Call Me Mister
The big opening of the week was the musical revue "Call Me Mister," following "The Day Before Spring" into the National Theatre on the 18th. The gimmick was that everyone in the cast was a veteran, or in the case of the women, had been a performer in a USO show or at a military base, hospital or canteen, which covered just about every Broadway female gypsy. According to a story that ran March 3 in Lewis Funke's column in The New York Times, the male cast members had to produce their discharge papers before signing their Equity contracts. All of the production staff also had some semblance of military credentials. The set designer was a much-decorated bombardier but Special Services was the unit that had been home to most of them.
The only cast member with a name that meant anything to theatergoers was Betty Garrett, who had a solo, "I'm in Love With a Soldier Boy," in Cole Porter's "Something for the Boys" in 1943. She was also Ethel Merman's understudy for the show and went on for the star several times during the run. Earlier she had appeared in a couple of short-lived revues with the American Youth Theatre (originally known as the Flatbush Arts Theatre), worked in the railway pavilion at the World's Fair and played the Borscht circuit. In 1944/45 she appeared in "Laffing Room Only," the follow-up to Olsen and Johnson's antic hit revue "Hellzapoppin'." She was performing in the Chicago production of the show when she was cast in "Call Me Mister" in January. She took some time off to be with her husband, the actor Larry Parks, who was in Hollywood where he had been cast to play Al Jolson in "The Al Jolson Story," his first major motion picture role.
Co-producer Melvyn Douglas was a Hollywood star with stage credentials as well. Composer Harold Rome was a Broadway name. His revue "Pins and Needles," produced originally as a weekend entertainment for members of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union with a non-professional cast, had been a smash hit when it moved to Broadway in the late 1930s. The 1938 follow-up, "Sing Out the News," produced by Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman, was not a financial success, although it had a decent run, and produced a song, "Franklin D. Roosevelt Jones," that was a hit for Judy Garland and Ella Fitzgerald. The show also introduced June Allyson. Rome had contributed songs and sketches to several other shows in the 1940s and with the outbreak of war helped develop "The Lunchtime Follies," a revue that played defense plants. He joined the Army in 1943, working in the Special Forces creating shows to play military camps and bases. He also wrote English lyrics to four popular Soviet songs for US performances back when Stalin was an ally. In 1945 his English-language version of a French song "(All of a Sudden) My Heart Sings" was a hit for Martha Stewart (the '40s singer, not the household goddess of the same name) and Johnny Johnston and was sung by Kathryn Grayson in the hit movie "Anchors Aweigh." He had a reputation for writing songs of "social significance" with a definite leftward slant.
According to story in the May 6 issue of Time, the production had been fully capitalized for $150,000 two days after its first audition, "something of a record." Dorothy S. Thackrey, as Dorothy Schiff was then known, president and publisher of the NY Post, was among the major backers.
"Call Me Mister" had been a big hit with critics and audiences during its extended Philadelphia try-out. Word had it that the show was essentially non-political and a lot of fun. The Philadelphia reviewer for the trade magazine Billboard found it “a fast funny show with plenty of good tunes,” “top skits” and “an exciting array of dancing—both popular and ballet." He reported that it had gotten a thumbs up from all four of the city's newspapers. Garrett was stopping the show with her number "South America, Take It Away," but New Yorkers were advised to watch out as well for a comedian named Jules Munshin.
On April 7 the Times Sunday magazine devoted a photo spread to the show with scenes accompanied by snippets of lyrics of some of the songs. It showed:
A train full of GIs singing "Going Home Train."
Danny Scholl and Paula Bane singing "His Old Man" to their new baby. "He looks just like a funny Pocket edition of me," the lyrics said.
"Senator" Jules Munshin singing to "GI" Chandler Cowles. "I hear ten million votes all calling GI Joe."
Betty Garrett singing " Surplus Blues," the lament of a once popular waitress at a deserted joint by a now emptied out military base.
Bill Callahan singing "Call Me Mister."
According to a story that ran in The New York Times on opening day, 18 performances had already been sold out to theater parties, mostly for charity fund raisers. But "Call Me Mister" was not a sure shot success. Critics and audiences were tiring of revues. In the Twenties these shows featured the biggest stars, the most popular songs and splashy production numbers. In the Thirties they became a vehicle for social comment, whether it was the witticisms of the nightclub set or the politics of the left. The war had brought a number of limited-run revues, sometimes featuring military casts, to raise money for war-related causes and charities. But in the postwar world they seemed uneven hodge-podges of so-so music and skits that often fell flat. Hollywood did big production numbers better and the book musical had grown more sophisticated and beguiling.