the war that is … and any war for that matter. We all end up in the same place. Maybe that’s the best lesson or the only real lesson. Life is too short and much too precious for war.

UNION CEMETERY PHOTOS

Historic Site

American Civil War (1861-1865)

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Essay and photos ~ Jamie Dedes, 2012 All rights reserved

ARSENIC AND OLD LACE

Video posted to YouTube by 

Happy Musical Monday:

Sountrack by Max Steiner (1888-1971), Austrian-American composer/musician

Happy Halloween:

Arsnic and Old Lace (1944)

This is a Halloween tale of Brooklyn, where anything can happen and usually does.” among the opening titles to the Frank Capra movie, Arsenic and Old Lace.

Set in Brooklyn, New York in 1941, this movie  - good fun for Halloween – is funny in the kind of corny benign way that some of these old moves were.  Starring Cary Grant and Priscilla Lane, it is based on a Joseph Kesserling play, which ran from January 1941 through June 1944.  Jean Adair, Josephine Hull, and John Alexander who starred in the play were released to act their parts in the movie.  And, no – I don’t remember that – my mother told me. Boris Karloff played the evil brother in the play. He was the play’s biggest draw, but producers wouldn’t release Karloff for the movie. Hence, in the movie version the evil brother is played by a gruesome Raymond Massey. Some of the fun and several quirky quips in the movie reference that switch.

The story is about a theatre critic (Mortimer Brewster) who is also a critic of marriage. He finally falls for a  woman who lives in Brooklyn right next door to his two aunts and a cemetery (Gravesend maybe?). The aunts, as it happens, very kindly murder lonely old men and bury them in the basement  of their home.  The “weapon” of choice is elderberry wine laced with arsenic. The aunts are helped with the burial chores and ceremonies by Mortimer’s nutty brother Teddy, who thinks he is Theodore Roosevelt. When Mortimer discovers a body in the window box and evil brother Jonathan arrives on the scene ready to kill Mortimer and put the aunts at risk, hysteria breaks loose.

Added value for Brooklynites and/or B-ball fans: You get a glimpse of the old Brooklyn Dodgers in the opening scene.

It had good reviews in it’s day. More contemporary reviews are a bit reserved. I like it. I watch it every year on Halloween; and, frankly, I’ll take humor over horror anyday … even if it is a bit outdated.

© review, Jamie Dedes, 2011 All rights reserved