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- SHOW BUSINESS, Page 109Wild Seed in the Big Apple
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- Garrison Keillor returns with a New York-based radio show
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- By John Skow
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- Alas, Powdermilk Bagels, the brand that gives shy New
- Yorkers the strength to jump over subway turnstiles, was not
- among the sponsors. Garrison Keillor, the wandering Minnesota
- minstrel whose Prairie Home Companion variety show on public
- radio told tales of gentle eccentricity in a hard-to-find
- Midwestern hamlet called Lake Wobegon, says he has put shyness
- behind him. Just as well. Keillor, whose new American Radio
- Company of the Air fills the old P.H.C. Saturday-evening slot
- (6 to 8 p.m. EST), is now a New Yorker himself, an unstrained
- and wildly germinating seed in the Big Applesauce. Like all
- Gotham residents, he told listeners on A.R.C.'s first broadcast,
- he tries to project an image of aggressive lunacy as he walks
- the streets, by muttering constantly to himself.
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- Works fine, he reported. Not only do muggers edge away
- nervously, but Keillor thinks up a lot of good material as he
- mumbles. Thus the new show: recycled mugger-repellent. What
- kind of new show? Some comedy, centered more in the present than
- the nostalgic P.H.C. was, he said a few days before the first
- broadcast. But mostly "fine, classic American music; music to
- make people throw babies in the air." Tunes for the old show,
- which he closed with a teary farewell broadcast in June 1987
- (tearier second and third farewells followed, and a fourth is
- plotted for next June), tended to be guitar-based bluegrass and
- country, not counting the occasional trombone choir playing
- Lapland milking songs.
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- A classy 16-piece orchestra, no less, anchors the A.R.C.
- series, most of whose broadcasts will come from the Majestic
- Theater in Brooklyn, a spectacularly decayed old burlesque
- house belonging to the Brooklyn Academy of Music. The first
- broadcast detonated with a finger-snapping zum-bum-ooo-ooo
- singing group called True Image, headed uptown with show tunes
- swung elegantly by soprano Eileen Farrell, the diva who stops
- being 70 when she opens her mouth, then went gloriously low-down
- with Jelly Roll Morton tunes by pianist Butch Thompson, the fine
- St. Paul barrelhouser from the P.H.C. days. Flying babies filled
- the air.
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- Was this just P.H.C. at the Plaza? Sure. Maybe. No. There
- was, of course, a rambling dispatch from Lake Wobegon (Pastor
- Ingqvist, Keillor reported with approval, shocked his
- congregation at Thanksgiving by urging them to "sin boldly").
- Tom Keith, P.H.C.'s sound-effects wizard, was on hand to
- provide, among other arcanities, the splash of George
- Washington's silver dollar falling short into the Rappahannock.
- The show's funniest sketch, a serial, produced a new star,
- actress Ivy Austin. She plays Gloria, big-city girl, whose
- boyfriend (as she confesses endlessly to her hairdresser) wants
- her to give up everything (a shoe-box apartment), move to
- Seattle and marry him. Keillor says that when he started to
- write the script, his hero was a plucky male writer who moved
- to Manhattan, but Gloria, the archetypal tough, yearning New
- York woman, muscled in and took over.
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- What next? Minnesota Public Radio, which produces A.R.C.,
- has committed to a run of four shows, then six weeks of P.H.C.
- repeats, then 16 more live shows. Keillor hopes that A.R.C. will
- broadcast weekly after that, carried largely by its troupe of
- musicians and actors. "My idea is to make myself redundant," he
- says. This could be awkward. To the unpersuaded who couldn't
- stand P.H.C., he has always been redundant. But millions of
- others, who interrupted wedding receptions, marital quarrels and
- dinner parties to listen, are unlikely to accept substitutes.
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