As her 89th birthday approaches this July, Phyllis Diller is still one of the funniest people on the planet.
She was honored last month in The City where it all began for her back in 1955. Mayor Gavin Newsom proclaimed February 5, 2006 "Phyllis Diller Day in San Francisco." It was marked by a gathering at the Pier 39 Theater where a Phyllis Diller look-alike contest, sort of, was held, and a new documentary film about her life, revolving around her farewell performance in Las Vegas in 2002, was screened. Ms. Diller, who doesn't travel much anymore, checked in from her home in L.A. by way of a conference call. The proclamation was read to her in the lobby and giddy fans shouted out their praises for the legendary comedienne.
"Ah, San Francisco," she growled into the phone. "That's where a mixed marriage means a man and a woman." She punctuated the line with her trademark cackle.
Afterwards, a dozen people took turns on the stage doing impersonations of Ms. Diller. Each got a gag to read, provided by host Lucien Stern, who described Ms. Diller as "the mother of stand-up comedy." The winner got a genuine Phyllis Diller purple boa to take home. The participants took turns vamping with the boa. It was all very silly and fun. Campy, as they used to say.
Fifty-one years ago, Ms. Diller, who was working at radio station KSFO, when the studios were located in the Fairmont Hotel, took a brave step and mounted the stage at the Purple Onion to take a stab at stand-up comedy. The club was a launching pad for many famous acts – including the Smothers Brothers, Johnny Mathis, the Kingston Trio and Barbra Streisand. Ms. Diller was booked at the Purple Onion for three weekends. She stayed for 89 weeks. After an appearance on the Jack Paar Show, her career took off like a shot. "I miss Paar," said Ms. Diller.
"He was artful, highbrow, a touch of class." She became a household name when Bob Hope made her a regular on his TV comedy specials. She made a few films with him, too. She had her own TV show, The Phyllis Diller Show, during the 1966-67 season. Recently, she appeared on 7th Heaven and the controversial, quickly canceled The Book of Daniel.
She managed to maintain her dignity in the foul-mouthed epic, The Aristocrats. Her autobiography is called Lampshade in a Whorehouse, a phrase she uses to describe her stage persona. She's still proud of her 1961 role as Texas Guinan, the speakeasy queen in Splendor in the Grass.
"I read in the L.A. Times that Phyllis Diller was retiring," filmmaker Gregg Barson said at the theater. "I thought that perhaps she might agree to be a subject of a documentary. My wife Julie Ashton, a casting agent) and I met Phyllis at The Palm. She was dressed all in powder blue, matching dress, hat and purse. There were a lot of martinis."
Barson said he was struck by Diller's natural intelligence. "She's never ‘on,' she's naturally funny." A tour of her sprawling Brentwood mansion revealed a myriad collection of prizes and awards; a Picasso hangs next to her treasured photo of herself with Charlie Chaplin, and there's a file cabinet containing thousands of cross-referenced gags that she's written.
Barson's movie reveals an artist who approaches her craft with impeccable care and precision. Nothing is left to chance. She discusses everything with the stage crew first – sometimes in a very firm tone.
It explains the perfect timing that she's cultivated with decades of experience. It gets the audience into a crescendo of uncontrollable laughter. She fires off jokes in a volley, many of them self-directed: "When I was born, I was so ugly, the doctor slapped everyone in the room."
"If I have one more facelift, it'll be a caesarian."
About retirement: "I have outlived most of my body."
San Francisco is always good for material: "I went to my first gay wedding. What upset me was I caught the jockstrap."
In a phone interview, Ms. Diller told Northside that she now spends most of her days painting; she's had many shows. She also takes great pride in the fact that she finally got to use that music degree from the Chicago Conservatory.
"Just by chance, I was booked by the Boston Pops," she said. "‘Oh, good,' I said, ‘I'll play the piano.' There was a silence at the end then finally, they said, ‘That's fine.'" They really wanted me to do my stand-up act. This fluke led to my performing for 10 years with 100 symphony orchestras around the world. Not bad, not bad at all.
"I have to tell you this about my life. I made every minute count."
Northside Arts & Entertainment editor Bruce Bellingham is one of San Francisco's best loved scribes and the author of Bellingham by the Bay: Bits, Bites, Adventures in Radio and Real Life.”
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