[ PHOTO GALLERY OF FRANCES FAYE'S CAREER ]

FRANCES FAYE

"STONED EVER SINCE"

Frances Faye was born Frances Cohen on Stone Avenue in Brooklyn's Brownsville section on November 4, 1912. Her father David was an electrician; her mother Rebecca was a homemaker, born in Russia. "I was born on Stone Avenue in Brownsville and I've been stoned ever since," quipped Faye in 1975.

Her mother's taste in decorating got Frances go-go-going by installing a piano in their living room. According to Faye's bio for the Broadway show Artists & Models, as a child Fran, "fooled around on the piano in her living room, pecking away at the tunes current then. Though the piano was there, neither Miss Faye nor her brothers took lessons, her parents merely wanted a piano in the living room." Fran never learned to read music, but she did share her love of music with cousin Danny Kaminsky, who became entertainer Danny Kaye: "I taught him 'Minnie the Moocher,'" boasted Fran.

Young Frances left school at 15 and fell into show business when she agreed to be a last minute substitute for a piano player who did not show up to accompany a singer. Thrown together, the two formed Faye's first act and a theatrical agent signed them. In just two months, as part of that duo, Frances was making $200 a week in a Chicago nightclub. Just as quickly, Frances became a solo act, as she recounted in 1978 to John Wilson of The New York Times:

We were playing a big nightclub in Detroit, and the singer said to me, "What would you do if I left you here alone?" I started to cry. Just then the boss came in and said to the singer, "You're fired, but the kid stays." "What am I going to do?" I asked him. "Just play the piano and sing," he told me, "You've got no figure, you're not pretty, but everybody likes you." It just happened right away, like God said, "You're Frances Faye, and this is it."

PROHIBITION WAS "EXCITING!"

Frances paid her dues playing New York speakeasies and venues such as the Cotton Club and Le Martinique, singing songs like "Singin' in the Rain" and "Mississippi Mud." At the speakeasy Club Calais, where she was booked most of 1931, Fran quickly rose to star status during the years of Prohibition. In a 1966 interview with Hugh Curnow of Sydney's Sunday Telegraph, Frances called these years "exciting":

The gangsters were great guys. Men like Legs Diamond. Names so big in the underworld that I still don't even like to talk about them. But they loved me and that was wonderful for any teenage girl's morale. I'd sing and dance for them and they'd come and see me as my fans. Then they began to disappear, one by one. What a time it was! It will never be quite so wild again.

For most of the 30s, Fran was a 52nd Street fixture, playing the Hickory House, the Yacht Club, Club 18, Billy Rose's Casa Manana and Leon and Eddie's. Nightclub comedian Joe E. Lewis dubbed her "Queen of the Supper Clubs" and she sometimes did three shows a night: at 9 p.m., midnight and 3:15 a.m. After hours, she would head to Harlem to catch other acts and participate in late night jam sessions. In Arnold Shaw's The Street That Never Slept, Ralph Watkins, co-owner of Basin Street East, recalls Frances as the star of the Stable on 51st:

Frances was big and packed the place. She was not much of a pianist even though she wanted a Steinway when she played ... she gave a piano a big workout. She was quite a character, exciting with a cute way of delivering and very likable. She had a way of shouting and made up little tunes. She was not a great singer, not a great pianist but she could capture an audience.

In 1936, you could celebrate New Year 1936 with Frances at Manhattan's Thru the Looking Glass for a mere six dollars. She was nicknamed "zazz zu zazz" for her trademark scat and became famous for torch numbers like "No Regrets," which she recorded for Decca that year at the suggestion of pal Bing Crosby.

Also in 1936, Frances appeared in Paramount's Double or Nothing with Bing, performing "After You." Fran was right at home, pounding a piano loudly and "coon-shouting" as Variety described her singing. Soon she is scatting with Martha Raye, then Bing, winding up the number with what may loosely be called "dancing."

After filming, Faye stayed in L.A., performing at the Famous Door. It was a decade of late nights and glamorous society for the "Queen of Zazz Zu Zazz," which she detailed in a 1968 article in Sydney's The Bulletin:

One night a man said, "Do you know the song, 'Girl of My Dreams, I Love You'?" And I said, "Yes" and he gave me a $1,000 bill, right there in the club. He said, "Would you please play that again?"-he gave me another $1,000 bill. In the end, he gave me $8,000 for playing the song eight times.

