It’s Come to This Tour Notes
I Was a Guest Worker in Palm Springs
In LA, I stayed with my great good friend Leslie Belzberg and her eight year old daughter, my goddesschild, Sophie. One afternoon, after we found that the cheesy diner I was trying to take her to for a coke was closed, Sophie walked me over to Elixir on Melrose for tea. She ordered the Ro-something Africanus, and a cherry tart. She picked out the table, set among rustling bamboo and near a gurgling fountain, poured some tea for me, sat back and announced, "This is living."
Indeed.
After some R&R in LA, a visit with my friend Lori, from NYC, now a shining star at the UCLA Film School and then a too-quick afternoon and evening with my galpal who was in LA for meetings, it was off to the Fabled Dinah Shore Golf Classique for moi. A friend of Tam Martin’s, Joan Heeter picked me up at the airport and we were off! Heeter is a golfer, so was able to point out all the golfers – Michele, Anika, Julie – as we hiked in to the NCLR booth on the course. At the booth they shared with the fab gals from Olivia, we amused ourselves watching straight guys come by and grab up the free NCLR golf tees and key chains. Lots of splaining to do at home that night.
Once again, Andrea Meyerson and her Women on a Roll gang threw a great party in the desert. I did four shows in two nights amidst a flurry of Dinah activities. Another NCLR fundraiser, this one a brunch at the amazing home of Roberta Conroy and Terry Fabris. There we didn’t lock any doors for fundraising. If they paid more, I told them they could stay for the week. Kidding. I did a book reading and signing at the Peppertree Bookstore and Cafe, a lovely indepedent bookstore on Palm Canyon Drive. It was an oasis of calm in a sea of non-readers. I had too-short visits with VickiShaw, her Sgt. Patch, Charlese, Lisa Koch, and many others.
Sunday morning I got up at 430a, but we’d sprung ahead, so no telling what time it was. Please don’t tell me. Heeter drove me to the airport where I caught a flight at 630a and made it back to New York in time for the Women’s Final Four from Boston. Go Terps. A totally gal sporty weekend. Travel note: it takes longer to get from JFK to the Upper West Side of Manhattan, than it takes to fly from Palm Springs to Dallas. That is not right. Someone please call Mayor Bloomberg at 311 and tell him to fix it. Thank you.
Sleep in Seattle then O Canada.
After my sojourn in San Fransisters, and my R&R in Marin, where I won one and lost one game of Scrabble, those Scrabble dictionaries really cramp my style, I flew to another gorgeous city, Seattle. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to visit them. Michele and one of her posse, Francisca, took a 24 hour train ride up to Seatte. She would not recommend it. My pal Paul Bauer, who has produced me several times there, picked me up at SeaTac. It was March, so he was in shorts. Note to foodies reading this: all meals were taken at The Flying Fish.
Except for the NCLR benefit that night at the Hotel Andra and their hors were fab. The Seattle gals showed up! I had great chats with real estate brokers, a pilates trainer, a minister, a fabulous scientist and a private investigator. Cris Williamson, whose 30th Anniversary Changer and the Changed Tour – has it only been 30 years? – is also NCLR sponsored and who lives in town, came to the event. Always a pleasure. Because of a 5K match, we shut the doors and wouldn’t let anyone leave until we raised the match. Catholic guilt and fundraising, it’s a natural.
The Seattle show at the Bena Roya Hall, Benihana to me, was dreamy – packed and they were all charged up by yet another anti-gay measure. People need to get real jobs. Why can’t we, as a gay movement, just start suing these anti-gay ballot pushers for harrassment and loss of income?
Next morning, we boarded the Victoria Clipper to Victoria. You haven’t lived until you ride the ferries in the northwest. I’m clapping. I believe in ferries. Jannit, who met us at the terminal gave us a quick tour of some of the island. Spring was springing, the sun was out, things were blooming. Then I was sneezing, but that’s for my medical blog. The show in the Alix Goolden Hall was great fun. No one appreciates some good Bush Bashing like Canadians. They are all quite restrained – they could have gone around gloating, "We told you so," but they now have a new P.M. Steven Harper, who wants to be like George, so they seem a bit embarrassed.
