Q&A: Broadway Legend Carol Channing

Eighty-one-year-old Carol Channing, a true legend of the American stage, was recently back in the town that made her a star to promote her "memoir of sorts," Just Lucky I Guess, which was recently released on Simon & Schuster. The book--a fascinating read from cover to cover--is just as charming and chatty as its author. Channing locked herself in her Rancho Mirage, California home with a pencil and paper for several years, to give birth to the tome, which tells of her showbiz start, her legendary stage roles and her memories of many fellow stage greats--including Ethel Merman, Barbra Streisand, Mary Martin, Tallulah Bankhead, Julie Andrews, Marlene Dietrich, Yul Brynner, Noel Coward and many more. Broadway.com was thrilled to get a chance to sit down with the lovely lady--who's looking terrific these days--for a chat during her whirlwind publicity tour.

Whose idea was it to do this book?
I just started writing it one day.

Is it something you had thought about for a long time?
No, but I was visiting my son who's a political cartoonist and he had to go to work every day. Now this was the first time that I had stopped working in many a year. I was always working, which is every actor's dream--it makes life worth living to be working in the theater. So, my son was going to work and I was getting unhappy about not working, so I just began writing about all the people I care about that make me the happiest. What makes life exciting for me is the people in the theater, so I wrote about what's exciting to me. And it made me feel good, and I laughed thinking about Ethel Merman and all the others. I really enjoyed it.

How did you get the book deal?
I belonged to the [William] Morris office from the time I left Bennington College. I was 18 years old when I first auditioned for [president] Mr. Lastfogel.

Yes, I remember that story in the book. You were sitting next to Alfred Drake and Betty Comden and Adolph Green waiting to be seen.
Yes, you remember! You read it! Oh, thank you! But he wasn't yet Alfred Drake and they weren't yet Comden and Green and I certainly wasn't Carol Channing.

You went in, sang the Orestes Funeral Chant and he wasn't very interested in your talents at first…
Well, he chewed on his cigar… [Channing launches into a performance of the chant…in Vercingetorix French!] What he said was, "I think you should do someone more well-known than Orestes. What about Sophie Tucker? Why don't you do her?"

You wound up working together for many years and years.
Yeah, until he died. It wasn't that long ago. His wife died sooner than he did.

So, William Morris brokered the book deal?
Well, I've been with them since I was 18, so they kick me around like an old shoe and they don't pay any attention! Like when the San Diego Symphone called and said, "Do you think Miss Channing would conduct our symphony for one part of her show?" And they said, "Oh, sure." They just answer without asking me! Then I had to go out and find out how to conduct! So I went to Marymount College, where my old conductor was teaching and I said, "I've gotta take a course from you!" And he said, "Oh, I'll teach you privately." I never did learn how to conduct. But that's what [William Morris] does: "Will she stick her head in a hole?" "Sure!"

Well, the book turned out great. There's a great, casual style to it.
You think? Oh, good. I went back over those sentences again and again to get it so it builds to the punchline. You know, they have an Edit Department here. Everybody hates the Edit Department because they cut the punchlines! And then they would cut the feedline! But [publisher] Michael Korda saved me. Liz Smith said that she's never heard of someone publishing a book with absolutely no edits. But that's what they did--took all of the edits out. I had to pray over it!

The first editor butchered it?
Yes! They butchered it. So, I prayed and finally Michael Korda said, "Do you expect to have this printed without any edits whatsoever?" And I said, "No, I just expect an editor with a sense of humor!" Anyway, everybody hates the Edit Department. I might as well not go into detail!

Are you a fan of celebrity autobiographies? Did you read any to help guide you?
I've read Helen Hayes' biography and Noel Coward's… the good ones. And Lunt and Fontaine, but that wasn't a good one--somebody else wrote it. I wrote every word of mine. Even the line "How did Gower Champion know that all over the audience there would be quivering cliter… clitorises? Clitori? I wrote, "Mr. Korda, what is the plural of clitoris?!?" And he printed it like that! He just left it in. I also sent a note with a photo and said, "This is the most Nordic German and gentile-looking picture I could find." It was a note to him, and they put it in the book under the picture!

The photos are great in the book--was it fun to decide what to use?
I didn't decide what went in there. They did. I don't have access to a lot of my photos--it's all in the hands of legal people. I'm trying to get my possessions back--they're in probate.

