Nor do you think of her as a “new face.”
But both can be used to describe Alice Ghostley.
She was another person who was seemingly everywhere on TV at one time. But in 1945, she made a trip back home to Henryetta, Oklahoma where the proud local paper pointed out she was studying voice in New York City.
In 1949, she was at the Hilltop Theatre in Baltimore starring in a musical comedy fantasy called Saturday. A 1950 newspaper review of her performance in another musical comedy there said “Prominent in the proceedings was Alice Ghostley, who took part in nearly every musical number and scored again and again as singer and comedienne, running the scale from blues to slapstick.”
Her first huge break came in the monstrously successful Broadway revue New Faces of 1952 with a cast including Paul Lynde, Eartha Kitt, Robert Clary and Carol Lawrence, with writing by Mel Brooks. The local paper printed glowing reviews from the New York Times, Journal-American (it compared her to Bea Lillie), Post, Time, Collier’s and elsewhere. The International News Service profiled her. This story appeared starting around Oct. 26.
Leading Comedienne Proves Small Town Gals Make Good
By PHYLLIS BATTELLE
INS Woman’s Editor
NEW YORK —INS— Comedienne Alice Ghostley entered this world as only comedienne Ghostley could enter it—in a train station at Eve, Mo. three minutes ahead of the 7:14.
It was hectic going for Mr. Ghostley who was the station master and for Mrs. Ghostley who was visiting Mr. Ghostley at the time.
But little Alice was in a hurry to get her start, and you can't blame a girl for having ambition.
Today Eve, Mo., is no longer on the map but Alice most definitely is. As the biggest laugh-getter in the Broadway hit, "New Faces of 1952," she has come out ahead of a great deal more than the 7:14. . .and the way she did it is proof positive that small town girls with big time courage do get places in this city of alleged defeat, deceit and despair.
There never was a smaller town girl than Alice.
Born, as indicated, in Eve, Mo., she and her family soon moved to the more prosperous metropolis of Seloam Springs, Ark., from whence they moved up to the more cosmopolitan community of Henryetta, Okla.
"It was in Henryetta," describes Miss Ghostley in a droll voice that drags on like a yawn, "that I learned about the thee-et-a. Once I learned, they could do about as much with me as just-washed hair."
She studied singing and dramatics ("they have culture in Henryetta, really") and when she reached college, was a pretty solid soprano, by University of Oklahoma standards. "And then—as they say in one of the old songs from the repertoire of Dinah Shore—the runaround began!"
Miss Ghostley, equipped with a modest operatic-type voice and the blessings of the appreciative citizens of Henryetta, journeyed to New York.
Like almost every other small town girl who journeys to New York with a modest something-or-other and blessings, she worked for peanuts and a tough boss.
Started As Usher
"I started my career," she recalls loftly, "as an usher at the Imperial Theater, for $11.88 a week. The show playing at the Imperial was Milton Berle's 'Ziegfeld Follies,' which could get a little dull eight times a week. . . .
"Except not for me. This was my first Broadway show and I loved every hammy line of it."
She loved it while she was in the theater, that is. ''Every night after the show I would run home and start crying. Did it regularly, like brushing my teeth."
She also had part-time jobs, typing, clerking, doing all the usual fill-in jobs between dream and success.
One day at an audition for a musical revue—her 648th audition as she recalls it—Miss Ghostley was accosted by a producer, writer and comedian. "G." convinced her that she was a comic instead of an operatic-type singer, and persuaded her ("Gee, it was easy") to join him in an original singing-comic duo.
They went over big at Greenwich Village night spots. Alice began to eat again.
Then Imogene Coca spotted Broadway's newest comedienne at a supper club and told Leonard Sillman about her. Leonard Sillman is the producer of "New Faces." the persistent, almost-annual revue in which Miss Coca got her start in 1934.
Now Alice Ghostley is on top. When she sings a sophisticated little number called "Boston Beguine," she even tickles the Royale theater's musty Chandeliers. And how does she feel about this dizzy rise from a depot to a dressing room with a star on it?
Like a couplet from "Boston Beguine:"
"The strings of my heart seem to be knotted;
"Even the palms seem to be potted!"
The 1950s wore on and Ghostley appeared on Broadway and in television; newspapers around March 8, 1953 reported on her first regular TV role: as John Beal’s wife on Freedom Rings, a comedy-audience participation show that aired twice weekly on CBS. There were appearances on The Hallmark Hall of Fame, on the Julie Andrews version of Cinderella and with Jackie Gleason on Westinghouse's The Best of Broadway and on a Hallmark Hall of Fame version of Twelfth Night with Maurice Evans.
