Until recently, whenever I was asked the proverbial "who influenced you most as a singer," I could never arrive at an elemental response. The question always caught me by surprise, so I'd furrow my brow and start to name singers I truly enjoy and deeply respect: Ella Fitzgerald, Rosemary Clooney, Freddie Mercury. But as the opportunities for this question began increasing, I knew I needed to define what felt indefinable. I was ready to pinpoint who was instrumental in actually forming my view of a song; my love of certain sounds. "Why doesn't the answer just pop into my head? Why don't I know this," I thought. Then it came to me. I realized I couldn't point to the singer because it wasn't really the singer - it was the song.

My mother's collection of Broadway Original Cast Albums was a soundtrack to my childhood, played in every room of the house on one of those plastic portable phonographs with three speeds and one tiny speaker. That, simply, is the music I've loved the longest; those are the songs that influenced my tiny view of the world. By the second grade, I knew every lyric to Half A Sixpence and I Do! I Do! But my personal favorite had a gal on the cover in a buckskin dress with a squirrel rifle and really red lips. Her huge voice reminded me of my mother's and I loved her long before I knew she had a name other than Annie Oakley.

The summer after seventh grade I was paid $35 a week to babysit Wally Nelson and his sisters. On Fridays, the money and I went straight to the mall where I faithfully added to my own budding Broadway collection. Sometime that summer I bought Gypsy... and the world has never been the same. Suddenly, there was Annie Oakley coming out of nowhere to knock the wind out of me as Mama Rose. Suddenly, I saw the scope of what was possible, and I knew if I was going to make theatre and singing my life, there was someone I needed to know more about - Ethel Merman.

Once I was old enough to realize the full impact of her talents on the Broadway stage, I kept her close to my heart and championed everything about her. According to people who were there, it is apparently impossible to describe the relationship she had with her audience. They say a good comparison doesn't remotely exist. She is famous for being heard in the last row of the balcony at a time when there was no amplification. Songwriters adored writing for her and worshipped her ability to deliver their lyrics with absolute precision of phrasing, stunning style, and a wicked sense of comic timing. Her lack of stage fright and unwavering professionalism are legendary. She was dazzling and gutsy, raising the bar to a new level for actresses and songwriters alike. Broadway became her home. She lived to perform for her audience and they in turn virtually crackled with excitement when she stepped onto the stage.

As Merman sang in Anything Goes, times have changed. The songs, the sounds, and the stars are very different now than they were in 1930, when she burst onto the scene in Girl Crazy. But her unabashed, larger-than-life style and brassy voice are constantly memorialized in various ways, from drag parodies to cabaret themes to cocktail party quips. She's an icon on many levels, and they are all tributes in and of themselves.

Eventually, I became compelled to construct an homage of my own. I found myself working with the conviction that it is critical for audiences today to remember not just her infamous bouffant and grace notes of the 1970's, but what she truly inspired in those who were propelling theatre and music forward in the forty years between 1930 and 1970. She is a pivotal cornerstone of American theatre history. The roles written for her are brilliant and classic. The list of songs associated with her name is astounding—enough to fill several evenings. With that as a basis, I opened my tribute at Danny's Skylight Room in March of 2001 under the title Everything the Traffic Will Allow: the songs and sass of Ethel Merman, and it was like being shot out of a cannon. I was not expecting the amount of people and attention it brought. Some came because they loved Merman and wanted to see anything associated with her. Others came because they had known Merman and were fully prepared to refute a misguided caricature. But they came. And, my mother Winkie aside, most of them came because of the legend that is Ethel Merman.

My audiences were filled with people who had met her, who had seen her perform, who had worked with her. I was given so many wonderful and colorful stories and I'm hoping that people will continue to share those memories with me. If you told me a story and I didn't have a pencil in my hand please write and tell me again. I had no idea how fascinated I would become with this whole subject. And check in periodically because my goal is to begin sharing the printable ones under the "Merman Lives" button in the months ahead.

So, back finally to my original dilemma, how could I answer anything other than Ethel Merman when pressed to answer what person influenced me as a performer? When I hear her sing, I hear a voice that auditioned for George Gershwin at 20 and got the part. I hear a girl hanging out with Cole Porter, drinking champagne on the rocks out of a highball glass. She was there. She embodies the music, the legend, and the style that inspire me most. And, thankfully, celebrating her remarkable life and career gave me a tremendous opportunity to cultivate my own style and to make quite a few new friends,,, Who could ask for anything more?