Raymond Stanley's Show Buzz

Carol Channing.

There was great excitement in May 1972 when Carol Channing appeared on stage in Melbourne in Carol Channing and Her Gentlemen Who Prefer Blondes.  Although not very familiar through films, but slightly more so via television, she was nevertheless one of the legendary names of Broadway, mainly because of Gentlemen Prefer  Blondes  and  Hello  Dolly.

About a fortnight before Channing’s first night, attending another opening, I was having drinks in the interval in a room set aside for Press and V.I.P.s for that purpose.  Suddenly impresario Kenn Brodziak walked in with an extraordinarily tall woman, who had a blonde ‘golly-wog’ hair do and most enormous brown eyes.  It was Carol Channing, and I was introduced to her briefly.

Brodziak had booked Channing to play Melbourne and Sydney, but unfortunately the sudden demolition of the Theatre Royal in the harbour side city had meant she could only appear in the one place.  The 1,600-odd seater Princess Theatre was really too vast a venue to sustain the 4½ week season to packed houses, so business was not as great throughout the run as might have been hoped for.

As to the first night, perhaps I should quote from my review in Variety:

“It’s impossible to recall any single overseas entertainer having such a first night reception in Melbourne as Carol Channing in her non-stop 90 minute performance at the Princess Theatre here.

“Wisely, entrepreneur Kenn Brodziak had provided no supporting ‘warm-up’ acts and certainly the blonde star needed none.  The premier audience – a star-studded one, embracing most theatre, TV and radio personnel not working – commenced applauding immediately the eight-piece orchestra struck up the ‘Dolly’ tunes in its overture.  The red stage curtains rose to an empty stage of royal blue curtains, and the audience wildly applauded an invisible Miss Channing.  Eventually the blue curtains parted to reveal the star herself in dazzling tangerine and with such enthusiasm was she greeted it was about three minutes before she had a chance to speak. 

“Cleverly she went from one number to another with intervening patter to cover her costume changes, partially hidden by side screens as she did so.  The chatter seemed almost off-the-cuff and again and again, quite naturally, brought in allusions to people, places and things only familiar to a Melbourne audience – and always in the right context.

“Most of her songs she must have performed hundreds of times, yet they came out fresh and true: ‘Calypso Pete,’ ‘I’m Just A Little Girl From Little Rock,’ ‘Cecelia Sisson,’ ‘You’re The Cream In My Coffee.’  Accompanied by Aussie guitarist Bruce Clarke, there was a branching out into new fields with country and western songs, while her impressions of Carmen Miranda, Brigitte Bardot as Lady Macbeth and particularly Marlene Dietrich were surprising eye-openers to her immense and versatile talent.   At the end of course came the two show-stopping numbers, ‘Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend’ (with ‘rocks’ thrown into the audience) and ‘Dolly’.

“Again and again there were all-round gasps at her stunning dresses, some evocative of the ‘20s, as were her songs and dancing.

“It was very nearly a one-woman show.  Six male dancers …… efficiently performed on cue.

“The applause at the end – handclaps, cheers and feet-stamping – was sustained.  The audience in the stalls rose to their feet to applaud, and one lost count of the numerous curtains as the star was called back again and again by an appreciative crowd that just refused to leave.  For about the first time ever, Australia was seeing a major Broadway musical comedy star in action and right at her peak.  For Carol Channing it must have been a memorable occasion: to make one’s debut, so successfully, in a strange land where hitherto one was mainly only known as the originator of the ‘Hello Dolly’ song, some TV appearances and a role in the picture Thoroughly Modern Millie.  But from now on a lot of Aussies are going to think of Carol Channing when they think of America.  She is a first class ambassadress.”

The morning after the first night I had a telephone call from Kenn Brodziak.

”How did you like Carol’s show last night?”

”I thought it was great, just great.”

“Have you done your review of it for Variety?”

“Yes.”

“Carol and Charles [Charles Lowe, her husband] would like you to have supper with them after the show one night next week.”

Venue for super was a Chinese restaurant and Brodziak and his right hand man at that time, Robert Ginn, also were present.  In fact I was taken to the restaurant by them, so that we could await the arrival of the Lowes.

I was alerted by Brodziak that, due to an allergy, Channing could only eat organic foods and carried her own food around with her to restaurants.   According to Brodziak, informed of it before hand, he had scoured the countryside for organic vegetables and meat.  At the Customs Channing had encountered difficulties in bringing into the country some of her special type of food and drink.

Soon the star arrived, dressed in a man’s tuxedo, looking extremely tall and elegant.  With her she brought two flasks, one containing food, the other apparently water.  She made no fuss about it, but just took food and liquid from the flasks and put on plates and in glasses.  There was no embarrassment at all.

She refused to call Brodziak by his Christian name:  “He’s my boss, just like David Merrick,” she told me, “and I always address him as Mr. Merrick.”

It was pleasant chatting to Channing and her husband over the meal, but hardly anything memorable cropped up.

Although she had played in Shaw’s The Millionairess some years before, she seemed to have no yearning to appear in other classics.  She did mention though that Laurence Olivier wanted her to appear in a play at London’s National Theatre some time.

Before the season ended, I saw the show again and went backstage afterwards.  With great ceremony she presented me with one of the rings she usually threw into the audience during the performance.

According to the very experienced press agent for the Princess Theatre, Channing was the most co-operative star he had ever worked with.  She had notified him in advance that she would do whatever he arranged, and she went through with a television appearance at 7 a.m. and other assignments until the following midnight.

“When we met, she told me:  ‘You’re the expert. You do the public relations with no interference or backseat driving from me.  We understood each other.”

She was to finish her show in Melbourne on the Saturday night and would be flying back to America via Sydney on the Monday.

“Would it be of help to you,” she asked Brodziak, “if I do two shows in Sydney on the Sunday?”

The large Regent Theatre (which was housing another show during the week) was booked and a small classified advertisement inserted in one of the Sydney papers.  Immediately both performances were booked out and on the day scalpers were selling tickets at greatly inflated prices.

Aware that, due to the over-length of the season, houses in Melbourne had not been as packed as they might have been, Channing insisted on performing the two Sydney shows without a fee.

There was one amusing anecdote Brodziak later told me.  For some reason Charles Lowe was out of Melbourne one Sunday, so Brodziak arranged to take Channing to whatever she wanted to see.  She opted for the film The Clockwork  Orange.  They agreed to meet near the box office of the cinema.

Standing there awaiting the star, Brodziak was approached by a man whose face seemed familiar but to whom he could not put a name.  This was nothing surprising as, acquainted with so many people, this had frequently happened to him.

Acknowledging the unknown standing before him, Brodziak said:  “Well, it’s nice to see you again, but I have to go now.  I’m waiting for Carol Channing.”

“I am Carol Channing!”, came the response.

Without her wig, and dressed in a suit, she was totally unrecognisable to him!

Carol Channing was one of the few stars Brodziak kept in touch with throughout the years, always seeing her when in New York, and exchanging cards at Christmas.