Raymond Stanley's Show Buzz Red Hot Mamma Sophie Sophie Tucker, ‘The Last Of The Red Hot Mamas’, as she was referred to, headed variety bills at the Tivoli in Melbourne and Sydney in the middle of 1962. Kenn Brodziak, who engaged her, had never met her before but, immediately she alighted from the plane and he had introduced himself, she took him aside and clutched his arm. Very gently she said: “Don’t let the TV cameras near me - it’ll hurt your box office!” According to Tucker, she had first been invited to appear Down Under in 1922. When she finally reached the country she hit the headlines in a big way, receiving much more media coverage than most other international entertainers. On arrival in Melbourne, where she began her season, a press reception was held in he hotel. At it she came over as a jolly, alert, dignified, grand-motherly figure, fashionably dressed in a large red hat and a deep blue dress, and grey stole. It was difficult to associate her with some of the spicy songs one had heard her sing on records. It would have been unthinkable to make the slightest suggestive phrase in front of this lovable lady. Obviously long practised at handling the media, and saying just the sort of things which would make nice copy, Sophie Tucker quickly endeared herself to the people present. Speaking in a deep husky voice, she apologised: “I’ve got the deepest, roughest voice you’ve ever heard. I picked up a cold in Honolulu on the way across, which doesn’t improve it. But it won’t stop me. I haven’t missed a performance yet, and I’ve been doing this for 59 years”. Inevitably she was asked her age, there having been speculations about it already in the papers, with guesses ranging between 72 to 81. “Who says I’m 73? I’m 74”, she magnanimously confessed. (In actual fact she was 78!) And saying she had never had a face lift, Tucker revealed her vital statistics were 42-40-48. Asked what was the best age for a woman, she promptly replied: “My age is the best. I have passed the fifties, sixties and seventies and right now I enjoy it. I love life and enjoy it”. Her health rules were: “No bread, no fatty foods and no pills. That’s how I keep going”. Tucker did not consider herself a singer. “Twenty years ago I used to sing a song. But not now. I entertain and every word I talk or say is a gem. There is always great philosophy behind everything I say on the stage”. Apparently she employed two writers and a pianist, and spent between $25,000 and $30,000 a year on new material and new songs. The same amount again went on clothes and jewellery. As to her songs: “I sing them to entertain, not to shock. The innocents can’t find a thing in them to shock. The others.....? Well, they get a laugh from every line”. “I was never sylph-like. I was always big and husky”. Her pianist, Ted Shapiro, had accompanied her for 42 years. “I still call her Miss Tucker”, he said, “and I’m still waiting to be told I’m satisfactory!” More answers to more questions. “Have I cooled down? Son, I’m hotter than ever!” “Retire? That’s a dirty word. I’ve never missed a performance in 59 years on the stage. And I’m not going to miss one now on account of a cold. Ask what you like, but don’t mention retirement - that’s just a dirty word!” A little prior to Sophie Tucker’s arrival in Melbourne Dame Sybil Thorndike had been in the city and, learning of the American star’s forthcoming arrival, had arranged for a large posy of violets to be awaiting her at the hotel. According to press reports, they had been friends for 30 years. Apart from pianist Shapiro, Tucker was accompanied by her brother, Moses Abuza, who acted as her personal manager, and her coloured maid, Juanita. In the city hotel in which she stayed she had four inter-connecting suites, consisting of four bedrooms, four bathrooms and two sitting rooms. Prior to her arrival she had sent word that she liked to have her main meal of the day served in the rooms at midnight. After that she liked to bat on - playing cards, writing letters, yarning - and finally going to bed at around 5 a.m. At the end of the press conference each reporter was presented individually to Sophie Tucker. Immediately she became aware I represented Variety, as quick as lightning she said: “Abel sends his bestest”. Abel Green was the editor of Variety and always signed off his letters with the word ‘bestest’. With all the hoo-ha in the media, the big question was: Could she live up to her legend in performance? In the 24 hours immediately following her arrival, she received the biggest press, radio and TV coverage accorded to any international entertainer up to that time. This did not exclude Danny Kaye who previously had held the ‘unofficial’ record. Despite her cold she had taped interviews with eight local radio stations and two television channels. On opening night there was a ‘marking time’ atmosphere in the theatre as the audience sat through a so-so bill of five mixed acts: a Maori vocal