Liza from the last row of the top balcony of the McCallum Theatre was a new experience for this old fan. The occasion was the 20th Anniversary fundraising gala for the theatre in Palm Desert. Over a million dollars was raised with most tickets selling for $1000. and $500., which included a dinner at one of four outstanding restaurants in the Palm Desert area. There were only a limited number of "concert only tickets" sold for $100. and $75., and, for those of us lucky enough to get them, our seats were up top on the third level.
The theatre only seats 1127, but is well designed and is known for “not having a bad seat in the house.” As Liza looked out at the sold out crowd last night, she said the McCallum was "beautiful." As we looked down at her from above, we were thrilled at well she both looked and performed. Afterwards my husband Dave said he thought it was the best Liza concert he had seen in years, and he’d just seen her a year ago near San Diego.
But I'm getting ahead of myself....
The Monday after Thanksgiving weekend, I phoned Gary and found him in
Florida. He said it should be no problem for me to attend the sound check at the McCallum and to call him Thursday morning the day of the performance. When I mentioned that we had lousy seats, he said, “I have no tickets.” Like a year ago, when I saw him for the first time in years at Harrah’s, Rincon near San Diego, Gary was friendly and pleasant.
Still in recovering mode from the colon surgery I had undergone in September, I was thrilled to be able to attend the sound check at the McCallum, just as I had in 1989 and wrote about in “Imagining Liza."
However, my real Liza energy and excitement didn’t really kick in until Thursday afternoon. I was just about to dress for the theatre when the phone rang. Much to my surprise, it was Jean Hanson calling from her
home near Lake Tahoe. I hadn’t seen nor talked to Jean since seeing her and husband Johnny since Liza's performance at the "Villa Montalvo" outdoor amphitheater in Saratoga, California in 2004.
For those of you who remember Jean, she sounded well and her voice strong. She said she had heard Liza was going to perform in Palm Springs, and thought I might be going to see her. Jean wanted me to say hello for her. Jean and I then talked about Bill LaVorgna’s passing. Jean’s daughter had thought she’d heard about it on the news, but wasn’t sure. Jean remembered Joan LaVorgna and asked if I had her address. I gave her the address I had for the LaVorgna home in Stuart, Florida.
In our conversation, Jean told me that she and Johnny are now both eighty-nine! They were born in the same hospital two days apart, she said. When I told Jean that I had just read that Liza would be performing at Harrah’s, Lake Tahoe in January, Jean responded, “Tell her we’ll be there.”
For those of you who never met Jean Hanson, she became a Judy Garland fan when Judy was still Frances Gumm and performed with her sisters at Tahoe! Jean quickly transferred her love of Judy to her daughter Liza and has followed Liza’s career since its inception.
Talking to Jean brought back so many good memories of shared Liza adventures, and I wished more of you were going to be around to share this one. Well, not really...like all Liza fans, I'm covetous of any
private "Liza time" I get.
When I called Gary Thursday morning he said the sound check would be at five, so I decided to dress for the evening, go to the theatre, return home for a quick dinner, if possible, and then husband Dave and I would drive together back to the McCallum for the show.
The population and consequent traffic has probably doubled in the Coachella Valley since I last drove to the McCallum to see Liza in 1994. It took me nearly twenty five minutes to get to Palm Desert in commute traffic. By the time I reached the stage door it was 4:59 p.m. Gary was on the phone, and I had to wait for a sweet older woman manning the stage door desk to get his attention. I stood by her desk waiting impatiently. I stared at all the autographs written on the walls back stage. Every performer for the past twenty years had apparently contributed his autograph, a cartoon drawing, or message in permanent marker to the ivory walls. There were so many, I decided I wouldn’t even attempt to find “Love, Liza” somewhere amongst them.
Finally the woman caught Gary’s eye and when he finished his phone call he motioned for me as he started talking to a man who was probably the stage manager. Suddenly I could hear music and Liza singing “The Man I Love.” I was kicking myself for being “on time.” I should have arrived earlier.