A NEW FRANCES

Frances had style but was not a traditional beauty. She transformed herself during the 1940s, dropping from size 20 to size 12 and spending $15,000 on "a new wardrobe to fit the new chassis," according to a 1942 New York Evening Journal article. Yet her 1942 Soundie film showed as little of Frances as possible: Frances's head pokes out of a steambox as she sings "I Ain't Got Nobody" while glamour girls in maid uniforms flip up their skirts to show off their panties. This sort of treatment when Frances was thin, elegant, and looking her best must have been disheartening for the talented musician. It is probably no surprise Frances often humbly commented in her act and interviews, "I'm not pretty but ..."

Besides nightclubs, the piano-pounding chanteuse performed USO shows in California and appeared on Broadway in Artists and Models with Jane Froman and Jackie Gleason. In that revue, Fran was backed by four lady harpists playing up-tempo swing style jazz. Sadly, nine New York papers panned the show and it closed quickly.

Still Fran continued her heavy schedule. In 1941, she headlined the New State Theatre and in 1942 she was featured at New Jersey's Beachcomber. Later, she was under contract to Lou Walter's Latin Quarter, where a typical evening featured an eclectic program: Frances Faye, the Latin Quarter Lovelies, The Stadlers Novelty Dance Artists, Singer Tommy Ryan, and Dr. Giovanni, the World's Greatest Pickpocket.

Frances again changed her look and sound. Latin rhythms that characterize her later work were introduced into her act with songs like "Tico Tico." Four of the eight songs from her 1946 album on the International label were included in the Jasmine CD set released in 2006 (including the Faye-Greene composition "Purple Wine"); while lively, these selections are less frantic and more lyrical than earlier work. The album included the daring choice of "Drunk with Love," a song written and recorded by "pansy" performer Bruz Fletcher, who committed suicide at 34 because of the persecution he received as a gay performer. "Drunk with Love" became one of Fran's signature tunes, appeared on three albums (her Capitol version begins Disc 1 of this set) and remained in her act until the end of her career; it let gay audiences know immediately what she was about.

In 1945, Frances played the Rio Cababa in Chicago and in 1946 she was at Chez Paree. In 1947, "Frances Faye, the Atomic Bombshell of Rhythm" shared the bill with comedian Jan Murray at Buffalo's Cool Town Casino.

Frances had two brief marriages in the 1940s; the last ended in early 1946 when Frances filed for divorce on charges of cruelty. In conversation with Tyler Alpern, Teri Shepherd commented on Faye's career and marriage difficulties:

She was put down for being a woman, Jewish and if she said anything for the gay kids, they'd push her back 14 notches. She had two "cornball (but very good looking) husbands" who cheated on her, were underhanded with her finances, and could not be trusted while she was on stage. Fran was the breadwinner and each time she found out what was going on with her husbands, she pressed on without them.

As the 40s drew to a close, the era of big bands and nightclubs also ended. But Frances moved with the times. In 1949 she was performing on the still novel medium of network television, and in the early 1950s Faye increased her income as a recording artist.

FABULOUS FIFTIES

The 1950s were the period of her greatest artistic productivity. Frances shunned the smart black dresses, big hairdos and obligatory orchids of her 40s act. For the new decade she sported a parakeet-like crew cut and a small photo of a mannish Faye (hair short and wearing trousers) on the back of her I'm Wild Again album must have sent a jolt to the gender-conscious 50s audience. This was, after all, a time when womanizer Chet Baker was called "fey" by the press because of his sensitive singing and it was illegal in California for more than two homosexuals to congregate.

But Frances was not shy, she was a pioneer. A demo she made around 1951 has a brazen lesbian aside. Singing "The Man I Love," Frances adds, "... the man, the man, THE MAN? What am I saying that for?" It was bold to do, especially given the function of a demo recording. As Frances was so different from the norm, jazz critic Leonard Feather began a 1952 Downbeat article by comparing her to pretty singers of the day:

After studying the physical characteristics of typical recording stars of the last couple years-the Toni Ardens, Eileen Bartons, and Mindy Carsons-you wouldn't be likely to pick, as Capitol's best bet for a new recording star and fresh sound a matronly looking woman with a Brooklyn birth certificate, arthritis, a tough vocabulary, a quarter of a century in show business and hardly any records at all, none of them hits.

Frances's recording career took off when Phil Kahl, founder of Roulette Records, brought her to Capitol in 1952. She released several singles starting with "Night and Day":

This is the first time I've come out sounding like myself on a record. The other times they would hear me in a club, but when they would ask me to record they would make me close the piano, ask me to sing softly, tell me not to bang, and they didn't let me keep my shoes on. The Capitol date was different.

