Bette Midler Gets A Standing Ovation
November 27, 1973 - Philadelphia Inquirer
By Jack Lloyd

The best assortment of garbage in town . . . make that garBAHGE . . . was assembled at the Academy of Music Sunday night for the first of three concerts by the Divine Miss M.

Maybe you haven't heard about the Divine One, Bette Midler. By her own definition, she is Trash With Flash.

And she is a superstar, the first genuine superstar to emerge in a generally bland period of pop entertainment which has set in since the beginning of the 70s. Miss M has indeed come a long way since her local debut at the Bijou Cafe a year ago. 
But rest assured, success has not spoiled this tacky, darling creature. She has taken the big time by storm with an outrageous showcase of American music spanning the last three or four decades. Strutting her stuff, shakin' that thing. Just vamping and prancing.

And talkin' that trash.

Well, Bette Midler is comparatively rich and famous now, but her fans can take comfort in the knowledge that she is as tacky as ever. 

The seven-piece band, under the direction of Barry Manilow, opened the first night show with the orchestration for one of Bette Midler's songs, "Friends," and she came out in all of the ludicrous splash that befits this princess of camp.

Wildly flapping two huge, ostrich feather fans, her striped shocking pink and green dress was right out of the early '40s. Ah, but ladies and gentlemen, the broad has style.

"I want to welcome you all to the Academy of Muzak," she said in those nasal tough tones. "I can't tell you how great it is to be back in Philth-adelphia."

She had a few things to say about "Ratso Rizza," because "I like to add some local color to the show . . . And who wants to see my impression of Betsy Ross?"

But, naturally, the trashy image is mere frosting. Bette Midler is a singer. And so we come to her repertoire. What else ?

"Good old American garbahge."

What people tend to overlook in discussions and reviews of Bette Midler is that above and beyond the aura of trashy splash, Bette Midler is a wonderful singer with a taste for music that knows no apparent limits. Included are contemporary songs such as "Delta Dawn" and the Andrew Sisters' "Bogie Woogie Bugle Boy" and the old torch classic, "Am I Blue," and each receives a dazzling interpretation.

Okay, trash, but make that classy trash. And when the last song was over, and the divine Miss M had wriggle-hipped her way off-stage, a full house at the Academy of Music gave her a standing ovation. Dressed only in red panties and a loose skirt, Bette Midler returned to acknowledge the adulation with a warm, impromptu speech from the footlights.

Bette Midler Finds Philadelphia Audience Is Different
November 27, 1973 - Philadelphia Inquirer
By Judy Kinnard

"Main Liners are tough nuts to crack," said the Divine Miss M, (Bette Midler to the uninitiated) whose spirit was obviously dampened by the straight, uptight audience at her opening show at the Academy of Music Sunday eight.

"I hope you go out and get yourself wrecked at intermission," she pleaded, promising to tell "the filthiest Linda Lovelace joke" as a reward, then disappeared to prepare for a second attack aimed at loosening up the crowd.

In almost every city blessed with the trashy, flashy Bette Midler concert, the audience is a key ingredient. From her professional beginnings in the decadence of Manhattan's chic, gay Continental Baths, the Divine Miss M has drawn energy from her constantly growing cult.

Elsewhere the straights parrot her outrageous dress while the adoring gay audience fills the air with their limp-wristed shouts of "Diviiiiine."

But not in Philadelphia. Where was the freak show: the platform shoes, the sleazy thrift shop dresses, the tight toreador pants, the sequins and feathers - in short the all-round sparkle of a Bette Midler audience?

Granted, the platforms are hard to balance. One frizzy headed fellow wearing white pants, a white blazer opened to reveal an emaciated white chest, made a precarious descent to the lobby, tripping on three of the red carpeted steps in his pale blue leather platforms.

BUT HER FANS, worried and protective, feared her disappointment. "She's uptight with us. That's Philadelphia. The people aren't responding," lamented Dennis Dunwoody, a full time student and banker who wore, with his platforms, a gold earring, brown herringbone knickers and a black skullcap covered with childhood mementoes: a miniature baseball bat, a bowling ball, a tag from Stone Mountain in Georgia and car tags ("the kind you used to get from disabled people").

Mr. Dunwoody was one of the devoted fans who would not have disappointed the star. Henri David was another. He wore a single pearl earring, expertly applied silver eye shadow, a panne velvet silver jumpsuit over which he draped a knee length silver-lined blue velvet cape.

"WE'RE IN THE TRADITION of the Bette Midler concert," said decked-out Diana Knafo. "But this audience, they're stars with no lights. They couldn't move. There was nothing there."

In fact, there was something there. It was a tribute to Miss. Midler that - despite the sea of dark blazers, bow ties, poplin car coats, and rows of sensible brown pumps, the Divine did not only survive, but she did prevail.

In the finale, stripped of her sequined pink gown and multi-colored feather boa and clad only in rose platform ankle strap shoes and a pale lavender, black trimmed slip that adorned the tiny troll like body, Bette Midler, hands sweeping through her frizzy red hair, finally got the standing ovation, the raucous cheers, the love she had been begging two hours for.