There is probably no other name in show business that connotes the power and vitality of a singing voice than that of the inimitable Ethel Merman. I can remember back in 1984 when I worked for a short time at the Lighthouse Gift Shop in New York City. They auctioned off some of her things, which were willed in her estate to benefit that organization after her death.

I remember looking at the vinyl tote-bag and faux-fur coat and thinking about how such ordinary items were suddenly transformed by their mere association with a woman who had such an extraordinary voice and talent. She stands alone in the annals of the American musical; a legend for all time.

Ethel Agnes Zimmermann was born on January 16, 1908, in the third floor bedroom of her grandmother’s house at 359 4th Avenue in Astoria, Queens. Her father, Edward, was an accountant of German heritage and her mother Agnes, who was a school teacher, came from a Scottish Presbyterian background. Many presumed her to be of Jewish origin, although her last name would only be considered so if it contained one “N”.

She was baptized Episcopalian, and as a young girl would stand outside the Famous Players-Lasky Studios and wait to catch a glimpse of her favorite Broadway star, Alice Brady. Her father encouraged her love of song and her dreams of singing on stage, and often accompanied her on the piano as she sang “By The Light of The Silv’ry Moon” and “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.”

She began her singing career while working as a secretary for the B-K Booster Vacuum Brake Company in Queens, New York. Her love of song and performing lured her into the world of vaudeville where she reached the pinnacle of success when she performed at the Palace Theater in the heart of New York City.

In “Girl Crazy”, a musical with songs written by George and Ira Gershwin, which also starred a very young Ginger Rogers, Ethel received third billing. Her rendition of “I’ve Got Rhythm” catapulted her to fame. By the late 1930s, she became the first lady of the Broadway musical stage, a position she would hold for many years to come. There are many who consider Ethel Merman to be the leading Broadway performer of the twentieth century with her signature song, “There’s No Business Like how Business.”

In an era when stage singers performed without benefit of microphones, Ethel and her powerful alto voice had a distinct advantage. She never took a singing lesson in her life and according to Broadway lore, George Gershwin himself warned her never to start after reading her opening reviews for “Girl Crazy.” Ethel Merman didn’t sing a song; it somehow seemed to erupt from her mouth with a precision of tone and enunciation unlike anyone before her or since.

She went on to star in five Cole Porter musicals, including “ Anything Goes” in 1934, where she introduced the title song, and “I Get a Kick Out of You” and to an adoring public. ”Red, Hot and Blue” followed in which she costarred with Bob Hope and Jimmy Durante. It featured two songs, “It’s Delovely” and “Down in the Depths.” She became known for “signature duets” such as “You’re the Top” and “Friendship,” which she performed with Bert Lahr in “DuBarry Was A Lady.” Irving Berlin also wrote duets to accompany her most unusual and very profitable voice. In “Annie Get Your Gun” particularly, there are two; “Anything You Can Do” and “You’re Just in Love.”

In 1951, Merman won the Tony Award for “Best Actress” for her portrayal of Sally Adams in “Call Me Madame.” She also starred in the film version. Perhaps of all her roles, she is most revered for her performance in “Gypsy” as Gypsy Rose Lee’s mother, Rose. “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” became a memorable hallmark forever associated with her vibrant and powerful alto voice. She proved herself to be quite the sore loser, however, when she lost the film role to Rosalind Russell. She made some very nasty remarks about her rival and referred to her husband, Freddie Brisson, as “the Lizard of Roz.” But she got even by taking the show on the road and trumping the motion picture as a result.

Merman retired from Broadway in 1970 where her last appearance was as Dolly Levi in “Hello, Dolly,” which was written especially for her. Her preferred fare became television specials and movies. Over the years, she had developed a reputation for having a rather salty tongue; she even rewrote with ribald overtones some of the lyrics from the songs that had made her famous. But that was for private ears only, and over the years she expressed disgust for what she considered the lewd direction Broadway was taking as evidenced in productions like “Oh, Calcutta.”

Her film career was not as distinguished as her stage roles. Stories differ as to the reason why; some say that that her oversized stage persona did not lend itself well to the screen. Others, however, claim that her behavior on the set of Twentieth Century Fox’s “There’s No Business Like Show Business” was a turn-off to mogul, Jack Warner, and that he refused thereafter to cast her in any of his motion pictures. Whatever the truth, Stanley Kramer cast her as the obnoxious Mrs. Marcus, mother-in-law of Milton Berle, in “It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.”

Her very last movie role was unusual. It was a self-parody in the film, “Airplane” in which she appears as the figment of a soldier’s imagination. He is suffering from shell-shock and believes he is the great singing star herself. She sings “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” as the nurses drag her back to the bed and gave her a sedative.

Merman was married and divorced four times, and had two children with her second husband, newspaper executive, Robert Levitt. One of her children, her daughter, Ethel Levitt, aka “Little Bit,” died of an overdose of drugs and alcohol in 1967. The chapter in her 1978 biography devoted to her last marriage, which was to Ernest Borgnine, and lasted for 32 days, consisted on one blank page.

In 1983, Merman was diagnosed with brain cancer. On February 15, 1984, a few weeks following surgery, she collapsed and died. Her son, Robert Levitt, Jr. held his mother’s ashes as he rode up and down Broadway, passing all of the theaters his mother had played in during her lifetime. A minute before curtain time, all the marquees dimmed their lights in remembrance of her vibrant spirit.

Ethel Merman’s name will always be up in lights in the sense that it will be forever synonymous with Broadway’s heydey of glitz and neon dazzle. No matter how many years may pass, her essence and her legend live on in all lovers of the American musical everywhere.

We salute you, first lady of song.