In 1953, the album No Reservations was compiled from her singles and new material, including two Faye compositions, and Dave Cavanaugh's arrangements showcased Faye's musicianship perfectly. However, Capitol also insisted Faye record novelty tunes of their choosing, such as "Tweet Tweet Tweetheart." These musical impositions are one of the reasons Frances left the label.

Approached by Red Clyde, Frances moved to Bethlehem Records, a major jazz label founded by Gus Wildi, where her recording work blossomed. Her first Bethlehem LPs, I'm Wild Again and Relaxin' with Frances Faye, as well as her entire Capitol outpout, were included in the 2006 Jasmine release. She worked with terrific musicians (some working without credit due to contractual problems) such as Maynard Ferguson, Herbie Mann and conductor/ arranger Russ Garcia. Gus Wildi recalled meeting Frances:

On the way to see her, Red wanted to sort of prepare me for the visit, stating that Fran was very "down to earth" and at times disposed to use some good old four letter words as part of her conversation, which at that time one did not expect to hear as often as today. Well, none of this happened at all! Fran was an impeccable and charming hostess. Frankly, I was impressed with her as a human being.

Frances was in California, her arthritis eased by the climate, and her show continually sold out on the Hollywood Strip. She also played major venues in Vegas and Miami, earning about $4,000 a week. Frances even broke an audience record by drawing over 1,000 fans to the main room of the Thunderbird Hotel for a 5 a.m. show on a Wednesday night. By mid-decade, Fran's live act had gelled. Songs, hairstyles and musicians would change but Faye had the act she would use until retirement. In 1975, Rex Reed wrote in the Daily News:

She is pure dazzling show business-part jazz, part comedy, all energy and heart. Her act is a rummage sale of musical bits and pieces, full of chaos and savvy and musical thunder.

Part of her success in the press was that Frances knew how to schmooze. She would work as many of her friends' and supporters' names into song lyrics as she could: "Thank you, John, for doing my hair," sang Frances under a horrible platinum flip while performing on the Playboy Penthouse TV show. When her first Capitol single was released, Downbeat wrote that Faye "spent a whole week sending out personal letters to disc jockeys all over the country."

"IT'S A TERI TERI DAY"

At a nightclub in the late 1950s, Frances met the young and glamorous Teri Shepherd, who became her lifelong companion and "secretary" (as the press called her). No secretary, Teri took control as manager. For example, when sharing a bill with big-name male comedians, the comics might intentionally run over their time, leaving Fran only 30 minutes. Teri would have none of that; she told the other act if they didn't get off on cue, she would dim the room lights. When they tested her, Teri just muscled in, dimmed the lights and got Fran onstage.

Teri thought Frances was best heard live and she organized the two 1959 Caught in the Act live albums which proudly embraced the gay lifestyle in the middle of Eisenhower's America. Frances sang, "Gay, gay, is there another way?" Many did not know that "gay" meant homosexual, but there was no misunderstanding "Frances and Her Friends," which rhymed "... Shirley goes with Pearly ... and Eddie goes with Teddy ... and Georgy goes with Orgy!" Co-written with Teri, the song mentions real friends and even poodles ("Cuddles goes with Suzy"). Promoting the album on television shows, Faye bravely wove Teri's name into the evening's lyrics.

Next came an album of Fats Domino songs and an album of blues songs for Imperial Records. Neither was her best work, Imperial did not support Faye much-to wit, the cover of one album was just a few blue inkblots under her misspelled name ("Franc[i]s Faye"). In fact, production values and management at Imperial were so frustrating that Teri walked out of Fran's sessions.

Mercifully, Frances soon went to jazz label Verve, where she worked with great musicians including Jack Costanzo, Frank Rosolino and Howard Roberts and was reunited with Russ Garcia for the Latin-inflected album Frenzy!

TOO "HIP" FOR THAT ROOM

In 1958, during a 20-week run at the Hotel Riviera, Fran tripped on a bathroom carpet and broke her hip. For eight years afterwards, Frances suffered terrible pain, enduring two unsuccessful hip replacement operations. At first, she had to be literally carried about, later she got around on crutches and a cane. Years later, while performing in London in the mid-60s, Faye received a third hip replacement that solved the problem. >p>Despite the accident, Frances worked hard. She modified her act to accommodate the injury; when the lights would go up, Frances was already seated at the piano. In a 1959 New York Evening Journal column, Louella Parsons reported, "Frances Faye, who opened Thursday night at the Crescendo, is still on crutches, but that does not affect her repartee."

