The Best (and Newest) Danny Kaye Website Ever

The Library of Congress' new website offers a delicious sampling of Danny Kaye and Sylvia Fine's work.

Today, the Library of Congress officially launches its amazing new website for its Danny Kaye and Sylvia Fine Collection.

The site can be accessed at www.loc.gov/kayefine, or go direct to the home page at http://lcweb2.loc.gov/natlib/kayefine/index.html.

Among the features are biographical information, an interactive timeline of Kaye’s career, and recordings of several songs, radio shows, and films (including his four shorts for Educational Pictures).

But the jackpot is hundreds of images of original pieces from the collection—rare family photographs, Sylvia’s hand-drawn orchestral scores and typed lyric sheets, scripts, personal letters, and more.

Many of the treasures I’d seen before, during my weeks digging through the collection’s several hundred bankers’ boxes in Washington, D.C., but having instant access is even better. But as much as I loved poring over the dusty artifacts, I was disappointed to learn that I was one of the few members of the public to do so during the 20 years the Library of Congress has held the bulk of the collection for 20 years. (In fact, the materials were so infrequently viewed that after I viewed the last of the boxes, most of them were moved off-site and now must be viewed by appointment.)

Hopefully, making key pieces available online will not only give Danny and Sylvia’s work greater exposure, but also inspire others to visit the Library and enjoy the remaining 90% of the treasure trove for themselves.

Here He Comes Now

Danny Kaye’s first Great Triumph took place at the Tamiment Playhouse on July 24, 1939, as he debuted “Anatole of Paris” and starred in several other musical sketches, including the grand finale: “Here He Comes Now,” a spoof of operettas written by producer Max Liebman, with songs by Sylvia Fine. Kaye starred as Mario, the Masked Gondolier, supported by Imogene Coca as Mary Sue Ann, Robert Burton as Mr. Vanderveer, Max Liebman as his secretary, James Shelton as cowboy Bruce Benton, and Lee Brody as accomplice Trixie.

As the mini-operetta begins, five sorority sisters, vacationing in front of modest painted backdrops of Italy, sing the opening number, “So This Is Venice,” extolling the romance of the city (“… shed a tear for the gondolier / as he must beat a retreat from the menace / of Brooklyn teachers on sabatical / who are on a seach fanatical / for a life that’s more romantic than grammatical.”)
(“…the lovely maid in the gondola / a tall serenader to fondle ’er…”)
(“La, la, there’s the Lido / you know, where you can go / to get the sun and air for your libido / though the sand you will have sat in / won’t feel very much more Latin / than the kind you find at Coney or Manhattan.”)

July  Isn’t it wonderful, girls, to be in Venice?

June  It’s the most romantic spot in the whole world. Aren’t you just thrilled, May?

May  It’s so exciting, I can hardly speak. Why, to think, I have wasted away year after year on papa’s miserable 50,000-acre estate at Great Neck, Long Island. Aren’t you just struck dumb, April?

April  I can hardly believe it’s true—I’m in Venice. Just think of it, January, I’m in Venice.

January  And we have Mr. Vanderveer to thank for it all. It was just peachy of him to take us all on this trip. Wasn’t it, July?

July  But there was a method to his madness. He knew that his daughter Mary Sue Ann would be lonesome for her sorority sisters.

June  Methinks she hasn’t stayed lonesome very long.

May  Why, what do you mean, June?

June  You know very well what I mean, May.

May  What does June mean, April?

April  The Masked Gondolier, of course, you silly. She’s out with him this very moment being serenaded on the Grand Canal.

July  And we’re just excess baggage.

Jan.  Yes, but we must keep it a secret. If Mr. Vanderveer finds out, he’ll send us all home.

May  I wonder what Bruce Benson will think? Engaged to a girl who falls for the notorious heartbreaker in Venice?

July  As far as I’m concerned, hear no evil, see no evil. Mr. Vanderveer is willing to pay, I’m willing to stay. I wonder what the old man is up to anyhow? Carrying that leather case with him wherever he goes.

Jan.  Shhh, here he comes now…

Vanderveer (enters, dictating to his secretary)  And I will close the deal as soon as possible. Sincerely yours. Sign my name. Ah, there you are, girls, how do you like Venice?
(They gush about what a wonderful time they’re having, until he asks where is Mary Sue Anne. They stutter.)

Vanderveer  Come, come, speak up.

July  She went to see a man about a boat.

Van.  What, I told you not to leave her out of your sight. I just received a cable from Bruce Benson. He closed up his ranch and will be here any minute.

Girls  Bruce Benson?

Van.  Yes, here he comes now…

Bruce (enters)  Ah, there you are, Mr. Vanderveer. I’ve been looking all over for you.

Van.  Howdy, Bruce. Glad to see you, my boy.

Girls  Helly, Bruce. This is a surprise.

Bruce  Well, I just couldn’t take it, I guess, riding the Lone Prairie, jest with Tony, it’s pretty lonesome. I jest had to come to see Mary Sue Ann.
(He breaks into the song “On the Lone Prairie,” about how lonely it is on the prairie. After the song, all exit. Then, from offstage, a voice is heard serenading. In “floats” a gondola with the singing Masked Gondolier, Mario, and Mary Sue Ann.)

