Ethel Merman

There have been, by my count, three great brassy ladies of the American musical theatre stage, to the point that I can’t write about any of them without mentioning the other two. Ethel Merman was the first, so much so that she, as a young singer, was trying to emulate Fanny Brice and Sophie Tucker. And there’s a certain similarity there, but Merman was definitely not the same as they were. Merman was her own thing; even Stritch and LuPone didn’t exactly duplicate her. And not just because they are all individuals.

Ethel Agnes Zimmermann was born in Astoria, Queens. (In 1908, though she later shaved four years off her age.) Her parents made her study to be a secretary, just in case; at the time, the greatest job she had was as Caleb Bragg’s private secretary, because he was out of the office a lot, and she caught up on the sleep she’d missed being out the night before singing. She started in vaudeville, as was the fashion at the time, and trimmed her last name to Merman because it fit better on a marquee and made her father the least unhappy.

It’s kind of amazing that her career lasted so long that she went from almost certainly performing in speakeasies—Wikipedia says “nightclubs,” but it was the ‘20s—to appearing on The Love Boat. She recorded a disco album, which is exactly how you think it is. The last role she originated, and apparently her favourite, was Mama Rose of Gypsy. (A role eventually played by LuPone.) She was a villain on Batman and a guest star on The Muppet Show, the only woman to do both. She worked with Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, and of course Stephen Sondheim. Hello, Dolly! was written for her, though she turned it down until well after Carol Channing took over. And, of course, there’s that great bit in Airplane!

She’s another one where the first thing is the voice. Oh, sure, I do love the moment where Kermit the Frog asks her if being called Mickey Mouse is a compliment, but really, the best thing for Hollywood was when she stopped trying to be anyone but herself. Cole Porter apparently said that lyrics you wrote for her had to be good, because everyone was going to hear them. She was a powerful voice and a powerful presence in the theatre, and she was equally powerful on the screen, small or large.

Her personal life was not great. She was married four times; her last marriage ended with her and Ernest Borgnine each accusing other of cruelty in a marriage that lasted only a few months. Her daughter died of a probable accidental overdose; her daughter-in-law was murdered in a case that was never solved. She eventually died of brain cancer that left her with aphasia, a horrible fate for a voice as notable as hers. At least it was fast.