Remembering Jan Wallman 1922-2015

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Remembering Jan Wallman
1922-2015

December 4, 2015

 By John Hoglund for Cabaret Scenes

Jan Wallman & Joan Rivers at the MAC Awards
Jan Wallman & Joan Rivers at the MAC Awards

“… She gave little flowers a chance to bloom in an age before greed had yet to flood the city.” — Author James Gavin (2015)

In a world where good taste is as hard to come by as good music, Jan Wallman carried a banner for both. That banner fell on October 8, 2015 when she died peacefully. So did an age we’ll never see again. At 93, Jan was the last of her breed. Her influence on cabaret and Manhattan nightlife for more than a half century reached beyond the footlights. Jan was not a singer. Yet, her knowledge of songs and songwriters such as Charles De Forest, Arthur Siegel and John Wallowitch, etc., made her formidable in the delicate world of cabaret—and piano bars. Although she never gave formal lessons, she taught a generation how to get it right through aged-in-wood wisdom and common sense. Singer Barbara Fasano wrote on social media: “She had a way of making us feel essential.” Jan quietly lit many flames and saw them flicker as a golden age slipped away in a disappearing New York. Joan Rivers told Private Lives Magazine in 1992, “If it weren’t for Jan Wallman, no one would have taken me seriously. She made me believe in myself when I was ready to give up.” Presenting her with a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Manhattan Association of Cabarets & Clubs (MAC) in 2013, Rivers gushed, “1958 was the golden age of cabaret. Jan Wallman made a haven and a home for all of us then. Upstairs at The Duplex was an amazing room. It was what New York was all about. We were all so raw. Jan was the first to see us and to spot us.

Quick to see through the absurdities of life, Jan was not one to suffer fools gladly. Never shy about expressing an opinion, she played boss, den mother, mentor and friend to fledgling performers. She offered a step up the ladder to an odd assortment of hopefuls back in the day. Some of those rookies included Woody Allen (“I liked his jokes, but, as a comedian, he was awful!”), Dick Cavett, Bert Convy, Rodney Dangerfield, Robert Klein, George Segal, Marcia Lewis, Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, Joanne Worley, Linda Lavin, Rivers and Barbra Streisand. She was paid back with loyalty. This was true especially on that February night in 1986 when they jammed into Carnegie Hall to help her after the closing of her little club at 28 Cornelia Street due to a third rent increase. The event was led by cabaret singer Judy Kreston, a close friend and regular at her club. Lavin summed up Jane best saying, “We were all beginners then and she made us all feel hopeful.” After the show, Jan told Back Stage cabaret columnist Bob Harrington, “I’ve never felt so appreciated or loved. If I died tomorrow, I’d be smiling. I’m very grateful to these wonderful people who are part of my life.” She went on to open a chic cabaret on West 44th Street (two doors up from The Algonquin). Eventually, Kreston took over and Jan moved on.

Jan Wallman came from humble beginnings. Born Janet Jacob on May 14, 1922 in Roundup, Montana, she grew up in St. Paul, Minnesota and married twice. Her first husband died in World War II. She divorced her second husband and kept his surname. She is survived by a sister, Kate Kemmerer. Jan lived for many years with her loyal companion and caretaker Gregory Moore who was also her former business manager. Through the decades, Jan became a village fixture. In 1958, she brought her unknown friend Nina Simone to The Duplex just to listen to music. Simone fell in love with the upstairs room. Simone’s future husband, Donald Ross, became the manager of the room along with Jan. One might say Jan started in cabaret because of Nina. Jan was in the studio with Simone when she recorded her debut album that ignited her career. Jan told John S. Wilson of The New York Times in 1986, “Don and I began running it [The Duplex] in 1959. Three weeks later, he left and I was on my own. I suddenly found that I was doing what I liked to do. I loved what went on there—the music, the performers. It was a party every night.” It was there that she would nurture unknown names like Woody Allen and Joan Rivers. When Streisand appeared at the Bon Soir, she would run over to The Duplex between sets. Jan would interrupt the show to announce a special guest. Jan allowed her to rehearse before the club would open. Streisand asked her opinion as she reworked “Happy Days Are Here Again.” Like Simone, Streisand wanted Jan’s approval; hers was the one that mattered. After they closed The Duplex, Jan managed The Showplace on West 4th Street for two years. She returned to The Duplex from 1964 to1968. In the mid-’70s, Jan was approached by a friend who had a hole in the wall on Cornelia Street and asked her to take it over. On NiteLifeExchange in 2013, Jan told cabaret/piano bar veteran and former MAC president Ricky Ritzel, “The whole business has changed dramatically since those days. I’ve guided a few people in my day and I’ve seen it all change. Today, most club owners are only about the money.”

Jan lived for many years above the Provincetown Playhouse on MacDougal Street until 2008 when NYU decided to destroy the building to build another student residence. Jan was being thrown out. She was in her eighties. Friends and locals were outraged. An embarrassed NYU relocated her. Ultimately, she loved her new apartment in the Washington Square area. Most mornings, she could be found at the dog run in the park with her beloved little dog.