Mary (sighs)  Such divine music.

Mario  What did you say, signorina?

Mary  Such divine music—and don’t call me signorina.

Mario  Ah, but you are a signorina, no?

Mary  No.

Mario  But you are not married?

Mary  No, I’m not married.

Mario  I am glad.

Mary  Why, Mario? Why are you glad?

Mario  I cannot help it, signorina—

Mary  Why, Mario, why can’t you help it?

Mario (passionately)  Because you are the most beautiful signorina in all the world. Ever since you came into my life, I do not feel the same. I feel much better. You have done something to me, like six bottles Chianti. You do something to me. You have made me———

Mary  Why, Mario, I have not.

Mario  Yes, signorina. You have make me very happy. My voice she is better. You have changed me from baritone to tenor. Tell me I have done the same to you.

Mary  You mustn’t forget yourself, Mario. You are only a Gondolier—and I—

Mario  And you are Mary Sue Ann Vanderveer, the richest girl on Long Island. I knew I must never forget, but my heart keeps pounding and the words keep flowing like wine, from my lips. Tell me, signorina, you are not engaged?

Mary (silence)

Mario  Ah, you are engaged. You are in love with handsome, rich Americano—

Mary  No, I’m not. I’m fancy free and pledged to no one. (Aside) Heaven help me for this lie. But this romantic foreigner has captivated me. And I am truly in a dilemma. (She turns to Mario) Tell me, Mario, why do you wear that mask?

Mario  I am deeply hurt, signorina. Deeply offended. You have promise not to ask.

Mary  I know, but it is a woman’s prerogative not to keep her promise. Come, take it off.

Mario  No, signorina. No, I will do anything. I will sing for you a thousand songs. I will gondolier you a million miles. I will jump into the canal—four feet deep—but I cannot remove my mask.

Mary  Very well then, I will go and find myself a gondolier without a mask. (Aside) How lightly the words fall from my lips, yet I know I cannot budge from this spot. I fear me I have fallen in love with this dashing boatman. Yet I must not appear too eager.

Mario  Very well, signorina, but only for you I will take off the mask. (He turns his back to audience and takes off mask. She falls into his arms. He replaces mask.)
(After song, Trixie enters selling flowers.)

Lee Brody, as the seductive Trixie, flirts with Danny Kaye, as Mario, the Masked Gondolier.

Trixie  Ah, signor, you buy beautiful flowers for beautiful signorina?

Mario  Yes, I buy. Only she must be more big, more beautiful, she must be magnifice, like the signorina herself. I buy whole garden flowers.

Trixie  Si, si, signor.
(Hands Mary all the flowers in the basket. Mary takes money from her purse and pays Trixie. Trixie lurks in the shadows.)

Mary  Thank you, Mario, and now I must go. Tomorrow, same time, same canal.

Mario  Adio, signorina. (She goes. Mario turns to Trixie) What the hell do you mean busting in like that? I told you never to come near me when I was with her.

Trixie  You listen to me, you two-timing heel. I’ve stood enough of this. I’m going to the dame’s father and shoot my mouth off.

Mario  Now wait a minute, Trixie. You know it’s only the black leather case I’m after. You don’t think I’d pass you up for a Long Island orchid like her.

Trixie  You better not try it.

Mario  Once I get my hands on that black leather case, we’ll be set for life.

Trixie  Well, you’d better step on it. I’m running out of disguises.

Mario  You can hide out for a while. I’ll keep an eye on the case.

Trixie  Yeah, and who’ll keep an eye on you?

Mario  It won’t be long now. Just let me get the old man into this damn rowboat. Shhh, here he comes now…
(Vanderveer enters dictating same letter as before. Mario asks him if he would like a ride. He declines, saying he doesn’t trust boats.)

Mario (reaching for case)  Ah, but you can trust me. I am the singing boatman (sings)

Trixie (passes seductively, goes to Mario) Your gondola, signor, she is free?

Mario  No, get the hell—no, signorina, she is taken by the Americano.

Trixie (to Van.)  Ah, you will help me, signor, no? I must get to the other side of the canal, where my mother she is dying. I have brought her medicine, no? (seductively)

Van. (hems)  Well, eh—eh—I have never failed a woman in distress. (They hop into the boat and go off as secretary is left behind) And besides, it really doesn’t matter.
(The secretary exits, as Vanderveer, Trixie and Mario sing “It Really Doesn’t Matter.” After the song, they sail offstage. Enter Bruce and Mary Sue Ann)

Bruce  But, Mary Sue Ann. I came all the way from the Lone Prairie to take you back to my ranch.

Mary  That was indeed a reckless thing to do, Bruce. You know father wants me to see all of Venice. And I’ve only been paddled on one canal.

Bruce  But, Mary Sue Ann, you know I have the finest ranch in Texas—Bar None.

Mary  That I am well aware of. Bar None is the finest ranch in all the world—60,000 acres—but not a gondola in sight. (Aside) Strange how I cannot drive gondolas from my mind. If this Western Plainsman should suspect my infatuation with the Masked Gondolier, it would, I fear, break his heart.

Bruce  But, Mary Sue Ann, I am beside myself.

Mary (Aside)  I knew it, he is beside himself. His favorite positon. What can I do? (Turns) You dear, dear boy. You are suffering, aren’t you? Why did you not bring your horse, Hi-Ho Silver?

