Branson News Guide

By Katie Pollock

Sometimes, if you are Deana Martin, people hold on to you, and they won’t let go. Women old enough to be your mother wrap their hands around your arm in a death grip, and they won’t release you until they’ve had their say. They want to tell you stories about the man who they fell in love with decades ago—your iconic father, Dean Martin. The man who you resemble. Maybe they won’t let go because they see him in your face.

But other times, if you are Deana Martin, the world reacts to you in a different way. Not with doting fandom, but with celebrity pampering. Photographers come into your home and pose you underneath pictures of your father. Restaurants make last-minute room for you, have food waiting on the table when you arrive and seat you beneath pictures of your father’s contemporaries: Andy Williams, Sammy Davis Jr., Mama Cass, Judy Garland. The people in charge of being in charge at Branson shows sneak you into a packed house (through the back door) and corral you backstage afterward to meet the star of the show… an aging “Moon River” singer you’ve known for decades. All on a whim. All last-minute.

Celebrity Daughter
Today, Deana Martin lives in Branson but travels with her husband, John Griffeth, singing the classic songs of her Rat Pack crooner father, Dean Martin, in front of big bands such as Les Brown Jr.’s crew at the Mickey Gilley Theatre. She plays those songs on her two radio shows and provides an outlet for Dean Martin fans who have stories to share. She’s a grandma to two little boys—Jagger and Hunter, the children of her son, Mickey Guerin, and his wife, Paola—all of whom she talks about with warm affection. And on top of all that, she’s planning a movie about her dad. “We’re trying to figure out who the heck could play Dean Martin,” she says. She thinks Johnny Depp could study Dean’s movements and pull it off. “He’s such a good actor, and he’s got the hairline,” she says.

Deana is 59 and a petite little woman: fit, smart, sweet and energetic with a bursting performer’s voice and wide, bright eyes. She’s a compact bundle of talent, wrapped in nostalgia and tied with a ribbon of tribute to her dad’s impressive life. But growing up the daughter of the legendary Dean Martin—like the growing up the daughter of anybody—had its ups and its downs.

In 2004, nine years after her father died, Deana wrote Memories are Made of This: Dean Martin Through His Daughter’s Eyes. It chronicles her life with touching honesty and the most insider of insider stories. It’s the book she wants to use as the base for that movie, and it’s not a tale of Hollywood glamour told through rose-colored glasses. “I wanted people to see that families can go through these things and survive,” she says. “These things” are families split and reunited, the twice-dealt-with effects of divorce, death and loss, an absent father, a mother who left. What’s apparent is that despite everything, there was never a shortage of love or fun. Families persevere.

In her book, Deana talks about the nomadic lifestyle she and her older siblings had with their mother, Betty MacDonald, especially after Dean cut off Betty’s alimony after an article in the now-defunct Confidential magazine said in no uncertain terms that Betty’s lifestyle dangerous for her kids. Deana writes that the story was overly cruel and sensationalized, but it resulted in a serious lack of money for the family, and they wound up moving from house to house and school to school. The family played cards together no matter what their situation. Even today, Deana has a card room in her home, right around the corner from a space that’s dedicated to her father’s and her music. His gold and platinum albums line one wall. Deana’s album sits on another. Photos of Dean and Marilyn Monroe share space with snapshots of the family playing poolside when Deana was just a girl. She seems to have gathered all the best in these spaces: the best pastimes, the best memories, the best examples of talent and accomplishment in a life that was peppered with a sort of poignant pain.

Keeping Notorious Company
When she was a little girl, Deana didn’t know her father very well. Soon after her birth, he left her mother to marry Jeanne Biegger. “In the very beginning when I wasn’t living with my father, it was strange,” she says. “I knew I was Deana Martin. I knew there was Dean Martin. And our dad wasn’t at our house. I remember the kids were saying, ‘Well, if you’re Dean Martin’s daughter, why are you going to this school?’ Kids can be cruel, and they didn’t understand.”

During her years with Betty, Deana and her sister, who were friends with Liza Minnelli, put on a play in the yard for Liza’s mom, Judy Garland. Deana says she played a tree, and after the performance, Judy told her, “You were the best tree I ever saw.” For the aspiring actress Deana was, hearing those words was a proud moment.

When Betty would throw big parties any night of the week, Deana and her older siblings would be right there with the partiers amid company that would make the most world-weary swoon with star-struck awe. Her mom sometimes woke the kids up and loaded them into limos to shuttle off to the beach and catch spawning grunion fish under the moonlight. Deana says she cherishes these moments of spontaneous adventure with her mom before they went to live with Dean. She was 9 when she and her two older sisters were dropped off to stay for good at his home with Jeanne and their three children.

