Jimmy, That Well-Dressed Man
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It is just 21 years this week since James ("Schnozzle") Durante, one of history's great clowns, first drew attention to his fine, foaming gifts at the old Club Durant off Broadway. In recent times he has had somewhat less than appreciative handling in Hollywood. But the past year has been one of his best.
Not only has he been able to dominate the Camel programs (CBS, 10 p.m., E.W.T.) in his own most explosive and sidesplitting mannerwith much credit to an understanding producer (Phil Cohan) and an admiring young foil (Garry Moore). Jimmy has also, after twelve years, made a sensational comeback in nightclub hilarity at Manhattan's Copacabana.
Those who have not heard Jimmy recount his morning adventures in a car pool have missed the funniest incident in the civilian war effort (Driver Durante, trying his best to keep proper control of the brake and '"exhilarator,'" is nudged so far over by "Share-the-ride-Schwartz" and other multiplying members of the pool that finally '"I'm standin' on da corner waitin' for a streetcar'").
There is also a great deal to be said for Jimmy's experience as chief inspector of the English Mint, charged with firing his best coiner ("Samuel did a good job on the pound notes, and he was all right with the half-pound notes and shillings. But Sam, he made da pence too long").
Those who have not had the luck or money to get into Manhattan's Copacabana (or other Durante nightspots in the past) have missed the full effect of Jimmy's comedy, which comes only from watching him work in a small joint where his extraordinary gusto can not only bounce forth but also reach him on the rebound from a close and delighted audience. Then Jimmy reaches a comic violence that makes his audience feel like spectators at a small Balkan war.
He may insult the Copacabana's boss ("He can't even spell da name!"). He may insult the menu ("Dere goes a load of ice with three olives. Twelve-fifty for dat load. Somebody's got to pay for da cocktail room!"). He may insult labor when a busboy knocks over a chair ("He's gotta pick it up. No one else can touch it. Union!"). He may challenge the whole situation when a microphone is lowered toward his expectant and famous nose ("Go ahead! Touch da nose! Just once! I'll sue da jernt for every dollar dey got! I'll turn da jernt inta a bowlin' alley!"). But the conspiratorial gleam which accompanies Jimmy's every imprecation ("Surrounded by assassins!") is a token of the vast human warmth he pours into giving pleasure and derives from having it received ("I know dere's a million good-lookin' guys, but I'm a novelty!").
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