Anita Morris

ANITA MORRIS: All-Time Broadway Bombshell

By Richard Ridge

The fabulous Anita Morris was one in a million, a porcelain glamour doll for the ages. She combined talent, beauty, artistry and quintessential sex appeal, and rose from the ranks of the chorus to become Broadway's reigning bombshell. Tommy Tune recalls that author Norman Mailer said, after seeing a performance of Nine, "The spirit of Marilyn Monroe resides in the body and soul of Anita Morris." What the press and public did not know was that this glowing goddess waged a long battle against cancer.

Anita made her Broadway debut in the 1971 musical Jesus Christ Superstar , in which she created a stir by scaling the fifty- foot high set. According to her husband, director-choreographer Grover Dale, "she was fearless (onstage), she would do anything." Shortly thereafter she was in Detroit serving as Dale's assistant on the musical Seesaw. The show was in trouble, Dale was at wits end, Michael Bennett was brought in, and Morris stood by Dale. "Her loyalty and integrity made it apparent to me that this was my life partner." That was the beginning of their twenty-year artistic and personal liaison. Seesaw was also the beginning of her longtime artistic relationship with Tommy Tune. They quickly found each other to be kindred spirits. "That Southern tie that we had was innate between us. I just loved her," Tune said, "Every show I ever did, I tried to get Anita in. I wanted Anita to be in (the gender-bending) The Club. She could do anything. But she said to me, 'Well, Tommy, I'm just dyin' to work with you, but I just can't see myself as a maa-yun.'"

A short stop in the flop, Rachael Lily Rosenbloom and don't you ever forget it!, at least gave Morris a chance to shine in the "Broadway Rhythm" number. The next Morris-Dale collaboration was The Magic Show, in which magician Doug Henning and a randy cougar vied for Anita's attention. Then, she replaced Ann Jillian in the burlesque musical Sugar Babies, and later presided over The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, directed by Tommy Tune. This led her into his next musical, Nine,in 1982, and magic happened.

The role of Carla, the mistress of the film director, Guido (Raul Julia), was perfect for Morris - but more to the point, she was perfect for the role. Her telephone number to the director, the titillating tease, "A Call from the Vatican," was the most incendiary thing to hit the Great White Way in years. When Anita was cast, the number hadn't yet been written. Tune went to composer, Maury Yeston, for a song to establish the Carla-Guido relationship. Yeston wrote the number, and according to Tune, "The truth is you really don't direct Anita. You just watch and marvel at her. Because she did all of that herself…. I got a lot of credit for it, but all I did was get Maury to write (it). You just give Anita her head and she had unfailing taste. As shocking as the things were that she did, they were never vulgar. She never erred ever. She was always right on the money." Dale confirms that most of the number was put together by Anita in their dining room. Morris' costume was a black lace body stocking which redefined the term peek-a-boo and which was later banned by CBS on that year's Tony broadcast. "People thought they could see everything," Morris herself noted. "But actually you couldn't see anything. And believe me, I had people there every night with binoculars."

Anita Morris was nominated for a Tony for her role in Nine. Dale says, "I remember the night of the Tonys, being in the limo, getting out, and hearing that crowd go crazy…I was with someone who a year earlier was told she was gonna die. And there she was. She was living life like nobody's business. So to be a part of that (or) sit in the theatre and see her come out on the stage in Nine and be in that audience where there was that immediate buzz as soon as she came on the stage and sit on that box and shake her breasts, and hit a high C standing on her head. It doesn't get better than that."

Morris herself said, "I was doing the lead in Whorehouse and nobody knew who I was. Then Nine opened, and all of a sudden, I was on billboards, the sides of buses, on TV everyday, and the newspapers daily. It's so funny how your life can be turned around by that one little thing that captures the imagination."

After Nine, Morris got the call from Hollywood, appearing on television and in twelve films, including The Hotel New Hampshire, Ruthless People, and 18 Again. She was also a favorite guest of Johnny Carson on "The Tonight Show."

While making the film, Radioland Murders, Anita Morris was taken ill and died on March 3, 1994, in Los Angeles, just one week short of her fifty-first birthday. Only her family and closest friends had known that she had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer as early as 1980, and told she had less than five years to live. But she faced this with her patented mixture of courage and determination. "I've got nothin' to lose," she told her husband, Grover Dale, "I'm gonna go for it." He recalls that, "It was fifteen years and she was always going for check-ups. Everything was just fine and all of a sudden, it just happened and within eight weeks she was gone. Six months earlier she had told me she wanted to be in the service of God. So she did go into the service of God, but not on this earth."

Anita was actually a very shy girl and when he first saw her, Dale was taken with her red hair, red shoes, red leotard, and red tights - and look of sheer terror. But Dale thought, "You may be scared, but you sure are cute." Also, he said, "Not only could she dance, but boy, could she sing! I was delirious when I heard those pipes."

They were eventually married - typically between gigs. They were together for twenty years and had a son, James ("Badgett") Dale. Morris was a career woman who was also a great wife and mother, an excellent cook, gardener, and homemaker. When they lived in New York, she was dedicated to the care of a miniscule lawn which she told Johnny Carson she cut with a pair of scissors.

Morris had a cozy, sweet innocence for all her redheaded vampiness. She always referred to herself as "just an old-fashioned girl," and "always a very serious actress." Still, when she came to New York, she "showed them that sex on a stage can be fun. I've been a sex symbol all my life, but it doesn't bother me. I can sing, dance, and act. What do I have to worry about?"