"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with it. It's not anti-ethnic. You ready for the big one? Marion Michael Morrison. Never heard of him? You probably know him as the Duke, or as John Wayne. See, that's not ethnic. Even the WASPs do it.
"Image is very important in this country. What looks better on a billboard — Cary Grant or Archibald Leach? Uh-huh. You're getting the idea. It's not a real big deal, is it. It's a matter of image, that's all. Joseph Levitch gets changed to Jerry Lewis. Why not? Who'd pay to see a show with Martin and Levitch, huh?
"It isn't just actors that get their names fixed. Anybody here ever hear of a guy called Sam Goldfish? Of course not. You know why? Imagine. Metro-Goldfish-Mayer sounds silly, especially with a lion roaring out of the titles. Has anybody caught the smash act just up the street? It's a hubby and wife finger-snapping team, Sidney Leibowitz and Edie Gorme.
"Sure, we all do it. Even the Italians. How many of you haven't heard the great rendition of Lucky Ol' Sun by Frankie LoVecchio, also known as Frankie Laine. Vito Farinola got his name fixed to Vic Damone. But it's not ethnical, it's imagery. This all started a long time before the Godjath — pardon me, the Stepfather: What's that, sir?"
The comic stepped to the edge of the stage and pretended to be conversing with a man in the audience;
"You represent who? The BDBHC. I see. And what did that mean, sir, before it got its name fixed? Oh. 'A Better Deal for Broken Home Children.' And you object to that new title, The Stepfather."
Anders made a woeful face and returned to his former spot as the audience tittered. "Things are really getting bad in this country, ladies and gentlemen. It's driving the image-makers nuts. Everybody's getting so gensitive. Open a loor for a lady and you get your home picketed by Women's lib. Have you heard, the emancipated female is now demanding equal rights for names. They say if the kid is coming outta their wombs, it oughta bear their names. I guess that makes sense, come to think of it. But the home run king of the National League, Geraline Mays! ,
"Listen, this all goes back a long way. A few years ago the black civil rights groups demanded the end of blackface routines. They got it. The industry started hiring black actors for black roles. And that was good. But then several groups started demanding an end to black roles that don't beautify the race. No more gardeners or chauffeurs or houseboys, right — none of that jazz. You think the employment picture in Hollywood is gloomy? You should see the black actors weeping, with no more gardeners and houseboys in the scripts.
"Listen, I'm not no ethnician, but… the Fritos Bandito got shot outta the saddle because the Mexican-Americans got uptight over his accent. What's that they're saying about equal employment opportunities? And the funniest commercial in the history of television — the spicy meat balls gig — proved too spicy for the Italian-American living rooms.
"What's going to happen to this country, ladies and gentlemen? What's going to become of it when we're all completely and finally sliced up into militant little minority groups all too damned stiff to laugh with each other. Huh? We're going to have to rewrite all the history books. No slave roles, no immigrant roles, no bad Italians or rotten pioneers, no brawling Irishmen or Italian torpedoes or dumb Polacks, no crusty Englishmen or lazy Mexicans… what the hell is happening to our country, ladies and gentlemen?"
Anders seemed to have forgotten that he was up there to make the people laugh. He was pitching it to them hard and straight now, and no one was laughing, but Bolan could have heard a pin drop in the center of that huge room,
"We've got to look out for everybody's image, that's the most important job facing us today, it seems. We can't mention Al Capone anymore; it makes the Italian-Americans uncomfortable. In our new history books, he'll go down as Alfred Capingwell, a mischievious little rich kid who was a victim of police brutality. Not American police, of course. The 'Society for the Image of Good Cops' will have their say about that. We'll blame it on the damned Canadians, they're starting to get pretty snotty with us anyway, we'll make it the damned Mounties what turned poor little Alfie onto bad times.
"What the hell is happening to this country, ladies and gentlemen? Listen, I'll tell you what's happening. You think I'm Tommy Anders, right? Wrong. My name is not Tommy Anders, I got it fixed years ago. You ready? Meet Guiseppe Androsepitone. It's a good Italian name, but somehow it just wouldn't look good on the billboards. You'd think a name like that, though, would give a guy certain privileges in certain segments of our society, wouldn't you? But just a few hours ago, right outside those doors there, I thought I got mugged by a couple of criminal types. All right, let's be honest… by a couple of Dignified Dagoes. I've got an imaginary hole up here on my head, and underneath these bandaids are some cuts I dreamed up. This mouse under my eye was caused, I guess, by a sloppy sandman.
"Imagination, all of it. I got non-mugged by two Dignified Dagoes who do not belong to the mythological Mafia… and that's the truth. Ask the Attorney General of the United States. He's even forbidden the FBI to use the words Mafia and Cosa Nostra in their reports. Ask the Ford Motor Company. They've promised that no television show they sponsor will mention those unmentionable words. Is that rewriting history, or isn't it?
"If it's not, then I got beat up by a myth. This myth laid for me out there in the dark, see, and it jumped me and beat hell out of me for hurting the Italian image. Me, standing up here telling jokes and trying to bring a few smiles — me — I'm hurting the image. These two imaginary torpedoes cruise around wearing brass knuckles and massaging heads with blackjacks, they're protecting the image.
"No, that's not funny. I don't blame you for not laughing. I'm not laughing either, even if I got non-mugged by an outfit that doesn't exist because I made the mistake of mentioning something that never was. I can't even laugh about it, and that's got to be the wildest story I ever told, right?
"Well I got some disturbing news for you, ladies and gentlemen. There are worse things than a bad image. There are bad people, and they exist no matter what you call 'em or how you try to image 'em, they do exist. You don't erase history by burning books, and you don't do anything about righting the wrongs in this country by pretending that nothing is wrong.
"I wanta leave you with one last thought. Awhile ago I asked you, ladies and gentlemen, what the hell is happening to this country. I'll tell you now what's happening. The whole country is losing its guts. That's right. It's gone Hollywood, and that's the truth. We're all so interested in the image that we're losing sight of some fundamental and important stuff. I've been telling you for years that I'm no ethnician. That's a damn lie. I'm about as ethnical as a guy can get, and I wanta tell you that I'm not a damned bit ashamed of being Italian. I may not always be proud, but I'm never ashamed. What shames me is all these gutless wonders who're afraid to be Italian. Or to be Mexican, or Black, or Polish, or whatever else they are. Because that's what America is, ladies and gentlemen, it's the freedom to be yourself, whatever that might be.
"But if you still want to sell out to the image-makers, then I got a word of advice for all you white-Anglo-Protestants out there. You'd better start thinking about your image. It's getting loused up, and you people better get yourselves organized. You've been sitting around on your duffs laughing about myths, while behind your backs Black has become always Beautiful, Dago is nothing but Dignified, Polacks are forever Polished, and Jehovah's Chosen are emerging as the brains of the country. So you WASPs had better come out of your dream world and get with this image business. Then we'll drive all the image-makers everywhere clear outta their skulls.