 There was only one Frank Gorshin. You could pigeonhole him in many categories – singer, comedian, stage and screen star, TV performer, or the master impressionist in show business. But, there was only one Frank Gorshin - the complete entertainer.
Take, for example, the time he pulled off the unexpected and the unprecedented during his opening night engagement at the Fairmont Hotel’s Venetian Room. It was about the mid-way point in his show, as I recall. Frank had just launched into his “Camelot” routine, in which he did a spectacular imitation of Richard Burton as King Arthur, knighting a young Lancelot, when there suddenly was a loud disturbance in the back of the storied showroom.
 While the crowd gasped in stunned bewilderment, as an obnoxious drunk woman rudely interrupted his famous soliloquy and chided the performer with tacky and tasteless profanities, Gorshin never blinked an eye or missed a bit of dialogue.
Dramatically, he grasped the imaginary Excalibur sword in his hand and routinely “knighted” Lancelot. Then, he told the young man to rise from his knees. Frank hesitated for a moment, giving the room’s patrons a chance to picture the scene, then looked out into the audience, defiantly, trying to spot the woman, and spoke distinctly to the imaginary young knight by his side.
“Before you may join us sitting here at the storied Round Table,” the great performer proclaimed, “you must first prove yourself worthy of the honor. Here is your challenge. Arise, Lancelot, take thee my sword, Excalibur, and march thyself promptly to the table in the far corner at the back of the room. Once there, seek out and find the perpetrator who does seek to detract from our ceremonies, and, without further adieu, march the obnoxious woman from this hallowed hall and into the street where she belongs.
 Gorshin’s showmanship and undaunted dramatic flare was followed by a standing ovation from those in attendance, which turned to loud shouts of “Bravo, Bravo” and, eventually, laughter, as the embarrassed drunk woman was escorted by hotel security from the elegant showroom.
Gorshin basked, momentarily, in the spotlight as audience patrons acknowledged his glib performance. Then, as if right on cue, the great entertainer remarked, as an afterthought, “Tarry thee not, Lancelot, time is of the essence.” Undaunted and in total command of the situation, he bowed, politely, and continued with his routine.
When he was not performing on stage or before a camera, Frank was likely to be found in a little cafe, consuming dozens of cups of coffee and studying people for hours, learning every little nuance and gesture. Believe me, having coffee with Gorshin was truly a unique experience.
I remember one time, after the world premiere festivities of the “Batman” monkey business, we were sitting around telling jokes and waiting for the reviews. You could feel the tension in the air. Actors were taking off their makeup, some still in costume, trying hard not to appear concerned or nervous.
 Funny, how these folks can perform on stage or in front of a camera, but can’t always play the role off the set. Well, anyway, as is usually the case, everyone was congratulating everyone else, shaking hands and passing out compliments. Mostly, a lot of “phony baloney.”
Adam West puffed on a big cigar. Burgess Meredith laughed a lot between beers, and, as you might guess, there were a number of pretty young things sashaying ‘round about, exposing one thing or another.
 Everyone, from the script girl to the producer, had an opinion about what was good and what was bad about the show, and, mostly, they agreed, everything was good.
Frank Gorshin just sat there, sipped his coffee, and raised an eyebrow here and there, grinning in response to some uncouth remark Finally, when the coffee pot was empty and everyone had had his say, Frank looked up rather nonchalantly and proceeded to replay the whole two hours.
  He was like a human video tape machine, or automated hidden tape recorder, making funny faces and passing off uncanny lines of dialogue almost as if he had memorized a script. Even fellow actors were awed. They sat there in utter amazement while Frank had a field day. He was incredible.
Thinking back on that day, it reminded me of something that Edward G. Robinson once said about Gorshin. “Frank’s impression of me differs from that of others,” he remarked, “in that it is not superficial or shallow, merely imitating the voice. Rather, he seems to get inside the character he is imitating, producing depth of expression.”
I think that best characterized all of Frank’s work, from Richard Widmark, John Wayne, W.C. Fields, Sidney Greenstreet, Kirk Douglas, Marlon Brando, Richard Burton or James Cagney.
 Frank intrigued me at a Hollywood celebrity bash saluting Cagney. It was, understandably, Cagney’s night, but a little bit of the glitter belonged to Gorshin.
Those in attendance, particularly Jimmy, would certainly have been disappointed if Frank had not done his usual number. At times during the evening, Cagney was near tears, but he was smiling proudly when Gorshin performed. It was Cagney’s night, but Gorshin stole the show.