Gary asked the stage manager to escort me from the back stage area into the theatre. When I walked into the totally empty theatre Liza’s back was turned, and she was singing towards the band. Her very short hair looked damp, and she wore a black tee and her usual slim black pants. She looked slender, but not much more so than we’d seen her a year ago. I took a seat in the front row and began to relax into what I expected to be about ten or fifteen minutes of rehearsal. But after belting out the last bars of “The Man I Love,” Liza gesticulated to one of the band members about how she wanted him to play one segment and then turned around. She noticed me, her face seemed to brighten with recognition and she said, “ Oh, hi, how are you?” or something like that. I responded that I was pretty good, and hoped this greeting might lead to an opportunity to chat a minute, but Liza waved and headed off stage with a stagehand. I assumed she would return to rehearse more, but it was Billy Stritch, still seated at the piano, who said, “I’d like to practice my song, “The band accompanied him as he rehearsed, but after one go through, it was obvious that the sound check was over. The band started packing up their instruments and one by one left the stage. And there I was, not quite knowing what to do with myself.
I returned to the hallway carrying my handbag, with a camera tucked inside, and one of those gorgeous “Jo Malone” ivory and black paper bags which held a copy of the November 2007 issue of “Palm Springs Life” magazine. Liza surrounded by a huge black boa adorned the cover of the magazine. When I reached the “Staff Only” door leading backstage, I found the door locked. “Oh, oh,” I thought, but momentarily the stage manager, who had led me to the theatre from back stage just minutes before,
was exiting and admitted me back stage before he departed.
Walking back down the hallway toward the back stage door, I passed the “Green Room,” where eighteen years ago, I had, at Bill LaVorgna’s invitation, eaten spaghetti with the band after the sound check and before I changed my clothes in a backstage restroom and headed out into the theatre. I noticed the doors to the “stars’” dressing rooms: Billy’s door open, Liza’s closed. I noticed a woman steaming Liza’s costumes in a room adjacent to Liza’s dressing room; I didn’t recognize her. One small room served as Gary’s command post, and I headed back to it.
Gary was once again on the phone, but the conversation was quickly over, and we had the opportunity to talk a little. I asked if I might visit with Liza. Without hesitation he said, “No, not before the show. She won’t see you before the show. Come back afterwards.” I thought of all the times I had seen Liza before a show, but times were forever changing. Gary and I talked about Bill’s passing, and I said he gave us
a gift. Gary agreed, saying, ‘he was a gift.’ I could tell Gary was still feeling the loss. I told Gary of the special gift Bill had given us --- spending a good two hours regaling us with stories of both himself and Liza one afternoon last year at Harrah’s, Rincon.
I then asked Gary if he might facilitate Liza autographing the “Palm Springs Life” magazine in my “Jo Malone” bag for a fan in Germany. He took the bag and said “no problem. “ I thanked him, and I said I would pick it up after the show.
Before leaving the theatre I stopped again at the back stage door desk, The friendly attendent asked me to write down my name, which I did, if I was coming back after the show. She said she would be off duty by then. I then started fumbling in my purse to find my car keys. Band members kept going in and out of the stage door. But most had trouble getting the door opened on their return. The door was unlocked,
but it always seemed to stick. Just when I found my keys, I helped open the door for a woman with short light brown hair who was trying to reenter back stage. As she passed me, I remembered being told that Lisa Zay was back as Liza’s assistant. Although I’d never met Lisa, I had talked to her on the phone several times the summer of 1999 before the publication of “Imagining Liza.”
Guessing this woman just might be Lisa, I called after her saying, “Excuse me, are you Lisa, Lisa Zay?” Lisa turned around and said she was. I introduced myself, she remembered who I was, and we chatted for a few minutes. At first she couldn’t recall the title of my book, but thought it had something to do with “imagination.” I was impressed. Lisa seemed as nice in person as she’d always been on the phone. I asked if she thought Liza might see me now before I left. Lisa, like Gary, said, “probably not,” but, unlike Gary, said she’d go ask her. I felt a little awkward in asking again, but had really hoped for the opportunity to visit with Liza without others around. Lisa was gone for more than five minutes, and I had almost decided to go
ahead and leave when she returned. Like Gary, Lisa, said, “No, come back after the show.”
