Dick Donahue

Kitty Carlisle: Hart of my heart
April 20, 2007

My most recent late-night reading spree had me glued to the pages of a debut thriller, but last night's reading found me in thrall to an old pro---in the absolute best sense of the term. The world of movies, theater, opera, TV---and yes, books---lost a vibrant practitioner of those arts with Wednesday's death of Kitty Carlisle Hart at age 96.  And talk about a long-running hit: from her glorious clowning with the Marx Brothers in A Night at the Opera, to her celebrated Metropolitan Opera gig as Prince Orlofsky in Johann Strauss's Die Fledermaus (at age 51) to an 11-year stint on TV's To Tell the Truth (and other legendary game shows), Kitty Carlisle Hart brought grace, dignity and a helluva sense of humor wherever she went. As one of her numerous obituary tributes put it, "Kitty Carlisle was the last of the true class acts."

And what's more, she wrote about it all: Kitty: An Autobiography was published by Doubleday in 1988. Not only do I still have my first edition (pack rats of the world, unite) but--and I had forgotten this--it's signed by the author twice: once in April 1989 to my partner, and again in May 1996 to me. At that time I directed a New York production of The Man Who Came to Dinner, the noted (and hysterically funny) 1939 comedy by George Kaufman and Moss Hart, Kitty's celebrated writer/director husband. After Moss's 1961 death, Kitty became something of a guardian of his works, and she came to see the production I had directed. She charmed the audience in a post-performance Q&A session, she charmed the cast, and she certainly charmed the director with her many compliments.

So I picked up the book again last night, mostly to look at the photos, and there went most of the night's sleep. How could I have forgotten the incredible joie de vivre that fairly leaps off these pages---the celebrity dish, the almost palpable affection for those around her, and the lady's own homespun wisdom: "There is a trick that often works for me. First thing in the morning I smile at myself in the bathroom mirror. The difference between the face I see at first and the smiling one is so ludicrous that I can't help laughing. I believe that you can make a happy outlook come from the outside in."

Kitty's final paragraph begins, "A book like this has no real ending." (And she sure called that one: Kitty Carlisle Hart lived another two decades after writing that line, during which time she was appointed chairperson of the New York State Council on the Arts, and was touring with her one-woman cabaret act as recently as late last year.)  Kitty often seemed to have the last word throughout her glorious lifetime, so she shall have it here: "The path my mother set my feet on can lead heaven knows where. Mother's pronouncement in the beginning is still true.  I wasn't the prettiest girl you ever saw, I wasn't the best actress, and I certainly wasn't the finest singer; but with a bit of courage and a dash of self-discipline, a small talent can go a long, long way."

Posted by Dick Donahue on April 20, 2007 | Comments (2)