Perhaps the most thrillingly embarrassing thing that ever happened to me was the night I went to the Waldorf-Astoria with my then “girlfriend” Barbara to see the legendary Jim Bailey perform. No one has ever equaled his uncanny impersonation skills. To see him step out as Judy Garland or Barbra Streisand or even the inimitable Phyllis Diller was to see a brilliant and vastly entertaining master at work. (Photo, above, borrowed from Jim’s own website. You can link to it here.)

The year was 1973 and I was a sweet sixteen, never been kissed, budding theatre buff about to leave home for prep school for the first time. Barbara had promised to take me out and celebrate my departure and I insisted we go hear Jim Bailey. How had I even heard of him? I must have seen him on the Merv Griffin Show or perhaps Ed Sullivan’s. I was in awe of his artistry and quite taken with his off-stage looks.

Poor Barbara! The evening was a disaster. I ordered about half-a-dozen Bloody Marys (young people were never carded in fancy bars back then) and got wildly drunk. I flirted shamelessly with Jim Bailey from my tiny front-row seat and when the lights came down, we were invited backstage. Barbara didn’t want to go. She thought he was “creepy”. So she waited out front, and was immediately presented with the bill. Unfortunately it was for $50 (neither of us had factored in the price of admission) and she didn’t have enough cash to cover it. This was in the days before teenagers carried credit cards. I had to call my father out on Long Island and he drove all the way into the city at midnight to rescue us.

Imagine Dad’s surprise when he finally arrived at the Peacock Alley Cafe and found his youngest son sitting in the dressing room of a drag queen, singing show tunes, and discussing make-up tips! Jim Bailey, unflappable as he was charming, could not have been more diplomatic. (I think he might have fancied my Dad, who back then was as handsome as Mayor Lindsay). Jim smoothed things over and we were sent on our merry, giggling way, autographed programs in hand. I never saw or spoke to Barbara again.

In honor of that priceless memory, here’s my latest YouTube recommendation: Jim Bailey in his/her prime. Why can’t TV (pardon the pun) be this good today?

Remember you can click on “Tubes” at right in the Themes section and find all my video finds.