In a 1989 interview, Jan told Jacques le Sourd of the Gannett Westchester Newspapers: “Cabaret is my world, so I think it’s beautiful. But, it’s not what it was. I don’t think anyone can say it’s back or coming back.” Jan was a truth teller. The golden age of cabaret was over. James Gavin spoke about the lady he first met in 1984 when he was still in college: “I was wandering through the West Village and happened upon Jan Wallman’s on Cornelia near Bleecker. In the window was a flyer advertising a tribute to Mabel Mercer by Barbara Lea. A few nights later, there I was inside this humblest of cabarets, sitting nervously alone at the bar and listening to Barbara with Wes McAfee playing a spinet piano. There was a $5 cover and a $5 minimum at the bar, so that made $12 with a buck tip for each of my two OJs. But mother hen Jan made me feel welcome. I could see that she was a tough bird, but obviously extremely dedicated to keeping this art form alive under very challenging conditions. She was a Greenwich Village girl who nurtured and celebrated the small artistic effort, who understood that this was the foundation of New York’s greatness. She gave little flowers a chance to bloom in an age when greed had yet to flood the city. She was wholeheartedly dedicated to the art above all. She came from a New York era in which small, honest achievements mattered and were allowed to flourish.”

With typical quiet dignity Jan slipped into old age. Health problems slowed her down. Yet, she still attended many shows and wrote for small outlets. She always had an eye for rising talent. After hearing a shy newcomer named Marcus Simeone whisper Someone to Watch Over Me with Jerry Scott at Danny’s Piano Bar in 2001, she pulled him aside and said, “You have a beautiful voice and you’re different. Follow your own drum. Don’t be like anyone else; there are enough clones out there.” Simeone said, “I had no idea who she was. Later on, whenever we saw each other, she always said, Remember what I told you.’”

She loved a piano man. She became fast friends with Jerry Scott and Chris Barrett. Barrett recalls, “She loved attention and was always dressed to the nines for any occasion. She loved good food and had little tolerance for bad manners, bad food, and bad singers. But she was always polite. Jan held a wealth of information when it came to songs. If Danny Apolinar, Murray Grand or John Wallowitch wrote it, Jan knew the history. She was always bringing me sheet music saying, ‘This is a good song for you.’ As always, she was right. Iridium manager Scott Barbarino frequently escorted Jan around town over the last decade. He recalls, “Jan was a friend and became my mentor. I am glad I listened to everything she told me because she always made me better. She knew this business of cabaret better than anyone else and, for me, was the handbook to refer to when a question arose.” Baby Jane Dexter recalled running into Jan while attending a therapeutic swimming class at the Y: “I loved her nurturing, her kindness and her strength. Jan learned to flourish in a male-dominated profession at a time when that was impossible.”

James Gavin & Jan
James Gavin & Jan

Gavin wrapped it up: “I think of Jan as one of the great New Yorkers, because she embodied the values that drew me to New York in the first place. A sophistication that was distinctly Manhattan, a striving for excellence, for erudition. A mixture of toughness and heart. A desire to be part of a community that shared those qualities. Sometime that year [1984] I began writing my cabaret book, entirely on spec. Jan immediately consented to giving me an interview. I basked in her stories about The Duplex and The Showplace, told with a smart, no-nonsense matter-of-factness. She was a real Greenwich Village character, a survivor who had held true to a very specific plan. She was proud, but not self-aggrandizing, about the greats whom she had helped launch. But I don’t think Jan was hung up on stardom or celebrity. She was wholeheartedly dedicated to the art above all. She came from a New York era in which small, honest achievements mattered and were allowed to flourish. She knew the beauty of those magical moments in which a performer mesmerized fifty people in a small room. For her, fame was not the end-all goal in that scenario. The experience had a completeness unto itself. Jan’s history is full of great cabaret performers who didn’t become household words, but who were masters of the form: Joanne Beretta (a huge favorite of mine), John Wallowitch, Ava Williams, Claiborne Cary, Ronny Whyte, lots of others.”

We will never see her likes again.

John Hoglund

For over 30 years, John Hoglund has been a respected entertainment writer covering cabaret, jazz, theater and recordings. His writings have appeared in numerous outlets including the Bistro Bits column for Back Stage. John moderated seminars and forums for the International Cabaret Conference At Yale. He produced many celebrity fundraisers in NYC including one of the first benefits after 9/11: “HeartSong:The Heroes' Concert” at The Bottom Line featuring 36 major stars. He co-produced “HeartSong2: The Heroes' Concert” for Katrina victims at Symphony Space and “Miracle On 35th Street” with a star-studded lineup. Other fund raising efforts include the first benefits for Broadway Cares and God's Love, We Deliver. John served on the Board of Directors of MAC for 12 years. He is well known for championing new and rising talents.