‘Dolly’ Sisters,” spoofing three stars of
Hello, Dolly!
(Ginger Rogers “can’t sing,” Mary Martin “can’t dance,” and Carol Channing “can’t act”).
Mixed Doubles
featured an entire song about the Spoleto Festival, and
Below the Belt
offered a song called “Camp,” in which Madeline, Carter, and Tomlin learn from antique dealers and fans of Bette Davis. “After a while, I didn’t feel very feminine,” Madeline told Gavin. “I started to feel that parts of me were not seen or regarded highly at all.” 24
Madeline’s “very good solo” in her second revue was “Das Chicago Song,” and it earned her praise in the
New York Times
review of the show, at the same time stealing some of the spotlight from Janie Sell, who replaced Flagg (the
Times
critic loved Sell, though Madeline found Flagg more impressive). 25 But in her third revue, Madeline was dismayed to discover that the big comic solo—“Love’s Labour Lost,” about a bride’s use of then-controversial contraceptives—went to another classically trained lyric soprano, Dixie Carter. In another number, “The Great Society Waltz,” Carter again took the operatic chores, notably a vocalise on the Kermesse from Gounod’s
Faust
. And in “Suburbia Square Dance,” about wife swapping, Carter sang quotations from
West Side Story
and took all the highest notes.
Years later, Carter told Gavin that she found Madeline intimidating and that the two didn’t hit it off. What’s clear is that Madeline found Carter equally intimidating. For the first time, she’d found someone who could sing what she could sing and get just as many laughs. The newcomer was slimmer and arguably better looking than Madeline, too. Meanwhile, Carter’s fiancé, businessman Arthur L. Carter, was trying (successfully) to steer her away from show business. Surveying the company of
Below the Belt
, he told her, “None of these people are going to make it.” Those words would haunt Dixie when she sat at home watching Madeline and Tomlin on television a few years later.
Madeline formed lifelong friendships with Aberlin and Tomlin. In the mid-1960s, many people found Tomlin’s comedy utterly mystifying. Already her characters included Lucille the Rubber Freak and the Very Tasteful Lady, which were unlike anything else and invested with specific, sharply observed and convincing detail. Even Madeline didn’t quite understand what Tomlin was doing, but she liked it, appreciating the influence of Ruth Draper on Tomlin’s work. Tomlin, in turn, admired Madeline’s talent. “Everything seemed to spring from her natural comediccenter,” Tomlin says. “Everything about her gestures—she was inherently comedic—I can’t say anything more. If she wanted the material to be comedic in her hands, it would be. Just tipping the attitude one way or the other. Even on a talk show, she’s comedic, just talking, because she has that kind of musicality to her voice—her inflections.” One of the world’s most gifted mimics, Tomlin continues, “I can’t possibly imitate it. It was the way she might ruminate over something while she’s talking.”
Madeline’s approach to character was subtle, Tomlin says. “She didn’t have to lay something on or find another voice for it, I never thought”—though she does cite a Santa Claus song from
Below the Belt
, in which Madeline used a little-girl voice. (With variations, the voice would resurface on
Saturday Night Live
and
Oh Madeline
, and in
Young Frankenstein
.) Several of her friends have observed that whether in conversation or onstage, Madeline might use an accent or alter the tone of her voice, and only later would they realize that she had just taken on a different identity, as specific in her mind as any of Tomlin’s characters.
Aberlin bonded with Madeline in part because both were Jewish New Yorkers, and both their fathers walked out on them. Onstage, there was no competition, Aberlin says, not least because in
Hello, Dolly!
(Ginger Rogers “can’t sing,” Mary Martin “can’t dance,” and Carol Channing “can’t act”).
Mixed Doubles
featured an entire song about the Spoleto Festival, and
Below the Belt
offered a song called “Camp,” in which Madeline, Carter, and Tomlin learn from antique dealers and fans of Bette Davis. “After a while, I didn’t feel very feminine,” Madeline told Gavin. “I started to feel that parts of me were not seen or regarded highly at all.” 24
Madeline’s “very good solo” in her second revue was “Das Chicago Song,” and it earned her praise in the
New York Times
review of the show, at the same time stealing some of the spotlight from Janie Sell, who replaced Flagg (the
Times
critic loved Sell, though Madeline found Flagg more impressive). 25 But in her third revue, Madeline was dismayed to discover that the big comic solo—“Love’s Labour Lost,” about a bride’s use of then-controversial contraceptives—went to another classically trained lyric soprano, Dixie Carter. In another number, “The Great Society Waltz,” Carter again took the operatic chores, notably a vocalise on the Kermesse from Gounod’s
Faust
. And in “Suburbia Square Dance,” about wife swapping, Carter sang quotations from
West Side Story
and took all the highest notes.
Years later, Carter told Gavin that she found Madeline intimidating and that the two didn’t hit it off. What’s clear is that Madeline found Carter equally intimidating. For the first time, she’d found someone who could sing what she could sing and get just as many laughs. The newcomer was slimmer and arguably better looking than Madeline, too. Meanwhile, Carter’s fiancé, businessman Arthur L. Carter, was trying (successfully) to steer her away from show business. Surveying the company of
Below the Belt
, he told her, “None of these people are going to make it.” Those words would haunt Dixie when she sat at home watching Madeline and Tomlin on television a few years later.
Madeline formed lifelong friendships with Aberlin and Tomlin. In the mid-1960s, many people found Tomlin’s comedy utterly mystifying. Already her characters included Lucille the Rubber Freak and the Very Tasteful Lady, which were unlike anything else and invested with specific, sharply observed and convincing detail. Even Madeline didn’t quite understand what Tomlin was doing, but she liked it, appreciating the influence of Ruth Draper on Tomlin’s work. Tomlin, in turn, admired Madeline’s talent. “Everything seemed to spring from her natural comediccenter,” Tomlin says. “Everything about her gestures—she was inherently comedic—I can’t say anything more. If she wanted the material to be comedic in her hands, it would be. Just tipping the attitude one way or the other. Even on a talk show, she’s comedic, just talking, because she has that kind of musicality to her voice—her inflections.” One of the world’s most gifted mimics, Tomlin continues, “I can’t possibly imitate it. It was the way she might ruminate over something while she’s talking.”
Madeline’s approach to character was subtle, Tomlin says. “She didn’t have to lay something on or find another voice for it, I never thought”—though she does cite a Santa Claus song from
Below the Belt
, in which Madeline used a little-girl voice. (With variations, the voice would resurface on
Saturday Night Live
and
Oh Madeline
, and in
Young Frankenstein
.) Several of her friends have observed that whether in conversation or onstage, Madeline might use an accent or alter the tone of her voice, and only later would they realize that she had just taken on a different identity, as specific in her mind as any of Tomlin’s characters.
Aberlin bonded with Madeline in part because both were Jewish New Yorkers, and both their fathers walked out on them. Onstage, there was no competition, Aberlin says, not least because in
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