“When we moved into the house with Dad and started going to Beverly Hills Catholic School, there were a lot of celebrities’ children going there, and everybody was on equal footing: Ricardo Montalban’s daughter, Danny Thomas’s son, George Montgomery and Dinah Shore’s kids,” Deana says. “It was a level playing field. But we knew our parents were special. We really did because everyone was talking about it, and they were cool. Dad was the coolest guy ever. I remember meeting Elvis Presley at Paramount Studios. He came riding up on his bicycle. That’s how they would ride around at the studio. And Dad introduced me to him, and Elvis said to me, ‘You know they call me the King of Rock ’n’ Roll, but your dad’s the King of Cool.’”

Deana has a lot of treasured memories of interactions with celebrities who appeared throughout her life. She can drop names like bombs on a conversation. There were the people who came to her stepmother’s Christmas parties: Elton John and Gregory Peck. Boom! Boom! There was Rosemary Clooney, who sang “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” with Deana one year. Boom! There were Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr., Jerry Lewis. Boom! Boom! Boom! She even referred to Sinatra as “Uncle Frank.” He was her favorite, a man who would talk and listen, who was concerned and comforting. Deana says being surrounded by Hollywood stars never seemed odd to her; she had not known anything else, so how could it be unusual?

But at one point in Deana’s life, the Hollyood-bright circles in which she ran intercepted a darker one, and she encountered a more sinister sort of celebrity. Charles Manson and Deana met at a house party before he gained notoriety as the creepily charismatic leader of the murderous Manson Family. Back then, he was an aspiring musician, writing songs and courting a deal with Terry Melcher, an Apple Records producer whom Deana was dating. In her book, she writes that Manson played guitar at the party while she and a group of friends watched. She didn’t know Manson, but he recognized her. Giving her a silver ring off his own finger, he asked, “You’re Dean Martin’s daughter, aren’t you?” The story at its most chilling is best read from the pages of her book, but by the time the ordeal ended, Deana had learned that her brother, Dean Paul, was on the Manson Family’s hit list, and Deana might have been there as well. The police didn’t comment when she asked. She writes: “While Manson had given me the creeps, I’d never for one minute suspected that he could be guilty of such a heinous crime. It shook me to the core, to think that I could have been one of his targets.” The first of the Manson Family murders took place at the home where Deana had initially encountered Manson.

Deana For a Reason
In the couple’s basement studio, surrounded by big computer monitors and giant microphones, Deana and her husband, John, settle in under headphones. John puts on Deana’s recording of “Silver Bells.” He cranks up the volume to shout-over level. His tall, lanky frame stands in the middle of the studio bopping to the beat with his pointed forefingers tapping the air in front of his handsome, white-haired head while he listens to his wife singing through the speakers. “Is this the hottest Christmas song you’ve ever heard?” John asks, raising his voice to hit listening ears over the music. “I’m cool, John,” Deana yells back, with a laugh. “I’m the Princess of Cool.”

In 2006, Deana put out an album (produced by John) titled Memories are Made of This with bright, lively, jazzy covers of her dad’s music and that of other singers from his era. Five of the songs spent 40 weeks on iTunes top 10 lists. The album tour took her all over the world, including to perform in front of an audience of 12,000-plus on the royal polo field in Dubai. The album features “Time After Time,” a duet with Jerry Lewis that was performed on his MDA telethon. But Deana’s history with the fundraising comedian dates back decades, to when Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis were the exceedingly popular 1950s comedy duo, Martin and Lewis. While Dean would play the suave and cool crooner on stage, Jerry would be the bumbling waiter interrupting his shows. The club act blossomed into a 10-year partnership and 17 movies, but it all ended in a famously bad way, ending the duo’s friendship. Deana explains it diplomatically: They both got famous and wanted things to go their way.

Deana says she knew when she was writing her book that the story of her dad wouldn’t be complete without Jerry’s take on everything. He agreed to meet her at his yacht. She says: “I’m walking down onto the pier, and there are all the boats, and all of a sudden I hear, ‘Lady!’ I looked, and I really didn’t recognize him, but I knew it was Jerry because of the voice. He put his arms around me, and he put his hands on my face, and he said, ‘Oh, I see my partner.’ And he started to cry, and I started to cry. And we talked for hours and hours.” That day, the pair decided to sing a duet: Martin and Lewis together again, Deana says.

It was one encounter of hundreds that Deana sought out in trying to piece together her and her father’s lives. She says that the years of research were therapeutic; they helped her come to terms with the death of her father. The book has sold more than 100,000 copies. John brings up the movie plans, and (like Deana) he asks, “Who should play Dean?” He tosses out a vote of confidence for George Clooney.