I drove home and grabbed a bite of leftover chili and a mini salad before Dave and I said good-bye to “Millie,” our Australian Shepherd, and drove back to the McCallum. Gratefully the traffic had thinned out, and we also got a good parking spot not far from the stage door.
The theatre was filling fast with well dressed patrons of the arts. It was definitely an over fifty plus crowd, but an excited, anticipatory audience. After climbing two, or was it three, flights of stairs we found our seats in the very last row in the top tier. We had to laugh; we had been spoiled.
After speeches by the director of the McCallum and the co-chairman of the
fundraiser, Liza opened with “I Can See Clearly Now” as she has in concert for the past several years, I think. Her voice was strong, which the excellent sound system carried well up to the “rafters.” The first half of the show were her standards concluding with “Cabaret.” When she left the stage to change for the second half, Billy Stritch took over. He sang two numbers accompanying himself on the piano. There was
no intermission.
Liza returned in her Kay Thompson outfit complete with another headband, the headbands, she said, to keep her perspiration from ruining her drawn on eyebrows. She said she had shaved her eyebrows for her role in “Law and Order: Criminal Intent” last year, and they had never grown back! The bit reminded me
of all the times I’d seen her take off her false eyelashes after perspiring on stage. Both reminders of her humanness, and, of course, we fans love it.
Liza’s tribute to Kay Thompson is obviously a labor of love for her godmother. The songs like “Jubilee, ””Liza,” and “I Love a Violin” are so upbeat one can’t help but at least tap a hand or foot to keep time. Her back up dancer/singers like Cortes Alexander and Johnny Rogers are delightful. Liza relates several stories about Kay, but the one about Kay’s remark on learning that Judy had died, was the most poignant. At the mention of Judy’s death, the audience became very still…you could have heard a pin drop in the theatre. Liza said, “Kay told me that mother had done absolutely everything in life she had ever wanted to do, and had everything in life she had ever wanted to have.” Not sure this is a direct quote, but the message was the same.
Some of Liza’s memories of moments in time with Kay, didn’t translate as well. Personally I don’t care for Kay’s analogy of a crescent moon being God’s toenail paring nor did I fully understand the humor in the story of Kay sending her ex-husband a case of baseballs after a contentious divorce. I wasn't even sure
I fully appreciated Liza's description of Kay's redecoration of a room in Liza's apartment in her attempt
to raise Liza's sense of self-worth. But Liza's loving memories of her godmother are geniune and one
quickly realizes the positive influence Kay Thompson must have had on the youthful Liza. Kay's music,
like Liza's is happy music, and despite the fact it's not current, the tribute certainly has the potential of being an excellent television special. Kay was obviously a most talented and forward thinking woman.
At some point Liza introduced her new conductor and drummer, Michael Berkowitz. I missed seeing Bill on stage, but was comforted to hear Liza say that Michael had been a close friend of Bill’s. She mentioned that “Pappy” had “joined the choir, “ yet it still seemed unbelievable that he was really gone.
Just a year ago, Bill had talked of speaking to famous drummer Buddy Rich just before Rich’s death, and mentioned that he had also attended the funeral. Perhaps the old friends, Buddy and Bill are “up there” now, together, waging a drummer’s duel.
Liza was vibrant throughout her performance and though obviously breathless between the more strenuous numbers, seemed in excellent form. The audience, though not as exuberant as a younger crowd might be, was enthralled. Liza concluded the ninety minute show with “New York, New York.” Despite the standing ovation she did not return for an encore. She did, however, take bows with Billy, her dancers and
the band. For the first time in my recollection, band members left their instruments and joined Liza stage front for a bow. As Liza was leaving the stage, the chairman of the fundraiser presented her with a bouquet of red roses.
