Blame it on Billie Burke. It was her phone call to Vanity Fair in late 1919 that started it all. She was angry at Frank Crowninshield for publishing a review of a Somerset Maugham comedy. The review likened her performance to that of the erotic dancer, Eva Danguay. Billie Burke was, at the time, not only one of the biggest stars of the stage, but also the wife of one of Broadway’s biggest producers: Flo Ziegfeld. The author of the review was Dorothy Parker.
History was made on the second Sunday of January 1920. Vanity Fair‘s publisher, Frank Crowninshield had invited Dorothy Parker to tea at the Plaza. At a table adorned with roses, he gave a short speech–filled with flattery, evasions, half-truths and lies. And then, in his characteristically indirect fashion, he at last let her know the reason for the tea: she was fired.
The chain of events which led from this bitter moment to the christening of The Algonquin Round Table was as surprising as it was rapid. The first surprise: Dorothy Parker’s editor, Robert Benchley resigned in protest. This was a courageous move. And it did not go unnoticed. In fact, it became a cause celebre. Alexander Woolcott’s New York Times article was particularly sympathetic to Mrs. Parker.
Dorothy Parker had been to Alexander Woolcott’s Algonquin lunches before. In fact, she attended the first one in June of 1919. In a widely publicized event, a group of New York’s top critics, reporters and columnists sat down at a rectangular table in the hotel’s Pergola Room. There is no record of Dorothy Parker saying anything at all during the lunch, although after it was over, she did express the opinion that she didn’t see any reason why it should happen again. But it did, of course. The entertainment value of these lunches consisted of Mr. Woolcott insulting a guest as viciously as he could. He was a sort of queer Don Rickles of his time. Part of the fun was listening to how well the guest could respond. After a few months, interest was waning.
In the second half of January 1920, the center of gravity was beginning to shift at the Algonquin. Dorothy Parker started attending Mr. Woolcott’s luncheons regularly. She was, of course, unemployed and always ordered the cheapest item on the menu: scrambled eggs, but she had a dear friend at her side now: Robert Benchley. And she had something that was, perhaps even more important to her: she had their attention.
Looking back at her firing, Dorothy Parker many years later said: “Vanity Fair was a magazine of no opinions. But I had opinions.” In the beginning of 1920, it seemed that everyone in New York wanted to hear her opinions. And Mrs. Parker did not disappoint. Though soft-spoken, she didn’t need to raise her voice to be heard. The other members quieted and leaned in close to hear every word. Her instantly legendary witticisms revived the interest of the Algonquin lunches and were part of the reason the manager, Frank Case, moved the group to a round table in the much grander Rose Room. Within a month, The Brooklyn Eagle published a cartoon of the group wearing armor and sitting at a round table: The Algonquin Round Table. This was no longer The Alexander Woolcott Show. It was a round table of great writers. And the most influential of them all was Dorothy Parker.
It’s a common misconception that the term, “friend of Dorothy” is a reference to Judy Garland’s role in The Wizard of Oz. In fact, “friend of Dorothy” pre-dates the 1939 film. In the nineteen-twenties and thirties, gay men used this expression to discretely identify themselves. “Friend of Dorthy” was, in fact, short for “friend of Dorothy Parker”. And it indicated gay men who talked like Dorothy Parker–or aspired to. (It should be noted that Dorothy Parker also had a lot of gay friends. She moved to West Hollywood and was married to a gay man for years.)
Though not a formal member of the Round Table, Noel Coward attended the lunches whenever he could. He didn’t say much, but like Harpo Marx, was a good listener. He did make one mistake, however, when he saw Edna Ferber dressed in a tailored men’s suit. “You look just like a man,” he said. Edna Ferber’s response was Dorothy Parker-esque: “So do you.” Characteristically, Mr. Coward smiled through the moment–and learned from it. His 1930 comedy, Private Lives, clearly shows the influence of the Round Table. “Very flat, Norfolk,” might just as well have been written by Mrs. Parker.
Dorothy Parker wrote several classic short stories, including, “Big Blonde,” “Here We Are” and “You were Perfectly Fine”. She wrote four books of poetry. And a volume of legendary literary reviews. She also had a hand in some great movie scripts, including the original A Star is Born. And yet she is remembered mostly today for the words that just sprang out of her mouth spontaneously. Her best humor was improvisational, brilliant. Maybe that’s part of the reason so many emulate her–even today. Because somehow she made it all look easy.
1/12/2020