Happy 94th Birthday, Judy!!!

When it comes to paying tribute to Judy on her birthday, it is really difficult to pick just one moment that perfectly demonstrates her contribution to entertainment, and to performing.  A lot of this is simply because there are so many different facets to her.  It's hard to find a clip that captures everything, and that I haven't already shared here at one point.  That being said, here is a vocal track of Garland singing You Made Me Love You on The Bing Crosby Show at a point in her career when she was physically robust and her interpretive skills had been freed from the girl next door image she was tied to at MGM.  It's a fresh, more grown-up Garland.  Enjoy!

Night Of A Thousand Judys: Part 3

Seeing as I've dragged this subject out longer than was probably necessary, I will not belabor my feelings on the show itself, however...there are some parts of it  that I feel really need to be praised, especially those moments, and those performers who approached the material with a true heart.  
Surely, one of the reasons Garland touched a chord with the gays is that she was an incredibly sensitive and emotional person, and a brilliant artist who was courageous enough to let that emotion be her artistic medium.   As a sensitive little boy learning that there was a side of me that should be hidden and repressed, when I found this woman who blatantly tossed that philosophy aside and used all of her surging emotions as a kind of super power?  It hit me that there was a different way to be, and it was just one of the things that made her my hero.

There were some pretty powerful entertainers onstage who illustrated this principal to perfection.  
The host, Justin Sayre, as much as anyone, spoke his truth up on that stage  He opened the show in a black flowing blouse trimmed with beads, sporting high heel pumps, and backed by a bevy of lanky young dancing boys.  He cavorted, he schmoozed, and he sang I Feel A Song Coming On both reveling in the joy of the number, and without a hint of irony.  It was one of the most successful productions of the concert and really got me geared up for a great show.  Throughout the rest of the evening Justin was candid, vulnerable, self deprecating, and really respectful of Garland, as well as the issue that the show is raising funds for, to provide support for homeless LGBTQ youth.

Justin Sayre, Kevin Quilon, Adam Perry, Ryan Steele, and Charlie Williams perform "I Feel A Song Coming On" (photo by Stephen Sotokoff)

Other highlights included Barrett Foa,  singing a sweet and sincere version of I Happen to Like New York, and T. Oliver Reid really nailing the visceral excitement of Judy's Come Rain Or Come Shine--- Sidebar: I couldn't help but notice that the man I couldn't help but notice that the man performed in a bright white tuxedo, and when he came out for the finale, an ensemble sing a-long, he had switched to a black tux.  He was the only one in the concert, that I noticed, who worked in a costume change.  Good on you, T. Oliver Reid.,---   and a band that really soared.

One of the big musical discoveries, for me, was Gabrielle Stravelli.  She sang I Could Go On Singing effortlessly, with a true respect for the material, a gorgeous instrument, and with an approach that made the song her own, and yet, stayed true to the spirit of the original.  She didn't showboat or place vocal stylings above substance, she just let it out.  Every beat, every note, was golden.  I will absolutely be seeking her out in the future.

Words Said On The Manhattan Bound N Train Yesterday Morning At 8:07

(A  shaggy grey hair,ed man walks into the N Train at the Queensborough Plaza stop on a busy Tuesday morning.  He has a booming French accent, and wears a soiled trench coat)

Oh look!!!  You are all here!  Hello America, you have arrived!  Aren't we all blessed?  Look at you.  Just look at yourselves.

(I surreptitiously, and avoiding the crazy man's glance, look at us.  We aren't much to look at)


Aren't you lucky?  To be here?  And you are so beautiful!  And do you know who loves you?????

(I'm pretty sure I can guess)

JESUS LOVES YOU!!!!  He does!  Don't you know it!  I want you to know how much I love you, and how much Jesus does, and how great America is!  God gave his son to you!!  I think we should all sing.  Let's sing and pray!  Our father holy god Jesus!  Thank you thank you thank you...

(It's at this pint that I stop pretending to be tuned out and actually tune out.  And yes, this may make me seem like a cynical person, but I don't need some asshole shouting at me about the sacrifice of Jesus on a Wednesday morning at 8:07.  I just want to play my fucking Wizard of Oz match three game and get to work)

That's it America!  Thank you, Thanks to Jesus and have a wonderful day!!  Don't forget that Jesus loves you, and pray everyday!