It took a while to descend from the top balcony and return to the main floor. In the process I heard numerous positive comments about Liza and the show. We finally made it through the exiting crowd and found our way back to the door leading to backstage. The man at the door didn’t have our name on his list, so he had to check with Gary before we were admitted.
Some fans I didn’t recognize and band members were milling in the long corridor. I could see Gary talking to someone just outside his little room. Dave and I went into the “Green Room” where perhaps fifteen to twenty or so people, some elegantly dressed, appeared to be waiting for their opportunity to meet Liza. Most seemed to be the generous donors to the McCallum theatre or involved with the fundraiser in some way. There was a professional photographer from “The Desert Sun.” There were no refreshments, but we found some bottled water in the adjacent and empty kitchen.
The McCallum “Green Room” was newly decorated with comfortable upholstered chairs and sofas. Dave found a seat and I returned to the hallway to find Gary. When I did he was talking to Billy while trying to find some business paper from a stack of papers. I spoke briefly to Billy and he seemed to have some recollection of having met me before. Actually the last time I’d spoken to Billy Stritch was in Saratoga
in 2004. When we saw Liza a year ago, it was Johnny Rogers at the piano.
When Gary and Billy concluded their business, I asked Gary if Liza had autographed the magazine for my fan friend. He said she had, and he’d go get it. I followed him to Liza’s dressing room, where he tapped at the door, entered and quickly returned with my “Jo Malone” paper bag. I thanked him and asked when he thought Liza would be coming out. He said,” Soon, she’s just blow drying her hair.” He said Liza was leaving immediately after the “meet and greet” as she was returning to Los Angeles that night. L.A. is a good two hour drive from Palm Desert, but maybe she was flying.
I returned to the “Green Room” and showed the autographed magazine to Dave. We agreed that the fan would be pleased. It was only a few minutes later that I noticed Liza just outside the open door to the “Green Room.” She was standing with her hands on the shoulders of a short man whom I felt sure was Joey Luft. And then Liza was with us all in the “Green Room.” Everyone rose from their seats and started to move toward the star including me.
Liza first greeted the representatives of the McCallum and posed for photos with the director and co-chairmen of the event. When I stepped forward, she greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which I returned, but for some reason I felt she was surprised to see me there. Dave stepped forward, reintroducing himself. He too got a hug, but he felt, as she looked up at him, that she didn’t recognize him. It’s been many years since Dave went back stage with me. Dave recalls Liza giving me another hug after that…but it all happened so fast.
After getting our hugs, Liza turned to meet the others in the room. As we started to leave, I tried to catch her attention again to thank her for autographing the “ Palm Springs Life,” but she was distracted. When we left the room, Joey Luft and a woman were standing immediately in front of us in the hallway. I introduced myself and Dave, saying simply: ” I am a longtime fan of your sister’s.” Joey seemed pleased to be
recognized, smiled, and shook our hands. It was the first time in all these years that I had seen Joey Luft backstage, and I was happy to finally have the opportunity to meet Liza’s half brother.
When we got in the Buick to head home, I thought, “Ah…yet another Liza adventure….perhaps not the most exciting…nonetheless fun and fulfilling for this fan.” Liza is an amazing woman…her determination and stamina never cease to amaze. She looked tired after the show, but naturally posed beautifully for the professional photographer. Her just dried hair looked a bit dry in person, but not in the picture in paper.
Liza returned to the desert in February as the headliner for the Barbara Sinatra Children's Center
Golf Tournament Gala. Tickets were $1000. and I didn't attend. The "Desert Sun" reported that she
performed a similar show and that it was well received. Of course, she also reminisced about "Uncle
Frank."
Liza, at 61, is blessed to be able to continue to perform. It is her life’s work and what makes her happy. And I am blessed to be able to continue to observe her close hand and be part of the “old guard” of fans who have followed her career from nearly the beginning. Her new fans are young and that’s wonderful. It shows that Liza will always be “a legend.” I’m happy for her.
