Doug McIntyre: First lady of funny takes her final bow
The great Phyllis Diller died on Monday, in her sleep, in her beautiful Brentwood home. Word of her passing brought near universal praise from her peers and fans.
She was 95. Not bad.
I had the good fortune of appearing on Dennis Miller's CNBC show on the same evening Phyllis was a guest. Dennis was kind enough to introduce us before the show in her dressing room, resulting in the following exchange:
Phyllis: "McIntyre? That's an Irish name, isn't it?"
Me: "It is."
Phyllis: "An Irishman walks out of a bar. It could happen."
An instant punch line, tossed off casually almost as an aside. Very Bob Hope, which was only natural since Hope had been the inspiration for her rapid-fire style of one-liners.
But the rest of her style was all Phyllis Diller.
On stage Phyllis had hair you'd expect to find on the wrong end of an electric chair. Her wardrobe consisted of feather boas, boots and rectangular metallic cocktail dresses uk that looked like they'd been dragged through a salad bar.
And then there was that laugh.
My first car was a '64 Chevy Nova with a bad starter. When I'd crank it up, neighbors would cover their ears in a futile attempt to escape the grating, piercing "A-haaa! A-haaa! A-haaa! A-haaa!" sound booming out for blocks.
That was Phyllis Diller's laugh.
Hideous.
And hilarious.
A late bloomer, Phyllis Diller's story inspires like all "against the odds"
stories. Her first real gig came at age 37. That gives us all hope. Hope that it's never too late to find our true calling.
But truthfully most of us just hope, whereas Diller actually risked the humiliation of failure, suffered the flop sweat and deadly silences that follow a joke that doesn't land.
She didn't hope for a career, she made one.
But it was Hope - as in Bob Hope's 100th birthday - that led to the first of several lengthy conversations with Phyllis. She was kind enough to appear on my radio show in the middle of the night to express her appreciation and gratitude for "Ol' Ski Nose," the comic who not only taught her timing but gave her a special gift Phyllis never forgot.
Diller accompanied Hope on several USO tours to Vietnam. While the troops appreciated her jokes, it was Phyllis who remained grateful to those "kids." After 40-plus years, the memory of that experience could still bring tears to her eyes.
She kept a painting of Bob Hope on an easel in her home.
Musician, painter, mother, comedian. Phyllis Diller lived a long and fruitful life.
The great Phyllis Diller died on Monday, in her sleep, in her beautiful Brentwood home. Word of her passing brought near universal praise from her peers and fans.
She was 95. Not bad.
I had the good fortune of appearing on Dennis Miller's CNBC show on the same evening Phyllis was a guest. Dennis was kind enough to introduce us before the show in her dressing room, resulting in the following exchange:
Phyllis: "McIntyre? That's an Irish name, isn't it?"
Me: "It is."
Phyllis: "An Irishman walks out of a bar. It could happen."
An instant punch line, tossed off casually almost as an aside. Very Bob Hope, which was only natural since Hope had been the inspiration for her rapid-fire style of one-liners.
But the rest of her style was all Phyllis Diller.
On stage Phyllis had hair you'd expect to find on the wrong end of an electric chair. Her wardrobe consisted of feather boas, boots and rectangular metallic cocktail dresses uk that looked like they'd been dragged through a salad bar.
And then there was that laugh.
My first car was a '64 Chevy Nova with a bad starter. When I'd crank it up, neighbors would cover their ears in a futile attempt to escape the grating, piercing "A-haaa! A-haaa! A-haaa! A-haaa!" sound booming out for blocks.
That was Phyllis Diller's laugh.
Hideous.
And hilarious.
A late bloomer, Phyllis Diller's story inspires like all "against the odds"
stories. Her first real gig came at age 37. That gives us all hope. Hope that it's never too late to find our true calling.
But truthfully most of us just hope, whereas Diller actually risked the humiliation of failure, suffered the flop sweat and deadly silences that follow a joke that doesn't land.
She didn't hope for a career, she made one.
But it was Hope - as in Bob Hope's 100th birthday - that led to the first of several lengthy conversations with Phyllis. She was kind enough to appear on my radio show in the middle of the night to express her appreciation and gratitude for "Ol' Ski Nose," the comic who not only taught her timing but gave her a special gift Phyllis never forgot.
Diller accompanied Hope on several USO tours to Vietnam. While the troops appreciated her jokes, it was Phyllis who remained grateful to those "kids." After 40-plus years, the memory of that experience could still bring tears to her eyes.
She kept a painting of Bob Hope on an easel in her home.
Musician, painter, mother, comedian. Phyllis Diller lived a long and fruitful life.
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