A Silver Jubilee for Michael Musto

Apologies to those whom this confused. In an unfathomable frenzy a few years ago, I removed a large number of Travalanche posts I deemed to be only of temporary interest. Some, like this one, would now appear to be of genuine historical interest, so I am restoring them. This one was originally published on March 3, 2010.

Splendor is often promised at Big New York Events but seldom delivered. Last night’s 25^th anniversary tribute to Michael Musto (celebrating a quarter century of his Village Voicecolumn) was that rarest of things — a memorable evening. Held at an amazing penthouse venue near Madison Square (the Park, not the Garden), free liquor flowed like water (at least for a while) and the place was crawling with a hodgepodge of beautiful nuts only possible at a tribute to such an offbeat scribe. Drag, burlesque, and cabaret people were there in profusion, as much to celebrate Musto (a legendary mensch) as to take in the rather stellar line up of talent.

Joan Rivers launched the evening, but my favorite New York m.c., Murray Hill was the host. The beauty part of Murray is that, as a drag king, he gets to embody the role of a hack comedian without there ever being any danger of us thinking he’s just a mere hack. We get to laugh at stuff we wouldn’t otherwise let ourselves laugh at. And frankly, he talks like a lot of my friends. Burlesque wunder-babe Dirty Martini was on the bill; the Rubenesque beauty had just returned from a photo shoot in Paris with Karl Lagerfeld for V magazine. The guest of honor himself did a duet with Judy Garland impersonator Tommy Femia. Sassy (and genetically female) singer Bridget Everett showcased her excellent pipes and a little more. I was frankly afraid her left hooter was going to fall out of her dress for most of her set, but it turned out to be what magicians call “misdirection”. Suddenly everything below the waist was exposed and she turned out to be wearing an adult diaper. Michael Urie from Ugly Betty came and said something into the microphone, and then there was a campy drag duet by a couple of characters named Vodka Stinger and Talulah DeBayous. Best of all was the sudden, unannounced appearance of the charmingly incoherent Ronny Spector, who sang a song known by one and all in fashion unrecognizable.

Needless to say, the joint was mobbed, but every once in a while I bumped into someone (besides a couple of the performers like Murray and Dirty) I actually knew. Unlicensed therapist Lisa Levy was there, dutifully hawking her current show Stand Up. Lie Down which she presents once a month at COMIX/ Ochi’s Lounge. Tim Cusack of Theatre Askew was there. We talked about their new production (which I’m very excited about and am certain to cover at later date), an adaptation of Horatio Alger’s Ragged Dick, due to go up in December. Fellow theatre critic and self-described “female female impersonator” Raven Snook was there, too – I spied her on the other side of a sea of people and wasn’t able to swim across.

Oh and here’s me with good friend and frequent collaborator Audrey Crabtree, as documented by Patrick McMullan. I’ll cop to having been the least glamorous in the room.