In the 1960s, Ghostley was with Gleason again, playing Agnes opposite his Arthur in regular sketches on his "American Scene Magazine" show. She picked up a Tony in 1965. She won the role of the overly-mothering mother of Captain Nice (1967), Buck Henry’s super-hero spoof that was like kryptonite to viewers. She’s probably better known for Bewitched, though she was only on periodically. She was the bumbling witch, taking the place of the late Marion Lorne, who did it far better in my estimation (she, Lorne and Henry all appeared in the movie The Graduate.
Here’s a Newspaper Enterprise Association column that appeared around Sept. 21, 1969 in various papers.
Alice Ghostley Sneezes Magic on Series
By STAN MAAYS
HOLLYWOOD (NEA) — With a name like Ghostley, what better place to be than on a program populated by witches and weird manifestations. So it comes as no great surprise to learn that Alice Ghostley is a regular on ABC-TV's Bewitched.
Miss Ghostley plays Esmeralda, a witch whose power to do magical things suffers from a lack of spiritual voltage. Esmeralda is summoned by her old friend Endora, who, upon hearing Samantha Stephens is expecting a second child, decides she'll need help around the house.
To Samantha's twitch you can now add a sneeze as a gimmick welcomed by the technical staff of the series. Each time Esmeralda ahhh-choos! strange things happen, which will open up all kinds of film magic.
Miss Ghostley, who made her debut, appropriately enough, in "New Faces of 1952" on Broadway, is exactly the mild, pleasant sort of person you'd expect her to be away from a Screen Gems sound stage. "I was on the series three years ago when Samantha was pregnant the first time," reveals Miss Ghostley in an almost inaudible voice. And then with that familiar humorous, expression she added, "I was a housekeeper who couldn't do anything right."
Producer William Asher wanted Miss Ghostley to join the series shortly after as a replacement for Alice Pearce, who died while playing Samantha's neighbor. But she turned him down for the simple, understandable reason — "I couldn't because I knew her."
When Paul Lynde makes one of his all-too-infrequent appearances on Bewitched — and if it's in an episode with Miss Ghostley — it will make another reunion. Lynde was also in "New Faces" and has worked with Miss Ghostley on several Jonathan Winters shows. "People always thought we were relatives," she said, turning on Lynde's famous shark smile.
This recognition came about mostly after her appearances on Jackie Gleason's series, pointing out the power of TV exposure.
"I used to leave stage productions in full make-up and nobody would recognize me outside of the theater," she says, "and, mind you, this was after doing Broadway shows for 10 years! But, after just the second Gleason show, a cab driver knew me."
One thing Miss Ghostley regrets is the few chances she has to do good dramas these days. "You do all those shows for prestige, but no money," comments this winner of a Tony for her work in Broadway's "The Sign in Sidney Brustein's Window."
"I guess I'm stuck with comedy roles from here on out," she sighs. "I got the feeling my agents, bless their hearts, are too young to remember the good things I did."
Indeed, she had a role in Too Kill a Mockingbird, a movie not known for laffs.
“Replacement” seems to be the operative word in her television career. She and Kathleen Freeman shared the role of Colonel Klink’s sister in Hogan’s Heroes. Then when Francis Bavier had more than enough of playing Aunt Bea, she was brought in to assume the housekeeper role on Mayberry R.F.D. (with Ken Berry, photo right).
More comedy happened to her off-camera than on, much of it sounding like something out of Bewitched. She was late for an interview with a syndicated columnist because she didn’t drive and had to hitch a ride, but not before stopping off to get an unemployment cheque since she didn’t work that week.
When she and her husband bought a home in Hollywood in 1968, it took six months to put in a driveway, then the pavement buckled. The lights kept going on and off. Then there the Oscar she accepted. It wasn’t hers. It was Maggie Smith’s. Maggie was in London doing a play and asked Ghostley to accept for her. Her husband’s car was missing hubcaps and his tux didn’t fit. Her dress still had a price tag on it. Everyone expected Jane Fonda to win, but when Smith’s name was called, Ghostley didn’t know how to get on stage. On top of that, she didn’t think to call Smith to tell her about the Academy honour.
A little less amusing was when she recalled to Canadian columnist Rick Forchuk in 1988 she got paid for six reruns of Bewitched and it was now costing more to mail her residuals than the actual payment. At the time, she was a “special guest star” on Designing Women and appearing on stage.
It was quite a journey from singing a hymn for five cents at the age of five in a small Oklahoma church.
















































