Mark Russell
A remembrance
The great American musical satirist Mark Russell was my friend and my favorite snowbird and when he performed on the stage of our “Old Pueblo Radio Show” it was one of the greatest moments in this small town satirist’s life. And possibly his last performance in front of a live audience. When Mark’s son Matt texted me that his dad had died a week ago I felt cheated. I wanted more conversations, more laughs and more songs. And more commisseration between two old political satirists about our uncommon professions. And the state of the world.
Or as we called it “material”.
But Mark had enjoyed an extraordinary 91-years of life and it was not to be.
If you’re unfamiliar with Mr. Russell’s brilliant standup and musical satire here is Russell's final performance at the historic Carolina Theatre of Greensboro on October 30, 2016: Mark Russell
I was eight when I heard Allan Sherman answer the question “How are things in Camp Granada?“ on the Ed Sullivan Show. I was hooked on musical satire, buying every album and memorizing every silly song Sherman wrote and sang.
In the very early sixties, my family watched “That Was The Week that Was” and that is where I first heard Tom Lehrer’s songs performed by Nancy Ames. I was only nine. Primed by “Mad Magazine” to appreciate Mr.Lehrer’s irreverent satire I mostly nodded, for the Master Sergeant’s sake, pretending to understand the political humor.
Some of you may recognize this excerpt from Tom Lehrer’s classic, “The Vatican Rag” :
“Doin' the vatican rag.
Get in line in that processional,
Step into that small confessional,
There, the guy who's got religion'll
Tell you if your sin's original.
If it is, try playin' it safer,
Drink the wine and chew the wafer,
Two, four, six, eight,
Time to transubstantiate!”
Later Lehrer’s songs, with lyrics such as “So long mom I’m off to drop the bomb, so don’t wait up for me” resonated with this then young budding political cartoonist. I bought every album I could find. Both of them.
By contrast, Mark’s creative output was astonishing. Every two months he’d showcase topical compositions on his more than 100 televised specials from 1975 until 2004, season after season, election after election. A seasoned stage performer, Mark, had been performing his political comedy at the Shoreham in D.C. since the sixties.
"I like to have a newspaper. Then I start reading and reading and reading. And when I see something that makes me gag, I know we're off to the races."
My dad, the Master Sergeant, thought this piano playing political satirist on our Magnavox, who looked like he just stepped out of a Chamber of Commerce meeting, wearing a bow tie and a red blazer, was a genius. Watching Mark’s comedy specials became mandatory in our home.
Check out this clip here from one of the old specials here to see the master at work: A Mark Russell Comedy Special
Mark’s appeal across the political spectrum was a testament to his endearing personality and the sense this irreverent jester was an American who revered the nation he chastised.
Here you can enjoy “Mark Russell’s America”, a PBS tribute aired in honor of Mark’s death featuring a survey of his “greatest hits” : "Mark Russell's America"
“I have 535 writers. 100 in the Senate. 435 in the House.”
The first time I met my idol Mark Russell was in 1993. I’d been asked to perform at “An Evening of Humor in Honor of Mo Udall Starring Mark Russell” at Centennial Hall on the University of Arizona campus. On that fine day I was honored to perform on the same stage with Governor Rose Mofford, Senator Barry Goldwater, and other noteworthy notables who told jokes and shared stories bout Mo.
Finally, at the end of the program, Mark Russell was introduced. He bounded onto the stage to thunderous applause, sat down at the piano, told a couple of jokes about Arizona and performed a hilarious set of musical satire that Mo would have loved. The man brought the house down.
I was blown away.
Back stage I mustered my fan boy courage. ”Would you autograph the program for me, Mr. Russell?”
“Call me Mark. You were great, kid!”
He signed it, “My worthy accomplice. Never ease up.”
It is among my favorite possessions. Mark Russell called me an “accomplice”.
Mark the Snowbird
Mark and his wonderful wife, Ali, visited the Old Pueblo from time to time to see his wonderful son Matt Russell, a local icon in his own right. I respected their privacy and left him alone.
Back in the early spring of 2017 we were honored to perform our “Old Pueblo Radio Show” at the Tucson Festival of Books in the student union ballroom on a beautiful Sunday morning.
We took our final bows.
We savored the warm applause.
