Madame's Place in History
By Eric Grigs | July 16, 2020
On my first visit to the Center for Puppetry Arts (yes, first of several) in Atlanta, I turned a corner and audibly gasped. Loud enough for several other patrons near me to stop what they were doing to figure out what had happened. Oh, it was just me discovering the gallery had on exhibit one of the original Madame puppets. There she was, her gray hair twisted in its signature up-do, a dress that would make a peacock envious, and mouth agape—mirroring my own astonishment and joy. You could almost hear her signature cackling laugh. Staring in wonder, I was convinced that after the doors lock at close she escapes her plexiglass prison and runs around the museum causing all sorts of mischief.
That Madame recalled such vivid memories of her adventures and fueled my continued imagination about the character is a real testament to the talent of her creator and performer Wayland Flowers, who would often wryly say through Madame in her lounge shows: “You’ll notice Wayland is no ventriloquist, and I’m no fucking dummy!”
In the 70s and 80s Madame seemed to be everywhere, from appearances on Laugh-In to a guest spot singing with Bea Arthur on her 1980 TV special. Madame and Wayland replaced Paul Lynde after he left the center square on Hollywood Squares and she answered the last question on its original Peter Marshall run. As a regular on Solid Gold, she lustfully chased after Andy Gibb during segments in between musical performances. But what I most remember was her own half-hour daily syndicated comedy show in 1982, Madame’s Place, running frequently on the USA cable network.
It only lasted one season, with sources differing on how many episodes were really produced (but I can confirm there are at least fifty in my personal digital library). Cast members included a very young Corey Feldman as “Buzzy the neighbor kid” and Judy Landers as “Sarah Joy, Madame’s niece.” A Rolodex who’s who of celebrity guest stars made walk-on appearances, including Betty White, William Shatner, Edie McClurg, Arsensio Hall, Pee Wee Herman, Charles Nelson Reilly, Dr. Joyce Brothers, and so many more.
The show featured a joyous 80s-sitcom synth theme, with lyrics including “When a young man looks at Madame, she just throws herself right at him,” signaling the uproarious fun ahead. The bawdy humor for which she had become known carried over into the show, slightly tamer than Flower’s comedy cabaret act (as seen in the special Madame in Manhattan) but still full of double entendres, drag performers, and dirty old jokes. As a kid, I don’t remember how much of her subversive comedy I really picked up on at the time, but rewatching it now it’s staggering how much gay culture was hidden in plain sight.
There’s a surprisingly poignant scene toward the end of Madame in Manhattan where Flowers tips his hat to one of the inspirations for Madame’s creation. Wayland talks directly to the puppet and tells Madame about his grandmother whom he lost at a young age, and how she always supported him even though he was a very different boy from the rest of his schoolmates.
Sadly, we lost Flowers in 1988 to complications from AIDS, like so many immensely talented young artists of his generation. Still, his legacy of providing a loud mouthpiece for camp culture is one for the history books. When life gets a bit too serious, I put on some Madame’s Place and remind myself that camp deflates hot air and bluster with a well-timed joke and cripplingly brings down insufferable egos with a witty putdown. Camp allows us to flip tragedy on its head with a powerful new perspective, showing us all what a fabulous lark life actually is. As I get older, my love for this brassy gal only grows stronger. As her theme song says: “She’s young at heart, and still getting her kicks.” Somewhere inside every one of us, there’s a little bit of Madame gasping to burst out at the most inappropriate of times.
Eric Grigs is a pop culture writer, artist, and co-host of the Pop Trash Podcast.