From Victoria, we hopped the ferry from Swartz Bay, and threaded the needle through misty green islands and arrived in Vancouver. More clapping. The show at the Arts Club Theatre on Granville Island was a raucous, blast for a Sunday night and the reception after for their Youth Center was a chance to see old familiar faces and some new ones. Friends from back in the day of camping on Saturna with Ferron after the Vancouver Folk Festival where I had insulted some in the crowd by observing that I loved Mother Teresa in ET. Friends from that long ago.
Next morning I bid a sad farewell to Michele Karlsberg, my publicist who had been road managing me since San Fransisters. She headed back to Staten Island, by plane not train and her friend from SF, Francisca, headed home. Unmanaged, I managed to make my way through Customs back into the states to LA. When the agents ask if you are carrying any dangerous weapons, I always want to point to my tongue. But the signs all say, "No Joking" which I take very personally.
San Fransisters!
The 25th Anniversary Tour picked up some left hearts in San Fransisters. For four nights of fun, I played the Empire Plush Room at the York Hotel. There was still a little Kitty Carlisle Hart dust on the stage from when she entertained there. Rory Paull and Rob Kotonly, indefatigable bicoastal producers who also produce shows in New York and Philly, have taken over the Plush Room, a beloved SF speakeasy that was about to be closed. They’ve refurbished it beautifully and gotten it back to working order. They both love to give tours of the secret tunnels that flappers and those in the know navigated to get to the club. Rumor has it that a ghost of a former piano player roams the hotel at night. I think it’s a queen whacked out on ambien trying to find the kitchen.
After thirty "straight" days of rain, the weather was sunny and lovely and the people were happy. I rode over to Berkeley and did an interview with Andrea Lewis, host of the Morning Show on good old KPFA. Andrea is one of the smoothest, most professional interviewers I’ve had the pleasure to talk with – she gets all the info in absolutely effortlessly. KRON’s morning show with the much beloved reviewer and raconteur, Jan Wahl, was too short. I wanted to interview her. She promised to come to the big NCLR Women’s Dinner at the Moscone Center on April 22. I told her it’s three acres of lesbians in fabulous outfits and she said she’d be there with her hat on! Sedge Thompson’s live radio show, West Coast Live, was another pleasure, Prairie Home Companion without the heavy breathing.
On Sunday afternoon, my dear sponsors, NCLR hosted a meet and greet at Sauce Restaurant for all their major supporters. The food was great – the folks in San Francisco do good food and that includes Hans Food, the little hole in the wall Michele and I found for breakfast. It was wonderful to meet so many local,loyal NCLR supporters. Kate Kendall had just returned from a trip to Minneapolis and fired up the crowd with tales of the cases they are involved in there.
So now I can add the Plush Room to the venues I have known in San Fransisters: The Great American Music Hall, The JCC of Marin, the Herbst Theater, The Palace of Fine Arts, the Brava Theater, The Greek Theater, the Calvin Simmons Theater [where I played during an earthquake!] to name a few.
Happy Spring. Sadly war. Three years now and the Support the Troops ribbons are faded and have started to resemble infinity signs. It truly is March Madness. I’m chilling for a couple days in Corte Madera with my dear old friends Jeanne Rizzo and Pali Cooper before heading up to Seattle, Vancouver and Victoria. While some might say it’s time to move to Canada, I’m just going to visit. In San Franscisco, ten thousand people protested the war on the third anniversary. I like to protest it every day. I’m specifying my taxes should go to education. Risk an audit for peace.
If I go to heaven, it'll be through Atlanta
My ten day swing through Florida was orange fruitful. I did some gloating when I talked to Michele back home in New York and she’d tell me, "It’s 20 degrees here and the sky has been cloudy all day." Oops, Brokeback residue.
In Tampa, I played to a packed crowd in the MCC Church. I think they may have offered indulgences with each ticket. The church is the heart and soul of the gay Tampa area – vibrant, expanding, hopeful and politically engaged. Renee and Kathie, the show producers, smoothly oversaw all the show details and then the next morning were up at 8am to prepare the sound stage for their Winter Gay Pride. At the post-show reception with NCLR, I saw lots of snow birds from my dear Ptown. And I think I only referred to Tampans as Tampons once. Restraint is so adult.