“I know that this is what I was meant to do,” Deana says of her schedule packed with projects and tours. “I’m sure that’s why I was named Deana Martin.” Her name was lifelong foreshadowing of what she says she is called to do: Keep Dean Martin’s legacy alive.

He died very early on Christmas day in 1995. In his honor, the lights on the Las Vegas Strip were shut off; he’d performed there for more than 30 years. It was a gesture that’s not done for just anybody, and Dean Martin wasn’t just anybody. It wasn’t long after his death that Deana says she realized the extent of the impact he’d had on so many people. She began to hear stories from fans about chance encounters with him that put a stamp on their memories forever. She tells of one man whose child was asking for change to play games. A man’s hand filled with coins reached out, and the man told the child to take as much as she wanted. Later, the little girl asked her father if he knew that man, if he was a friend. The father responded, “That’s Dean Martin. He’s everyone’s friend.”

Today, Deana and John have a segment on their morning radio show where they ask fans to send in their favorite Rat Pack memories. The have a 1,000-page document filled with letters from fans who have stories to share about Dean Martin, something they both find gratifying. “He was real, down to earth,” Deana says. “He had a very special charm and charisma. Men wanted to be like him, and women wanted to be with him.” One thing Dean particularly liked to do, Deana says, was go to a Las Vegas blackjack table and covertly take the dealer’s place. When he was dealing, the women never busted, and back then the casinos let him do it because the guests got such a kick out of it. It brought in business. Deana and John have gotten a letter from a woman who played at one of those blackjack tables. She says she looked up, and there was Dean Martin. Fans have sent pictures of Dean and Deana that they had shot while the father-daughter pair passed by on the street when she was just a kid. It’s not strange to her. “A long time ago, I realized I was Dean Martin’s daughter, but he was everyone’s Dean Martin, and I had to share him,” Deana says.

Fatherly Instincts
“Dad always told me, ‘Wear turtlenecks and long sleeves,’” Deana says. It’s the age-old keep-it-to-the-imagination lesson handed down from doting dads to teenage girls who have reached the age when other, younger men begin doting as well. When Deana was a freshman in high school and about to go on a date with senior Michael Nader (who would later star in Dynasty), she asked her dad not to embarrass her. “The next night, Michael comes over,” Deana says. “We are having our Cokes, and Michael is very nervous because it’s Dean Martin, for heaven’s sake. And all of a sudden I look up, and there’s Dad standing on the stairs in the doorway in his pajamas. And he walks towards us down the stairs and over to Michael, and he says, ‘I’m Deana’s dad.’ So then Dad comes over and kisses me on the cheek. He walks down behind the bar, pours a beer. Then he says, ‘Well, good night, Deana,’ and he walks back up. And then we see that he had an entire roll of toilet paper stuck to him, and there’s a trail of toilet paper coming all the way down the stairs and around, and he never stopped. He just went back up to his room.”

Sometimes his humorous shows of fatherly authority were done on the sly. Deana says her father was charming, but he only liked the interaction in small doses. Shirley McLaine once put it this way, Deana says: “Dean is nice to everyone. He just doesn’t want nice to go on too long.” When he’d had enough socializing, she says, he’d duck off to bed. Once, when Deana was a teenager, she had a big birthday party at the family home. There was a band (Buffalo Springfield), there was a pool, and “everybody who was anybody was there,” she says. But when Dean Martin was ready to go to bed at about 11 p.m., he decided it was time for the party to quiet down, too. Deana says he called the Beverly Hills police department to report that those Martins were making too much noise. Before she knew it, the police showed up, and the party was over.

For all the reputation that the Rat Pack may have had for being men about town, Deana says her father was a homebody. He would come back from a day of golf and cozy up in front of the TV with his daily butter-and-Wonder-Bread sandwich. He’d join the whole family around the dinner table or to play Scrabble. He’d splash in the pool, where Deana says he could pull off a perfectly gorgeous swan dive. It was a fairly normal home life. But Deana talks about the times he spent on the road, when there wasn’t a dad at home. Her affection for him (and his for his kids) is obvious, but Deana will openly say that although Dean Martin was a very good man, he was not a very good father. “I would have liked more of his time,” she says. “He didn’t have time to be able to do that, but he was a great provider.” It’s something she is comfortable with, it seems, as if she understands the choice he made to have a life of fame and life of family. Balancing it all must have been a very precarious act.

By Jeff Houghton

After his rise to national fame in the ’70s beginning with his songs “Spiders and Snakes” and “Swamp Witch,” Jim Stafford made 24 appearances on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. In fact, he had an open invitation. Today, he speaks about Carson admiringly: “His job was to make that thing work. His gift, which was part gift and part hard work, was to make sure he was on it all the time. He was better at that than anybody, and he was more relaxed about it.”