(He exits.  A moment goes by.  I breathe a mental sigh of relief. He enters in the next door)

Hello, America!  You made it!! (stops for a second) Have I already been in this car???

(Against my better judgement, I respond- "Yes, you have.  You were just here." It's the Jurassic Park equivalent of moving when the fucking T-Rex is sniffing three feet away from you. At this time the doors close and the train moves on)

I was???  I was!!! Well, goodness that's ok!  (Looking toward me) Big Man!!!

(I despise being called 'big man'.  Loathe it)

You're so tall, Mr. Man!  You know what?  You are taller than JESUS!!!!!  Do you know what you look like?  (I involuntarily shudder, and part of me wants to tell him that it's not like Jesus was on record as being that tall so being taller than him is not a great feat) You look like an Oak tree!!!!

And you (he turns to a twenty-something woman with her boyfriend) You look like a cloud!

(She mumbles, "A what?)

(loud assertive man with the French accent whispers) You look like a cloud.  (He points his finger close to her nose, like he's going to "boop it".  He does not "boop" it.  At this point the train stops at 49th, where it's thankfully time for me to make a hasty exit.  I hear him as I leave) 

Well, goodbye America, and thank you!  And don't forget who loves you!!  It's JEEEEEESUSSSSSS!

Night Of A Thousand Judys: Part 2

I ventured out to Merkin Hall on Monday night, after a stop at The Night Hotel on 45th for a glass of wine.  The hotel is this dark little glam spot on 45th street that seems like, at 5:00PM all the vampires who make this place their home will just now being stirring around in their coffins to suck the world dry.  The logo even looks like a graphic designer vampire crafted it...

The bar within the hotel is called "Red Moon" and has an equally creepy logo...

Now, in case you are wondering.  This whole mid-nineties glam vampire, "this is a place where human sheep come to lose their mortal souls" vibe???  I LOVED it.  I like a dash of danger in my bars, and I'd been told that the waitresses were very welcoming, and that if I sat at the bar they would make sure I was well taken care of.  They didn't disappoint.  They were both so sweet, and seemed to take a genuine interest, chatted me up like they were hosting a very intimate party, and the glasses of wine were generously poured, with great happy hour prices.  

This particular night my soul was left intact.  No wan and pale emo man slathered in eye makeup up lured me up to his room.  Instead, I skipped on out into the night and headed toward Merkin Hall! Yes, that's its name, and yes, many a merkin joke was made throughout the evening.

I arrived about twenty minutes early, which was plenty of time to check out the surroundings and the masses of gay folk who had attended the benefit.  There were loads of men in blue gingham dress shirts, and a couple of them even sported red tennis shoes.  I felt a little out of place, but only because I was alone, and didn't know anyone there.  Every one else seemed to be completely at home, or was putting up a very good front.   I headed over to the restrooms, and luckily there was a cute boy in line who I chatted with for a while, and he regaled me with the fact that this benefit was an extension of "The Meeting", a monthly show at  Joe's Pub, which pays homage to varying gay icons.  While he loved Judy, of course, he was primarily a fan of "The Meeting", and visions of me and this big hunk of inappropriately aged blond corn fed cuteness watching "Summer Stock" with me on a Wednesday evening, and of the two of us shopping picking out "His and His" throw pillows at the Jonathan Adler, well they faded.  In the meantime, I had spotted a woman near us in the corner that I recognized as an important personage in the Judy fan circles, and I'd always appreciated her level headed words, her "appropriate" levels of fandom, and her seemingly kind nature.  I wanted to introduce myself to her, but I was torn!  Salvage my future relationship with this cute boy?  Or meet my future Judy fan bosom buddy?  Cute boy?  Or Judy friend??

Judy Garland by Pablo Lobato

I went with the Judy fan, and while she was wonderful and sweet, I worry that in my excitement to meet her I overwhelmed and terrified the shit out of her.  This is something I've been known to do.  When I like someone, I cannot hide it.  It kind of oozes out of me, and if you aren't ready for that kind of puppy like affection, it might be...off putting?  Well, there was time to worry about that later.

