“Everybody only has the nicest things to say about Liberace. Surprisingly bad pianist, though . . . .”

—Jim Henson

I am of an age where basically the first thing I knew about Liberace was that his doctors had lied about his cause of death. I guess it’s possible there were kids at the time whose parents actually listened to his music, and it’s true he was on two shows I actually cared about, but nope. Unwilling or unable to admit that, yeah, he’d died of AIDS. This in the days when AIDS was considered a “gay disease,” and after he’d spent decades insisting he was straight. Which is of course why his doctors tried to lie in the first place. And, yes, the Daily Mirror asked for their money back.

Liberace spent his career trying to convince his fans that he just hadn’t met the right girl yet. He wasn’t like Cher or Madonna—because Liberace was his last name. He was born to an Italian father and a Polish mother as Wladziu Valentino Liberace. (His younger brother was actually Rudolph Valentino Liberace, so his mother actually named two of her children after the actor.) To his credit, he picked up on piano starting at age four, which is impressive even if his actual playing wasn’t the best. He did some acting, which was quite bad, and was just generally the most flamboyant person around for many years.

The problem with his playing was that he was singularly uninterested in the music as written. What he was interested in was what show he could get from it. He wore white tie and tails as the simplest of his outfits because he wanted to be seen. Not heard—seen. That was the point of a Liberace show. It wasn’t about the music. It was about the experience of being at a Liberace show. And if he had to change the music around, well, who was going to care about any of that?

Therefore, musically, I agree that there was nothing wrong with saying nasty things about his performing. Also I think I’ve seen Sincerely Yours, and I cannot recommend it to anyone. Elton John apparently idolized him as a child, but Elton John developed actual ability. Still, the full quote from the Daily Mirror that led to the lawsuit wherein he was declared defamed by being called “fruit-flavoured” was a lot. Specifically:

They all say that this deadly, winking, sniggering, snuggling, chromium-plated, scent-impregnated, luminous, quivering, giggling, fruit-flavoured, mincing, ice-covered heap of mother love has had the biggest reception and impact on London since Charlie Chaplin arrived at the same station, Waterloo, on September 12, 1921.

I mean, that is something you’d sue over regardless of your sexuality, because it’s frankly just cruel. Needlessly, shamelessly cruel. Liberace—Lee, to his friends—said he’d cried all the way to the bank. Still, I’d be shocked if he weren’t at least a little hurt by that. He knew he wasn’t popular with the critics, and I’ve no doubt he didn’t expect to be. If he did, he’d have put a little more effort into his piano-playing as opposed to his showmanship. But this got him in the showmanship, and the lawsuit was in no small part because it implied he was gay. Which could have hurt him with his mostly middle-aged, mostly female fan base. Such a strange career he had.

I’m not exactly asking for a diamond piano, but enough to pay a bill or two would be nice, if you’d care to support my Patreon or Ko-fi!