It’s evident that the same words can be said of Stafford. He has a certain comfortable intensity about him. He can be both in a particular moment and formulating ideas to improve his show at the same time. Although he has achieved the oft-elusive Branson stability, he is still continually adding to his crafted blend of music and comedy.

In 1989, Stafford did a stint as an actor/writer for a one-shot Smothers Brothers comedy special that aired that May. A few months later, he made the all-or-nothing move from Los Angeles to Branson. “I felt like it’s the kind of thing that you say, ‘This is it,’ and you commit to it, period,” he says. “That’s what I did. That’s kind of scary.”

His sustained success for 17 years in Branson is tied to enjoyment of perfecting and performing his show. “I really like it every single time,” he says. “If I go on vacation, I get antsy to do it.” In addition, Stafford has an endless supply of creativity, and with his own theatre, those ideas can be manifested how he wants. “In Branson, it’s nice because I get to try all the stuff I’m into: special effects, music, comedy, 3D, laser shows,” he explains. “The technology is so sensational. This next year we’re going to experiment with face screen projection.”

It is Stafford’s face that lights up when he talks about his new ideas for the show. But is the polished Jim Stafford onstage the same guy that you meet in person? “Onstage, it’s just me in a real good mood,” he says.

By Nichole Lemmon

When Dr. Rich Makuch decided to move to Branson in 2003 to take a staff radiologist job at Skaggs Community Health Center, he was charged with the challenge of finding a home for his wife, Angie Ann, and their large family. The Georgia transplants were looking for a large home. Rich had looked at many houses before he found their current colonial. “It took three seconds to know I wanted it,” Rich says. “Classic style homes are beautiful because the style has stood the test of time. The house reminded me of one of the houses overlooking the Hudson or Potomac rivers.”

“He said it was my dream home,” Angie Ann adds. “I said ‘Send me a picture.’” The 6,000-square-foot home turned out to be perfect for the family of eight. The expansive colonial has five bedrooms and four and a half baths. “Initially it was a little bit of a change for us from the big city,” Angie Ann says.

“It is very dark and quiet out here, but now that we’ve gotten used to it, we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The Makuch Family
“When we got the call that our house was being profiled, I was in the doctor’s office getting stitches for Andrew,” Angie Ann says with a laugh. “It always seems like we have something going on.” And with six children, it’s no wonder.

As Angie Ann begins the tour of the family’s home, Angelica, the oldest of the six children, comes skating (yes, skating!) through the hardwood floor entryway. “Let’s not roller skate in the house,” Angie Ann kindly directs her 13-year-old daughter. “I usually don’t, but I had to come get you,” Angelica says in defense. The powerwashers had just shown up to continue the family’s spring-cleaning routine. Like Angie Ann said, there is always something going on.

But Angie Ann has found a way to keep the large family organized and living functionally in its Branson home. The original coat closet has been changed into a locker system in which the kids keep shoes and other items that would usually be dumped inside the door. Chore charts can be found throughout the dining room and kitchen. One even urges the kids to be the next “Allowance Idol.”

The Makuches’ six children—Angelica, 13; Gabriela, 11; Christian, 9; Katerina, 7; Francesca, 4; and Andrew, 3—could easily overrun the house, but the design of the home pairs function and luxury together. Even the garage has a lofted space above it for the kids to play with their toys for hours without taking over the house.

Unexpected Details
The Makuches’ home is full of Rich’s bold design choices and the addition of unexpected details, chosen with an eye he honed almost from birth. Rich’s parents immigrated to New York from Poland after World War II. His mother was a high-fashion courtier. “He grew up on fine foods and played with fabric swatches as a child in his mother’s Fifth Avenue shop,” Angie Ann says.

“It’s odd. I grew up in a rough Queens neighborhood,” Rich says. “But I was different. I started cooking when I was 10 and collecting wine when I was 13.“
Now Rich’s passions can be seen throughout the family’s home. Angie Ann is quick to point out that the kitchen is all his. “He loves design and beautiful things,” she says. “It’s a great combination. He can cook, and I love to eat.”

The kitchen, with its bright green ceiling, has a table big enough for the whole family that was made in France. Its chairs were originally castle chairs that were hundreds of years old.
The kitchen is painted an eye-catching red with white Alpine cabinets and moldings. The ceiling is lime green. “When the painters came, and I showed them the swatch, they were like ‘Are you sure?’” Angie says. Rich also had the idea to showcase the couple’s collection of French antiques that had mostly been acquired at auction. Rich is an experienced bidder. “I look around at a lot of places, especially Christie’s New York,” he says. “Of course, I have to do absentee biding, but now I know what I am looking for.” Rich focuses on big, high-end pieces that can stand the test of being used by a large family. “You wait and find your pieces,” Rich says.

