mf@cornell.UUCP (03/02/84)
Less than 24 hrs after having asked for information on Oscar Levant, I found one of his books -- "The Importance of Being Oscar" -- on sale at the Cornell Campus Store. The title gives a pretty good idea on how this gentleman thinks of himself. Well, kinda. He apparently also wrote (at least) "Memoirs of an Amnesiac" and "A Smattering of Ignorance". The book I have is a "pot-pourri of anecdotes and reminiscences" about his friends and enemies in the musical/show-biz world. Couple of excerpts: I can do no worse than quote some comments about me made by the eminent English drama critic Kenneth Tynan [..] in a spring issue of the magazine `Punch' [...]: Oscar Levant, pianist and wit, whose face awake bears expression of utter disgust most people wear asleep. Am put in mind, uncharitably, of squashed bicycle saddle. Pearl is disease of oyster: Levant is disease of Hollywood. One evening, during the disastrous run of "Strike Up the Band" in 1927 (words and music by George and Ira Gershwin, book by George Kaufman and Morrie Ryskind), George, Ira and Kaufman were standing outside the Shubert Theater, after the overture had started, brooding over the knowledge that the audience inside barely filled three rows of seats. As they stood ther disconsolately, a taxi pulled up to the curb, and out stepped two men elegantly attired in spats, bowler hats and moustaches. What's more, they actually went to the box office and bought tickets. A second passed. Ira cleared his throat. "Gilbert and Sullivan have arrived to fix up the show," he announced. I must also apologize for the withering remarks I made about Leonard Bernstein [in "The Memoirs of an Amnesiac"]. But in my defense, I did *not* reveal how he used to play records of applause from his concerts. Zsa Zsa's conversation is faster than her mind. I don't believe she could be analyzed -- she doesn't seem to have a subconscious. Her face is inscrutable. But I can't vouch for the rest of her. When pianist Artur Schnabel was turned down by the draft for World War I because he couldn't pass the physical, [piano viruoso] Moritz Rosenthal's comment was: "No fingers". Johnny Carson dropped me a nice note after my Memoirs were published, in which he said he had only read the last page of my book, and yet, with his unfailing instinct, he knew it would be a best-seller. Although pleased, I was slightly puzzled by his assessment. The I recalled I had written one short anecdote about him in the book. It happened to appear on the last page. So if you see this book on sale for a couple of cents...