Beverly Fauvre
La Quinta, CA
November, 2007
The theatre only seats 1127, but is well designed and is known for “not having a bad seat in the house.” As Liza looked out at the sold out crowd last night, she said the McCallum was "beautiful." As we looked down at her from above, we were thrilled at well she both looked and performed. Afterwards my husband Dave said he thought it was the best Liza concert he had seen in years, and he’d just seen her a year ago near San Diego.
But I'm getting ahead of myself....
The Monday after Thanksgiving weekend, I phoned Gary and found him in
Florida. He said it should be no problem for me to attend the sound check at the McCallum and to call him Thursday morning the day of the performance. When I mentioned that we had lousy seats, he said, “I have no tickets.” Like a year ago, when I saw him for the first time in years at Harrah’s, Rincon near San Diego, Gary was friendly and pleasant.
Still in recovering mode from the colon surgery I had undergone in September, I was thrilled to be able to attend the sound check at the McCallum, just as I had in 1989 and wrote about in “Imagining Liza."
However, my real Liza energy and excitement didn’t really kick in until Thursday afternoon. I was just about to dress for the theatre when the phone rang. Much to my surprise, it was Jean Hanson calling from her
home near Lake Tahoe. I hadn’t seen nor talked to Jean since seeing her and husband Johnny since Liza's performance at the "Villa Montalvo" outdoor amphitheater in Saratoga, California in 2004.
For those of you who remember Jean, she sounded well and her voice strong. She said she had heard Liza was going to perform in Palm Springs, and thought I might be going to see her. Jean wanted me to say hello for her. Jean and I then talked about Bill LaVorgna’s passing. Jean’s daughter had thought she’d heard about it on the news, but wasn’t sure. Jean remembered Joan LaVorgna and asked if I had her address. I gave her the address I had for the LaVorgna home in Stuart, Florida.
In our conversation, Jean told me that she and Johnny are now both eighty-nine! They were born in the same hospital two days apart, she said. When I told Jean that I had just read that Liza would be performing at Harrah’s, Lake Tahoe in January, Jean responded, “Tell her we’ll be there.”
For those of you who never met Jean Hanson, she became a Judy Garland fan when Judy was still Frances Gumm and performed with her sisters at Tahoe! Jean quickly transferred her love of Judy to her daughter Liza and has followed Liza’s career since its inception.
Talking to Jean brought back so many good memories of shared Liza adventures, and I wished more of you were going to be around to share this one. Well, not really...like all Liza fans, I'm covetous of any
private "Liza time" I get.
When I called Gary Thursday morning he said the sound check would be at five, so I decided to dress for the evening, go to the theatre, return home for a quick dinner, if possible, and then husband Dave and I would drive together back to the McCallum for the show.
The population and consequent traffic has probably doubled in the Coachella Valley since I last drove to the McCallum to see Liza in 1994. It took me nearly twenty five minutes to get to Palm Desert in commute traffic. By the time I reached the stage door it was 4:59 p.m. Gary was on the phone, and I had to wait for a sweet older woman manning the stage door desk to get his attention. I stood by her desk waiting impatiently. I stared at all the autographs written on the walls back stage. Every performer for the past twenty years had apparently contributed his autograph, a cartoon drawing, or message in permanent marker to the ivory walls. There were so many, I decided I wouldn’t even attempt to find “Love, Liza” somewhere amongst them.
Finally the woman caught Gary’s eye and when he finished his phone call he motioned for me as he started talking to a man who was probably the stage manager. Suddenly I could hear music and Liza singing “The Man I Love.” I was kicking myself for being “on time.” I should have arrived earlier.
