Ed Sullivan. Sabu. James Mason. Groucho Marx. Bing Crosby. Peter Lorre. Dwight Frye. Charles Laughton. Dozens and dozens more.
Will Jordan was one of the great mimics. He's best known for his Sullivan, which became a huge and much imitated (to his chagrin) hit on Sullivan's show. Ed loved the attention. Will was quick to point out that the knuckle-cracking, the spin, and "really big shoe" were all his inventions, and nothing Ed actually did.
Will was one of the most accessible comedians in New York. You'd see him at memorabilia shows, roasts, flea markets, and it was easy to strike up a conversation with him. One of the jokes was that it was not so easy to end the conversation with him.
As he'd tell most any awed fan or enthused aspiring comedian, he was a survivor despite the treachery and thievery. A very sensitive guy, he fretted when others came close to using one of his concept, including Mel Brooks and Lenny Bruce. In his early days, Will was not just a mimic, he was "Ill Will," the "sick" comedian. The album by that title, featuring an insane close-up of him (which MAD magazine liked to use as a character!) was loaded with weird routines, including Hitler comedy. Hugh Hefner wrote the liner notes.
The first time I saw Jordan perform was at a "Sons of the Desert" banquet, where Margaret Hamilton was the featured guest. As they say, Will "killed," and he resurrected his "Frankenstein" bit from his early album. The bit had Jonathan Winters sound effects (before Jonny), some sick gags Lenny would've admired, and some good, bizarre lines that mixed vaudevillian and hipster. Praising "Mr. Show Business himself...Dwight Frye," Will had Dwight's hunchback assistant get plenty of lines. Will managed to mimic the gait of the hunchback, and pushed up his jacket in back to imitate the hump. Dr. Frankenstein: "Fritz...stand up. Did you know you're built like a fork?"
As they say, audiences tell you what to do, you don't tell them. They loved his impressions. He was one of the first to not only "do the voice," but contort the face in caricature. It got to the point where his stage act even included props, so he could more accurately be Groucho (with mustache) or Bing Crosby (with ears sticking out).
When he was on the Sullivan show, the mimicry field was not big. There was no Gorshin or Rich Little. There was no John Byner or Fred Travalena. There was Jack Carter, who gleefully stole Will's Sullivan routine. This was another blow. Will fretted, why did Jack have to do that? He had plenty of writers, plenty of other material. Why dilute the impact of Will's Ed Sullivan by copying the formula?
The fact is that the "key" is what often makes the mimic great. As George Carlin liked to say, before launching into his Ed Sullivan impersonation, "I do the John Byner Ed Sullivan, not the Will Jordan Sullivan, which is also good..." Once somebody breaks down the components of the voice and face, others can run with it.
"He's a shallow, stupid man..." Will once said. I won't say who he was referring to, but his frustration was not only about "borrowing" but about not giving enough credit or payback. But despite "The Last Laugh," which Will shuddered about, as the Phil Berger book used him as the epitome of the broken comic destroyed by theft and unable to find his way to creating new material, Will was not really a bitter man. He was a joyful man. He sincerely liked to "talk shop."
I remember standing around a 24th Street garage outdoor flea market with him, and talking about how if you really want to be the person, it's much easier to do the impression. We also touched on how an impressionist can start fighting with his impressions; you like the audience appreciating your Cagney or your Nicholson, but you want them to also see YOU. But if YOU are visible through your impression, you're in trouble.
We talked about the variety of voices out there, and the emotions behind them. I ventured my James Mason impression, and Will instantly corrected me. "No, no...you're too tight. He wasn't that tight." He told me of how a waiter mentioned after a show, "James Mason was in this evening." Will was so disappointed that he hadn't been able to meet him. Maybe do his impression for him? I saw Mason wandering around a Madison Square Garden cat show, taking pictures, being very anonymous in the crowd. The last thing I thought to do was talk to him or...oh no...do my impression of him!
After defending my James Mason as being accurate, because Mason often played tense characters in films, I mentioned that some voices are incredibly free and loose, like (and here I did the voice)...Bullwinkle J. Moose. I was relieved and absolutely thrilled to see Will Jordan, the master, change expression. "That's VERY good," he said.
Well, yes, except my Bullwinkle is also my Red Skelton. A great mimic's impressions are all completely defined, and you don't have to say the name before you do the character.
One of Will's enduring bits was, as long as people remembered, George C. Scott as Patton. He got a lot of work doing "industrials," imitating Patton for a comical pep-talk, and name-checking the various big shots from Ford or U.S. Steel or whatever the company was that was putting on the annual convention or banquet.
My many memories of Will are tinged with a bit of sadness, in that he didn't have a long successful marriage, and his last "really big" gig was playing Ed Sullivan in "Tell Her About It," a hugely popular Billy Joel rock video. He didn't have the great second act that Frank Gorshin did (playing George Burns on Broadway). But he was still legend. I had dinner with Frank one night, and I mentioned that Will Jordan had seen his show, and thought he did a fantastic job as Burns. Frank's eyes widened. "He said that?"
To Frank, Will Jordan was still the old master.
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