which cuts travel time drastically in 1904.  You know where this is going, don't you.

       

Rufus Wainwright, who performed Judy Garland's Carnegie Hall concert at the Hollywood Bowl, last night.

"Clang, clang, clang went the trolley..."

Which wasn't my favorite number (I'd have to say "How Long Has This Been Going On?" or "Do It Again" was), but how do I begin to tie it all together for you, Gentle Reader? 
There are of course the obvious associations -- the 1904 St. Louis World's Fair, which some of you know I've already done, and so I settled for a variation on that theme.  Yes, I could have done the Wizard of Oz, but I've been there too.
Vincente Minelli?  Born 1903 -- so close!
Carnegie Hall?  Built before 1904, although Richard Strauss's Siphonia Domestica, a tonal poem, premiered there in that year (yawn).
The Hollywood Bowl?  Much later, twenty years after Hollywood was incorporated.
I even was tempted to try this: Stuyvesant High School was founded in New York in 1904, named after Peter Stuyvesant, whose descendants include Loudon Wainwright, and his son Rufus Wainwright.  True story, but I'm sure you'd agree, way too tangential.

As Rufus himself has said, only a gay man could recreate Judy's famous performance at Carnegie Hall.  To my mind, only a gay man would think of doing it.  And then he did, sweetly and adoringly, copying the moves, the gestures, the screw-ups (and I forgot the words ... where Judy did).  Judy did banter -- Rufus did banter, telling a story about being with his Mom in L.A. while she recorded an album and they were staying at the Chateau Marmont (for $22 a night) when Rufus fell in the pool and was saved from drowning by Betty Buckley. 

Hollywood references aside (and there would be more later) for some reason Rufus reminded me of that little boy with the hippest, most with-it mom on the cul-de-sac, the Mom who was Understanding and Encouraging and wanted her Special Talented Son to perform for friends and neighbors, and here he was!  This adorable kid up there, doing Judy!  We'd always secretly envied him.  He'd made it to the big time!

For someone like me -- never mind for a minute the gay part -- someone who loves that intersection of old and new, of putting things together that might not exactly belong together to make something seem new and different, listening to this kid sing these old torch songs in a voice that is so not like Judy's, hearing a boy sing songs about being in love with boys (written by people like Noel Coward for heaven's sake) without bothering to change the pronouns ... well, it was a little magical.  Call me sentimental but he really was charming.  And also conscious of what he was doing, because as he pointed out when Judy performed there were plenty of gay men in the audience and homosexuality was a crime in this country.  And it's still a crime in some states, he added casually in an aside, and then dedicated a song to his boyfriend.  He also had his mom and sister Martha come up and perform (Martha astounded the crowd with a rendition of "Stormy Weather"), and of course, when he sat down on the stage floor and crossed his legs and sang "Somewhere over the Rainbow"  while his mom accompanied him on the piano and at the end the half moon of the Hollywood Bowl band shell lit up in a candy-colored rainbow... well, the crowd -- which could have been arrested in some states -- went wild.

He also greeted Debbie Reynolds in the front row and invited Lorna Luft in a pink flowing gown up on stage to sing.  And in a show-stopping close he returned on stage for an 'encore' in Judy's signature outfit -- black fishnet tights and heels and a tuxedo jacket and hat.  From wild the crowd went... more wild. 

It was such a transcendently gay moment and accomplished with such genuine carefree fun.  For those of us old enough to remember when drag could be a transgressive, aggressive act (and think about Judy wearing that outfit -- a man's tuxedo jacket and presumably nothing else -- think about what that said once upon a time), there was such joyful innocence in the moment. 

It was that little boy again, playing dress-up in his Mom's clothes, but without the shame and the condemnation the scene would have provoked in so many other times and places.  For those of us who know what that means, this pink-cheeked grinning kid running out on stage in hat and heels gave us a moment of what real theatre used to give its audience: catharsis.  A release, a letting go of the guilt, the hang-ups, the self-loathing so many of the men in the house that night at Carnegie Hall over forty years ago had brought in with them.  

As Rufus said, and I think he was right: last night those men -- that long ago audience who'd come on a rainy night in New York to see Judy at Carnegie Hall -- last night they were there in the darkness of the Hollywood Bowl with us, ghosts whose spirits got set free by a sweet young man who loved Judy Garland and loved boys and just loved to play dress up and sing.