Did you feel like there are misconceptions of you that you wanted to clear up in the book?
No, by this time in my life, I don't care what people think. Peter Franklin, who was my agent with William Morris, said to me, "Write the book as if you're going to die at the end and you don't give a darn." So that's what I did. I just don't care! You see, the whole world turned on me a few years ago. I had a divorce lawyer--the same lawyer Guiliani had when he was trying to get a divorce from his wife. He made Guiliani say all of these things against the mother of his children, which we all know now isn't Giuliani's nature. We all know now that he's a great man, but at the time, all of New York turned against him. Anyway, this lawyer told me, "You have to call a press conference and tell the inside story of your 41-year marriage." And I said, "Why?!" Come to find out he wanted to be a television personality, so he stood right behind me for all of the interviews.

So that's why we heard the down and dirty stories about your sex life.
Yes, that's why. I should have never opened my fat mouth.

You really think people turned against you?
I know they did.

But not your fans.
Well, I don't get to meet them! It's just that time goes by and they forget, that's all.

I read somewhere that the last production of Hello, Dolly! was your last Broadway appearance. Is that true?
No!

I think this book could make a great "Carol Channing: At Liberty."
Oh, Elaine Stritch beat me to the punch! She's a good friend. I admire her so much that I used to write her fan letters. I really did. I'm crazy about her. Boy, that was a good show! But I've gotta do something different now. I don't want to be a second Elaine Stritch.

Any ideas for something different?
I shouldn't tell you! You either talk about something or you do it. I noticed that when I was writing this book. I would try things out on people--saying "What do you think of this?" And I found that I leaked a certain amount of energy that way. When you turn around and try to write it, you've lost half the energy by already telling. So, the only way to do it is to write it raw and naked and labor over it and then scrap it and write again if you have to.

Was it difficult to discipline yourself and keep a regular writing schedule?
I have this little condo that looks like a monestary. On the walls are nothing but bulletin boards with different chapters on them. It's perfect for writing a book, just perfect! It isn't a house, it's an office with a bed and all of these bulletin boards. I wish I could type, but I did it all in pencil and eraser. When I first gave the book to Simon and Schuster, I thought, "There's criticism of it. People are probably saying, 'This isn't a book. It's disorganized, there's no plot…'" And Michael Korda said, "It does have a plot. It's just hidden in there. The book builds and builds to who you are now." I just told the truth as hard as I could tell it and as accurately as I could tell it. Nobody has a good perspective on themselves. Some people will say, "Well, I'm very interesting. I'm very literary" and I mean, it's like, "Who is he talking about?! I've never met that person!" But if you tell the dead-on truth and just let the reader decide what you're like… I don't know what I'm like. And the moment you do know what you're like, you're a bloody bore. I mean then you have a formula for yourself and it becomes an imitation of your own formula for yourself and that's the worst! Then people know why they hate you--they know exactly what it is about you that they don't like. And they just hate you. At least that's how it is in the theater.

Speaking of the theater, have you been keeping up with Broadway shows?
No. I've been keeping up with nothing for the last four-and-a-half years. I've finally finished the book, so I'm new to all of this. I don't know what's going on.

You don't keep a place in New York City?
No, but I'd like to. My place in California was the perfect place to hide out. Nobody does any work and they're all over 90. The Osteoporosis Club plays golf. My little monastery is right on the golf course and Roger, my manager, lives right across the fairway. The security at the country club was very helpful, especially when I was having a hard time, thinking that Simon and Schuster was criticizing my book. The security woman drove by to check on me while I was writing it because I was all alone. She said, "You've been burning the midnight oil on this book. You start out early in the morning. I drive by to make sure nobody robbed you of anything. You've given your soul to this book. It can't go wrong." And I said, "It can go so wrong, you don't know." And she said, "Think positively." And you know what? I did and the world stopped and turning around. It's true about positive thinking.

Did you learn anything about yourself during the writing?
Yes, I did. I learned a lot. I learned things that I never knew about myself. For one thing, from the crib on, I lived my life in one line and never got off it. I never went on a tangent. Like someone would say, "Ooh, you paint very well in class. You should be a painter." And I said, "Uh uh. I'm not gonna get side-tracked." Once I tried it out, once I finally got onstage, I realized, "This is it. This is what I need to do."