[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 147 (2001), Part 1]
[Senate]
[Pages 192-193]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



                    TRIBUTE TO THE LATE VICTOR BORGE

  Mr. LIEBERMAN. Mr. President, one of the great joys of being a United 
States Senator from Connecticut is the privilege of counting so many 
extraordinary individuals as my constituents. One of the most 
extraordinary of them--Victor Borge--passed away quietly in his 
Greenwich, Connecticut, home last month at the age of 91. He

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will be missed by millions of fans the world over, including me.
  Victor Borge often famously told his audiences that ``the shortest 
distance between two people is a smile.'' Indeed, the entertainer known 
the world over as the Clown Prince of Denmark was singularly 
responsible for millions of upturned lips--and untold bouts of 
hysterical laughter--during a magnificent career as a comedian and 
musician that spanned almost a century.
  I'd like to take a few minutes today to remember the remarkable life 
and laughter inspired by Victor Borge, an entertainer who gave new 
meaning to the expression ``tickling the ivories'' by combining comedy 
and classical piano as no one else ever has. He was a one-of-a-kind 
keyboard ham who enjoyed making his audiences laugh as much as he 
enjoyed making music.
  He was a classically trained concert pianist who could be in the 
middle of a breathtaking rendition of Strauss' ``Die Fledermaus'' and 
suddenly fall right off the side of his piano bench, sending his 
audience into hysterics. Or in a similar stunt, while in the middle of 
conducting an aria, a soprano's high note might blast him right off his 
stool, and he would stoically climb back on, only this time wielding a 
safety belt to bolt himself to his seat. Sometimes Victor would 
intentionally strike the wrong pitch at the piano, only to brandish the 
sheet music and a pair of scissors and literally cut out the offending 
note.
  He's the only musician I know who could begin a solemn rendering of 
Beethoven's ``Moonlight Sonata,'' then seamlessly slide into Cole 
Porter's ``Night and Day.'' To say nothing of his ability to morph 
Mozart into ``Happy Birthday.'' Sight gags and musical quirks were only 
part of the act. Borge always had a stable of rhetorical flourishes at 
the ready, such as, ``Mozart wrote this piece in four flats, because he 
moved three times while composing it.''
  I felt lucky to count Victor as my friend. I'll never forget the many 
times I tried to give a speech to a roomful of people, only to find 
myself drawn into the role of his straight man as he joked with the 
droopy-faced delivery that made everyone laugh until in hurt.
  His comic genius hid the life story of a European Jew who narrowly 
escaped Nazi persecution. Borge was born in Copenhagen, Denmark, to a 
father who was a violinist in the Royal Danish Philharmonic. The 
younger Borge was a child prodigy concert pianist, debuting at age 8, 
and a Scandinavian star by his early 20s. By 1940, he was at the top of 
the Nazis' extermination list because he poked fun at Hitler and the 
Third Reich in his act. Ultimately, though, his music helped save his 
life when two Russian diplomats who were fans of his show helped 
smuggle him on a ship bound for Finland, where Borge found his way onto 
the S.S. American Legion, one of the last boats out of Europe.
  Victor Borge arrived in New York penniless and speaking no English. 
But he quickly learned the language by watching 10-cent movies in 
midtown Manhattan theaters. In less than two years, he had adapted his 
act to the English language and debuted on the Bing Crosby radio show. 
Within a decade he had appeared on Ed Sullivan and been offered his own 
radio program. By the end of his career, Borge's one-man Broadway show, 
``Comedy in Music,'' had logged 849 performances, which is still a 
record today.
  Over the last half-century, he also developed credentials as an 
orchestra conductor, directing the London and New York Philharmonics, 
the Philadelphia Orchestra, and the Boston Pops. He also raised 
millions of dollars for worthy causes such as Thanks to Scandinavia, a 
scholarship fund to commemorate efforts to help victims of Nazi 
persecution. Victor was knighted by all five Scandinavian countries for 
his life's work, and was honored by the United Nations as well as the 
U.S. Congress.
  I will never forget the night of December 29, 1999, right here in 
Washington, when Victor received the prestigious Kennedy Center Honors 
along with Jason Robards, Sean Connery, and Stevie Wonder. President 
Clinton hung a medal around his neck that night in recognition of his 
life achievements, and Borge--clowning around into his 90s--showed up 
at the reception afterward in a red clown nose.
  Years ago, on the occasion of his 75th birthday, the New York Times 
wrote an editorial calling Victor Borge, simply, ``the funniest man on 
earth.'' To me, he was also eloquently warm, gifted, and brilliant--a 
bright and irrepressible star who lit the world around him. We shall 
miss him.

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