I am a huge fan of Tyne Daly, the actress. I enjoyed her on the TV series “Cagney and Lacy,” was blown away by her Mama Rose in the musical “Gypsy,” and am not at all surprised by Ben Brantley’s July 8, 2011, glowing review of her portrayal of Maria Callas in “Master Class.”
He writes, “Ms. Daly transforms that script into one of the most haunting portraits I’ve seen of life after stardom.”
But I was not always a fan. No way. Not when Tyne was taking all the ingenue roles at the Jr. Antrim Players in Suffern and a cute guy I knew was always drooling about “Time for Tyne.”
Nope. Starting with Gilbert & Sullivan’s “HMS Pinafore,” in which I was crummy ol’ Cousin Hebe, Tyne snared all the lead roles. We girls in wallflower parts would hiss to one another with resentful envy, “Of course, she comes from a theater family,” and “Her father is James Daly,” and “The whole family does summer stock.” We didn’t like to admit that Tyne was also very comfortable and capable on the stage, had a sweet voice, and was pretty.
Fortunately we grew up and learned to give credit where credit is due.
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