In the meantime, I was enjoying the show.  All the fancy gays preening and parading, the art work up for auction...   here I was admittedly surprised to find the offerings rather sparse.  There were about five pieces up, one of which I recognized from press at last year's auction, and one which was essentially a glorified ad for the event.  There were two pieces there, however, that were pretty terrific.  One was this gorgeous caricature of Judy from Meet Me In St. Louis by Pablo Lobato, who's work has been featured in many publications, including "Entertainment Weekly".  At the beginning of the show it was already up to $500 and was sure to rise by twice that towards the end of the evening.  The other piece I loved was by Felix D'eon, an artist who does these very detailed, retro  works (some of them slightly obscene) in which he queerifies mid-twentieth century comic book art and Greek mythology, among other things.  I had actually purchased one of his sweeter, more tame pieces awhile back, and the piece on display was a playful drawing of a youngish boy in Dorothy drag and a young man flirtatiously grabbing his wig.  Again, if I'd had money to spare...Incidentally, the photo  I snapped of the piece does not do it justice, so rather than post a blurry representation of his work, I give you this, as a prime example of his stellar illustrations...

"Spaceman Embrace" By Felix D'eon

Before I knew it, they were playing chimes over the loudspeaker and dimming the lights to let us know it was time to head into the theatre, and when I sat down in the balcony I was pleased that I had a great view of the stage, and was flush with excitement for the show to come.

Coming Soon:  The show itself!

Close, But No Representation

This is not the post where I ruminate on The Night Of A Thousand Judys, though that will likely come tonight.  At the moment, however, it takes the kind of thought and care that I simply cannot muster.  I've realized that when writing reviews I am often less than completely candid.  Not that I don't tell the truth as I see it, but, as I assume many critics do, I often feel the need to soften my negative thoughts on a theatrical experience, especially being a performer myself, and knowing what it is like to latch onto a pithy comment tossed off by a reviewer and letting it gnaw away at my mind like its the one bit of truth in a world I've built on delusions of my talent.  At this particular moment I just can't hack the pressure, dear reader, and would prefer to let my mind take me where it will.

Right now I'm thinking a lot about the Tony ceremony this Sunday and how it will totally fuck with my diet, as a few of us are getting together to view them, and there will be food and drinks galore.  Seeing as the ceremony itself isn't likely to be the most exciting (much as I respect the show, watching the people from Hamilton get up and thank everybody over and over is likely to get monotonous real quick) I'll likely spend half the night with my mouth wrapped around the spout of the margarita machine, and the other half spooning down mouthfuls of crab dip.  And yes, glory be, there will be a fucking margarita machine.

__________________

As far as my own actor's journey, I recently got some disappointing news.  While on the one hand, it's a move in the right direction--- agent takes notice--- when an agent hands you his card after an audition and asks you to call him the next day, what I am hoping for is not to hear the words "keep in touch and let me know the next time you are in something".  Yes, as he said, it is difficult to tell that much about a performer from 32 bars, but I can't help but think that if I'd really been good, 32 bars should have been enough.

I mean, people do get hired for jobs based on 32 bars.  And yes, I understand that part of it is who you know, and that 32 bars getting you a callback for lots more exposure, and so much is based on the randomness of how a particular performance hits a particular viewer at that moment, but Barbra Streisand, I have to imagine, would have been called in after thirty-two bars.  I know, I know, I am not Barbra Streisand.  This is not a newsflash.  But I do think I'm talented, and I do think, from some of the feedback I've received that I have enough talent to swim in this sea.  Am I fooling myself?  I honestly don't think so.  But then there is that thing they call "grit".  "Grit" is all the rage these days.  It's the new buzz word.  Grit.

The fucking grit factor.  Stick to-itedness.  Persistence.  Call it what you will, think of it as the self help trend of the moment, this shit seems to matter as much, if not more than talent.  I mean it's a cliche, all these talented people who never make it because they can't get seen, or can't even bring themselves to finish a piece of art.  As many have said, "half the battle is showing up".  So, I can't let this get me down.  I have to take this as a sign of good things to come, encouragement to keep honing my skills and cultivate this new connection along with others like it.  The only way to work here is to keep working at getting work.  This is something that seems at the moment like a daunting prospect, but, can be broken down into some smaller and mundane tasks.  Right?  "Keep coming back!!  It works if you work it!!"  Do I sound like I believe this yet?