Bruce  But, Mary Sue Ann. They ain’t no place to ride here, ‘ceptin’ the canals, and Hi-Ho Silver cain’t swim. (Falling to his knees) You must come back with me or I’ll go crazy. (Enter secretary)

Secretary  Oh, Miss Vanderveer! Mr. Benson! They’ve kidnapped him!

Mary  What are you talking about?

Bruce  Yes, man, what are you talking about?

Secretary  The Masked Gondolier and that woman, they took Mr. Vanderveer in a boat—they’re after the leather briefcase.

Mary  The leather briefcase?

Bruce  The leather briefcase?

Secretary  Yes, ma’am. Yes, sir. The leather briefcase.

Bruce  Then I must get into action. No foreigner is gonna steal no leather briefcase from my prospective father-in-law. You better go, Mary Sue Ann. There’s gonna be trouble. (Mary goes) And you, give me some men. (As the secretary exits, Bruce and chorus break into “Give Me Some Men”—“Give me some men / make it eight / he said ten / with a yen to sing fortissimo / Give me some men who will cry / that they’re willing to die / for my Carissimo.” After the song, all exit. Mario and Mary enter.)

Mario  But you do not understand, signorina—

Mary  Do not understand? Do not understand what? What is there to understand? You have kidnapped my father and stolen his leather briefcase—

Mario  But, signorina, I unmask myself. You must trust me.

Mary  I do trust you, Mario. (Aside) Heaven help me, but I do. I know not why, but I do.

Mary Sue Ann (Imogene Coca) and Mario (Danny Kaye) belt out a love song in the operetta spoof "Here He Comes Now."

Mario  Ever since I have seen you, I have longed for you. For this moment, this one moment alone. (They sing “One Moment Alone,” as shadowy figures battle behind them. “One moment alone / one moment my own / one moment before we part / one moment to hold, enfold you closely to my heart / one moment of bliss / one moment to kiss / one moment we have to share / one moment to whisper darling just how much we care…” The sorority sisters approach.)

Mary  The girls mustn’t see you, Mario. Here they come now. Put on your mask and go.

Mario  I go, but I shall return.
(He exits, as girls enter.)

Mary  Oh, what am I going to do—what am I going to do? April, May, June, July, January? What am I going to do? My father has been kidnapped by the man I love, and the man who loves me has gone to kidnap the man who kidnapped my father. Oh, what am I going to do?

Jan.  Don’t worry, Mary Sue Ann.

April  Everything will turn out all right.

May  It always does.

June  Love will find a way.
(They sing “Love Will Find a Way”)

Mary  It cannot be. It cannot be. I cannot believe that the Masked Gondolier is a deceiver. I’m sure he can explain everything. Here he comes now…
(Mario rushes in)

Mario  Signorina, I can explain everything.

Mary  I knew it, Mario. I knew it.

April  Don’t, Mary Sue Ann.

May  You musn’t, Mary Sue Ann.

Jan.  You can’t, Mary Sue Ann.

July  It ain’t right, Mary Sue Ann.

Mary  Calm your fears, girls. You do not know who this man is. Remove your mask, Mario—show them.
(Mario drmatically removes his mask)

Girls  Danny Kaye! What are you doing here?

Mario (very fast)  Yes, girls, Danny Kaye, U.S. Secret Service never sleeps. I followed Mr. Vanderveer and Miss Mary Sue Ann to protect them and the important Navy plans from the clutches of the international spies, Bruce Benson and Trixie Lee. Here they come now…
(Vanderveer enters with Bruce and Trixie. Father has them covered with a gun.)

Van.  Good work, Captain Kaye. I knew it all the time.

Girls  My goodness.

Bruce  My God.

Van.  My papers.

Mario  My sweetheart.

Mary  My hero.
(All sing finale, “L’Amour Toujours.” Curtain.)


“Here He Comes Now” was such a smash, the Tamiment Players repeated it twice more during the summer and it was featured on Broadway in The Straw Hat Revue (although retitled "The Great Chandeleir"). Liebman and Fine would also borrow snippets of the plot and dialogue four years later in writing “The Lobby Number” for Danny’s first feature film, Up in Arms.

Danny's First Triumph

There are a handful of magical evenings that must have stood as high-water marks in Danny Kaye’s career—opening night of Lady in the Dark, when his genius was first discovered by all of New York… seven years later, when for the first time he appeared at the London Palladium and instantly became an international sensation... nine months later, when he headlined the Royal Command Performance on the same stage... perhaps the night he hosted the Academy Awards in 1952 or first conducted a world-class symphony orchestra in Philadelphia in 1953.

I consider the night of his first Grand Triumph to be July 24, 1939, the one Kaye performance I would choose to enjoy should I ever master time travel. It took place at Camp Tamiment, Max Liebman’s summer camp/Broadway training ground in the Poconos. That night, thosee couple hundred audience members of the ramshackle Tamiment Playhouse were treated to what must have been one of the most stunning events in theater history—a revue so superb in quality and execution that it would rival the greatest of Broadway gems… yet it was created in a single week and intended to be performed only once.

The 12-act program was themed “Shooting Stars,” although the titles of Tamiment’s Saturday night revues typically had little to do with their content. The titles were intentionally vague so they could encompass any act imaginable.

