Around
the States in Eighty Days
Being an irregular and erratic account by the
Greedy Bastard himself as he sets out to traverse America on
a comedy tour.
Day
Thirty Two. On the whole it's better than Philadelphia [1]
Friday,
October 31, 2003 - Keswick Theater. Keswick.
I'm
depressed. There's no mistaking the emotion. I am sad to be
leaving New York City on a fine sunny day and I am fed up
leaving my lovely wife behind. I am down that I won't see
my daughter for another month and I am pissed that I was sick
for the first show in NYC and had no voice on the one day
that all the people I really wanted to impress came to the
show. Oh bollocks. Sod's law in action. I am saddened that
the show seems to have remained a well kept secret so that
we are inundated with reports of people saying "if only
they'd known they'd have come." That's always been the
trouble with this show. It's hit and run. You have no time
to build word of mouth. You don't stay around long enough
to take advantage of all the people who came and loved it.
If the Promoters haven't reached your audience you're screwed.
They in their turn have only a tiny budget to do this with.
Still this is the third show in a row where the name of the
show hasn't even been up in front of the theater in any way.
No posters, no marquee, no billboards, no nothing. What kind
of advertising is this? I am deeply frustrated by it all as
I climb on the bus and we inch out of town through the usual
gridlock. We pass Carnegie Hall where we played last time.
You haven't really lived until you have stood on stage at
Carnegie Hall in full drag singing Sit on my face and tell
me that you love me. We pass the Osborne, a beautiful
apartment building on West 57th Street where I first, shall
we say encountered, my beautiful wife. Across the street is
the diner where I last ate meat: a bacon sandwich which reminded
me that I didn't regret giving it up. How long ago all that
seems. The seventies. Studio 54 and Bianca Jagger, and Andy
Warhol, and Mick and trips to watch Ali fight Ken Norton at
Yankee Stadium where the Police were on strike and there was
chaos in the streets, and a visit to Madison Square Garden
to see Ali fight Jerry Quarry, where I rode an elevator with
Henry Kissinger while Ronnie Wood stood behind him making
silly faces at him behind his back. I was trying desperately
not to crack up while all the time his impassive bodyguard
stood looking at Ronnie, totally unsure how to deal with this.
We have been ensconced for three days in the beautiful and
wonderful Ritz-Carlton on Central Park South where I would
love to stay forever. It's just down the street from where
Tania and I lived in The Navarro back then. I remember Billy
Connolly regaling Mick Jagger and me for three hysterical
hours with tales of pathetic Scottish bank robberies. One
guy was arrested in the pub opposite. Billy was appearing
at Carnegie Hall in a black leotard and big banana boots and
I remember taking Paul Simon to see him. I'd met Paul in the
line waiting to get in to Bette Midler's dressing room to
congratulate her on her brilliance in Clams on the Half
Shell. We had to wait awhile as Elton John was inside
giving her diamonds and we struck up quite a nice friendship.
I was on holiday with Paul in the West Indies when we heard
that John Lennon had been shot. Paul later wrote a song [2]
saying he was standing on the streets of New York when he
heard John Lennon died, and I teased him about this recently.
I said I could understand that it didn't make such a good
lyric to say "I was in Barbados on holiday with Eric
Idle when I heard John Lennon died." Paul roared with
laughter.
Now we're on the bus again heading out to Philly. We have
a show here and then it's back in the bus and on to Virginia
for a day off before we play Norfolk, a late addition. Last
night my voice was almost back and we did a great show. The
audience loved us. Tonight I think I'll have all my voice
again. Our friends were very nice about night one in NY and
emailed to say that they loved the show, but I am still disappointed.
Only two nights on Broadway and I wanted to be in my best
voice. Well at least I can say I played Broadway. Carnegie
Hall, Hollywood Bowl, Broadway, quite a little resume. Afterwards
Sarah Baxter from The Sunday Times came backstage to talk
briefly about Spamelot and Lauren Hutton my lovely
God sister was there for an all too brief hug and my God daughter
Victoria Asher looking lovely and enjoying college in NY.
"Rusty Nails" came by to drop me off some Thornton's,
my favorite treacle toffee, which he schlepped all the way
from England. He wants to put me on down unda next year. By
a weird co-incidence he has known Gilli Moon since she was
a little girl. Afterwards Tania and I had a quiet little dinner
at Orso's. It's been a lovely time with her but way too short
and I feel cheated that I was sick for most of her visit.
She tells me she loves me and she'll come and visit me again
on the road if I'm down. What a gal. Now it's the Keswick
Theater, just outside Philadelphia and we're pulling in to
a car park behind a red brick building. Hey ho. Another day
another dollar. Only two months and we'll be home…But
I should be there now, watching the kid's Trick or Treating,
their joy in dressing up, their squeals of delight as the
Hollywood ghouls spring out of their coffins. Oh bollocks.
Footnotes:
- [1]
W.C. Fields referring to death.
- [2]
The Late Great Johnny Ace.
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