Medford mail tribune., April 19, 1959, Image 56

toe ; nd dhk Iff J
TAts versatile comic is riding high today, but should he
fall from fame again he'll be ready with one of
his patented comebacks. .
by Kevin V. Brown
In the asphalt jungle of New York's lower
East Side, where Europe's huddled masses
usually formed their first huddle in America,
n skinny little newsboy named Aaron Chwatt
began fighting his way out of it by singing
the news on street corners in six different
languages. And, with a shrewdness born of
necessity, if he "layed an egg" on one corner,
he changed corners or languages.
The boy didn't know it then, but the pat
tern was set for one of the most unusual
careers in show business. Because, ever
since, Aaron Chwatt (Red Buttons), a realist
in a world of fantasy, has been changing his
act to fit the audience or changing the audi
ence to fit his act
When Red stumbled off the stage of Holly
wood's Pantages Theater last year, with a
lump in'his throat and an Oscar in his hands
(for his performance in "Sayonara"), it
marked one of the greatest comebacks in the
history of show business. Two years before,
Red had dropped out of sight after the ratings
of his television show had done the same.
When he accepted the Academy Award,
Red admitted publicly, "I'm a very lucky
guy," but later conceded privately, "I've been
making comebacks all my life."
It's true. When he first exploded into
national prominence with his sensational TV
debut in 1953, Red was hailed as an over
night sensation. Actually, he had years of
show-business ups and downs behind him.
His hit-and-miss career had sputtered from
the sidewalks of New .York through the
Borscht Circuit, club dates, burlesque, Broad
way, night clubs, and both television and
Hollywood without gaining anything but
sporadic recognition.
But through it all, the resilient comic with
the practical mind, the rubber face, and even
more rubbery legs, always rolled with the
punch, landed on his feet, and bounced back
usually with a new act or a new audience.
The select few who helped Red along the
way included a Polish immigrant, a bur
lesque impresario, a Shakespearean actor, an
Air Force general, and a piano player.
The immigrant, of course, was Red's father.
A hat blocker in New York's tough garment
district, he not only didn't object to show
business but actively encouraged Red's early
career, soliciting some of his first jobs.
"When you're poor," Red recalls with logic,
"almost any way out is a way out."
One of his early jobs as a hired entertainer
came at 16 as a singing bellboy in a New
York roadhouse. Besides experience, it gave
him his name. His hair (now black, turning
gray) was then very red, and all bellhops
were called "Buttons." Hence, Red Buttons.
With his new name and a still-young voice,
Red migrated to the Catskills Summer re
sorts the famed "Borscht Circuit,!' spawn
ing ground for many great careers. In the
mountains, appropriately enough, Red's real
ups and downs began.
The first crisis came when his voice changed.
Fired as a singer, he switched to comedy.
"Pie in the face, seltzer in the hair. Not good,
. but I got paid."
The first man to catch Red on the bounce
was Harold Minsky, czar of New York
burlesque. He hired the brash young man
as a "third banana" (stooge) for comedy
routines, but within a year Red was "top
banana." During the next three years he
built a respectable reputation in a medium
that produced such top-notch stars as Phil
Silvers and Abbott and Costello.
Red's burlesque days ended in 1941 when
Mayor Fiorello La Guardia closed down bur
lesque in New York. Once again on the side
walks, Red changed audiences.
Jose Ferrer was then casting a comedy for
Broadway. Remembering Red's act from
burlesque, Ferrer sent for him. The play, a
satire about Navy brass at Pearl Harbor,
was scheduled to open Monday, Dec. 8, 1941,
but, as Red says, "You know about Dec. 7."
Out of work again but still on his feet,
Red got a part in another play, "Vickie." A
farce about wartime suburbia, the play was
universally panned by the critics, but one of
them was observant enough to comment: ". . .
the only member of the cast really at home .
in the midst of its slapstick and horseplay
was Red Buttons, once of the burlesque cir
cuit and still able to convey its kind of
raucous comic verve. . ."
It was no use. The play folded.
Red changed corners. In Hollywood, he
maneuvered a film contract and was just
starting work when he was drafted.
He bounced back this time with an assist
from Gen. "Hap" Arnold, Army Air Forces
chief of staff.' In one of the shrewdest boosts
for air power, General Arnold commissioned
playwright Moss Hart to write one about
the Air Force. The result was "Winged
Victory," an instantaneous hit.
Red, one of 7,000 ex-entertainers in serv
ice who were ordered to apply for parts in
the show, was one of only 300 accepted.
Private Buttons was good as usual, but in a
small part in a big cast he was all but lost.
One critic found him, though, with this
left-handed compliment: "...I should like
particularly to mention the small, hilarious,
unidentifiable private on the balcony in the
barracks street scene. . ."
It was Red, a hit at last in a hit play, but
now he was "unidentifiable."
Red stayed with "Winged Victory" through
out its two-year Broadway flight and also
made the movie version. After the war he
(Continued)
2
Family Weekly, April It, J 959