Every Tamiment revue opened with a musical welcome from the entire cast, typically written by Danny’s future wife, Sylvia Fine. “Shooting Stars” opened with two introductions—first the song “Hollywood Stars” by the full company, then Kaye, Imogene Coca (Your Show of Shows), and the other main players sang “This Is Hollywood.”

Lee Brody (left) received such a great reaction to her sketch "It's a Noel Coward Custom" (with Danny Kaye and Imogene Coca), she and the skit were recruited by the Shuberts for their Broadway revue Streets of Paris. Sylvia Fine is playing piano at foot of stage.

The action slowed a bit with a recital by Sylvia Stone (“On Stage Number Five”), before moving to the first sketch of the night, “It’s a Noel Coward Custom,” written by Lee Brody, and performed by Coca (She), Brody (Her), and Kaye (Him). It was so successful, the skit—and Brody—were snatched up by the hit Broadway revue Streets of Paris starring Carmen Miranda and Abbott & Costello.

Next up was a modern dance number, “Death of a Loyalist,” choreographed by and starring West Side Story creator Jerome Robbins (billed in the program as Jerry Robyns) and Dorothy Bird. Another Brody skit followed, then a hilarious jazz band spoof, “The Swingeroo Trio,” featuring Kaye, Coca, and her husband Robert Burton.

Kaye introduces models in ridiculous headgear during his first performance of "Anatole of Paris."

Bird danced to “Begin the Beguine,” and then out walked Kaye to center stage. Uncharacteristically for him at this point in his career, he was alone. For the first time ever, he sang “Anatole of Paris,” the first number Sylvia Fine ever crafted expressly for Danny and his talents and the number that would become the template for his future solos. As Kaye finished Sylvia’s clever lyrics (accompanied by Sylvia on the piano), the band launched into Irving Berlin’s “A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody” and a procession of female co-stars appeared, modeling Anatole’s ridiculous creations as Danny narrated. The number stopped the show cold.

For all rights, the revue could have ended right there. But there was more. After two more set pieces came the grand finale. The Tamiment shows typically ended with a major production number, and this week featured the most elaborate of them all—a full-scale spoof of operettas featuring eight songs by Sylvia and Danny in the lead. Less than two months later, the spoof would end up intact on Broadway as the closer for Act I of The Straw Hat Revue and its script would be a major influence on my favorite of all Kaye’s specialty songs: “The Lobby Number.”

The audience ate up every moment, of it and tomorrow you’ll find out why, as I recreate this landmark performance.

Danny Kaye's "First Film" a Fraud

Check most any online film resource for Danny Kaye’s motion picture debut and the answer will come up Moon Over Manhattan, a 1935 short subject produced by Educational Pictures.

This tidbit is confirmed on Wikipedia, IMDB, TCM.com, and more than 16,000 other sites—according to a Google search of “Moon over Manhattan” + “Danny Kaye.” The only problem is that Danny Kaye is not in this movie.

Moon over Manhattan is a 17-minute romantic musical comedy about an advertising illustrator who convinces the woman in the next apartment building to model for him, leading to her being discovered as a singer. As a romantic musical comedy, it has lots of romance, two songs by Sylvia Froos, and lukewarm comedy. But no Danny Kaye.

My suspicion is that few if any of the people and websites who swear Kaye is in the film have ever seen it. Some folks at the Library of Congress have viewed Moon over Manhattan, but remain convinced that Danny’s in it, if for no other reason than their Danny Kaye & Sylvia Fine Special Collection (donated by Sylvia and daughter Dena) contains a copy of the movie. Watching the movie, their experts postulated that Danny must have played the part of an extra, since there are two scenes where you see the back of a guy’s head who just might be Danny.

The first suspect appears less than a minute into the movie and we never see his face, as he sits painting with his back to the camera. He looks tall like Danny, but his short hair and the shape of his head don’t seem to match Kaye’s.

In the second scene of Moon over Manhattan, the artist (at center) looks more like Donald O’Connor than Danny Kaye.

The second suspect appears throughout the film’s final scene, as a party guest. His hair is darker and more moppish, like Danny’s, but for one split second he turns to his right and reveals a face that looks nothing like Kaye’s.

The party guest toward lower right looks a little more like Kaye…

… until he turns to the side.

I suppose there’s a one-in-a-billion chance that one of these chaps could be Kaye. But, despite the visual dissimilarities, it also defies logic. These extras received no billing, so there would be no public record that Kaye was in the film.

In addition, Danny was finishing up a year-long vaudeville tour when this movie was filmed in January 1935. (According to personal letters, his troupe began an 11-day engagement in Zanesville, Ohio, in mid-December and was then headed for Chicago.) So he may not have even been in New York by the time filming began.

So where did this erroneous credit come from?

I am convinced that it started with a listing in an old industry trade paper like Motion Picture Herald or Film Daily, since until now everything known about this film mirrored such periodical’s new film announcements:  title, production company, director (Al Christie), release date (Feb. 15, 1935), running time, genre (Young Romance Comedy), stars (Sylvia Froos, Marion Martin, Danny Kaye?), and a brief synopsis (“A country boy becomes an artist.”)

