It’s impossible to recall precisely when ventriloquism fell off the radar screen.
Some would say the art has faced an uphill battle ever since 1962, when a particularly chilling “Twilight Zone” episode, “The Dummy,” first aired on CBS. There also was that memorably nasty 1978 film “Magic” – based on the William Goldman best seller – in which Anthony Hopkins played a nutty ventriloquist who’s tormented by his puppet.
If you happened to ask any of the dozens of performers gathered at the Vegas Ventriloquist Convention 2000, staged earlier this month at Harrah’s resort, another answer was repeatedly proffered.
“Ed Sullivan always had `vents’ on the show,” said Travis Bowen, behind a table full of his sculpted-foam puppets in the convention’s exhibition area. “So, it did hurt business when the show went off the air in 1971.”
“The Ed Sullivan Show” nearly bridged the gap between vaudeville and MTV, and an appearance before the huge CBS audience proved invaluable. It made household names out of Seor Wences and Topo Gigio.
“People have been saying ventriloquism is a dying art since the ’20s, when vaudeville started taking a hit from the movies,” said Valentine Vox, director of the International Ventriloquists Association. “It’s never been a dying art, it’s just that Ed Sullivan isn’t around anymore.”
Nonetheless, each year nearly 200 ventriloquists flock to Las Vegas each year. And, this month, they were cheered by the sight of a fellow vent’s name on the big marquee outside the Mirage.
Inside the Mirage’s blood-red Danny Gans Showroom, Ronn Lucas was proving that – twice a week, at least – people still are willing to pay $22.95 to see someone throw his or her voice into the mouth of a dummy … or, to be politically correct, “figure.”
“Seeing Ronn’s name up there is encouraging to everyone here, because it says that they, too, can make it as a ventriloquist, and not just as the secondary act, either,” said Vox, who until recently ran the Magic & Movie Hall of Fame at O’Shea’s Casino. “We’re not just for opening acts. You can get to the top if you really want to.”
It would be difficult to find a convention more casual, convivial and supportive of the competition than this one.
Over the course of five days, there were several open-mike shows, tributes and workshops, and it wasn’t uncommon to see big-name performers openly mingling with vents on the way up or down the ladder of success. One afternoon, cutting-edge magician Penn Jillette, of Penn & Teller, stopped by to see what was going on at Harrah’s. (“I come to all of the goofy things,” he quipped, while paging through a book of scripts and jokes.)
Everyone seemed to know each other, and they treated each other’s dummies with the same love and respect as we civilians might accord the son or daughter of a longtime friend. Rather than being creepy — as some skeptics and “Twilight Zone” devotees might imagine — the effect was rather charming.
“Of course, the image — promulgated largely by Hollywood — is that ventriloquists are schizophrenic … loners … and that they need this alter ego to talk to, and somehow they’re controlled by it,” said Vox. “It makes us laugh, but that’s what everyone asks us about and thinks. And, for Hollywood, it’s a great vehicle to write a story around.
“The reality is that the requirements of the art form are a lot more complicated than just being a schizophrenic … not that being a schizophrenic isn’t complicated enough.”
And the future of ventriloquism appears to be in good hands. For every, middle-aged and senior vent at the convention, there was an enthusiastic youngster with a figure on his or her knees.
Among the participants were 14-year-olds Spensor Horsman and Jennifer Field, who already have appeared on several television shows and carry themselves with the assurance of seasoned show-biz veterans.
Spensor, whose parents met while working as circus clowns, first picked up a dummy when he was 8. His instructions came via a Paul Winchell video.
Jenny, like most of the children at the convention, found her inspiration at home, in Arlington Heights, and has been performing since she was 6. Her dad, Chuck, who regularly attends these gatherings with his daughter, has taken her along on his gigs at various comedy clubs and community events.
Chuck Field said there probably are no more than a dozen full-time ventriloquists in the Chicago area. In the whole world, Vox said, there may only be 500 or so professional vents, and most of them routinely show up here or at the Vent Haven International Ventriloquist Convention each July, in Ft. Mitchell, Ky.
Most of the kids acknowledged that a talent for ventriloquism doesn’t necessarily ensure popularity among their peers.
“It was tough in middle school, because that’s when kids are really mean,” 18-year-old Carla Rhoads, of Charlestown, Ind., conceded.
“I actually stopped doing it around 7th grade, because I was made fun of so much. But, I picked it up again the next year, because it’s what I did well and was what I should be doing.
“In high school, the kids finally accepted it. They started thinking it was cool after I started appearing in the local papers. Then they were impressed.”
Kandi Marie, now 13, followed her mom, Christine, into the business when she was 6. Along with her puppet, Lollipop, she also performed at the Youth Show.
A conversation with the Maries sometimes required getting between Goober and Gumdrop, two chatty characters who squabble like any preteen brother and sister. “I was tongue-tied when I was a kid,” said Christine Marie. “The kids teased me about my speech. I had no friends, so I got a puppet.”
It’s a common story, and one that’s led to some of the preconceptions of vents as loners and oddballs.
“A lot of vents are shy, and they come up with a figure, which they’ll carry with them and sometimes use to engage in conversations with other people,” said Bowen, whose Mr. Z & T Unique Creations dummies mostly are built to order and cost between $350 and $500.
“That person probably couldn’t have done that without his dummy. He can speak through his figure and say things he couldn’t otherwise say.”
Comedy clubs still book plenty of vent acts, but the reliable money comes in playing corporate dates and cruise ships, and doing motivational or religious gigs. Television, said Vox, is only the end result, unless a performer can find his or her way into a series.
Looking ahead, not much is likely to change as we enter the new millennium.
“Automation hasn’t brought anything to it because ventriloquism is an art form that relies on the ability of a ventriloquist to create that other character, and converse with the character in such a way that creates the illusion of his independent existence,” said Vox.
“You can’t do that through animation, and it’s not just lip control. It’s manipulating the character, bringing to life the voice.
“Acting with the character is the most important thing … essentially being funny. A ventriloquist’s act won’t work unless he’s funny.”