The early 60s were active; Frances toured, did TV and made albums for Verve. Frances and Teri's house was full of guests and music; Clint Eastwood and Rock Hudson would come over, hang out in the living room and play guitar. Singer Lily Pons was a close friend (the proper Pons found free-spirited Faye a delightful enigma) and would sing as Fran played, neither missing a note. Sadly, no tapes exist of these home sessions.

In 1960, a blond, big haired Frances returned to Manhattan. One New York Evening Journal reviewer raved, "Frances Faye hit the New York scene last night with the impact of a 10-ton truck smashing through a concrete wall." Impressive for a 48 year-old woman unable to walk!

Frances didn't seem slowed down by the physical pain. In 1962, she was at Basin Street East, and during this period she worked with Redd Foxx, Don Rickles and Lenny Bruce; she had shared bills with comedians since the 1930s when she worked with Henny Youngman. In 1963, Frances was back at the Thunderbird Lounge and headed to Australia for the first of many visits (according to Teri, Frances made 15 tours down under). A huge hit at Chequers, Sydney's top club, the now carrot-topped Faye admitted to Gloria Newton of Australian Women's Weekly that she was nervous about her first show:

I was terrified. I'd never been to Australia, and I didn't know if they'd understand me or not. The first night was astounding; it was jam-packed, every inch of the club was full; it seemed like everybody came from everywhere and cheered and cheered and I would take 15, 16, 17 bows; and when I had to go everyone in town came to the airport.

Frances and Teri were in Australia when the Beatles hit there in 1964. Frances loved the Beatles and sang their songs for the rest of her career. She included "Hard Day's Night" on her last album, You Gotta Go! Go! Go! on the Regina label.

"GO, GO, GO"

As the 60s progressed, Fran played three continents and added new songs into her evolving act: "The Look of Love," "The Shadow of Your Smile" and a rocking Beatles' "Get Back." As her recording career waned, Fran resumed touring, back at London's Talk of the Town in 1965 and debuting in Melbourne just months after Judy Garland was booed off the stage there. Variety reported, "Near the end of her stint, Faye went into 'I'll Go My Way By Myself,' broke off and knowingly asked, 'Guess who last sang that in Melbourne?' then burst into her own version of 'Over the Rainbow'."

By the mid 60s, Fran again had a new look. According to Gloria Newton: "Frances has eight wigs, all auburn and all modeled on the Vidal Sassoon cut. Her stage wardrobe-she buys a completely new one for each engagement-is mostly Dior, fitted silk sheaths covered with yards of swirling chiffon in a myriad of colors." Under those wigs, Fran returned to Australia in 1967 and 1968, where one concert became a television special.

Frances's career still had high points in the 1970s. She toured a great deal and was at Talk of the Town again in 1970. Comic writer Bruce Vilanch, in the documentary film Get Bruce, says he was so taken by Faye's comic style that he made Bette Midler catch Fran's act: "I said, 'This is what your show should be like.'"

In 1975, Faye played the Spindletop, her first date in New York since 1964; once again, she had to be held over. With Fran's continuing popularity, some of her albums for Verve, Bethlehem and Capitol were reissued. In 1977, she packed Studio One in Los Angeles and the show was used in a TV movie about gay runaways, Alexander: The Other Side of Dawn. Louis Malle and Polly Platt also caught the Studio One shows and cast Frances as the madam in the film Pretty Baby. It was a juicy role and Frances allowed herself to be transformed into a frightful figure, as she explained to John Wilson: "The picture opens with me in bed smoking an opium pipe with a wig half off my head."

Early in 1978, Frances suffered a heart attack. Although she received a pacemaker, by fall she was touring from London to New York, her shows wilder than ever. She continued to perform until 1981, giving her last show in San Francisco. In 1984, Frances suffered the first of several strokes; for a while after the first, the only word Fran could pronounce clearly was "f*ck," which she used to great effect with friends.

Frances lived in retirement for 10 years with Teri before passing away on Nov. 8, 1991. She left Teri the rights to all the songs she wrote, including "Purple Wine," "Well, All Right," "You're Heavenly" and "Frances and Her Friends." Herb Caen's obituary for Frances in the San Francisco Chronicle read, "Frances's signature chant was 'go-go-go' and I'm sorry she went."

LOOKING BACK

-- Liner Notes by Tyler Alpern and Rex Strother, 2006

For more details on Faye's life and work,
visit Tyler Alpern's Frances Faye Website.

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