Evidently, some well-meaning researcher reprinted this listing online somewhere and it spread from there. Most likely, our intrepid researcher was compiling a list of Educational credits, mixed up his notes, and accidently typed “Danny Kaye” in place of “Warren Hull,” the actual romantic lead of the Moon over Manhattan. (After all, Kaye’s first film was made for Educational, but nearly three years later:  Dime a Dance starring Imogene Coca.)

Or, less likely but still possible, the trade paper did list “Danny Kaye” in the cast, whether by bizarre error (Kaye was a relative unknown at the time, even more unknown than the typical star of an Educational short) or perhaps he was supposed to be in the movie, but ended up being replaced (note that the purported synopsis also differs from the actual plot).

Okay, you reluctantly admit, that all makes sense. Except for one thing: How did a copy of Moon over Manhattan end up with the personal items Sylvia donated to the Library of Congress? Aha! Why would Kaye have owned a copy of this movie (along with his other four Educational shorts) if he wasn't in it?

My guess is that the video held by the Library of Congress, like several other pieces in the collection, wasn’t included in the materials originally donated by Sylvia, but rather something the library already possessed. I suspect they duped it and added a copy to the Kaye collection on their own, to be as complete as possible. Just a little too complete.

Love Letters from Danny

Happy Valentines Day, Young Lovers!

Picking up from last time, I’ve reprinted some of the tender passages from Danny Kaye’s love letters of mid-1935, as he headed for one last summer at the White Roe summer camp, while girlfriend Holly Fine remained with the A.B. Marcus show traveling up the East Coast, headed for Canada and then Asia.


June 1, 1935
… Well, Holly dear, it’s as I expected. I find myself looking for you and wondering where you are. I miss you SO much. I hope the show doesn’t sail in July…


June 3
My Dearest Baby,
Please believe me, darling, when I say that whatever I told you was the truth. I was sincere when I told you I loved you. Holly, my darling, I miss you terribly, honestly I do. Not just because we’ve been together so long but because you’ve come to mean a hell of a lot to me.

Please don’t write that you’ll never understand me. You know me better than anyone does and you know it. I’m through with Jessie, so as far as that goes you don’t even have to think about it. Believe me, Holly, we were correponding, but I realize now that you are first with me and have been for a long, long time…

Why do you say that your vacation is wasted up? I want you here, Holly, and I’m looking forward very anxiously to your arrival. Please say you’ll come, please. I’m fighting like hell to keep from bawling, honest.

Holly dear, please write and tell me you undestand. I’m very unhappy here. It’s not the same as it was when I was there before. I’m going to make it just another job and wishing it was all through. I’ve felt like throwing it up, but I’ve got to try and make a go of it. Please say you will come up here and please say you love me.

I’ll be wraiting for a letter. Anything more about Japan? I hope it’s not true for a little while anyway…
Now you know how I feel about you being away from me. It’s awful.

Write me soon,
Love, Danny


June 8
My Dearest Baby,
I’m really walkin’ on air. Now if you just sit tight, I’ll explain the reason.

In the first place I was very blue when I left Charleston. When I got up here, it seemed as tho’ I had outgrown the place (White Roe) and that it was going to be a very long summer, which it probably will be. On top of that I received your wire saying the show was sailing in July, and when I read that, honestly, I felt like packing it all in and going back. Thinking of you so far away made me go to sleep about 9:30 and bawl like a baby. I really felt low. Then you wrote about Jessie and said you weren’t coming up and that didn’t help. In fact, it made matters a lot worse.

I went home and my brother asked me what I was so mopey about. I was going around in a fog. I received your wire at home and things brightened up. You said the show wasn’t going until Sept. and I knew I could finish the summer and catch up to you, if a job was still open for me. When I got up here and read your letters, boy oh boy! I was really sailin’. I did want you to believe me and you said you did and that was O.K. for me. Honestly, baby, you have no idea how happy I was. That takes me up to tonight and I really feel good now, thanks to your letters…

Well, my darling, now that I know you’re not going away and you believe me and love me, I’ll rest a lot easier. I’m going to take it easy and try to put on some weight...

I bought a nice suit and some shoes and shirts and etc. I’m going to lay in the sun every day and get nice and healthy looking. Maybe you’ll like me better when you see me looking healthy.

Write me soon.
Love and kisses, Your baby, Danny


June 11
Dearest Baby,
Received you last letter and I was glad to hear the show is going to play Atlantic City. You write and tell me where you’re going to play there and I’ll figure out if you can come up before then and then again when you play there. There’s a possible chance that I might drive down to see you on a Sat. night and spend Sun. with you. Would you like that? I know I would…

Gee, I think about you constantly, baby, and it seems so long since I’ve seen you. Does it to you, too? Well, honestly it looks like it won’t be long before I see you…

Meanwhile, be good and take care of yourself and think of me, darling, because I’m always thinking of you…

Well, darlin’, I gotta go eat now so I can get fat. Write soon and regards to all.
For you, baby, Danny


June 13
… Listen, darling, you are coming up here, aren’t you? I don’t want anything to change your plans, because I’m looking forward to seeing you. When we are rehearsing the play, it’s not so bad, but as soon as we stop, I start thinking and go nuts. I miss you llike the devil, honey, I really do…