The kitchen table, made in France, was commissioned by the couple to be built large enough for their family. The chairs have their own story. They were castle chairs that were hundreds of years old and had been essentially destroyed. The Makuches explain that they wanted a table top that was pretty but a seat that was high-quality vinyl that looks like leather but can be wiped off.

Other pieces Rich has acquired through auction are scattered throughout the home. In the living room, the bold harvest gold color is complemented by the Asian accessories. A “Goddess of Mercy” statue sits on a sofa table. “I think in a home with a lot of kids, we need mercy,” Angie Ann says. The unique military chairs, Chinese military cabinet, and Indonesian shadow puppets blend easily with the comfy, kid-friendly furniture.

Stairs and Art
The formal living and dining rooms are quite a different space from the two main living areas. The slate blue walls of the formal living room complement the Louis XV style. The Italian silk-covered furniture is a family antiquity. This room is where the children take their violin lessons.

Across the foyer is the formal dining room. The bold sunset medallion wallpaper and Spanish mosaic of Jesus Christ set an elaborate background for the couple’s antique sideboard and Betermier dining room set. The current wine cabinet was originally a china cabinet. Rich had it reworked to showcase their extensive wine collection. “This is only part of it,” Angie Ann adds.

While Rich has done all of the design in the home, there is one area that Angie Ann is proud to call her favorite. The staircase, which she refers to as “the bridal staircase” (because it looks like the staircase she was standing on in her bridal portrait), complements the home’s traditional style. But it is the functionality of it that appeals most to Angie Ann. “I love that I can stand on the staircase and see where everyone is,” she says.

Another feature of the foyer and staircase is its ability to showcase the couple’s local art collection. Oil painter Doug Hall, whose paintings are represented by Altermann Gallery in Santa Fe, New Mexico, was first discovered by the couple at Hawthorn Galleries in Springfield. Rich and Angie Ann were drawn to Hall’s paintings depicting scenes from the French and Indian wars. They believed the scenes to be an interesting juxtaposition to the home’s traditional colonial architecture. “The artist is phenomenal with his use of color and depth and how he captures the moment,” Angie Ann says.

Among Rich and Angie Ann’s collection of Hall paintings includes the first one they purchased, “At a Glance,” which tells the story of a sniper found after battle. The couple has added at least one Hall piece a year to their collection. “It’s important to support a local artist,” Rich says.

Rooms for Two
The staircase leads to an upstairs landing that the family has turned into usable space. The main focal wall showcases a collection of black and white photographs of their children and the Branson landscape, taken by photographer Stephanie Phillips.

The upstairs contains all of the family bedrooms. Each child shares a room with a sibling. Katerina and Francesca’s room has a whimsical mural painted on the walls by local artist Casey Murlock. It continues into the sunny yellow in-suite bathroom. Angie Ann proudly opens one of the drawers to pull out one of the monogrammed towels she had made. The whole family has towels with their names on them. “It helps me see who left their towel on the floor,” she says.

Angelica and Gabriela’s room has bright lime green, lavender, hot pink and light blue walls. “It’s really cool,” Angelica points out. With its built-in desk and in-suite bathroom and large closet, it is ideal for the sisters. Both girls have extensive doll collections, a passion they received from their mother. Angie Ann proudly shares her original Swiss chalet dollhouse, built by her father, with her daughters.

The master bedroom is a true testament to the simplicity of colonial design. With its expansive view of the lake and relaxing sage green walls, it truly is an escape for the couple. “It’s a nice, peaceful space at the end of the day,” Angie Ann says.

As Angie Ann continues the tour of the master suite she gets a huge smile on her face and asks, “Do you want to see my Angelina purse?” As mentioned previously, Rich is a master at auctions. A recent bid at this year’s American Heart Association ball and fundraiser won his wife a handbag donated by Angelina Jolie. The white Corto Moltedo bag, with the name “Anjelina” branded onto it, was guarded all night and even earned Rich and Angie Ann a special escort to their car after they won the auction. Angie Ann admits, “I have taken it out to dinner a couple of times.”

In the formal living room , the kids take violin lessons among antique Italian silk-covered furniture.
Establishing Priority.

To date, the couple’s decision to buy this Branson home has worked well for their large family because of the dedication of Rich and Angie Ann. The attention to detail and the desire to create an organized, family-friendly space has left daughter Gabriela with a sense of what is important. “I love this house because it’s big enough that we can all be in one room together,” she says. “I like that.”

Pursuing the Purse
It’s not every time Angie Ann Makuch attends a charity event that she and her husband, Rich, are escorted out by a security guard. But when they won a custom-designed purse donated by Angelina Jolie at a recent silent auction, that’s what happened. At the American Heart Association’s Heart Ball was an ivory goat-skin purse by Italian designer Conto Maltese (see the opening photo on Angie Ann’s shoulder). The purse is individualized for Angelina Jolie, with her name spelled “Anjelina.”

The purse is said to have sold for more than $1,000, although Angie Ann would not confirm its price. Will Angie Ann hang on to the bag? “It all went for a really great cause, and I don’t plan on selling it,” she says. —Holly Bass

By Jacob Harper

Something’s different about Yakov Smirnoff today. At a Saturday morning show in his eponymous theater, he’s not telling jokes about Russia or using catchphrases or really doing anything that you expect to see at a Yakov “What a Country!” Smirnoff show. In the second half of the variety act, Yakov, clad in a white lab coat, gives the mostly seniors crowd relationship advice, using a magnet to demonstrate the rules of attraction and repulsion.

It turns out that Yakov had recently gone through a rough divorce, and while there are a few cursory jabs at the differences between men and women, Yakov is being incredibly earnest in his lecture… Wait, Yakov is giving a lecture? Here’s a comedian, changing the figurative horse midstream and giving advice on making relationships work. Yakov asks long-married couples in the audience what their secret is and what young people can learn from them. He is probing with somber questions and ideals. He wants to know “what did I do wrong, and why do relationships go wrong for so many people? Why weren’t jokes enough to make it work? And what can we do to fix this great problem?” It’s a strange new show, one that reveals a more intimate, odder side of the man. He seems so alien when juxtaposed with the smiling, grateful immigrant we know so well, this man who wears his heart on his sleeve when talking about his love of America. In a lot of ways, he is still doing the same thing: trying to make people understand.

Yakov has been operating a steadily growing theatre in Branson since 1991, and while the Russian jokes are still his bread and butter, including a few recycled straight from his early stand-up, the show has taken on a much more solemn tone. In the schmaltz of Branson, it sticks out as an honest attempt to use the forum to delve deeper. The first half of the Yakov show is pretty typical: dance numbers, songs, topical jokes about Hillary Clinton and Paris Hilton. But after intermission, it gets serious.

Yakov is incredibly candid about his divorce, as he is about several facets of his life: his unwavering, unabashed patriotism, his political attitudes and his belief in positivity. While comedians are often fond of using themselves as jumping off points in their routines, Yakov’s discussions about the breakup of his marriage dominate his attempts to understand who he is and what he’s become.

The show concludes with a pilot that Yakov is working on, with its first episode taking place on Missouri State’s campus. Yakov has a theory that relationships work best when one person is the “performer” and one person is the “audience;” ergo, if one person likes to drive the car, the other person should be supportive of that and ride in the passenger seat. We are introduced to a couple put together because they match up on every front except that neither one of them can cook. So a date is set up where they learn to cook together. The pilot is rough but has some promise. The focus is largely on practical skills. Laughter can keep us together, but there’s more to it than just that.

In talking to Yakov, it becomes clear as to why he is so unsure about how his message is perceived. This is a comedian who has gotten some rough treatment from the press, notably during his departure from Hollywood in the early ’90s, around the time of the collapse of the Soviet Union. But Yakov does have a message, and he knows how that message can get garbled in translation. He’s a comedian, but he is also a businessman who is very sure about what he wants to say and how he wants to be perceived. The pilot is merely a larger vehicle for that.

When I meet Yakov backstage immediately following the show, he shakes hands and smiles a tired smile, one of a man who does 200 shows a year, paints and still finds time to get a master’s degree in psychology from the University of Pennsylvania. I assume he’s got an awful lot of things on his mind, like possibly a nap. Turns out there’s no time: They’ll be editing the pilot from now until the night gig. He turns to an assistant and discusses the pilot he is working on. This particular show concluded with a rough cut of the pilot, and utilizing a free test audience, he is putting the responses to work. “It’s good, but everything that wasn’t funny? Cut it,” he says. The funny business is still business, after all. He loosens his tie and looks resigned. “How do you want to do this, Jacob? Do you want funny? Do you want deep?” he asks. It’s an odd way to start an interview, but then again, Yakov is an idiosyncratic subject.

In his office, Yakov kicks off his shoes and curls up on the couch. We discuss his work leading up to his show right now: his rise, fall and rise.

In the long annals of typecast one-joke wonders, Yakov has often been thrown in, a little unfairly, with the likes of Pauly Shore and Carrot Top: one joke comedians whose fleeting fancy had long lost favor with America at large. In Yakov’s case, his original claim to fame is the Russian Reversal: for example, “In America, you catch a cold, but in Russia, cold catches you!” It’s what made him a moderate star in the ’80s, and it is how a lot of people liked to think he was still operating.

