The feats and follies of Florenz Ziegfeld
'The world will never forget the Ziegfeld Follies," proclaims William Powell in MGM's sumptuous 1946 musical revue, "Ziegfeld Follies." Sadly, it would appear that the world has a very short memory. For if master showman Florenz Ziegfeld is remembered at all today it's most likely by way of Walter Pidgeon's portrayal in "Funny Girl" or as a name synonymous with the sort of lavish theatrical spectacle that long ago went the way of ice wagons and hourglass corsets.
In "Ziegfeld: The Man Who Invented Show Business," author Ethan Mordden reacquaints readers with this half forgotten impresario and reminds us that it was Ziegfeld (the son of German immigrants) who "made Broadway the identity of American art." From 1907 to 1931, Ziegfeld won unprecedented acclaim for producing an annual extravaganza known as the Follies that celebrated feminine beauty and featured such rising stars as W.C. Fields, Will Rogers, and Fanny Brice.
Since Ziegfeld's death in 1932, his legacy has proven to be somewhat problematic for cultural historians, who seem simultaneously awestruck and embarrassed by him. After all, this was the man who carved out a career of presenting scantily clad showgirls in opulent settings (which made the near nudity seem somehow more respectable); but he was also a risk-taker and maverick who financed the original 1927 production of "Show Boat" (with its then daring racial themes) and championed the talents of black performer Bert Williams.
Later known for "glorifying the American girl," Ziegfeld was an equal opportunity exploiter and he launched his career by promoting a slab of beefcake in the form of Eugen Sandow, a muscle-bound Adonis whose sole "talent" involved exhibiting his godlike physique. Although the public eventually tired of Sandow as a theatrical novelty, Ziegfeld learned some invaluable lessons from his first foray into showbiz: a star can be created as much through publicity as stage presence and no matter how buttoned up audiences of the day seemed to be, the collective American libido was bursting at the seams.
Emulating the risque revues of the Folies-Berg??re, Ziegfeld envisioned the Broadway stage as "a place of erotic abandon." The same might be said of Ziegfeld's Times Square office as his weakness for shapely chorines was legendary. Even Ziegfeld's more meaningful relationships blurred the line between Follies fantasy and the producer's (not-so-private) private life. The modestly talented but enormously popular Anna Held became both Ziegfeld's blazing "Parisian star" and common-law wife. Held would eventually be replaced - both on stage and off - by no-talent Lillian Lorraine, whom Mordden describes as having "the content of a confetti cannon." Ziegfeld's most enduring union was with his wife, the fluttery-voiced Billie Burke (best known as Glinda in "The Wizard of Oz"). Burke would put in countless hours on Hollywood sound stages working off Ziegfeld's massive debts (which tipped the scales at $2 million by some accounts).
As a biographer, Mordden is a dazzling showman in much the same way that Ziegfeld was. There's the spectacular turn of phrase (the author describes some of Ziegfeld's extravaganzas as "bordellos of the visual") and an "I was there" authority that's completely convincing. While the detailed theatrical lore overshadows the human interest throughout, the uncannily intimate descriptions of the shows are the next best thing to watching from the wings.
Like his subject, it's about time that this author gets his due. Mordden is, quite simply, some kind of walking Wikipedia. Apart from his extraordinary wealth of knowledge, he has the ability to make history seem as up-to-the-minute as breaking news on CNN. Thanks to Mordden, the reader can feel the weight of Anna Held's sable coat (110 pelts), hear Helen Morgan sing "Bill" . . . and at once, the curtain's up. The show is on.
Mark Griffin is the author of a forthcoming biography of director Vincente Minnelli. 