Some Guys Get Paid To Be That Funny
We knew good burlesque when we saw it. And we didn't have to buy tickets to places like The Troc, a burlesque house in Philadelphia where girls took off most of their clothes while the pit band played "Tiger Rag" or other sweaty music and the lights dimmed a little more with each piece of discarded costume. We weren't allowed in to see naughty stuff like that.
It wasn't all stripping at burlesque. There were comedians too.
Steve Mallinson and Tommy Bagley saw a prospect of a good show in eveningtime at a particular window near Baynton Street. An accidental observation isn't necessarily an innocent one when potential drama is at hand. The pretty girl who lived at that house might, they thought, forget to pull down the shade before undressing...at least once. So they conspired to build a telescope. Her window was much too far away for naked eyes' appreciation. They never saw her in any stage of nudity because she had the sense to pull the shade down whenever shades should be down. They never built their telescope, either. They talked about it all through the summer of 1950 until Steve joined the army.
As I noted, burlesque wasn't just stripping for the pleasure of leering men. Great comedy, sometimes a little "blue," made burlesque an art. Maybe the last great burlesque comedian was Benny Hill. He's dead now. There will be no successor to his kind of act. "Good" comedy is defined differently now.
There were comedians at school. Looking back, I think when we worshipped clowns we were flirting with instability. Clowns are unstable.
I saw an act that I would guess was created for sixteen year olds....and probably thirteen year olds. I was sixteen. The prop for this sketch was the boys' room(lavatory) at school. Against one wall was a row of urinals. Closer to the door at that wall were a few wash-basins. Boys who were raised properly washed their hands after visits. A mirror was set above them. It was installed for the vain who hogged time combing hair. Opposite the urinals were toilet stalls with doors that allowed occupants the privacy expected there.
Enter, a clown, now a forgotten name. He went into a stall, closed the door and jumped up onto the toilet seat. "Watch this," he cried. We looked.
From behind the closed door we saw our hero from about mid-chest up. We couldn't see his foot on the flush-lever. These toilets were never conservators of water. When they were flushed about a hundred gallons of water purged the bowl with an awesome roar.
"Whoosh!" He flailed the air with his arms and disappeared. The illusion pretended that he was sucked into the whirlpool below. As he dropped down he screamed: "Aaagh!"
That was funny. Those in the room laughed. I gotta try that.
Billy Sandrow and I went to the Rialto. When the film got dull to our taste we went to the lavatory to puff cigarettes. I'm pretty sharp; I noticed the stall and remembered the recent act at School. "Watch this!" I entered the stall, closed the door and jumped up onto the toilet seat.
Neighborhood movie houses like the Rialto have little rest-rooms. They seem almost to be afterthoughts. (They are placed in theaters because the law requires "necessaries" for people with leaky bladders. Those people always "have to go" during the best part of the picture. Notice they sit in the row in front of you or in your aisle. When they get up you will miss seeing something good on the screen.) These rest-rooms aren't much bigger than the bathroom at home. No tub at the theater, but most people still call it " the bathroom." There are no beds in the "rest-room" either. It's a puzzle to me why they are called rest-rooms.
The ceiling at the school lavatory was about fourteen feet high. At the Rialto it was less than seven. When I jumped up onto the toilet seat I sprung into the ceiling (boink!). I ricocheted off the wall and fell half conscious (coo-coo) through the door, I crashed to the floor (crash!). Now that's funny and I never got a chance to trip the flush lever with my foot.
Ah! that was funny to Billy. He had recurring fits of giggles for the rest of the night. I wobbled down the steps and back to my seat not feeling too good. (coo-coo!)
It's visual. That's burlesque and some guys get paid to be that funny. But they planned their acts and executed them according to the script.
Lesson: If somebody invites you into the "men's room" saying "I wanna show you something," it's not worth the trip unless he's going to do one of the two aforementioned tableaux, depending on the height of the ceiling. All other invitations will place you in danger.
