You probably don’t know… probably don’t care who Kitty Carlisle was. Recently, she died at the age of 96.
Helaine will read this and say, “old reference.” She’s right. It’s been a long time since Kitty Carlisle was a household name – though she most definitely was.
She was part of my youth as a game show panelist in the 50s and 60s. Before that, she’d been an actress of middling success. She acted, and sang in the Marx Brothers classic “A Night at the Opera.” She appeared on Broadway. She sang opera at the Met.
I had no clue what her claim to fame was, nor did I care. She was a sophisticated New Yorker, dressed elegantly and on TV – a class of person foreign to my distant section of New York City. When I was a kid, I looked up to everyone on TV!
Today, The New York Times published a long, sweet, obituary written by Marilyn Berger. I was particularly touched by one passage deep within the piece:
I’m not sure what proper journalism is anymore. Maybe it shouldn’t be Marilyn Berger’s place to act as reporter and expert; confirming the beauty of Miss Carlisle’s gams.
I think it was sweet.