Don’t worry, sweetheart, I haven’t changed my mind about what I said to you in one of my letters. In fact, I realize it much more now…


June 20
Dearest Baby,
Received you letter and your licorice, and the birthday booklet and I want to tell you that I think it was very sweet of you. I couldn’t imagine what that package was. At first I thought it was the hair oil, but when I opened it and found the licorice I was really surprised and I enjoyed every bit of it, too…

Well, baby doll, do you still miss me? I do, as much as ever and let me tell you it’s not a particularly good feeling…


June 24
... Please tell me you are not angry, sweetheart, because if you are I’ll feel terrible. You know how I feel about you, now. Wait till I see you. I’ve got a lot to tell you. I hope you are missing me as much as I miss you. If you do it’s plenty because I think of you all the time…

You know, Holly, it’s my job to be nice, but nobody interests me around here. I’m always wonderin what you’re doing and whether you’re thinking of me the same time I’m thinking of you. Do you ever do that?

… Well, my baby, I have to eat now. but will write again tonight. So long, my baby.
Your baby, Danny



June 25
How are you, my darlin’?
It won’t be long before I see you. Gee, I’m all excited about your coming up. Are you?

… Well, sweetheart, I’ll close for now, but I’ll write again very soon. I don’t want you to think I’m forgetting you. I’m not, baby, I want you to believe me. You do, don’t you? I miss you and want you.
Love, Your baby, Danny


June 16
… Well, darling, it sure made me happy to see you, and blue when I left. But it’s only a matter of a couple of days now. I’ll be seein’ ya’ Fri. nite.

So long my baby and lots of love, Danny


August 9
… Baby darlin’, you know I’ll be good. I’d feel very small if I wasn’t…

Well, it won’t be long now. The summer is practically over.
Remember what I told you on the phone? Well, I do.

Your baby, Danny


August 10
It’s only been a couple of days since you left, but it seems like such a long time. It won’t be long tho’ before I see you…

Everybody here tells me what a nice girl they thought you were. They thought you were very pretty and charming and very quiet and refined. Dat’s sompin, ain’t it?

… Give my regards to the gang and my love for yourself That’s cute, ain’t it?

Be good and think of me.
Your baby, Danny


August 16
… Listen, my darlin’, whatever happens always remember what I’ve told you is true. You mean a lot to me and even tho’ I don’t show it sometimes, I feel it…


August 19
Gee, Baby, I sure do miss you. In fact, I miss you more than  before and dat’s a hell of a lot. Honestly, honey, I’m wacky about you and no matter what Cathleene says, I’m still being very good. “Cross my heart and hope to die if not”…

Well, darlin’, remember that you and no one else is my baby and I hope I’m yours always, too.
Gotta go eat and get fat now. Think of me.
Your baby, Davey


August 24
… Baby, I miss you terribly and if you miss me as much as I miss you, it’s tough on you too.
I don’t make much of a fuss, but I’m really serious when I say anything to you, baby. I want you to believe that.

… Don’t worry, baby, I’m not feeling badly about what Dave (Harvey) said (about Danny’s chances for returning to the Marcus show in the fall). The only thing that would make me feel badly would be if you wrote and told me that you didn’t love me no more. That would really make me feel badly…


August 27
… It seems a long time since I’ve seen you, baby, and I miss you more than anyting in the world. Write me soon, my darlin’, and let me know what’s what.
Love, always yours, Danny


August 29
… Well, my baby, so long for now and remember I love you very much, too.
Yours faithfully, too,
Davie


September 5
… Well, baby mine, I love you and miss you terribly and I hope it won’t be long before I see you, if only for a visit. I’m tryng to get Phil (Goldfarb) to take a trip to Montreal (where Holly and the Marcus show were). If I can talk it into him we’ll take a trip up to Montreal.

… Well, my little “wife,” I’ve been thinking of you and wanting you and I do miss you terribly…

Your own, Love, Danny


September 9
My Dearest Baby,
From now on, baby, I’ll write regularly…

I’ll try to go home Tues. or Wed. Anyway becaue I’m pretty well tired of it altho’ even when I look back at it, the nicest time and the best part of the summer was when you were here, baby.

Everybody here has admired my behavior this summer and thought it was very sweet that I should stay true to one girl. That’s the way I am, my darlin’, and I want you know that I was happy doin’ it. I love you, baby, and I know that you were and are on the up and up with me. For that and every other reason I love you, darlin’, and I hope you love me as much as ever…

I tried my darndest to get a car to go to Montreal and I couldn’t get one. I was very disappointed in not being able to come, but I’ll see you in Syracuse or one of those towns you wrote about. I’ll take a bus up from the city. I want to see you, baby and I’ll come up when you play there…

Well, baby, that’s all for a while. Keep writin’ me here until you hear from me.

Be good, my little–
Yours, Danny


September 12
My Dearest Baby,
Received your letters and was so happy to hear from you as you were to hear from me, and from what you say, dat’s sompin.

No, baby, your dream wasn’t quite true. I had your picture out all the time and I told my Dad that was the girl I was going with for two years. He thought your picture was pretty. I showed him the tie clasp you gave me and he thought it was very nice, so you see your dream was just a dream.

