TV SHOW OF THE DAY: "1960 TONY AWARDS"

 When the Tony Awards recently aired, the general feeling was Why is some pop singer named Pink hosting instead of a Broadway actor?  Because that's what you do to get eyeballs for a traditionally ratings-starved broadcast like this. 

Now, back in 1960, it was a whole different ball of spirit gum. Strictly a local New York broadcast on WCBS-TV, this Tony ceremony didn't have musical numbers, commercials, or what television suits refer to as "star power", That's why it was two hours shorter than the bloatfest it's become as a network spectacle, the New York version of the Oscars only with less attractive actors. (You'd never guess presenter Jason Robards, Jr. was still in his 30s.)

White gloves that went past the elbows were the
burkas for high-society dames.

Before the opening credits even appear, soprano Vivian Della Chiesa comes out to sing the National Anthem. Can you imagine such a thing happening at any awards show today? And I'm not referring to Vivien being dead since 2009. What do they think this is, the Super Bowl or something?

Then there's the location. Instead of the art deco palace Radio Music Hall, the 1960 Tonys were held in the "grand ballroom" of the long-gone Hotel Astor following dinner, giving it the air of a rich person's Rotary Club meeting. 

The only member of the original stage cast
of The Best Man asked to repeat his role in the
movie version. See it if you haven't yet, dammit!

Award shows live or die by stars, so it was a delight to see my man Lee Tracy welcome the audience. Making his Broadway comeback in Gore Vidal's The Best Man, Tracy is older than we've seen him before, wearing reading glasses, with his familiar voice a little more worn and raspy than his pre-code heyday. But honest to God, I was thrilled to see him here, and intend to hang out with him in the afterlife. (Tracy missed out on the Best Actor award, but since that segment is missing, it's no loss to me.)

Keep your daughters away from Eddie Albert.

Tracy is followed by your genial host for the evening, Eddie Albert.  A little too genial. His meandering comments and weird horndog behavior around females, like a 17 year-old actress who hands out the awards to the winners, suggest a few too many Muscats with dinner. (Anne Bancroft, Lauren Bacall and Celeste Holme appear to have ordered one more for the road as well.)

Being blacklisted in Hollywood meant Revere
returning to acclaim in New York. We dig the
rebels.

As the presenters and winners come and go, you're gradually reminded of how many "movie stars" began on stage, like Featured Actress winner Ann Revere, who costarred in the previously discussed 1934 shocker Double Door. Another "duh, no kidding" fact is that other than Julie Newmar, everyone you see is now dead, And Newmar wasn't even nominated for anything, as she makes the most of accepting an award for someone else. Had nominees Jane Fonda and Warren Beatty won, they'd have joined Newmar in the Still Alive category.

Well, aren't you so goddamn special.

The most fascinating difference between then and now are the acceptance speeches. Rather than the egomaniacal, soporific orations prevalent today, the average length here is roughly 12 seconds. And some are shorter, like from the guy who has to be shanghaied back to the podium to say anything. Not that they're all humble. Helen Hayes can't give an award without reminding her peers that they're "the most beautiful, the most witty, the most glamorous creatures in the world!" And, oh, how they love hearing that!

Take a good look -- you won't see the likes of these
guys on TV anymore.

So, it's rather unusual that the highlight of the show are the lengthier remarks when playwright Elliot Nugent gives his old college pal James Thurber a special Tony for the stage revue The Thurber Carnival. Now blind, Thurber is led to the stage by Carnival's director Burgess Meredith, who also receives a special Tony. Listening to two classy wits like Nugent and Thurber is both a pleasure and a sad reminder how far civilization has fallen. 

74-year-old George Abbott makes it to the stage in
one piece.

It wouldn't be an awards show without one tasteless moment; here, it's when Albert Hackett, the winning playwright of The Diary of Anne Frank, walks to the stage accompanied by the orchestra playing "Papa Loves Mambo".  Just going to the stage is an arduous journey itself, seeing that the winners have to make their way through a sardine-packed crowd sitting at oversized dinner tables, something that director George Abbott compares to a scene out of a B-jungle movie. By the way, presenter Vivien Leigh doesn't even give the names of the nominated play's writers. Guess these things write themselves, haw haw! 

Hey, look! It's Jean-Pierre Aumont, star of  
A Second String! Don't tell me you've never heard
of that play. Or him.

Many of the nominated shows give an idea how ephemeral Broadway really is. Fiorello!, Take Me Along, Destry Rides Again, A Loss of Roses, One More River -- once acclaimed, now nothing more than titles you see in the collection of Playbills at Lincoln Center. 

Yet Fiorello!  was considered good enough to tie with The Sound of Music for Best Musical in 1960. Just to show you how little Rodgers & Hart thought of the Tonys, neither bothered to show up, sending their adult children to accept the awards they likely knew were already in the bag. 

Helen Menken offers JDR III a happy ending
for getting rid of all those poor people.

But you know who does show up? John D. Rockefeller III, who's happy to receive an honorary Tony for ponying up the cost of building Lincoln Center. Or, depending on your point of view, displacing thousands of neighborhood residents and their businesses to make room for it. I'm sure those folks watching the broadcast from their "new" homes in the outer sections of the Bronx warmly applauded their benefactor. American Theater Wing president Helen Menken, giving Rockefeller the award, couldn't sound more hammy if her name had been Swift's Premium.

And just as you're ready to take a bathroom break, Eddie Albert, sounding like he's been gargling with Wild Turkey backstage, returns to wish us goodnight. It's easy to feel both gratitude at the show's brief length, and a vague sense of regret that it didn't go just a little longer in order to see more of these kinescoped ghosts of Tony Awards Past -- and the possibility of Eddie Albert eventually conking out on the podium.

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