I mean, I have made progress.  In the past 9 months I've gotten my Equity card, booked a couple of gigs, done about twenty auditions, met some people, begun compiling my book, worked with a coach... this is all part of it.  And in spite of the feeling that my journey is nearly over and I'm a dinosaur crawling toward a downward spiraling asteroid, it's possible that this is just the beginning of my journey.

Night of A Thousand Judys: Part One

I just bought tickets to the 6th Annual Night of A Thousand Judys here in New York City.  It's an annual benefit concert which pays tribute to Judy and The Ali Forney Center, which houses and protects homeless LGBT youth.  

I debated going, because the tickets in the orchestra are not cheap, and it is often torture for me to watch other people sing Judy's material.  Too often they attempt an imitation, or try to show her up , like Rufus Wainwright does by professing to love her, but making snide comments about liquor and pills.  This seems to come from the right place, and hopefully the performers will honor her by using the material to relate it to their own lives, and be emotionally open with the audience.  That's the best way to honor her, in my opinion.  What tipped the balance in favor of my going was the fact that I've been following this event for the past six years, reading about it online and thinking "if only".  Well, my "if only" is going to be Monday night, and you can join me in the balcony if you would like.

Of added benefit is the appearance of Barrett Foa, whom I've always thought was dreamy to the extreme.  So if it gives me a discomforting sensation being there by myself, or if the performers are less than respectful, I will just lose myself in Barrett's bespectacled blue eyes and pillow lips.  

But in truth, I am pretty excited.  The featured performers I'm familiar with are stellar, and there was a recent article published in which the stars of the concert extolled Judy and how she raised the musical theatre bar.  I'm sure that by then end of the evening I will be wondering how I could have thought about missing it.  I mean, after all, one of the entire reasons I'm in New York is to be experiencing the things I've always read about and wanted to participate in, so now that I'm here, the only thing stopping me is me.  Full update on the concert in the next couple of days.  

A Double Dose Of Judy

Found a couple of Judy clips that I had to share.  One was made by TCM, featuring Judy as their star of April (so it's out of date in that aspect) and captures a piece of what makes her so thrilling.  I could watch it again and again...

The other is an old clip of Judy's T.V. show, featuring Ray Bolger.  It's so off the cuff and in the moment, so potently charming that I had to post it.  Yes, she's a little throaty in this clip (which doesn't really get going until about a minute in), but no it doesn't keep her from being captivating.

The Long Weekend

The heat settled into New York over the past week, and while it took its time getting here (mid-fifties in May?) It is here now, ongoing now where.  Our apartment in Queens, like a lot of apartments in NYC, is not centrally air conditioned, and we are definitely feeling the lethargy that the heat brings with it.  The cat has taken to flopping on the kitchen floor for most of the day, while Laura and I have opened all the windows and placed a couple of fans strategically to get the air flowing.  It works for the most part, but yesterday I spent a good hour trying to nap because I felt so sapped of energy, and yet... I wasn't tired enough.  Getting out of the house certainly helped because it's inevitably cooler outside than it is in the apartment, and so I've tried to spend a good portion of this Memorial Day weekend out in the world.  Yes, we have window units, and we could put them up, but the cost, and at least for me, the feeling of giving in to the heat, letting it defeat me, has kept us from doing so as of now.  Luckily, rain came in last night and is cooling us down a bit.

Speaking of this weekend, it's certainly been a long one, or at least it has seemed very long in the best way possible, and I'm pretty sure this has a lot to do with my decision this weekend to dispense with television, films, and iPhone games.  I just noticed that I had been using distractions in my life, distractions that took up my time, but not in a way that I was really enjoying.  I was spending my commute dawdling away on this mindless match three game, and then at home I was downloading "Ugly Betty" into my brain for a couple of hours a day.  Oh I was still getting things done, but I got to thinking about what I would do with my time, if it were opened up.  How much more could I get done. Because, looked at truthfully, I was using tv as an avoidance tool. consciously or un, and I hadn't come to New York to waste in passivity.

And so this weekend, beginning Saturday, I turned off the television, deleted my iPhone app, and am really pleased with the results.  Of course I did the normal things, laundry and cleaning, but I also read - and while some might think that's just another distraction, it has always been a much more involved and active pursuit.  You have to commit your entire brain to the task.  At night, rather than wonder what we were "going to watch" my roommate and I played card games and chatted.  I spent time researching agents, narrowing my focus, and finding out which was the best way to reach out to those I was interested in.  But more than that, I became aware of my life.  And what else did I do?  I wrote.  A lot.