Don’t be sillly about writing to my home. Write just as often as you write now. It’s perfectly all right…

You ask me if I’m blue for you, too. You know I am, baby, bluer than I ever thought I’d be for anybody. After all we were together for a long time…

Baby, you want to know sompin? I weigh 160 pounds. Nat Lichtman and I are having a race who can put more weight on. I hope I stay like that when I get back to the city…


September 13
… Well, how is my little darlin’ today? I hope she is all right and thinking of me all the time just as I’m thinking of her.

You know, baby, as I’m writing this letter I feel good because in a coule of weeks I’ll be seein’ you. By the time I get my things all straightened out and get some things I need it will be time to come up and see you. Happy? Boy, I am and when I see you, oh boy!

I don’t ever get tired reading your letters and if they came twice as often I’d enjoy reading them over and over as I do now.

Do you read my letters over and over? I almost know your letters by heart, I read them so often…
I’m getting a nice tan and I hope I can keep the weight I’ve gained until I see you…


September 27
… You see, I’m in a fog. The days seem to be draggin’ by. I can’t wait until you get to Boston…
Be good, baby, and keep writing. You know, I felt funny because there wasn’t any mail this morning…

Prelude to Valentine's Day: Danny Kaye the Romantic

One unfortunate misconception that has arisen over the last 20 years is that Danny Kaye was perpetually remote, dispassionate, uninterested in love, and sexually confused.

Certainly, I have no undercover video from Kaye’s bedroom. I never witnessed him out on a date. None of us can know for certain what he did with whom behind closed doors. But going by the testimony of his closest friends and co-workers, Danny had a deeply passionate, romantic side to complement his frequently withdrawn side.

Admittedly, over the last 50 years of his life, onlookers saw few public displays of romance. Although Kaye clearly loved his wife, there’s no evidence that he was ever in love with her. Best as I can tell, Danny cared for Sylvia Fine, he admired her talent, and he was indebted to her role in his career. Yet after they married, Kaye’s future wooing would involve Other Women and usually take place away from publicity cameras.

Danny's six-year affair with Eve Arden (clubbing with, at left, Humphrey Bogart) was one of Hollywood's worst kept secrets in the 1940s.

Most notably, within two years of marrying Sylvia, Danny began a torrid, six-year affair with Eve Arden. Eve eventually left her husband for Danny. Shortly thereafter, Danny left Sylvia for Eve, but returned home six months later. He vowed to never leave Sylvia again, but not to be faithful.

In the years before he met Sylvia, Danny was like the other young bucks employed by the White Roe Resort of the Catskills—he was expected to keep the guests entertained, particularly the young females. So, as Kaye’s skills as a performer improved, so did his reputation as a ladies’ man.

His first “head-over-heels” romance began in 1933 during a break from White Roe, on a cross-county-turned-Asian tour with the A.B. Marcus troupe. He met a tall, blonde, 23-year-old dancer named Holly Fine (no relation to Sylvia) and fell madly in love.

But even after Danny left the tour at the end of 1934 and then returned to White Roe in the summer of 1935, he continued writing to Holly on an almost daily basis—and calling her whenever he could commandeer the phone in his boss’s office.

The long-distance romance continued in fits and starts over the next several years, until Holly finally left the tour in 1939 and settled down in Florida, where she married a local grocery store owner. About the same time, Danny became permanent partners with Sylvia. But Holly would always treasure her letters from Danny and, after she died in 1998, her estate donated many of her papers to the University of Michigan.

On Valentine's Day, we’ll peek into some of those touching love letters…

Somebody's Fool: Setting the Record Straight

Much of what is considered common knowledge today about Danny Kaye and his career is based on the book Nobody’s Fool: The Lives of Danny Kaye (1994, by Martin Gottfried). Which is a shame.

To be honest, there are several things I admire about the book:  mechanically, it is expertly written. The author interviewed several old-timers I never had the chance to meet (Danny’s childhood chum Louis Eisen, Catskills writer Dick Diamond, comedienne Imogene Coca, singer Georgia Gibbs). And, consequently, the book contains a number of revealing stories you won’t find elsewhere.

Yet there’s even more that’s maddening about the book:  the author dwells on Kaye’s faults, perpetually making snide asides and including anecdotes of questionable accuracy (such as page after page on a supposed affair with Laurence Olivier that even the author admits is unlikely). Speculation on Danny’s sexuality and psychological makeup is frequent, even when it has little relation to the topic at hand. And, Kaye is made out to be so evil, that you get the impression that the author despises him. Why anyone would want to spend years researching the life of someone you detest bewilders me. Interestingly, during my research of Kaye’s 1970s musical Two by Two, I came across dozens of disparate reviews. Some critics loved the show, others not so much, but most everyone agreed on one point: Danny was sensational. Well, most everyone but one: Women’s Wear Daily reviewer Martin Gottried, who confessed his distaste for all things Danny.

Unfortunately, many of the mistakes in an earlier Kaye biography have become accepted as fact.

In Nobody’s Fool, Gottfried also build minor players whom he interviewed (childhood friend Rosie Kaye, comedian Alan King) into major figures in Kaye’s life.

But, worst of all, the book is riddled with errors. I suspect there may be factual mistakes on every single page (as a test, perhaps someone could throw out a random page number from 13 to 337, and I’ll respond with a corresponding error). Alas, because—until the recent publication of my book Danny Kaye: King of Jesters—Nobody’s Fool was the only new book on Kaye since 1985, many of Gottfried’s errors have become accepted as fact (thank you, Wikipedia).

