The Sultan of Suave
Assessing an incomparable dancer, actor and singer
By DAVE SHIFLETT, WALL STREET JOURNAL on April, 27 2009

Fred Astaire was definitely an odd bird, at least by Hollywood standards. He despised publicity, appears to have been a fierce monogamist, was a regular churchgoer and decidedly Republican in his politics. He wasn't tall or dark or handsome in the manner of a typical leading man; Astaire was about 5-foot-7 but looked taller because he was so slim -- 135 pounds. And in his un-Hollywood way, Astaire never went to seed as so many stars do, leaving their fans tsk-tsking over how far they've let themselves go. He never developed a paunch ("What is a calorie anyway?" he once asked jazz critic Benny Green), always dressed impeccably and remained a graceful dancer late in life.

Yet for all his anti-movie-star qualities, Astaire was the quintessence of Hollywood glamour in movies such as "Top Hat" (1935), "Holiday Inn" (1942) and "Silk Stockings" (1957). Those days might be long gone, but even now it's easy to detect the lingering influence of Astaire's tuxedo-and-a-smile élan. The television show "Dancing With the Stars" has achieved huge popularity by putting onstage nondancers -- this season, they include former Go-Go's singer Belinda Carlisle and Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak -- and tapping into our collective dreams of being able to dance like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

The continuing fascination and affection for Astaire is reflected in Peter J. Levinson's "Puttin' on the Ritz" and Joseph Epstein's "Fred Astaire." Mr. Levinson chronicles Astaire's extraordinary life, while Mr. Epstein, lighter on his feet, pursues an answer to the question: "Whence derived Fred Astaire's sublimity, his magic?" Mr. Levinson's book will hold great appeal for readers who appreciate exhaustive detail (Astaire's waist: 29 inches). Mr. Epstein's book, part of his publisher's "Icons of America" series, will delight readers who admire the author's supple prose and welcome seeing it applied to a performer of similar grace and charm. Taken together, the books provide a thoroughly engaging portrait of the sultan of suave.

“On the third day of filming, Astaire was informed that Ginger Rogers might be appearing in the film, but he still wasn't at all sure if she was going to be dancing with him since of late Ginger had concentrated on playing several dramatic parts.” Read an excerpt from "Puttin' on the Ritz"

Fred Astaire wasn't born sublime -- he wasn't even born Fred Astaire, for that matter. Frederick Austerlitz came into the world in Omaha, Neb., in 1899. His father was a Catholic of Jewish heritage who appears to have tap-danced around the commandment regarding adultery while his mother dedicated herself to ushering Fred and sister Adele, three years older, into a show-business career. The brother-and-sister act hit the road for New York in 1905 and found early fortune as traveling entertainers; a vaudeville gig on the Orpheum Circuit paid $150 a week, writes Mr. Levinson (who died in 2008), at a time when skilled workers were making $2 a week.

Adele was the golden one, hailed by George Bernard Shaw as "one of the most beautiful women I have ever met." Fred was the workhorse, developing a capacity for concentrated labor that would drive his sister and future dance partners crazy -- but the perfection that he pursued often resulted in performances with a deep emotional resonance. "Freddie," Noël Coward said, "when I see you dance it makes me cry."

The hard work behind his dancing cannot explain everything about how he achieved such artistry, but it explains a part. So did the women he chose to work with after he and Adele stopped dancing together professionally in 1932. Mr. Epstein's pulse quickens when he recalls Cyd Charisse, Astaire's co-star in "The Band Wagon" (1953) and "Silk Stockings" -- "one of the most beautiful women ever to appear in movies," he writes. But there was also Rita Hayworth (her turn in "You'll Never Get Rich" in 1941 made Hayworth a star), Judy Garland, Leslie Caron, Barrie Chase and of course Ginger Rogers.

Both authors agree that Rogers was not the most polished dancer of the lot, though, as Mr. Epstein says, her inexperience may have been central to producing magical results. "What it meant, in practice, was that Fred Astaire, through relentless rehearsal, in effect trained her -- and trained her above all else to dance his way with him." Part of their appeal arose from common roots. Rogers was also a Midwesterner (born in Independence, Mo.), and together Astaire and Rogers managed to make an utterly glamorous pair, yet -- as Mr. Epstein puts it -- they "never lost the common touch."

Both books focus primarily on what Astaire did with his feet, but plenty of praise is also directed at his singing -- an often overlooked Astaire talent, despite a long list of hits, including "Cheek to Cheek," "The Way You Look Tonight," "Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails," "They Can't Take That Away From Me" and "Puttin' on the Ritz." The authors are in good company with their enthusiasm for Astaire's voice. Irving Berlin: "He's as good as any of them -- as good as Jolson or Crosby or Sinatra." Jerome Kern: "Astaire can't do anything bad." He was also a favorite of George and Ira Gershwin.

Astaire's proficiency in the recording studio seems a marvel in these days when rock bands may spend a year or more cobbling together instantly forgettable albums. In the 1950s, when Astaire released first-rate albums such as "The Astaire Story" and "Astairable Fred" -- featuring songs that he either introduced or made famous, by songwriters including Berlin and Kern -- he started taping the songs with minimal rehearsal. "None required more than four takes," Mr. Epstein says.

Mr. Epstein's book largely restricts itself to astute appraisals of Astaire as an artist and performer. For dishy biographical information, you'll need to consult Mr. Levinson's "Puttin' on the Ritz," though there isn't anything lurid to report. The closest Astaire ever got to a police report was when he'd go out on ride-arounds in patrol cars, a favorite hobby. Mr. Levinson tells the story of when Astaire was present at the capture of a bank robber: The collared crook produced a piece of paper bearing his handwritten robbery plans and asked for an autograph.

“Federico Fellini's 1986 movie Ginger and Fred is about Fellini's deep distaste for the pervasiveness, and concomitant vulgarity, of television in modern life.” Read an excerpt from "Fred Astaire"

Despite the image of breezy insouciance that Astaire cultivated, he knew personal sadness. He married in 1933 and enjoyed what by all accounts was a blissful marriage, but then in 1954 his wife, Phyllis, died of lung cancer at age 46. (They had two children: a son, Fred Jr., born in 1936, and a daughter, Ava, born in 1942.) He remained single until 1980, when he married Robyn Smith, a jockey (Astaire loved the ponies). He was 80, she was 43 years younger -- a pairing that some readers might regard as one of the dancer's defter moves, but Mr. Levinson is not enthused. For one thing, he deplores Mrs. Astaire's tightfisted administration of the performer's estate after his death in 1987. "After twenty years of Robyn's pricing the use of film clips of her late husband's work out of the reach of all but a few documentarians," Mr. Levinson writes, "a real and serious danger exists that Fred Astaire will soon be forgotten by the public."

Of course, no amount of tightfistedness could damage Astaire's most important legacy. "What Fred Astaire did was elevate the entertainment of popular dance into an art," Mr. Epstein writes, "and he did it by dint of superior taste and sublime style." As for the possibility that Astaire might soon be forgotten -- let's hope that it doesn't happen so long as there are writers who appreciate his magic and take to print to remind us of it.

"Puttin' on the Ritz"
By Peter J. Levinson
St. Martin's, 477 pages, $32.50

"Fred Astaire"
By Joseph Epstein
Yale, 198 pages, $22

Mr. Shiflett is a writer who posts his original music at daveshiflett.com.