Results tagged “Judy Garland” from Out There

June 22 is the 40th anniversary of Judy's death -- like Marilyn's, the result of an overdose that whether accidental or intentional will never be clear. Some think that Garland's gargantuan two-day funeral -- 20,000 fans and friends attended -- was the last straw for the harassed and brutalized drag queens, faggots, dykes and proto-twinks who were pushed, hit, arrested and shoved into a big wagon early the next morning by the cops who raided the Stonewall Inn. What was happening on Christopher Street?

That sinkless, mob-owned, wretched bar was is where our Greenwich Village forebears could meet, flirt, and actually dance. New York police, many on the take, had the upper hand.  

Yes, dear readers, the boys and girls exploded that night and a number of nights after. Part of their neighborhood, and part of a whole city, joined them. Soon, a Gay Liberation Front formed, tired of the brave but docile and mostly ineffective efforts that preceded it.

Was Judy's death the straw that broke this miserable camel's back?

Some say yes, some no. Writer, critic and gay maven David Ehrenstein emailed me to say that "Judy's passing was 'in the air,' " and one of the "Stonewall kids" named Tommy who was there confirmed that to him. Others, noted in my piece for Obit Magazine out today, completely disagree.

As you can read in my salute to Judy and Stonewall, I think the truth, by its very nature fugitive, is somewhere in between. Both riveting spirits reward another look.

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Now that our Idol hangover is over, we may regain some composure and perspective about the relative importance of a manipulated mass election -- sounds presidential, no? -- within the body politic of popular culture. Right? Then how do I explain why I woke up literally singing the word "swing" -- but like a cat wail, "swiiiiiiinnnnnng."

Judy was talking to me again.

"Didn't you see me?" she asked. "I was hard to miss. I had to share some space with Freddie, but I like Freddie, and even with that awful Lee" -- I knew instinctively that she meant Liberace -- "but that was mostly me inside Adam."

And inside Kris? "Yes, it was dear Deanna."

But Judy, Adam lost, and you ...

"Won? I'm 40-years dead, sweetie, and dear Deanna's still kicking."

So that's why I couldn't get my eyes off chubby Glambert, why in spite of his mall-nite hair and lycra-sausage limbs I waited week after week to watch his raw, unstoppable, insoucient nerve.

If for reasons of age or memory you don't know which Judy or Deanna I mean, please let me offer a holiday reprise of American Idol's earlier version, an MGM short subject from 1936 called Every Sunday. In it, 14-year-olds Judy and Deanna are introduced to the filmgoing public in a sweet cinematic duel: classical versus swing. But they're not really rivals; in fact, the girls are as tender in their teamwork as Adam and Kris.

If you like, you can drag the YouTube bar and start the piece at three minutes, but the whole thing is only 10, so take a chance.

 

By the way, after seeing the short, some MGM genius told a line producer to "dump the fat one."

And in case any novice wants to know why Judy is indelible, just slide the button to 6:20 and look at the way this teenager moves her hips and lips when she gets into her groove and instructs us to ... swing. 

I guess I still take her advice to heart.

For an automatic alert when there is a new Out There post, email jiweinste@aol.com.