Gary asked the stage manager to escort me from the back stage area into the theatre. When I walked into the totally empty theatre Liza’s back was turned, and she was singing towards the band. Her very short hair looked damp, and she wore a black tee and her usual slim black pants. She looked slender, but not much more so than we’d seen her a year ago. I took a seat in the front row and began to relax into what I expected to be about ten or fifteen minutes of rehearsal. But after belting out the last bars of “The Man I Love,” Liza gesticulated to one of the band members about how she wanted him to play one segment and then turned around. She noticed me, her face seemed to brighten with recognition and she said, “ Oh, hi, how are you?” or something like that. I responded that I was pretty good, and hoped this greeting might lead to an opportunity to chat a minute, but Liza waved and headed off stage with a stagehand. I assumed she would return to rehearse more, but it was Billy Stritch, still seated at the piano, who said, “I’d like to practice my song, “The band accompanied him as he rehearsed, but after one go through, it was obvious that the sound check was over. The band started packing up their instruments and one by one left the stage. And there I was, not quite knowing what to do with myself.
I returned to the hallway carrying my handbag, with a camera tucked inside, and one of those gorgeous “Jo Malone” ivory and black paper bags which held a copy of the November 2007 issue of “Palm Springs Life” magazine. Liza surrounded by a huge black boa adorned the cover of the magazine. When I reached the “Staff Only” door leading backstage, I found the door locked. “Oh, oh,” I thought, but momentarily the stage manager, who had led me to the theatre from back stage just minutes before,
was exiting and admitted me back stage before he departed.
Walking back down the hallway toward the back stage door, I passed the “Green Room,” where eighteen years ago, I had, at Bill LaVorgna’s invitation, eaten spaghetti with the band after the sound check and before I changed my clothes in a backstage restroom and headed out into the theatre. I noticed the doors to the “stars’” dressing rooms: Billy’s door open, Liza’s closed. I noticed a woman steaming Liza’s costumes in a room adjacent to Liza’s dressing room; I didn’t recognize her. One small room served as Gary’s command post, and I headed back to it.
Gary was once again on the phone, but the conversation was quickly over, and we had the opportunity to talk a little. I asked if I might visit with Liza. Without hesitation he said, “No, not before the show. She won’t see you before the show. Come back afterwards.” I thought of all the times I had seen Liza before a show, but times were forever changing. Gary and I talked about Bill’s passing, and I said he gave us
a gift. Gary agreed, saying, ‘he was a gift.’ I could tell Gary was still feeling the loss. I told Gary of the special gift Bill had given us --- spending a good two hours regaling us with stories of both himself and Liza one afternoon last year at Harrah’s, Rincon.
I then asked Gary if he might facilitate Liza autographing the “Palm Springs Life” magazine in my “Jo Malone” bag for a fan in Germany. He took the bag and said “no problem. “ I thanked him, and I said I would pick it up after the show.
Before leaving the theatre I stopped again at the back stage door desk, The friendly attendent asked me to write down my name, which I did, if I was coming back after the show. She said she would be off duty by then. I then started fumbling in my purse to find my car keys. Band members kept going in and out of the stage door. But most had trouble getting the door opened on their return. The door was unlocked,
but it always seemed to stick. Just when I found my keys, I helped open the door for a woman with short light brown hair who was trying to reenter back stage. As she passed me, I remembered being told that Lisa Zay was back as Liza’s assistant. Although I’d never met Lisa, I had talked to her on the phone several times the summer of 1999 before the publication of “Imagining Liza.”
Guessing this woman just might be Lisa, I called after her saying, “Excuse me, are you Lisa, Lisa Zay?” Lisa turned around and said she was. I introduced myself, she remembered who I was, and we chatted for a few minutes. At first she couldn’t recall the title of my book, but thought it had something to do with “imagination.” I was impressed. Lisa seemed as nice in person as she’d always been on the phone. I asked if she thought Liza might see me now before I left. Lisa, like Gary, said, “probably not,” but, unlike Gary, said she’d go ask her. I felt a little awkward in asking again, but had really hoped for the opportunity to visit with Liza without others around. Lisa was gone for more than five minutes, and I had almost decided to go
ahead and leave when she returned. Like Gary, Lisa, said, “No, come back after the show.”