In case you don’t know, Jacksonville is way too close to Georgia. It’s one of the loops for the Bible Belt. The Baptists own eight blocks of downtown, with a huge megachurch and three parking garages. Remember when they used to raise money with collection envelopes? But the show at the North Florida performance hall was a total pleasure. And the crowd was hungry. Jim Wagner, who has an amazing commitment to lesbian gatherings and a fabulous energy, brought me to Jacksonville. He is the fastest Southern talker I have ever heard – his whole day is spent just trying to keep up with his great ideas. At the reception after he presented a check for $1200 to NCLR for all their wonderful work.
The last stop on my weekend trifecta was the Carefree Resort just outside Ft. Myers. I stayed with Jane and Shar, friends retired from Lady Jane’s Inn in Ptown, who hosted me and hosted a small lunch with The Gerbornes, friends from the early 1980s in upstate New York. Shar’s homecooking was a lovely respite from Delta airline pretznuts.
Again it was great to see so many friends from around the country, all nestled in this little paradise. The Club House as performing space is a delight with great sound and lights. In my later performing years, I hope to play a retired lesbian community circuit. They are retired from work, not from being lesbians. They have jam-packed, fun-filled days and I was happy to be there.
A few days later I performed at the gorgeous old Manuel Artime Theater in Little Havana in a benefit for The National Lesbian and Gay Task Force for their Winter Party. It was a pleasure to appear on the bill with lots of local Miami talent and Billy Porter from New York City. His singing brought down the house.
After three days being the comedy concierge for the Gill Foundation Political Outgiving Conference, I made my way back to New York just in time to perform at Nothing Like a Dame – The Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS fundraiser, this year at the Imperial Theater. It’s a Dame Dim Sum of some of the finest women on Broadway, all donating their one night off a week for this great cause. Cynthia Nixon, Tyne Daly, the Jersey Girls – I am talking major damedom. And me – grinning ear to ear – getting my picture taken with some excellent leggy young lovelies. I raised 20K auctioning off a Harry Winston watch – all the Catholic shaming finally came in handy when I was pushing the bling.
Cheers and shout outs to all the courageous, politically active lesbian and gay people in the Sunshine State. I was inspired throughout by your lives.
Happy International Women’s Day! Go kiss Martina! I know she’s a US citizen now, but do you need a reason?
Luvul
Drop your head back and pretend you’re a turkey drowning in the rain and say "Luvul". That’s where The Alternative is – one of the sweetest gay gal spaces since The Planet. The owners, Kim and Gerine [like tangerine without the tan] are the hardest working gals in the business and in three years they’ve made the club a great performance space and local watering hold. If you are in the area of Louisville, dew drop in. That’s what the place used to be called.
We had a great show and I’m only sorry I had to leave so early the next morning on a bizarre routing to Boston. I missed the Farm Equipment Show at the Fairgrounds and even worse, I missed the Tractor Pull. Next time I’m bringing my mesh cap and I’ll be there – guarandamnteed.
Saturday night at the Somerville Theater was also a rip. Chris Guerrero and Ellen Friedman, who have produced me in Boston for 18 of my 25 years of performing, got some fine press in the Boston papers and even though it was a below freezing night, the crowd came out for a very hot time. It was like old homo week – old college friends, old students and teachers, lots of ex-nuns! Those old vaudeville stages bring out the raunchiest in me and the crowd egged me on. No friendly fired pellet guns were used, but they were mentioned.
Am back in Manhattan, packing up my think tank tops and trying to find my summer shorts for a ten day swing through Florida. And watching the Olympic curling for relaxation. I have a very slight Olymic fever, but otherwise, all is well.
Category Kate
On Saturday, I got out of New York’s LaGuardia just before the big blizzard hit, dumping 29 inches and forcing our local weather people to lash themselves to bus stops everywhere. It’s 51 and slushy now. The corners are impassable.
Clearly, I want Jonetta Jones’ job on TWC. Why do weather channels play porn music?
But I digress. And generally I call it a show.
My destination was Indianapolis for a show at the gorgeous Clowes Hall at Butler University. In addition to the fabulous opening act, Dino Sierp, the producer suprised me with an encore of 25 gifts delivered by five dogs who had been trained by a local organization [ICAAN]. Think pink dildo as dog toy. Prisoners from Indiana institutions train the dogs to live with the disabled and with troubled adolescents. The group named one of the puppy trainees after me – K.C. Puppy chow all around!
