Why is Rosie O’Donnell so popular? One theory often put forward, sometimes by Rosie herself, is that she reminds us of people from our own lives–a neighbor, or maybe an aunt. But if that’s the case, why were the fans of her recently expired daytime talk show indoors watching TV when they could have been spending time with their neighbors or family members? I can only speak for myself, but none of my aunts acts like Rosie O’Donnell, and if my neighbors did, I’d move.
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Meager talents like Rosie O’Donnell are nothing new on television. In the 60s and 70s, modestly endowed “personalities” with unconventional looks and a few sturdy gimmicks staffed shows like What’s My Line, The Match Game, The Hollywood Squares, and, most democratically, The Gong Show. These oddballs who turned up on talk shows and game shows, over-the-top one-noters like Charo or Zsa Zsa Gabor, added garish color to the vast wasteland. Traditionally this rung of the show-business ladder has accommodated many performers whose sexuality was a matter of debate: Paul Lynde, Rip Taylor, Liberace, Charles Nelson Reilly. Someone with Rosie’s limited abilities could maintain a solid career on this circuit, but no one would expect her to wind up the head of an entertainment empire.
The Rosie O’Donnell Show was promoted as a family-friendly antidote to trash like The Jerry Springer Show; Merv Griffin and Mike Douglas were constantly cited as models. The year before Rosie’s show debuted, a gay man who’d revealed his secret crush on Jenny Jones was murdered by the object of his affections. No one had to worry about that happening with Rosie’s show. Newsweek dubbed Rosie “the Queen of Nice,” and she neutralized tabloid stories about her lesbianism by masking her sexuality, and all other vestiges of humanity, with an infantile variation on her old persona. If Oprah Winfrey was the serene mother superior and Martha Stewart the homespun CEO, Rosie was the tyrannical two-year-old, self-absorbed and given to unpredictable outbursts. A guest on her show might suddenly be interrupted by her ear-splitting rendition of the theme from Full House, but it was hardly as bad as getting snuffed.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): illustration/Laura Park.
