WHAT WAS I THINKING? "You Don't Need Analyzin'": A Gay Man's Tribute to Ethel Merman

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Q.: What is more foolish than a Gay man going on about Judy Garland?

A.: A Gay man going on about Ethel Merman.

At the beginning of each month, I generally peruse the upcoming celebrity birthday list to get ideas for my column. January runs the gamut from Adam Lambert (age 29) to Joan of Arc (599), with stops along the way for Elvis Presley (76), Richard Nixon (98), Cary Grant (107) and Mozart (255).

But the name on the list that's most important for me is Ethel Merman, who would have been 103 on January 16th. Although perhaps not the towering legend or a figure of historical importance like some of the names I've mentioned, hopefully the upcoming Broadway revival of one of her signature hit musicals, Anything Goes, arriving in March, will remind people of the singer and actress who best embodied the vitality of American Musical Theatre (no, make that America!) for over 50 years.

As I write this tribute to her, I must admit that there does seem to be something foolish about my love for Ethel Merman. Recently, I've had a hard time admitting it, fearful of ridicule and humiliation. For loving Ethel Merman in today's day and age feels like what loving a man felt like 30 years ago. You didn't talk about it, you tried to hide it and you searched for safe, out of the way places to find people like yourself.

To those few who have heard of her, if you're a man who loves Ethel Merman, then you're a living punch line, assumed Gay and assuredly odd; someone who shares his insignificant obsession with other, similar men and their pets. In the Gay community of 2011, to even mention this brash, vulgar, loud caricature of a singer pegs you as hopelessly dated, date-less and old. And, for many in the Gay community, if you're old, you might as well be dead. Like Ethel Merman.

I'm not going to explain what made Merman a great star, or even tell you much about her. Search the internet for that. I won't bother to list the countless hit songs that were written for her by talents like George Gershwin, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Jule Styne and Stephen Sondheim. I won't discuss her legendary performance in Gypsy because I didn't see it. (I'm not that old!)

So why do I love her?

Because I remember a sad, lonely teenager in Deer Park, Long Island, with a secret crush on the kid around the block. A teenager who, one day, after being bullied, ridiculed and humiliated at school for the umpteenth time, sat in his living room, turned on Channel 7 and watched Call Me Madam on the 4:30 movie.

And there was this woman. This brash, vulgar, indefatigable life-force of a woman, singing to a sad, lonely young man with glasses who looked like me.

"Put your head on my shoulder," she chortled, pulling her puzzled protégé towards her.

"You need someone who's older." Her widening grin turned her huge eyes into two Venetian blind slits as, fingers snapping, she continued.

"There is nothing you can take

To relieve that pleasant ache.

You're not sick!

You're just in love!"

"What did she say?" I said to myself.

Thank heaven for second choruses, because there it was again, loud and clear.

"You're not sick! You're just in love!"

That was the moment I will always remember. The first time another way of looking at myself occurred to me. A way to accept who I was and what I was feeling, and not to feel humilated, ashamed or sorry for myself. And the woman telling me this wasn't lecturing or being solemn about it. No, she was joyous, raucous, defiant. And loud!

From that moment on, Ethel Merman became my best friend, personal trainer and psychotherapist, all rolled into one, that one larger-than-life presence all misfits need to help them learn that they, too, can belong in this world of ours. There is nothing self-pitying about Ethel Merman. Or self-indulgent. Or pretentious. Or vain. On all of her records, in all of her TV appearances, her no-nonsense, down-to-earth persona always told me to "Sing Out, Louise!" and don't give up. Her energy, her optimism is what this country was all about in the mid-twentieth century, and, boy, do we need it now!

So, today, I am proud and happy to come out of my closet as a true and grateful appreciator of Ethel Merman and to suggest to the rest of the world that they give the lady a chance. She just might have some good advice for them, too!

I will be performing this essay as a spoken word piece on Ethel Merman's birthday, Sunday, January 16th, 6:30pm, at Metropolitan Room as part of Free To Be Me: Our Songs, Our Stories. Hosted by MAC Award Winners Joseph Macchia and Jay Rogers. The evening will benefit The Trevor Project and The Human Rights Campaign.

Some of the best performers from the NY cabaret community will be performing and telling their stories about dealing with coming out, bullying, etc., including Darron Cardosa, John DeMarco, Terese Genecco, Marla Green, Cara Kilduff, Stearns Matthews, Alison Nusbaum, Shaynee Rainbolt, Gretchen Reinhagen and Anne Steele. For reservations: www.metropolitanroom.com

or call (212)206-0440.

Thanks for reading my column! And thanks to Hector Coris for the cartoon masthead. If you have a comment, question, correction or suggestion, please email me at:  This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .