Singing TeleHams: Getting serenaded by a 7-foot banana has a certain a-peel

Thursday, May 27, 1999 | 9:21 a.m.

Beneath the cool exterior and carefully cultivated professional image of successful business owner Jillian Gardner simmers the soul of vivacious Val Velocity.

Vivacious Val is a ham and a vamp who grew up counting the days until Halloween. An instinctive and eager performer, she loves to dress up and flaunt her resonant voice for an unsuspecting (and usually startled) audience.

"My mom always made my costumes for Halloween and that's what I lived for. That's how I grew to love being kind of a show-off," Gardner, owner of fittingly named Show-Off Las Vegas Singing Telegrams, said. "It's still my favorite holiday, but it's a busy, busy time for me these days."

Gardner began working as a singing telegram messenger in the mid-'80s when she was a UNLV theater student dreaming of becoming a stage performer. And she did -- sort of.

"I remember when I was at UNLV, I was one of those frustrated artists," she said. "I wanted to be a star, like a lot of other frustrated artists. The one thing I was proud of was I had a cellular telephone, which in those days nobody had, and I was always on call, waiting for my next job."

Gardner saved up enough money to start her own singing telegram and costume rental business, which opened 10 years ago. She's now one of the busiest owners and performers in the city, averaging between 20 and 30 appointments per week.

Promoting herself as "flashy, not trashy," Gardner -- who uses Val Velocity as a stage name -- performs many of the acts herself. She also has a couple dozen performers she enlists on a per-appointment basis.

"I have quite a few singers that I keep busy," she said. "I've got one who does Madonna, Tina Turner and lots of Elvises. I've got between eight and 15 guys who can do Elvis."

Gardner's personal favorite is her 7-foot banana costume, popular for no other reason than "it's weird, fun and gets a lot of attention."

She also performs as a french maid, nurse, Statue of Liberty, Marilyn Monroe and even a bag lady.

"The bag lady is a popular character and always gets a response," she said. "The setup will be in a bar or restaurant, and I'll walk in with a basket full of dead roses and I'll start trying to sell them to people. Usually it's a bartender who's working on his birthday, and I'll try to push him right to the point where he's ready to throw me out."

Then she breaks into song. Gardner has a tune, or "jingle," for just about any occasion.

"I've got a bunch that I use and I can also write my own to fit an event," Gardner said. "I'll get information on the person to customize a jingle, plug in their hobbies and interests or whatever personality traits they might have."

The cost depends on the nature and duration of the performance. A straight singing telegram, where Gardner or one of her on-retainer performers dresses up as a french maid or some other stock costume, runs from $75-$95.

For a more elaborate miniconcert conducted by an Elvis or Madonna impersonator (which usually includes a three-song set with background music), the rates start at $150.

"There are a few places or themes we won't do," Gardner said. "Some casinos will not allow a singing telegram -- period -- I think because it detracts from the gambling. And you have to be careful about where you're being sent.

"I mean, you might not want to send a guy in a big diaper over to a nice restaurant at the Bellagio to sing to someone during dinner."

Typically, singing telegrams are served up on birthdays (especially 40th or 50th celebrations), anniversaries, or during the holiday season. Slow periods coincide with tax time, the beginning of a new school year and during Memorial Day and Labor Day.

"People are not in a party mood during tax time or when school is starting," Gardner said. "Holidays like Memorial Day, people are just leaving town in droves."

Singing her praises

One of the more unusual -- and successful -- singing telegrams delivered by Gardner was for Trina Bullard, who wanted to spice up an otherwise pedestrian resume when applying for a position at KTNV Channel 13.

Bullard, working in Flint, Mich., at the time, had sent a resume to then-Channel 13 sales manager Gary Plumlee. Seeking a job as the station's research director, Bullard had been advised to "be creative."

She was.

Working through a friend in Las Vegas, Bullard contacted Gardner and explained her objective: To have her resume delivered to Channel 13 in the form of a singing telegram.

"What I wanted originally was a cheerleader, because (Plumlee) used to play football," Bullard said. "But Jill suggested that it might not be appropriate in an office setting to show up wearing a little cheerleading outfit."

Instead, Gardner stepped into her Tinkerbell character and headed to Channel 13 headquarters. She strode into Plumlee's office and sang a tune she wrote specifically for the event: "I've been sent to sing to you, by a gal whose aim is true. She is really wanting to be hired by you."

All the while, Gardner tossed pixie dust around Plumlee's office, salting his desk, chairs, floor and paperwork.

"There was pixie dust all over the place," Bullard said. "It was a mess."

"I had her resume on a disk and the last line was, 'If you hire Trina, you'll make her dreams come true,' " Gardner said. "It was a risk, but it paid off."

Bullard said luck played a role in her job search.

"Luckily, he liked it," she said. "I lucked out that he was a person who liked that king of thing. As soon as she was done, he was really impressed."

Without question, the telegram helped shape Bullard's career. She's been with Channel 13 for three years.

Partyin' Marty

The longest-running singing telegram business in Las Vegas belongs to Marty Sadowitz, proprietor of American Singing Telegram. The singing telegram-costume rental shop has been in business for 21 years.

"I'm like most of the people who have come in since we opened in that I was a performer. I traveled as a singer in a musical comedy group and was used to being on stage in front of an audience," said Sadowitz, whose stage name was Marty Shadin in the old days. He fronted a vaudevillian-styled act called Marty Shadin & Act 1.

"Having been a singer and an entertainer, I wanted to open a business with that kind of theme," he said. "Luckily, I hit this at the right time because when I started no one else in Las Vegas was doing it."

Sadowitz also subcontracts out much of his work, but handles plenty of events himself, performing as Elvis, John Wayne, George Burns, Inspector Clouseau, a singing gorilla and the obligatory giant banana. His rates run from $65 for the gorilla or banana act to upwards of $200 for an hour of Elvis.

Unlike Gardner's approach, Sadowitz does retain belly dancers and male and female strippers. His most popular strip act is a male dancer dressed as a Playboy bunny, and Sadowitz says the popularity of female strippers (who charge $125 per act) is waning.

"In our industry, strippers are a dying breed," he said. "The women doing it now are not of high quality. The higher-quality women are in the clubs. I don't know if this is politically correct, but once women strippers can't make it in a club where the big money is, they're in the telegram business or not in it at all."

Sadowitz does hire a female stripper with a comedic act, which he calls "Candy." The woman shows up in a bulky fat suit (wearing oversized clothing) and strips down to the flesh-colored fake body outfit.

"The heavy suit has tassels and a little bikini and it's a stripper-type performance with humor," Sadowitz said. "It's a comical strip and it's funny."

But maybe not as funny as the gig Sadowitz has scheduled for this weekend at McCarran International Airport, a popular site for singing telegrams.

"We've got a person coming in from Arkansas who's from a place where, I guess, they don't wear shoes too often," Sadowitz said. "I guess they're shoe unfriendly or shoe challenged back there, so I'm going to perform as a foot inspector and catch her at the gate, check out her feet and then sing to her."

Now that's a dedicated performer.

Moonlight serenade

A part-time performer with the Flintstonian name Rock White has been afflicted with "artist's frustration."

"I love singing and acting," White, who earned a bachelor's degree in musical theater at Weber State University in Ogden, Utah, said. "I like the arts and any type of performance. It's in my blood."

White was teaching at a private performing arts school in Provo, Utah, when he took a sales job in Las Vegas in January and decided to audition for Gardner as a potential performer.

"I had done it in Utah a few times and really enjoyed it," White said. "I wanted to perform in some sort of forum, and this seemed like the easiest way to work it into my schedule."

Now the manager of Beehive Book, White is summoned at least once per week to perform any of his wide assortment of characters, including the Phantom of the Opera, a cowboy, the Grim Reaper and a person he simply calls "Drunk Guy."

The latter is one of his favorites.

"The last time I did 'Drunk Guy' I went into a bar and started laughing and just going off my rocker, almost like I was high," White said. "I went into the bathroom and came out like Jim Carey, 'Whooo! Do NOT go in there!' Then I went up to the bar and just started staring at it, and then I was trying to say hi to people and no one would look at me."

A female patron celebrating her birthday (and the target of White's surprise singing telegram) finally gravitated over to the disheveled man and offered some assistance.

"I could tell she was getting scared, and her friends kind of goaded her into coming over to me," White said. "Then I sang her a birthday song to 'Cabaret' and 'New York, New York,' and it was timed just right."

White said his night job makes his relatively staid day job much more tolerable.

"I don't do it for the money, I do it for fun," he said. "It's a great little part-time thing. It's a great hobby that makes people smile."

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