Broad hint to all of you. Kate or K.C. is a lovely name.
After that Indy high point, I met up with my galpal, Urvashi, in College Station, TX, the home of the George Bush the First library. Her parents were visiting from India. Not for the library. But to see her other sister and for a reunion.
So, yes, those of you with sharp timetable minds – I was there for the Dick Cheney shoot-em-up in Texas! It was a comedy gift for Valentines Day. And now people are mad that he didn’t tell us anything or anything sooner? It was an accident, not a miracle. He has never told us anything. It’s none of our beeswax. Be nice if the press were as due diligent about W.M.D.s, secret energy commissions, wiretapping as they are about this "accident".
Don’t want to harsh your mellow! It’s Susan B. Anthony’s Birthday today. Tra la!
Fact Checker!
One time I got an email from a woman who told me that she did not appreciate being pointed at during my show. And she appreciated it even less when I called her a "fat chick."
I was stunned. I’ve got my own body image issues and I could not imagine that I’d done something like that.
Turns out, during that show, some woman had been correcting me – and who knew from Norway or Finland? – but I’m not the president – and after about the third time she yelled something out – and she was correct – I said, "Well, I’m glad the fact checker is here tonight."
Out in the ether of the net, there lurks another helpful fact checker, who kindly pointed out to me that Dino Sierp and Tracye Lea Lawson’s names from the preceding blog, were spelled incorrectly.
My apologies and thanks to my careful reader for that and so much more.
Now I have to go on Oprah and take my lashings. Oh my, is it Lent already?
Hoosier Daddy?
The Santa Cruz show was a dang hoot. The night before the show in the Rios Theater, that 2000 year old mystic woman, Ramtha, had done a show there. But you knew that. There was still some woo-woo residue on the stage. The lovely and talented Tracy Lee Lawson, the former P.T. Barnum of women’s culture in Santa Cruz – radio! shows! newspapers! she did it all – was kind enough to drive me to and fro. It was great to catch up with her. She’s disconsolate about the SeaHawks and spells that Pittsburgh team with an "a".
Am in NYC, resting up for the show with Dino Sierpe in Indianapolis. Dino puts on a really big shue. Generally the theme is "Kate Clinton this is your life." and she drags some embarrassing bit of my past out of the closet. You don’t know her name. You had the powers in the above paragraph. Not this one.
One year she dressed me up as a nun and made me run an auction for her. I was embarrassed that I had only gotten thirteen bucks for an old headband from Cris Williamson. So I said, "I’ll throw in a kiss." From the back of the room, I heard, "Thirteen twenty-five."
This year, I predict, because I’m still feeling it from Santa Cruz, that by the end of the night we will all be bobbing for red clown noses in a big tub. Bring a towel.
And we're off!!
Saturday, January 28 we kicked it off in Long Beach to a sold old, to the rafters house. All systems were go, thanks to my excellent team, Tam and Michele and the StandOut producer, Andrea Meyerson! She also filmed the show for posterity – it’s in the can – and we hope to have a tour documentary for you by 2007. After the show, NCLR and StandOut hosted a post-show lesbo schmooze fest which went on to the wee hours, as Andrea’s partays often do.
Next day in San Diego, the Women’s Chorus celebrated my 25th and the release of their first new CD. It was a matinee which I love because the older I get, the earlier my shows are – I’m aiming for the Grand Slam breakfast show at Denny’s! Because the lights were brilliant, I didn’t see the six women in the front row with L-Word red clown noses, or I would have tried to get them to snort them off during the show.
At the reception after I got to hang out with my niece, Madeliene, who is the only Clinton who has left the northern tundra of upstate New York. I told her her first joke when she was one day old. She asks me what it was.
Before going to Santa Cruz, I’m up in Denver with Urvashi who is here for business meetings. Quality time, dears, quality time. And we had to watch the sad state of the union together because it’s too scary to do it alone.
Moment of silence for Coretta in the Black History Month. The shortest month and that’s not right.
And Wendy Wasserstein.
She was funny.