I've been working on a long form project since November, and I've devoted a lot of this weekend to it.  Of course, I've been spending most of the last couple of days slogging through and working on the thirty thousand words I've already written, and finally got to the point where I am facing the future of the story again.  And now?  I know why they say to write a rough draft without going back.  It can mean death to a project.  And yet, now that I've done it, reviewed what came out of my brain, I definitely have a better understanding of what I'm wanting to write, what it needs more of, and who my characters are.  So I can't say I regret the months it's taken me to do it.  But now?  As an experiment, I'm going to let my heart guide me.  Trust what I've built, and let go.  Let them tell me what to do, in a sense.  Will it be messy?  Yes.  Will there be contradictions?  Yes.  Will it make sense and be clean and written with an economy of words?  No.  There will be a lot of deep diving later, but I also think this will help me get to the bottom of the story that I want to tell, and I'm looking forward to it.  And also?  When I allow myself to really get lost in it and write what is "fun"?  The time flies.  It feels less like giving blood than it often does.

I'm to sure when I'll go back to television.  Not tomorrow, because I have too much going on in the evening after work.  And for Wednesday?  I think I'm going to extend the "sabbatical" through then.  Hell, if I love the results, I might keep it going through to the weekend.

It's time to Dim The Lights...For Now

It looks like the most recent incarnation of "The Muppets" on has bitten the dust.  I admit, I'm a little surprised.  Upon its debut last fall, while receiving mixed reviews from the fans (and from right wing mothers), was pretty well received by the "average consumer".  Ratings were good.  But apparently, they weren't good enough, and, so they dismissed their show runner and hired a replacemtn to steer the show in a new direction.  I, unfortunately, never saw what happened with the new show runner, if the new direction was better than the original, because I didn't make it that far in the series.

When I saw the preview, I was pretty excited.  It was fresh, it was different, and it was modern.  The muppets take on "The office comedy of manners" genre?  I'm in.  And yet, when I saw the first episode, I didn't feel that it quite lived up to its potential.  It was just another "The Office", but with versions of the muppets, slightly altered to fit into this format.   It was like an animated series that had no need to be animated.  The muppets were not needed here.  By the second and third episodes I was watching to support the company, to make sure it was as successful as it could be so that more projects with the muppets would be greenlit.  I was not watching for my own enjoymen.  Watching the show had become a duty, a fan's obligation. I became lax in my viewing, and lagged way behind, never quite catching up.    

Why didn't it work?  A lot of friends that I'd talked to mentioned "how mean the muppets were to each other", and it's true.  They are dismissive of each other, they mock each other, and the sitcoms writers expect the audience to laugh at their failures.  Fozzie and Scooter got particularly rough treatment, being written as "losers" in a way they never had before.  In a way, the muppets at their core, ALL of them, were underdogs.   But they had also always been optimists, dreamers who didn't let their current circumstances get them down.  And news flash-  the muppets have always been kind of mean to each other.  There were "hamhock" jokes tossed about, blatant name calling, karate chops, upstaging, heckling.  Loads of it. They were part of the slings and arrows that the characters faced.  But what they had also always had, was a gigantic overwhelming larger than life love of "SHOWBIZ".  All of them loved what they did, in spite of what it cost them emotionally.  And Kermit, because he felt responsible for all of these misfits, struggled and corralled to make that dream come true for them.  The muppets always reflected ourselves, our struggles to find purpose, and we commiserated.  And the product of their struggles was what we got to cheer, and enjoy.  This kooky, off-beat nostalgia.  I mean the show wasn't desperately grabbing for relevence.  It was a vaudeville show, in the seventies, highlighting novelty songs from the turn of the century, for chrissake.  

  

And then, something happened, and it happened before the death of Jim Henson.  The muppets realized their own success.  They became products, they became "cute", and they capitalized on it.    And they have struggled ever since.  And recently, in a desperate attempt to keep the relevance they won in the new films (which incidentally was a huge hit because it appealed to the Gen X Nostalgia for them) they mutated themselves into this genre.  