“My comedy normally reflects what I’m going through in my normal life,” Yakov says. “At first, I talked about moving to America, then getting married, then having kids. A logical part of the American dream. Then two people who had no major vices just kind of drifted apart. It was very disturbing to me because I believed that once I had committed to marriage it would be forever.” (Yakov told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch in 2006 that he’s on good terms with his ex-wife, Linda, and their two children, Natasha and Alexander.)

Yakov has performed a one-man show on Broadway similar to the new direction he’s taking. Called As Long as We Both Shall Laugh, the show tackled Yakov’s divorce and his bewilderment as to what went wrong. He has expanded it greatly in light of his growth from that.

“It’s not just ‘why did this happen to me;’ it is ‘why does this happen to so many people?’ I feel like I did everything by-the-book, and the book said you would live happily ever after, the end. But then I said, where’s the next page?”

It’s a question that he never fully answers, but perhaps that’s the point. “I like to be an entertainer, but I’m also a messenger,” he says. “So those things are difficult to face, but they have to be a part of the show. But not all the time—not at the Skinny Improv.” He’s referring to the Springfield improv comedy club where he went on stage that night. “I try to be balanced, and I think that’s what separates me from a lot of people here [in Branson],” he says. “I also try to bring a message in.”

That message is how we keep ourselves happy, and how we stay together. Yakov’s master’s degree is in a new branch of the field called positive psychology that focuses on mental well-being. A common criticism of psychology is that it focuses so much on mental illness that there is very little discussion of mental well-being. “When I went into school, I looked to see what studies had been done on the effects of laughter and happiness,” he says. “And there were none.”

This concerned Yakov greatly, and through mediums like his act and his pilot, he is exploring how couples work. When I point out that his test audience was largely composed of people who are old enough to be the grandparents of the pilot’s subjects, he is unfazed. “There is a lot of wisdom that can be gained from them,” he says. “And this is a rough cut. Maybe one day you can say, ‘I saw the pilot for America’s No. 1 show!’”

His optimism is infectious. It reminds me of the ever-positive, fish-out-of-water characters he portrayed in ’80s movies such as Moscow on the Hudson and shows such as Night Court. Except now, Yakov has been an American citizen for 20 years and a resident of the Ozarks for 16. He has new problems to tackle. The new territory is that of the established father and reconciling that nuclear-family optimism with the realities of divorce.

In a roundabout way, this permeates his attitudes towards everything he tackles in life. “We have our blind spots we have to check when we drive; this works the same way in life,” he explains.
He always viewed his relationship with his homeland in a similar matter. Now it is the relationship between men and women, and the family in general. This idea of the mythical family—the one that can work, that can be work—is of great appeal to Yakov. Yakov mentions that he is thinking of getting a dog, and when I bring up that I have two dogs—a brother and sister—he is intrigued. “I never thought about doing that,” he says. “How do they work together? Are boys or girls better?”

There’s still a familiar air to the comedy of Yakov Smirnoff. But even his signature material has become more serious. Yakov is still as patriotic as ever. There is less bashing of his country’s native Communism but more jabs at terrorism. While his comedy used to focus on the differences between the freedoms of America and the repression of the Soviet system, he has grown more and more attuned to the heartland, saying a thank-you to this country through his paintings. Cloying but sincere, his visual art is a saccharine answer to the more serious themes of his lectures. Adorning his theatre are several of his paintings, including a piece that was at Ground Zero for 18 months. When telling a story about how he personally bankrolled the project, Yakov gets teary-eyed. The colors are light and the themes easy and straightforward, but they are still part of Yakov as a whole; nothing here deviates from the message. There is a lightheartedness to the whole thing that is undeniable and unabashed.

His themes are the same, but the business has gotten serious. While on the surface Yakov is gladhanding and smiling, there is something underneath it all, a questioning uncertainty that belies the funny immigrant we all think we know. But Yakov has never apologized for what he has done and what he has become. He is still trying to make sense of how he got to be here today: American citizen, divorcee, father.

When I am being walked out of the theatre, I tell Yakov that I think people will see him for how light and funny he is in this story. “You’ll do what you want with it,” he says. He isn’t malevolent or spiteful, but rather tired and hopeful: He has a message, and he wears it with pride. While it can be mocked, misconstrued or misunderstood, he’s still out there, trying to make people understand him.

By Tiesha Miller

It sounds like a trumpet, but it is not a trumpet. It might sound like a beat box, flute or guitar, but it is not any of these things. Whatever the sound, it’s coming from one of the Knudsens who make up the group SIX.

