Dr. Carolyn Lee reflects on a different cliché each week. Recently, in her blog “A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words,” she looks at the significance of pictures and words when communicating meaning. This week Carolyn explores the cliché, the greatest of all time.
Learn more about Dr. Carolyn Lee on her biography page or investigate 29 more clichés in her latest book, Keep Your Eye on the Ball And Other Clichès to Live By.
The Greatest of All Time
Recently I watched—a half-dozen times—a video of Simone Biles performing the Yurchenko Double Pike Vault at the World Artistic Gymnastic Championships in Belgium, a feat that had never before been achieved by a woman at a national meet. That officially made her the most decorated gymnast ever, male or female. And, not surprisingly, sports writers and commentators began referring to her as the G.O.A.T.
Although “the greatest” is a label that seems entirely appropriate in the case of Simone Biles, it is one that is subject to opinion. In basketball, that title belongs to Michael Jordan, although some people argue that LeBron James and Kobe Bryant are equally deserving. Tom Brady is most often named as the greatest NFL quarterback of all time, but Joe Montana has his fervent fans, too. The acronym, G.O.A.T., was first used by Mohammed Ali—to describe himself—and few people argue with his opinion, but Mike Tyson came out on top in a poll conducted by SurveyMagnet.com.
There is no incontrovertible truth about who deserves this title in any field. I can’t even express an opinion about which sports figures qualify, but, in the area of the performance arts, I claim the right to do some labeling. Not many people would argue with my opinion that Meryl Streep is the preeminent actress of our generation. Her Sophie is at the top of my list of all-time great film performances. Maggie Smith and her Jean Brodie come close. Marlon Brando is—almost without question—the performer who changed the nature of film acting. A legion of great actors who’ve come after him—Al Pacino, Dustin Hoffman, Robert De Niro, Paul Newman and Robert Duvall among them—were influenced and inspired by his work. Aretha Franklin is most often named as the G.O.A.T. among popular singers. But if I were to be asked my opinion about all-time great singers, I would tell this story:
In the early 60s, as I walked across the living room, I glanced at the television screen. It was the final Dinah Shore Show of the season. One of Dinah’s guests, a young girl singer whom I didn’t recognize, was mid-way through “Cry Me a River.” Julie London had made that song popular a few years earlier. I had heard her sultry version many times, but it had never really registered with me. The version I was hearing from this young singer was a completely different thing. She sang the song as if it were a three-act play. She sang it with hurt and anger and sarcasm and even a little humor. I was star-struck by someone who wasn’t even a star—yet. After that first song, she floated up a studio staircase, and, when she got to the top, the band was playing the intro to “Happy Days Are Here Again.” This song had been around a long time. It had been the theme song for Franklin D. Roosevelt’s 1932 presidential campaign. It was a jumpy, up-tempo, Tin-Pan Alley standard that had been covered by dozens of singers. But this singer turned it upside down and inside out. In her hands it became a poignant, ironic, multi-layered, enigmatic ballad. I am proud to say that I knew, right then and there, that Barbra Streisand was one of the great ones.
A few years later, I sat nervously in my middle-of-the-orchestra seat section at the Wintergarden Theater in Manhattan, waiting for Barbra’s entrance in Funny Girl. I was terrified that an announcement would come over the intercom notifying us that “tonight the part of Fanny Brice will be played by Ethel Shwartz.” But no, at the end of the overture, there she was. I sat glued to my middle-of-the-orchestra seat, transfixed and transported by this gifted, twenty-one-year-old who commanded the stage and brought down the house. When the show was over, and I had clapped ‘till my hands hurt, I—and many of the people in the audience that night—left believing we had witnessed musical comedy greatness. I can still get a few “Wows” in the right company when I toss out, “Oh, yeah, I saw Streisand on stage in Funny Girl.”
The thing that people under thirty today don’t realize is that there had never been anything like Streisand before Streisand. No one had ever attacked and interpreted lyrics the way she did. In his review of the album, “Classical Barbra,” Glenn Gould, who admitted he was a “Streisand freak,” called her voice “one of the natural wonders of the age.” So there was that. But her voice wasn’t the only thing that set her apart. With her unconventional looks and her off-beat style, she changed the definition of beauty and the prerequisites for stardom. Through the force of her personality and her enormous talent, she redefined entertainment and became one of the most enduring and influential talents of our lifetime. At twenty-one, as the leading lady of Funny Girl, she sang “I’m the Greatest Star.” Yes, indeed.
I find it so interesting that, after years and years of popular singing, after eras of notable nightclub acts and chart-topping performances, someone came along with a whole new and different way of doing things. I applaud Aretha. I admire Whitney. I agree that Mariah deserves all the accolades she gets. But my personal G.O.A.T. is Barbra.
Want to Read More?
Check out Dr. Carolyn Lee’s blogs on her website, she features a new cliché each week or you can order her new book, Keep Your Eye on the Ball And Other Clichès to Live By. Want to know more about the woman behind the words? Read more about Carolyn here. We hope you enjoyed this article learning more about the cliché, the greatest of all time.