And Miss Piggy???  At heart, she, like Fonzie and Kermit and the rest, had always been an underdog.     She was never "on top", but always fighting for the recognition she felt she deserved.  Sure she was angry, but it came from a place of resentment.  It was resentment at being under appreciated and misunderstood- unrecognized for being the star she thought she should be.  It was that very essence, what Frank Oz was eluding to when he said that Miss Piggy was "A truck driver who thought he was a woman".  She was a fish out of water.  And then, sometime in the eighties, Miss Piggy, the character who played the television persona (how's that for meta?) realized that America appreciated her.  And the grande dame act started to come from a different place.  It was now coming from a place of privilege.  But she never lost her heart, until the most recent Muppet Movie, and this new show.  Which have taken the "Actress behind the character" and made her, the character.  

This show needed to make her an underdog again, and aware of that.  Losing her frog, seeing her leap through hoops trying to win him back would have been very satisfying, and if she hadnt done it with such a sense of entitlement, she would have.  If she had lost her job at the talk show, been demoted, and then had to fight her way back up, she would have seemed quite so mean -spirited and smarmy as she came to be perceived.  Yes, she could be bitchy, but that was the frosting on the cake.  It had never really been "the cake".

And now the show has been cancelled.  And, while I'm always sad when the Muppets aren't a rousing success, I now have hope that they will go back to the drawing board and try again, and maybe next time ( and there WILL be a next time) they will get a little bit closer to what it was that made us all love them.

BROadway!

The Tony Noms came out this week, and Tony season usually inspires one or two delightful and laugh invoking videos, because, what can you say?  Theatre people are creative, insightful and funny, am I right ladies?

But, and please forgive me for this admission, but are you at all like me, and when a friend sends a video (or in my case, more often than not, my mother sends me a video) is there a tiny, insecure part of you that shrugs at the commitment just presented?  Cuz, first, I'm gonna have to devote 3 minutes of my life to this video on faith (forget about the fact that I waste hours on netflix watching completely tepid television) and then I'm worried that I'll have to say something clever about it.  And then if I don't like that comment quite enough, I'll edit it to make it better, and then I have to worry about the fact that facebook people will be able to track my editing process and see that there was effort put into my "very calculated to appear off the cuff" comment.  And if that comment doesn't get any likes??  Forget about it.  I will wonder where I went wrong.  It's silly really.  In reality there is no pressure implied in these videos at all.   Said video is a gift.  Take as you please.  Or not.  I mean, that's certainly how I view it when I put a video on facebook, and I'm not at all hurt that hardly anyone viewed my post of Liza's brilliantly heartfelt and unironic, and therefore given the subject matter thoroughly campy performance of "Sailor Boys!" (c/u: Joe Hartman wiping away a single tear).

And anyway, when I do view these videos I am nearly always grateful, assuming the person who sent it is someone who's opinions I share and that we tend to enjoy the same things.  All of this is of course taking the long way around saying how much I enjoyed the following video, and how grateful I am that Susan Branch Towne made me aware of it.  Watch and enjoy!  (Or not, it's totally up to you) and feel free to add a comment (or dont'.  I certainly won't be offended either way)...

Now that you  too, have seen it, I can't say enough about how giddy this video makes me.  Watching these macho, bro-y dudes go ape shit over Jessica Lange's nominations and throwing back "Hamilshots" somehow validates my love of theatre, and the fact that I care much more about the Tony's and Oscars than I ever could about the play-offs or the Final Four.  There are others out there.  I am not alone, nor am I nearly as fanatical about it as some.  It's like a hilarious and kind of sexy warm blanket.

And if you enjoyed this video, you should check out Matthew Rodin's other videos at www.matthewrodin.com.  They're funny, art centered, and inspirational to anyone wanting to amp up their creativity. 

And for those of you who want to see it (and I know there are MANY) here's the previously mentioned gem that is Liza's performance of "Sailor Boys".  

"Judy And I" By Sid Luft, due out March 2017

Here, a little late, is the promised post regarding the upcoming Judy memoir by Judy's third husband, Sid Luft.  Sid is probably the most controversial man in Judy's life, as some consider him to be the one man who kept her productive and happy, limiting her pill intake and getting as close to "rescuing her" as anyone could (if it's even possible that one person can save another person, and assuming Judy needed rescuing).  Others consider him a control freak who used her, spent a great deal of her money at the racetrack, and alienated a lot of powerful in the film industry who were eager to work with Judy, but didn't want to have to negotiate or hand over any power to Sid, who was part of the deal if anyone wanted to work with Garland at the time.  Of course, the thing closest to the truth is probably that he was all of those things.  