I drove home and grabbed a bite of leftover chili and a mini salad before Dave and I said good-bye to “Millie,” our Australian Shepherd, and drove back to the McCallum. Gratefully the traffic had thinned out, and we also got a good parking spot not far from the stage door.
The theatre was filling fast with well dressed patrons of the arts. It was definitely an over fifty plus crowd, but an excited, anticipatory audience. After climbing two, or was it three, flights of stairs we found our seats in the very last row in the top tier. We had to laugh; we had been spoiled.
After speeches by the director of the McCallum and the co-chairman of the
fundraiser, Liza opened with “I Can See Clearly Now” as she has in concert for the past several years, I think. Her voice was strong, which the excellent sound system carried well up to the “rafters.” The first half of the show were her standards concluding with “Cabaret.” When she left the stage to change for the second half, Billy Stritch took over. He sang two numbers accompanying himself on the piano. There was
no intermission.
Liza returned in her Kay Thompson outfit complete with another headband, the headbands, she said, to keep her perspiration from ruining her drawn on eyebrows. She said she had shaved her eyebrows for her role in “Law and Order: Criminal Intent” last year, and they had never grown back! The bit reminded me
of all the times I’d seen her take off her false eyelashes after perspiring on stage. Both reminders of her humanness, and, of course, we fans love it.
Liza’s tribute to Kay Thompson is obviously a labor of love for her godmother. The songs like “Jubilee, ””Liza,” and “I Love a Violin” are so upbeat one can’t help but at least tap a hand or foot to keep time. Her back up dancer/singers like Cortes Alexander and Johnny Rogers are delightful. Liza relates several stories about Kay, but the one about Kay’s remark on learning that Judy had died, was the most poignant. At the mention of Judy’s death, the audience became very still…you could have heard a pin drop in the theatre. Liza said, “Kay told me that mother had done absolutely everything in life she had ever wanted to do, and had everything in life she had ever wanted to have.” Not sure this is a direct quote, but the message was the same.
Some of Liza’s memories of moments in time with Kay, didn’t translate as well. Personally I don’t care for Kay’s analogy of a crescent moon being God’s toenail paring nor did I fully understand the humor in the story of Kay sending her ex-husband a case of baseballs after a contentious divorce. I wasn't even sure
I fully appreciated Liza's description of Kay's redecoration of a room in Liza's apartment and her attempt
to raise Liza's sense of self-worth. But Liza's loving memories of her godmother are geniune and one
quickly realizes the positive influence Kay Thompson must have had on the youthful Liza. Kay's music,
like Liza's is happy music, and despite the fact it's not current, the tribute certainly has the potential of being an excellent television special. Kay was obviously a most talented and forward thinking woman.
At some point Liza introduced her new conductor and drummer, Michael Berkowitz. I missed seeing Bill on stage, but was comforted to hear Liza say that Michael had been a close friend of Bill’s. She mentioned that “Pappy” had “joined the choir, “ yet it still seemed unbelievable that he was really gone.
Just a year ago, Bill had talked of speaking to famous drummer Buddy Rich just before Rich’s death, and mentioned that he had also attended the funeral. Perhaps the old friends, Buddy and Bill are “up there” now, together, waging a drummer’s duel.
Liza was vibrant throughout her performance and though obviously breathless between the more strenuous numbers, seemed in excellent form. The audience, though not as exuberant as a younger crowd might be, was enthralled. Liza concluded the ninety minute show with “New York, New York.” Despite the standing ovation she did not return for an encore. She did, however, take bows with Billy, her dancers and
the band. For the first time in my recollection, band members left their instruments and joined Liza stage front for a bow. As Liza was leaving the stage, the chairman of the fundraiser presented her with a bouquet of red roses.