So I did a quick browse of Nobody’s Fool and jotted down some of the errors that I’ve seen repeated beyond the book’s pages.

Again, this is—unfortunately—a far from exhaustive list, but does point out some of the errors I’ve seen repeated in other places:

Page 16. Danny was born in 1911, not 1913. His family did not immigrate together in 1910; his father arrived in America in 1906, with his wife and two sons arriving three years later.

Page 22. Danny’s hitchhiking trip to Florida wasn’t in 1929 with his Red & Blackie partner, Louis Eisen. It was five years earlier, with another pal, Max Tirsch.

Page 38. The Marcus tour lasted eight months, not a year and a half.

Page 40. Danny didn’t resume a romance with Rosie Kaye in 1935, he was still going steady with Holly Fine, a dancer from the Marcus tour. And it was 1937, not 1936, that he joined the Presidents Hotel.

Page 43. Danny didn’t make three short films for Educational; he made four. He wasn’t an extra in any of them. He had a supporting role in the first (Dime a Dance), a co-starring role in two others (Getting an Eyeful and Money on—not or—Your Life, filmed in 1938, not 1937), and the lead in the fourth (Cupid Takes a Holiday).

Page 45. Max Liebman didn’t direct Sunday Night Varieties, the revue on which Danny met Sylvia Fine. Liebman didn’t have anything to do with the show (except going to watch it once). It was directed by Danny’s Catskills mentor, Nat Lichtman. And Danny didn’t audition for the show (he was one of Nat’s first signings); Sylvia did.

Page 46. Sunday Night Varieties didn’t close after one show; it played for multiple performances in two different venues. And Liebman didn’t hire Sylvia because of her work on the show (she’d already worked for him the previous summer at Camp Tamiment); it was Danny he hired because of the show. And Sylvia didn’t write the Yiddish Mikado; it was written by Liebman and Herman Shapiro.

Page 47. Famed actor Alfred Drake didn’t appear at Camp Tamiment; he was hired after the summer for Broadway’s Straw Hat Revue.

Page 48. Sylvia didn’t write “The Wolf of Wall Street” at Tamiment. Sam Locke wrote the sketch for Sunday Night Varieties. And Sylvia didn’t write “Pavlowa” in 1939; it’s “Pavlova,” and she wrote it with Liebman in mid-1940, six months after he was said to be singing it on page 53.

Page 49. As well, Sylvia didn’t write “Stanislavsky” at Tamiment in 1939. She wrote it for Danny’s nightclub act in January 1940.

Page 50. Liebman did not demand 10% of their future earnings in exchange for allowing Danny and his co-stars to appear in the Straw Hat Revue. This story is complete hogwash (as can be confirmed by a review of Danny and Sylvia's separate financial ledgers, held at the Library of Congress), and is later alluded to on pages 53 and 86.

Page 58. Kitty Carlisle’s story about Danny’s reluctance to perform “Anatole of Paris” (repeated on p. 252) is really about “Pavlova.” “Anatole” had been written more than a year earlier and had already been performed about 75 times on Broadway.

Page 91. Up in Arms’ screenplay was not—and never was intended to be—based on the play The Nervous Wreck; it only reuses the idea of a hypochondriac from Eddie Cantor’s Whoopee!, which was based on The Nervous Wreck.

Page 101. Goodman Ace wasn’t the first producer of Kaye’s radio show. He replaced Dick Mack for the second season. None of the three writers named—Shelly Keller, Tony Stemple, and Mel Tolkin—ever worked on the show. The first episode didn’t begin with a monologue and it didn’t contain an “Oh, really?”/“O’Reilly” joke.

Page 116. “Pavlova” (again, not “Pavlowa”) was written less than five years before it was filmed not “almost a decade.”

Page 122. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty’s planned Courtroom Dream was never filmed.

Page 132. Charges that Danny “was never a romantic” and that he “was not the type to fall rapturously in love with anyone” would come as news to his girlfriend from the 1930s, Holly Fine; his affair partner from the 1940s, Eve Arden, and other lovelies, as I hope to illustrate in a special Valentines Day story next week.

Page 170. Danny’s $200,000 contract for Hans Christian Andersen wasn’t his “biggest yet,” but rather the standard deal he’d received for On the Riviera and the never-produced Huckleberry Finn.

Page 212. Knock on Wood wasn’t filmed in London (except for some second-unit work), but rather in Southern California.

Page 241. “I Am an Is” from Kaye’s second TV special wasn’t a “baby routine.”

Page 252. Harvey Korman wasn’t hired before the premiere as a regular on Kaye’s weekly TV series, but rather discovered several shows into the season.

Page 254. The dress rehearsal was taped Saturday afternoons, not Fridays. And the baseball number was on the series’ first show, not second. Lovelady Powell’s second episode didn’t come until the fifth episode (and all her scenes were cut).

Page 263. Bob Scheerer did produce all of season three, but he directed only one episode. Before that season, all the writers were not let go, just the ones who had worked for Sid Caesar. And Paul Mazursky wasn’t a new hire; he’d been there since early in season one.