Editor’s Note: This planned future installment has been hastened by the death of its subject, Mitzi Gaynor, who passed away on October 17 at age 93.
Bart Greenberg spent four of his most satisfying professional years running special events at the Lincoln Triangle Barnes & Noble. Preceding that he had spent several years at Tower Records where he first learned how to be in charge of signings and performances. Throughout this time, he met a very wide range of celebrities (writers, actors, singers, broadcasters, etc.). In the coming months he will share memories of some of the amazing—and notorious—people he encountered.
By Bart Greenberg***Mitzi Gaynor (1931-2024). Movie star. Mostly in a string of less-than-stellar 20th Century Fox musicals as one of the links between Betty Grable and Marilyn Monroe (who Mitzi held her own with, along with the dynamic Ethel Merman, in the all-star show biz cavalcade “There’s No Business Like Show Business” – actually Merman hated Monroe and adored Gaynor even after she served as maid of honor at the Merm’s notorious wedding to Ernest Borgnine – the reception lasted longer than the marriage. There were a few bright spots in Hollywood: Les Girls at MGM and The Joker’s Wild at Paramount. And then South Pacific. And that was what led her to Barnes and Noble and one afternoon with the extraordinary lady.
The film version of South Pacific was coming out on Blu-ray disc. Among its extra features was footage of a 50th anniversary reunion of the show’s original Broadway cast that took place at our store, so it just seemed natural that we would host the new event as well. Among the participants were Bar
bara Luna, who had been one of the children on stage and had been working ever since, and the current Bloody Mary (Loretta Ables Sayre) in the marvelous revival across the street at Lincoln Center. And then I asked Bert Fink, a great guy I worked with often, from the Rodgers and Hammerstein Organization the big question: could we get Mitzi Gaynor?
Bert wasn’t sure. The problem was that the star had absolutely no financial interest in the Blu-Ray. She wouldn’t make a dime from it as the original contracts were drafted long before such subsequent media releases were in anyone’s imagination. Then I came up with an idea. For once, a good one. After leaving the film business, Mitzi had moved to television and in partnership with her husband Jack Bean (one of those rare Hollywood marriages that lasted over 50 years) produced a series of fabulous, over-the-top musical specials. They owned these programs, and she had recently issued a box set of them on DVDs. I wondered if we promised to feature them as well as South Pacific in the afternoon festivities, would she be motivated to attend. A few days later, the word came back: she would be.
The big day arrived, all the plans were in place. Mitzi would do a series of interviews in the event space, then we would let the public in. The head of R&H, Ted Chapin, would do a quick welcome, Ables Sayre would sing “Bali Hai” before rushing across the street to her evening show, a few more introductions would be made and then author Laurence Maslon would have a conversation with the diva about both South Pacific and her own DVD collection, followed by a Q&A with the audience before the inevitable signing. I was in our space setting things up when something caused me to look up. There, standing in the doorway was Mitzi Gaynor, every inch a movie star.
Outfit: perfect for a late afternoon party without being too girlish or too over-the-top. Hair coiffed elegantly. Makeup glamorous: youthful but not trying to hide her age. Or some of her age. Could I tell how carefully calibrated it all was? Of course, I could, having been around the theater since I was a teen. Did it distract from the effect? Not a bit. She was in the room to be a star. That was her job and she was ready to fulfill it. I approached her and introduced myself. She asked if I was in charge, and when I answered, she firmly took my arm and asked me to show her where she was to go. It was assertive but not de
manding, strong but without entitlement. Was I dazzled? A bit. I thanked her for being with us and escorted her to our green room where I turned her over to Bert. And she went to work.
Doing a series of interviews, she charmed, joked, told stories that seemed fresh (even if she had told them a hundred times before), flirted and charmed some more. And when we reached her conversation with Maslon, the star really came alive. In front of the audience of admirers, she not only told her tales but acted them out, altering her voice, getting out of her chair to physically embody all the characters involved, and illuminating all sorts of situations. The performance of a gifted artist and born storyteller. Of course, the audience fell in love with her. And when all the questions were answered and all the DVDs were signed, she thanked everyone graciously and exited, leaving a dusting of stardust behind.
Any regrets? Only that she never wrote the memoir we all begged her to. It would have been a dandy.
I’d like to thank my boss in the Barnes and Noble main office, Stephen Sorrentino, for his memories and photos in helping me to prepare this column.