It took a while to descend from the top balcony and return to the main floor. In the process I heard numerous positive comments about Liza and the show. We finally made it through the exiting crowd and found our way back to the door leading to backstage. The man at the door didn’t have our name on his list, so he had to check with Gary before we were admitted.
Some fans I didn’t recognize and band members were milling in the long corridor. I could see Gary talking to someone just outside his little room. Dave and I went into the “Green Room” where perhaps fifteen to twenty or so people, some elegantly dressed, appeared to be waiting for their opportunity to meet Liza. Most seemed to be the generous donors to the McCallum theatre or involved with the fundraiser in some way. There was a professional photographer from “The Desert Sun.” There were no refreshments, but we found some bottled water in the adjacent and empty kitchen.
The McCallum “Green Room” was newly decorated with comfortable upholstered chairs and sofas. Dave found a seat and I returned to the hallway to find Gary. When I did he was talking to Billy while trying to find some business paper from a stack of papers. I spoke briefly to Billy and he seemed to have some recollection of having met me before. Actually the last time I’d spoken to Billy Stritch was in Saratoga
in 2004. When we saw Liza a year ago, it was Johnny Rogers at the piano.
When Gary and Billy concluded their business, I asked Gary if Liza had autographed the magazine for my fan friend. He said she had, and he’d go get it. I followed him to Liza’s dressing room, where he tapped at the door, entered and quickly returned with my “Jo Malone” paper bag. I thanked him and asked when he thought Liza would be coming out. He said,” Soon, she’s just blow drying her hair.” He said Liza was leaving immediately after the “meet and greet” as she was returning to Los Angeles that night. L.A. is a good two hour drive from Palm Desert, but maybe she was flying.
I returned to the “Green Room” and showed the autographed magazine to Dave. We agreed that the fan would be pleased. It was only a few minutes later that I noticed Liza just outside the open door to the “Green Room.” She was standing with her hands on the shoulders of a short man whom I felt sure was Joey Luft. And then Liza was with us all in the “Green Room.” Everyone rose from their seats and started to move toward the star including me.
Liza first greeted the representatives of the McCallum and posed for photos with the director and co-chairmen of the event. When I stepped forward, she greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which I returned, but for some reason I felt she was surprised to see me there. Dave stepped forward, reintroducing himself. He too got a hug, but he felt, as she looked up at him, that she didn’t recognize him. It’s been many years since Dave went back stage with me. Dave recalls Liza giving me another hug after that…but it all happened so fast.
After getting our hugs, Liza turned to meet the others in the room. As we started to leave, I tried to catch her attention again to thank her for autographing the “ Palm Springs Life,” but she was distracted. When we left the room, Joey Luft and a woman were standing immediately in front of us in the hallway. I introduced myself and Dave, saying simply: ” I am a longtime fan of your sister’s.” Joey seemed pleased to be
recognized, smiled, and shook our hands. It was the first time in all these years that I had seen Joey Luft backstage, and I was happy to finally have the opportunity to meet Liza’s half brother.
When we got in the Buick to head home, I thought, “Ah…yet another Liza adventure….perhaps not the most exciting…nonetheless fun and fulfilling for this fan.” Liza is an amazing woman…her determination and stamina never cease to amaze. She looked tired after the show, but naturally posed beautifully for the professional photographer. Her just dried hair looked a bit dry in person, but not in the picture in paper.
Liza returned to the desert in February as the headliner for the Barbara Sinatra Children's Center
Golf Tournament Gala. Tickets were $1000. and I didn't attend. The "Desert Sun" reported that she
performed a similar show and that it was well received. Of course, she also reminisced about "Uncle
Frank."
Liza, at 61, is blessed to be able to continue to perform. It is her life’s work and what makes her happy. And I am blessed to be able to continue to observe her close hand and be part of the “old guard” of fans who have followed her career from nearly the beginning. Her new fans are young and that’s wonderful. It shows that Liza will always be “a legend.” I’m happy for her.
Beverly Fauvre
La Quinta, CA
November, 2007
