The encounter was set in 1962. She, Gypsy Rose Lee, claimed to be 48, a carefully constructed fiction that mirrored much of her public persona. In reality, Rose Louise Hovick, the woman behind the stage name, was 51. This age fabrication wasn’t a new invention; it was a long-standing element of her carefully curated image, one that even she might have started to believe. The press, complicit or simply uninformed, perpetuated the myth. When I wrote about her, I stated her age as 48, not because she directly told me, but because every clipping I could find at the time pointed to a 1914 birth year, a convenient three-year detour from the truth.
Her narrative extended to her real estate dealings. She spoke of selling a New York property, implying it was in the bustling heart of New York City. The reality was less glamorous: Highland Mills, a town an hour’s drive north of Manhattan. This sale, which occurred in 1945, was presented as being linked to her Beverly Hills home purchase, a connection that was simply untrue. She continued to own a far more valuable property in Manhattan, a detail conveniently omitted.
To reinforce her “outdoorsy” image, she mentioned a fondness for camping and fishing, quickly admitting these were activities relegated to the past. My article encompassed more, but the section that graced the magazine cover and page four is now lost to time.
Truthfully, aside from a decent meal, the meeting felt somewhat redundant. I could have gleaned similar insights simply by watching her Douglas show appearances from the comfort of my home. However, my editor appreciated my approach and the resulting story, though its merits now escape me. Rereading it, I’m struck by its lack of substantial information. It reads more like a piece about an eccentric relative than an in-depth celebrity profile. The truly compelling aspects of Rose Louise Hovick’s life were largely hidden from public view in 1962. Much of the sensational material associated with “Gypsy,” the musical and the book, is born from artistic license. Had she delved into her family life, aligning with the “Gypsy” fairytale would have served her better than revealing the unvarnished truth.
Eight years after our meeting, lung cancer claimed Gypsy Rose Lee. Her death spurred a wave of renewed interest in Rose Louise Hovick’s life, leading to extensive research and several detailed biographies. Her sister, actress June Havoc, who passed away in 2010, offered contrasting and clarifying accounts in her autobiographies, challenging aspects of “Gypsy.” Even their mother, Rose Hovick, the domineering figure central to the musical and film “Gypsy,” became the subject of biographical exploration.
Beyond written accounts, I sought to experience Gypsy Rose Lee’s work directly. Online searches led me to “Belle of the Yukon” (1944) on Amazon Prime, a film where she starred opposite Randolph Scott. The on-screen chemistry was notably absent.
Let me state unequivocally: Gypsy Rose Lee was an exceptionally charming and agreeable celebrity in person. However, I disagree with the prevailing assessments of her talent, the reasons for her fame, and the often-exaggerated claims about her cultural significance. While she might have embodied an “Auntie Mame” persona in person, on screen, she lacked vitality, resembling a mannequin more than a dynamic performer. Having also watched a short clip from “Stage Door Canteen” showcasing her act, I doubt many would have been compelled to see her perform live more than once.
My conviction is that her fame stemmed more from curiosity than genuine stardom, and her “talent,” such as it was, was significantly overstated. She was more of a comedienne who incorporated striptease than a traditional stripper. Attractive, yes, but not conventionally beautiful. The humor in her act, deeply rooted in its era, reportedly borrowed heavily from other performers, notably Dwight Fiske, a Harvard-educated pianist and comedian known for suggestive, though by today’s standards, tame songs. Fiske, nicknamed “The Great Leerer” and “King Leer,” was known for his comedic facial expressions, making his live performances funnier than his radio appearances or party records.
Gypsy Rose Lee’s incorporation of Dwight Fiske’s songs into her act elevated burlesque, perhaps making audiences more comfortable watching a stripper. Her performances, especially later in her career, were devoid of overt “bumps and grinds,” except possibly in her early days at 18. She quickly discovered her niche: facing the audience and delivering witty remarks while slowly removing articles of clothing. This became her signature “strip song” routine, a blend of comedy and mild striptease that set her apart.
Her fame was amplified by word-of-mouth; more people talked about her than actually witnessed her performances. From 1931 to 1933, she became a New York City sensation through her shows at Minsky’s Burlesque theaters. Soon, her name resonated across the nation, frequently used as a punchline by radio comedians, alongside Sally Rand and Mae West. Public perception of Gypsy Rose Lee was often formed secondhand, without direct experience of her act.
When Fiorello H. LaGuardia assumed the mayoralty of New York City in 1934, his crackdown on burlesque houses began. Gypsy Rose Lee, sensing the changing tide, sought to leave burlesque behind. She transitioned to Broadway, appearing in two Ziegfeld shows. By 1937, Minsky’s era was nearing its end, but Gypsy Rose Lee’s future seemed bright when she signed a movie contract with Darryl F. Zanuck and 20th Century Fox. However, an immediate obstacle arose.