quartet, a French pantomimist, a juggler, and American jazz quartet and a Greek dancing duo. Then in the second half on came the legendary star herself, dressed in pink, a grey fur stole and lots of jewellery. She was given a great ovation, for which she seemed unprepared and was visibly moved. Shapiro began playing the piano, with the small orchestra in the background remaining silent, and the star’s gravel voice intoned some not too well constructed couplets telling how she nearly came Down Under 40 years before, but did not because of dislike of long sea voyages, fear of plane travel.... but now she was here at last. Her obvious sincerity never seemed in doubt. Then followed vintage Tucker numbers such as “I’m Living Alone’, ‘After You’re Gone’, ‘Life Begins At Forty’, and inevitably ‘Some Of These Days’, each being greeted with much applause. She appeared to be in great form, with no sign of her cold evident. The entire presentation of her near 45-minute act was impeccable: clear enunciation, polished technique and the wonderful teamwork existing with pianist Shapiro. Her closing number, ‘My Yiddishe Momme’, brought out pockets of emotion in the hushed house, followed by an even greater ovation than her entrance had received. Came the curtain speech with Tucker in tears at the tremendous reception, with basket after basket of flowers brought on stage - and apparently more backstage. This was the greatest floral tribute to any artiste in the memory of the Tivoli staff. This star’s achievement at conquering a new continent at her advanced age could not be understated. Many a younger celebrity had ventured Down Under only to prove a flop. One had feared that, after all the build up, one would be somewhat disappointed; in actual fact she proved to be even greater than the legend. After the first night, with her well deserved notices, Sophie Tucker did not let up on publicity, and hardly a day passed by without a photograph published of her attending some function or other, such as cutting the cake at the Lord Mayor’s Ball at midnight, visiting an old people’s home, etc. etc. A few days before the end of Tucker’s season I received a note from her, written on hotel paper: I finish at the Tivoli Sat nite and I do so want to thank you for your kindness to me. Do drop in to say hello before then . Looking upon this as something like a Royal command, I duly did so on the Friday night to find her suffering badly with laryngitis, hardly able to speak and a very sick lady indeed. “You’ve been a naughty girl”, I remonstrated, instancing her gadding around at all hours, when clearly she ought to be in bed. She winked at me. “You might have seen my photograph in the papers, saying I had attended this and that. What they didn’t say was that immediately after the photograph was taken I left!” I suggested that she really ought not to go on stage in her condition, but she insisted. “It wouldn’t be fair to the kids in the show”, she said, “If it was cancelled they wouldn’t get paid”. She then made me promise not to mention the state of her health to Abel Green. “The poor dear would only start to worry about me”, she said. Of course I realised that it would not be good for her career for any report of her condition to reach Variety. Some years later, when Carol Channing came to Australia, she stressed to me how Sophie Tucker would have gone on stage for a performance, even if she knew she was dying. I had written a piece about the show for a Tasmanian paper, which was published after Tucker had left Melbourne. Thinking she might not have seen it, I sent her a clipping. Back came a letter, on a Sydney hotel letter heading: Thanks a million for the cutting, and Abel sent me your review of my show and I am O, so grateful to you for your kindness to me. It was grand meeting you and so many wonderful Melbourne people. My laryngitis still plaguing me and doctors can’t help me until I stop working for at least 4 weeks as I have ruined my voice working with laryngitis. Grand success here but I’m not doing or giving a show that I can do when I am in good voice . After Sophie Tucker left Australia, it appeared that everyone in the media had received a note of thanks from her. One presumes she probably did this throughout her life wherever she appeared, which ensured good relations should she appear in that city again in the future. Christmas of that year I received a printed card from her. On the front were the words: “Coming UP -” and inside: My 75th Birthday... It would of course have been her 79th birthday! I received Christmas cards from her for the remaining years of her life, which ended early in 1966. For the rest of her life Kenn Brodziak kept in constant touch with Sophie Tucker, visiting her whenever in New York. After her death he asked her son for some little memento of her and was given two small hand towels with her monogram on. These he treasured dearly, despite the fact that silver fish attacked them! |