I for one, always thought that one of the major problems that plagued Garland from the beginning of her life to its end, is that she was never taught to believe in her own strength as a person, nor was she taught to take care of herself.  As a result, she went from caretaker to caretaker hoping for someone who would offer her strength, stability, and a business mind that was after her interests.  In return, she offered everything she had.  She would give these people her trust, her love, her talent, and make her opportunities their opportunities.  Doubtless, some of the people in her life started with great intentions, loved her deeply, and wanted to help her.  However, truly helping her would have meant teaching her to manage herself, which might have made the person who used to do that job, dispensable.  That wasn't a risk anyone wanted to take.  And it wasn't an easy task.  I mean, it should have been done when she was a kid.  Instead, her childhood was spent teaching her to entertain, and to put faith in others to mold her image, tell her what to wear, what to eat, and who to be seen with.  

I find it fascinating that Judy was known for being a "less than skilled" dresser, when she had to dress herself.  I mean, as a young woman she was perfectly coiffed, well dressed, and on many lists of the most fashionable women, but that was because she was "costumed".  No wonder that when she got older and was in charge of dressing herself that she would often put it in her contract that she got to keep clothes from photo shoots and film sessions.  And she wouldn't just "collect" these clothes for posterity.  She wore them out over and over again, because she knew without a doubt that those clothes made her look good, and as a result they made her feel good.  And for someone who needed to be seen at her best in public nearly 24/7, especially given her later reputation, imagine how important clothes were.  

But back to Sid, and his upcoming, postmortem memoir.  According to John Fricke, Sid tried many times to write a memoir of his life with Garland.  After all, of the many businesses he had tried to succeed at, the only one which had really been successful was the Judy Garland business.  It was all he had.  And surely in his mind, he had earned that right.  He had loved her longer and harder than anyone else.  Selfishly?  Perhaps, but who truly loves unselfishly?  He had gotten into the business of managing Garland, largely co-erced by her (though he may not have needed much convincing as he had managed two actresses prior, which he had also been romantically involved with at the time) and never really got out of it.  He managed her pill in-take, got her to shows, is largely responsible for her Palace Theatre comeback and for her return to films in A Star Is Born, and then became more and more dependent on the income and ego boosts that derived from it, and made some very bad and some downright cruel decisions in managing her.  I'm convinced, that in many ways, he considered her his possession.  At the end of her life he had convinced her to sign away a tremendous amount of control to him, in which amounted to a contract of indentured servitude where he controlled everything.  When reviewed by a judge, he reported that he wouldn't subject a dog to that kind of treatment.  

He viewed her as his domain so much so, that when he read his daughter Lorna's memoir, he stopped speaking to her, as he felt she had stolen his story.  Her response was that if he had wanted to tell his side of the story, he had plenty of time to do it, and still could.  Well, apparently, he had tried. 

Again, according to Fricke (a very trustworthy source as the predominating expert in Garland's career and those around her) he had tried to write a memoir several times, with a number of ghost writers, and all were rejected for being somewhat incoherent.  What is about to be published is likely a cobbling together of those prior attempts.  Randy L. Schmidt is credited as co-author, and his previous book about Garland was a collection of magazine articles and essays and interviews conducted with, and written by and/or about Garland.  So, it seems like he might be a good match for the material in its current condition, and if anyone can shape it into something, he might be the one.  

But what will this book give its reader?  What I'm hoping it will do is provide us with a number of humorous anecdotes, and earthy details of her life, things that will make me feel closer to her, like a know the real person just a little bit better.  It's what I loved so much about the book Judy by Gerold Frank.  It was an intimate account of her preferences, what made her comfortable, what she liked to eat, what she aspired to be, and how she lived.  Of course, it meant wading through a lot of self serving accounts by Sid Luft, since he had authorized it.  Is this new book likely to offer anything really new?  Perhaps.  

What I'd really be interested to read would be a sympathetic, but somewhat objective account of Garland's life, including Sid Luft, now that the notoriously litigious man has passed on and people can write the truth without fear of his vengeance.