was like sardines in there” ( 35 ).
Looking back on her experiences at the Continental Baths, Bette later stated in her book
A View from a Broad
, “For some reason, which will forever remain a mystery to me, the idea of a woman entertaining an audience dressed only in towels—an all-male audience, and homosexual, yet—is to every reporter I have ever met at once repulsive yet endlessly fascinating. . . . I always performed
en costume
. It’s true that occasionally I did wear a towel. But on my head, with some bananas and cashews hanging from it, as part of my tribute to Carmen Miranda and all the fruits and nuts of the world. . . . And by the way, just for therecord, I never laid my eyes on a single penis, even though I was looking real hard” ( 46 ).
In any case, Midler’s days at the tubs were officially over, and it was on to bigger and better gigs. Although she was a legend in New York City at this point, there was a whole country out there that didn’t know what she was all about. Right after the Baths she headlined several small rock clubs that were famous launching pads for recording artists: the Troubadour in Los Angeles, the Boarding House in San Francisco, and the Club Bijou in Philadelphia.
The real triumph came when she returned to New York City in December of 1972 to headline two sold-out concerts at Philharmonic Hall on New Year’s Eve: one early show at 8:00 P.M . and one late show at 11:00 P.M . Those two shows at Lincoln Center were the hottest tickets in all of Manhattan that New Year’s Eve!
Bette dazzled the crowd from her very first seconds on stage. She was carried in from the wings in a sedan chair swagged in red velvet drapes, so that only a dangling leg protruded. When the curtain was drawn, there was Bette sheathed in white satin, with a big “shit-eating grin” on her face. The crowd went wild that night, especially at the late show when she made an exit before the stroke of midnight and reappeared in a diaper and a sash with the numerals “1973” emblazoned across her chest. The audience was aglow in silver and sequins, and she made it clear for them that the new year was going to become known as “the year of Bette Midler.”
The press had a field day, lavishing her with praise for her appearances during the last two months of 1972.
The New York Times
called her “a bona fide original . . . an enormously theatrical young woman who possesses an uncanny singing talent. . . . the first white show woman of the current pop era!” ( 47 ).
Billboard
magazine exclaimed, “Bette Midler showed how spellbinding a true entertainer can be in this era of mediocrity hiding behind the banner of laid-back naturalness!” ( 2 ). And the
New York Daily News’
rock critic, Lillian Roxon, who was blown away by Bette on New Year’s Eve, declared, “It was heaven. . . . I can’t remember when I last saw a performer work so hard and give off and get so much love. . . . she does all the things no one does anymore, and I wish the rock & roll brigade would learn from her. . . . [She was] stalking and stomping around the stage like a hyena on speed!” ( 49 ).
That particular night was another turning point in Bette’s career, and she herself knew it. She was going to become the major music-industrysensation that she had hoped to become, but she knew that it was time for some changes. She looked out into the audience that evening and announced to her cheering fans who had fallen in love with her when she was the wild woman of the Baths, “I hope you stay with me, even when I don’t always do what you want me to. Next year you won’t even recognize me” ( 26 ).
Was she going to abandon the gay crowd who discovered her first? This was the big question that particular statement posed to many members of the audience that night.
“Me and those boys, we just went somewhere else. It was so much fun. I had the best time. It was something I just had to do, and I did it
Looking back on her experiences at the Continental Baths, Bette later stated in her book
A View from a Broad
, “For some reason, which will forever remain a mystery to me, the idea of a woman entertaining an audience dressed only in towels—an all-male audience, and homosexual, yet—is to every reporter I have ever met at once repulsive yet endlessly fascinating. . . . I always performed
en costume
. It’s true that occasionally I did wear a towel. But on my head, with some bananas and cashews hanging from it, as part of my tribute to Carmen Miranda and all the fruits and nuts of the world. . . . And by the way, just for therecord, I never laid my eyes on a single penis, even though I was looking real hard” ( 46 ).
In any case, Midler’s days at the tubs were officially over, and it was on to bigger and better gigs. Although she was a legend in New York City at this point, there was a whole country out there that didn’t know what she was all about. Right after the Baths she headlined several small rock clubs that were famous launching pads for recording artists: the Troubadour in Los Angeles, the Boarding House in San Francisco, and the Club Bijou in Philadelphia.
The real triumph came when she returned to New York City in December of 1972 to headline two sold-out concerts at Philharmonic Hall on New Year’s Eve: one early show at 8:00 P.M . and one late show at 11:00 P.M . Those two shows at Lincoln Center were the hottest tickets in all of Manhattan that New Year’s Eve!
Bette dazzled the crowd from her very first seconds on stage. She was carried in from the wings in a sedan chair swagged in red velvet drapes, so that only a dangling leg protruded. When the curtain was drawn, there was Bette sheathed in white satin, with a big “shit-eating grin” on her face. The crowd went wild that night, especially at the late show when she made an exit before the stroke of midnight and reappeared in a diaper and a sash with the numerals “1973” emblazoned across her chest. The audience was aglow in silver and sequins, and she made it clear for them that the new year was going to become known as “the year of Bette Midler.”
The press had a field day, lavishing her with praise for her appearances during the last two months of 1972.
The New York Times
called her “a bona fide original . . . an enormously theatrical young woman who possesses an uncanny singing talent. . . . the first white show woman of the current pop era!” ( 47 ).
Billboard
magazine exclaimed, “Bette Midler showed how spellbinding a true entertainer can be in this era of mediocrity hiding behind the banner of laid-back naturalness!” ( 2 ). And the
New York Daily News’
rock critic, Lillian Roxon, who was blown away by Bette on New Year’s Eve, declared, “It was heaven. . . . I can’t remember when I last saw a performer work so hard and give off and get so much love. . . . she does all the things no one does anymore, and I wish the rock & roll brigade would learn from her. . . . [She was] stalking and stomping around the stage like a hyena on speed!” ( 49 ).
That particular night was another turning point in Bette’s career, and she herself knew it. She was going to become the major music-industrysensation that she had hoped to become, but she knew that it was time for some changes. She looked out into the audience that evening and announced to her cheering fans who had fallen in love with her when she was the wild woman of the Baths, “I hope you stay with me, even when I don’t always do what you want me to. Next year you won’t even recognize me” ( 26 ).
Was she going to abandon the gay crowd who discovered her first? This was the big question that particular statement posed to many members of the audience that night.
“Me and those boys, we just went somewhere else. It was so much fun. I had the best time. It was something I just had to do, and I did it
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