Preview by Murray Hill
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| Hello there, I'm Murray Hill. They call me "the hardest working middle-aged man in show business.” I like to keep things short and sweet and call myself Mr. Showbiz. If there's one thing I know about, it's a show. Show business is my life. Putting on a show, being in a show, hosting a show, watching a show, preparing for a show, counting the money after the show, and all the things associated with shows: dressing rooms, the wings, backstage, back alleys, footlights, spotlights . . . did I mention backstage with the burlesque bombshells? It's all about the show for Mr. Showbiz. That's probably why I got this gig writing the introduction for Henry's book. (Note: Henry and I are on a first-name basis, we dated the same gal in the early '90s.) You may be asking yourself, "Who the hell is this guy?" That's a great question, I sometimes ask that myself. I'm not a showbiz guy who can be seen on the latest reality show, or on billboards or the sides of buses, in the tabloids, or in the latest blockbuster comedy featuring schmaltzy middle-aged guys who always get the girl. If you're a New Yorker, you just might have seen or heard of me before. I do have a reputation, and most of it is true—the things I don't remember, I certainly can't be responsible for, of course. You see folks, I'm a comedian, an entertainer, and I exist after hours on the stages, and I use that word "exist' loosely, in downtown New York City. The definition of "downtown" has changed over the years. It used to be that Times Square was downtown, then the 20s, then below 14th Street, then the Village. Now downtown is really down below 8th Street, below 4th Street, the Bowery and even lower. In the old days, vaudeville thrived downtown, and now it's back under the guise of "neo-burlesque." That's the term the press tagged the fledgling burlesque scene over a decade ago (when they said it was a flash in the pan!). I've been working downtown for a decade now. Working, and working rooms. At first the audiences were fellow performers and downtown underground East Village types—think tattoos, piercings, gender deviants, freaks, gays, drugs . . . everything but the kitchen sink and out Republicans. Over the past several years, the audiences have changed dramatically with high rollers, bachelorette parties, tourists, people with jobs (and even health insurance). Word got out about this scene and people have flocked to the clubs, and they're still coming. And what a scene it is. I put on a vintage polyester suit (I’ve had it for forty years) and a tie seven nights a week and work the clubs. Some of these clubs are the size of a matchbook, with stages even smaller. The smallest "stage" I was on was at this joint on Avenue A and 11th Street - it was one foot off the ground and one foot wide. I fell off it one night singing "My Way," but that’s another story. Most of these clubs have tiny back stages, if they have them at all. At least three times a week I'm squished in a dressing room with several bodacious burlesque girls. This is how the game "Murray in the Middle" started, but again, that's another story. And the shows, well . . . it's not a Broadway production by any means. There are no sets, no unions, no marketing budget, no rehearsals, no rules, sometimes no seats - and there is definitely no fourth wall. The audience is literally in your face, and we are in their face too. If you're up close in a show downtown, you need a real thick skin. You'll see the sweat on our faces, not flop sweat, just sweat because working air conditioners downtown are a rare commodity. Why I wear polyester suits still baffles me, it’s like having global warming as an outfit. The shows are jam-packed with characters and personalities who fill the room with the sheer desire to perform under the most challenging of circumstances. Downtown, performers are larger-than-life personalities and are fueled by pure passion (certainly not monetary rewards). They have to be to survive. If you're performing downtown, you're competing with waitresses walking in front of you, drinks crashing to the floor, hecklers, drunk people who never stop yammering, people jacked up on pills or drugs (or a combination of both), electrical blackouts, ceiling leaks, visits from the fire marshal . . . the list goes on - and then you might get stiffed for your pay. Downtown, every time you hit the stage, it's like rolling the dice, you never know what you’re gonna get. No joke, I once had a kid come at me squirting a bottle of ketchup on my suit. Luckily, polyester is the miracle fabric and I was able to wear the suit again in the late show. So, why do we do it? Why put on SHOWS? Yes, it's partly the thrill of being onstage, it's partly masochism, but it's really the characters and camaraderie. As a kid, I never imagined that I'd be spending the majority of my time with showgirls, queens, trannies, cross-dressers, F to F impersonators (that's female-to-female and the scene does exist!), exhibitionists, a bunny, and other fringe acts. All these oddballs, and I certainly include myself when I say that, have come together downtown and formed a community, a special unique family that exists between 11 p.m. and 4 a.m., well, 5 a.m. or 6 a.m. after a really good night. Some of my favorite memories are taking a taxi home with the sun rising and driving by people waiting for the bus to go to work. As the master of ceremonies of many of these shows downtown, I see a lot of things, things I've never dreamed of and people I never knew existed. That's the beauty of New York. I'm always watching everything. I have to stay on my toes and be prepared for anything. In real time, while I'm onstage shticking, my eyes are darting from the audience, to the bar, to backstage, the exits, the waitresses, and the dressing rooms. I'm in the middle of all the action and all of the bump and grind. You'd be amazed at all the activity during a show that no one sees. Julie Atlas Muz puts on a great show backstage. I have a perspective that nobody else has - well except for Henry, who has been lurking in the shadows with a big camera (rumored to actually contain real film!) and a young wide-eyed assistant. Everyone is a photographer these days. I hit the stage and can see I'm being photographed by cell phones, Blackberries, mini video cams, and digital cameras. I don't think people even watch shows live when they're at them; they just record them on their phones, then watch them later. These photogs are only getting one view, though. It's often said that downtown, the real show is what goes on behind the scenes. Henry, the silver-topped guy with the camera, is a pro. He has captured these special and unique moments, up close and personal for you to see. He shows the details. He's been in the trenches with us backstage, during the show and after hours, and has been in the audience, too. He's also been the victim of my ad-lib barbs and merciless one-liners. I've baffled several of his newbie assistants who've never experienced downtown before or seen a “guy” like me. Henry has been crazy enough and brave enough to sit in the front row and break through to see what's happening behind the tattered curtains. You'll see in these pages what I'm talking about. The characters. The personalities. These are my friends (well, not the folks with the animal masks, I've yet to meet them). Most of the burlesque performers are women I've been chasing after for years and know rather intimately. These people are part of an endlessly exciting scene that exists below the mainstream radar where acceptance, originality, and uniqueness are celebrated every night. It's a community of artists who've chosen to go against the grain for a living and who've made the bold choice in life to be who they are at all costs. That is the spirit of downtown, and Henry has documented this. These are not models in costumes; these are real live performers working today in the depths of New York City (and elsewhere). Henry has given you the chance to sit in the front row and get a glimpse of one of the many undergrounds here. On your next trip to New York, when you're in Times Square sitting in a lawn chair in the middle of the street surrounded by ferns, lamenting how much things have changed, how they've been cleaned up, and how gentrification has wrecked the city and killed its originality, don't despair. Jump in a cab or hop in the subway and head downtown, the downtown I'm talking about, and you'll find us. You'll find me, the guy in the polyester suit. Look below the surface and we'll be there . . . somewhere, in a basement, in a subbasement, a back room, a speakeasy, or a dingy nightclub off the beaten path. Come in and see the show. Introduce yourself to me and I’ll take you backstage for the real show. In the meantime, enjoy Henry's photos and get an insider's view of an outsider's world. Yours in Showbiz, xoxox Murray Hill, Brooklyn, NY PPS: For a good time, visit www.mistershowbiz.com |
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