100 New Yorkers of the 1970s | Page 6

as his assistant a
remarkable woman named Marian Probst, who has worked with him
ever since. Says Amory: "She knows more about every project I've
been involved with than I know myself."
A longtime Westsider, he enjoys dining at the Russian Tea Room (150
W. 57th St.).
There are so many facets to Cleveland Amory's career and character
that he defies classification. In large doses, he can be extremely
persuasive. In smaller doses, he comes across as a sort of boon
companion for everyman, who provides an escape from the woes of
modern society through his devastating humor. For example, his
off-the-cuff remark about President Carter:
"Here we have a fellow who doesn't know any more than you or I about
how to run the country. I'm surprised he did so well in the peanut
business."
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EASTSIDER MAXENE ANDREWS An Andrews Sister finds stardom

as a solo
2-2-80
Maxene Andrews, riding high on the wave of her triumphant solo act
that opened at the Reno Sweeney cabaret last November, is sitting in
her dimly lit, antique-lined Eastside living room, talking about the
foibles of show business. As one of the Andrews Sisters, America's
most popular vocal trio of the 1940s, she made 19 gold records in the
space of 20 years. But as a solo performer, she more or less failed in
two previous attempts -- first in the early 1950s, when her younger
sister Patty temporarily left the group, and again in 1975, after her hit
Broadway show Over Here closed amid controversy. Not until 1979
did Miss Andrews bring together all the elements of success -- good
choice of songs, interesting patter between numbers, and a first-rate
accompanist. The result is an act that is nostalgic, moving, and
musically powerful.
"For years, our career was so different than so many, because our fans
never forgot us," she recalls, beaming with matronly delight. "I could
walk in anyplace in the years I wasn't working, and they'd say, 'Maxene
Andrews -- the Andrews Sisters?' Everybody was sort of in awe. So I
was always treated like a star of some kind. But it's nice to work; it's a
wonderful feeling to be in demand."
She is a bubbly, husky, larger-than-life character of 61 with ruddy
cheeks and a firm handshake. Deeply religious, sincere, and outspoken
as always, she remains first and foremost an entertainer.
"I stick to the older, standard songs by great composers," says Maxene
of her act. "You know -- Rodgers and Hart, Irving Berlin. ... My partner
is Phil Campanella, an extremely talented young man who plays the
piano and sings harmony. ... All the talking I do between the songs is
ad libbing. I have never been successful at trying to do material that
was written for me."
She's returning to Reno Sweeney on February 6 for a two-week
engagement, then filming a TV show titled G.I. Jive before taking her

act to Miami and Key West. Nightclub work, she says in her high, bell
clear voice, "is not my future. I would like to get into concerts and I
think that's a possibility -- probably a year from now."
LaVerne, the eldest of the sisters, died in 1967. Patty stopped speaking
to Maxene five years ago because of salary disagreements for Over
Here. The contracts were negotiated separately, and when Maxene
balked at accepting $1000 a week less than her sister, the national tour
was abruptly canceled.
"I never in my wildest dreams thought that we would separate, because
we've always been very close," says Maxene sadly. "When people say,
'You're feuding with your sister,' I say that's not the truth. Because it
takes two people to fight, and I'm not fighting anyone. She's just not
talking to me.
"It took me a long time to be able to handle the separation. I used to
wake up every morning and say, 'What have I done?' But now I just
throw it up to Jesus, and I leave it there. I hope and pray that one of
these days we can bring everything out in the open, and clear it up. I
love Patty very much, and I'm very surprised that she's not out doing
her act, because she's very very talented. She's been doing the Gong
Show, which I -- it's none of my business, but I would highly
disapprove of. I think it's such a terrible show."
Maxene owns a house outside of Los Angeles, and was "born again" a
couple of years ago at the Church on the Way in Van Nuys, California.
When she's on Manhattan's East Side, which is often, she shares the
apartment of Dr. Louis Parrish, an M.D. and psychiatrist whom she
describes as "a true Southern gentleman."
The Andrews Sisters, who recorded such hits as "Bei Mir Bist Du