And as we were packing up, a curiously familiar snowbird, surrounded by friends and family, came up out of the departing audience to introduce himself, to tell me how much he enjoyed our show. Mark Russell? Mark Russell was in town—and in our audience the whole time! With his trademark ear-to-ear grin he said, “I loved it. You guys were great!”
We were stunned. And humbled. And I was awestruck. Mark introduced us to his lovely wife, Ali, and we chatted like old friends.
I followed Mark’s career close enough to know that he had been retired back in 2010 and had stopped performing. I thought, “What do you have to lose?”
“If the audience doesn't like it, usually they're just silent. But they've never all walked out at once.”
I jokingly said, “Next time you’re in town you should be in our next show. We’d love to-“
His eyes lit up. “Hey I’d like that! Let’s talk.”
What did Mark Russell just say to me? Let’s talk?
And so we did. We exchanged emails back and forth. I came to respect, know and adore his wonderful wife Allie, who was his assistant, protector, and guardian and evidence that even a satirist can find deep enduring abiding love.
In 2018 I ran into Mark at the Tucson Festival of Books. After we shared some humor about fleeting fame I dragged my 86-year old friend into the authors lounge to connect with my authors, the guests I was shepherding through the festival, the great humor columnist Dave Barry and the wonderful SNL writer Alan Zweibel. They hit it off. Mark loved the company and acclaim. (I could not believe who I was sitting with as they shared stories.) I dragged Mark with us to their talk. When Dave and Alan pointed out that “The Mark Russell” was in their audience in the ballroom the crowd went crazy—as though a Beatle was in the audience. I love seeing him recognized and appreciated. Mark beamed.
Before parting Mark reminded me he was serious about his offer to perform in my show. We set a date. Mark would return in December and appear in our 2018 “Arroyo Cafe Holiday Radio Show”. I was beside myself. I was going to share a stage with Mark Russell.
If only the Master Sergeant were still in the world to see this. Hey, mom, look. It’s me. With Mark Russell! The last they knew, before their deaths, I was a painfully shy 23-year-old lowly mapmaker at a third-rate paper in the Midwest who was never going to land that cartooning dream job.
Yet, there I was, on a Sunday afternoon in December, having a conversation backstage at the beautiful Rialto Theater with Mark Russell during intermission. He was up next. Could the old man still knock it out of the park? Was he still sharp? “You sure you can do 5-minutes, Mark?”
He grinned. “Can I have fifteen?”
Whoa. Really? Go for it. “Break a leg!”
When I said, “Please welcome Mark Russell to the stage” our white-haired PBS-loving crowd went crazy over their hero. Bananas. Bonkers. Mark sat down at the baby grand, turned, looked back at me and winked.
And then the old master proceeded to kill.
Oh, the applause!
I should have asked him to do 20-minutes.
After the show Mark gave me a treasure I prize, his crumpled 3 X 5 note card on which he’d scribbled his show notes and his set list. I never saw him refer to it once during his flawless performance.
After the show, Mark and Ali joined us for stories and laughter at Reilly’s Pizza. Before we parted I hauled my ancient tattered copy of his book, “Presenting Mark Russell” out of my shoulder bag . “Would you sign this for me?”
He looked at the old thing and smiled. It was evidence I’d truly loved the man long before we’d met.
I was told by my friend and comedienne Nancy Stanley that when she saw Mark at a recent Chautauqua in upstate New York he asked her to send me his best regards. “He loves you.” And we loved him. Mark and Ali and I had exchanged emails about another possible appearance. If his health would allow.
It was not to be.
When I saw Randy Rainbow perform at the Fox theater here in Tucson recently, I was reminded of the beautiful power of satire. On our way home I thought of my friend Mark Russell and his songs that rang through the heart of my youth, his rare ability to roast his targets to a ragtime beat and then, salve the wound, with a grin, even as he reloaded his merciless piano for another volley of musical truth to power. What a gift.
My friend, you were the best.
I grew up on Tom Lehrer, Mark Russell, Flanders and Swann, etc. Now thankfully I have you in my life, an equal treasure in your own right. How lucky Mr. Russell was to know you as well!
What a great tribute to Mr. Russell! I remember watching him on PBS years ago and was enthralled by his wit and political acumen. I'm so glad you were able to work with him and count him as a friend. I'm sure he must have felt the same way about you. Thank you!