How different, I thought, from the first time Frank performed in public before a Hollywood audience, in that small nightclub, the Purple Onion, (the same unimpressive little joint that spawned Phyllis Diller). Steve Allen had spotted him at the club one night, signed him immediately for his popular television show.
It was a mixture of Gorshin’s innate sensitivity and extra-ordinary timing in music, drama and comedy that was most responsible for his success in the night club and theater circuit area, where he became, unquestionably, one of the top headliners in the field.
 In Las Vegas, Frank became the ONLY impressionist to ever headline and became a member of the Hotel Sahara’s elite family of “super star” headliners – Johnny Carson, Rowan & Martin, Jerry Lewis, Jack Benny and Frank.
A number of years ago, as a result of special arrangements, Gorshin played five individual engagements in Las Vegas during one calendar year – three at the Sahara, one at the Thunderbird and one at the famed mammoth showroom of the International Hilton Hotel.
Frank starred at most of the country’s finest nightclubs, including New York’s posh Empire Room of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. He became the only impressionist to ever headline that room.
 Gorshin even played on and conquered Broadway, in a highly acclaimed one-man production based on the life of comedian-movie star George Burns. It helps to have a great script and direction, even when you’re Frank Gorshin, facing the task of doing a one-man show about a legendary entertainer whose name alone fills the mind’s eye of your audience.
Before he did the Burns vehicle on Broadway, Frank admitted he had never done a Burns impression, because “everybody else was doing George Burns.”
Originally, Gorshin was asked to portray Burns in a 1998 movie. The picture was never finished because the producers ran out of money. Frank, however, did manage to walk away with a film clip from the project, which was later shown to a former show biz contact, who thought it might make a good one-man show vehicle for Frank on Broadway.
When “Say Goodnight, Gracie,” had its world premiere at the Broward Center, in 2002, the play and the performance fused into an incandescent theatrical moment. All that mattered was the audience and Gorshin and Burns. Oh, and of course, Gracie Allen. (The Burns and Allen comedy team was one of the most popular, best-loved and longest-lasting comedy teams in show business from 1923-1958).
 The play was staged in New York in a special audio-visual version, artfully weaving in the telephone, radio-television broadcasts, photographs of NY’s Lower East Side, early in the 20th Century, film clips and tapes from mid-century TV shows.
Interestingly so, none of the theatrical special effects detracted from Gorshin’s haunting performance. Even when he was seated in the corner, watching a Burns and Allen TV skit along with the audience, Gorshin radiated Burns’ spirit.
Frank, and the show’s producers were toying with history a bit in such moments: The old TV show had a then-avant-garde quality, in which Burns would introduce the show by “watching” Gracie on a monitor. The framing device was multiplied on stage and thus became a picture within a picture within a picture, toward infinity.
  The special effects added dramatic vigor to the monodrama, a genre that has come under severe criticism in recent years for the monotony of its formula. Though still eagerly embraced by actors seeking vehicles, only a few have been hugely successful: Hal Holbrook in “Mark Twain Tonight” and Robert Morse as Truman Capote in “Tru.”
However, with both the Holbrook and Morse productions, both actors were heavily made up to resemble their subjects, whereas Gorshin used nothing but a thin wig and round-rimmed glasses. Yet, he resembled Burns right down to the last detail.
 This exemplified the special talent of the impressionist, who found the voice, plus the facial and/or physical expressions to conjure the subject, then let the audience’s imagination fill in the rest. However, after the first pleasant shock of recognition, Gorshin's mimicry was forgotten as Gorshin, the actor, took over.
In the Broadway show, Burns was seen in a sparsely furnished study that turned out to be limbo, outside the gate to heaven. The entertainer, who died in 1996 at the age of 100, wanted in, so he could be reunited with Gracie. But God wasn’t convinced he was ready yet. Burns, then, had to “audition” for his pass, by retelling his life story.
Thinking back now on Gorshin portraying Burns doing a bit for God, reminded me of the portion of Frank’s night club act in which he did a skit about some of the most loved and most talented performers in show business who gathered together in heaven for a gala “show of shows,” so to speak, hosted by none other than Ed Sullivan.
 All the greats were there, from W.C. Fields, to James Cagney, to Edward G. Robinson, to John Wayne, to Richard Burton to Kirk Douglas, to Dean Martin, to Bobby Darin to many of the great comics of vaudeville, stage and screen. Burns, at that time, was not among them, of course. He had not yet reached the age of 100, and was still going strong, convulsing audiences as usual with casual, witty comments about sex, Viagra and women.
Now that Burns has passed on “to a better gig,” how fitting that the man who played God could welcome Gorshin for his encore engagement. I hope they have a coffee pot up there in Heaven.
Well, that’s show biz, baby.
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