“Sitting through our show you forget that we are making all of those sounds,” says member Jak Knudsen. “You feel like you’re listening to a full band play.” True to the group’s name, the Knudsens really are brothers. (There are actually four other siblings, but as Jak jokes, the others have “normal” jobs.) The group performed in Las Vegas for some time before they held a showcase in Branson in August. Both the brothers and The Hughes Brothers Celebrity Theatre knew the show was a test run, and it eventually led to a five-year contract between the two.

Jak says family values also played a big role in their move. “We all have kids and kind of got to thinking,” Jak says. “Vegas is a fun place, but it’s not always kid-friendly. I had an experience driving with my son. We got on the wrong road, and we were not in a great area. I felt my heart broken that my son saw what he saw. That sealed the deal. We thought it was the right thing to do.” Jak has four boys, and between the six brothers there are 18 children.

So, they just up and moved to Branson. Past gigs have had Six performing all over the world. They opened for Trisha Yearwood, The Beach Boys, Diana Ross, Rod Stewart and Huey Lewis and the News.

“It’s been a great career,” Jak says. “After 9/11 we were stuck out of the country, and we couldn’t get home. That was such a traumatic event for everyone.” Six ended up performing regular shows in Vegas, so they weren’t flying all the time. “I loved a lot of things about Vegas, but you don’t have to explain anything to your kids in Branson,” Jak says. “This is the first time any of us have lived in the Midwest, and it’s such a different change of pace.”

If you’ve wondered what the deal is with the caravan of decaled Scion xB’s in the mornings in Branson, it is the Knudsen brothers, who drive to work in train-like fashion as a part of their marketing campaign. Marketing the show has been much less expensive in Branson, where they don’t have to compete and pay for the same advertising space as Celine Dion. Jak says the 417-land marketing bill ends up being about one-20th of what it cost in Vegas.

From a young age their father taught them how to listen to tone and pitch. Tediously, they learned straight-forward singing. They practiced regularly and began performing early. (Jak was 7.) It wasn’t until the early ’90s, when Owen went to San Francisco to study with one of the best voice percussionists in the country, that the brothers became much much more than an a cappella group whose members shared a last name. “He came back, and our jaws just dropped because he’s a total natural,” Jak says. “We all quit our day jobs, and we started singing full-time professionally.”

Six is still establishing itself in Branson. Usually drawing between 550 to 800 people a night, the group feels good about its numbers. They still have time to grow.

By Katie Pollock

“I can entertain 75 people out here,” says Bill Killian, of The Killian Group. His Springfield-based construction company built Branson Landing and has clients all over the country. And when he says he has outdoor space for more than six dozen people, he’s not talking about a backyard. He’s talking about a balcony. It’s a giant space with lots of sunshine, table seating for 13, plenty of upholstered wicker lounging furniture, a shade-making wooden overhang and a view of both the Branson Landing promenade and Lake Taneycomo. It’s bigger than the decks on most houses, yet it’s attached to a three-bedroom condo. We’re not gonna lie: It’s pretty sweet.

Bill and his wife, Lisa (who did all of the decorating in the home herself), don’t live in this condo all the time. Instead they use it as a weekend getaway for the family or as a space for clients to stay and enjoy Branson or see The Killian Company’s work on the Landing. Lisa admits that she can’t spend a weekend there without also taking advantage of the shopping that’s just steps away.

There is no clutter here in the Killian condo, no toys that Bill and Lisa’s 11-year-old son, Nick, might have left lying around. Their 13-year-old daughter, Christina’s, bedroom is spotlessly clean around her as she lounges on her four-poster canopy bed, fiddling with her cell phone. The closets are mostly empty and feel almost hotel-like. (Lisa insisted that if clients would be staying in the condo, they should be given some little comforts, such as the luxe bathrobes embroidered with The Killian Group’s logo that are the sole items hanging in the master bedroom’s walk-in closet.)

But there are still homey accents and important touches of the Killians’ personalities. In the entry, the walls are decorated with framed odes to musical greats. A black and white picture of Frank Sinatra is accompanied by his autograph. Jimmy Buffett’s guitar is framed a little farther down the hall. A picture of the Beatles follows that. It’s a shout-out to Branson’s musical history and Bill’s music fandom. (He’s a friend of Louise Harrison, George Harrison’s sister and the mastermind behind Branson’s Liverpool Legends show. She has graced their party deck before, and Lisa says her stories of the Beatles’ heyday are fascinating.)

A distinctly delicious-looking splash of color in the chic, mostly black living room is a modern glass bowl filled with M&Ms. It’s surrounded by sleek, very un-M&M-ish décor. The Italian tile floor is black with warm washes of patinaed silvery coloring. The sofa is black with a zebra-skin throw tossed over it, and soft pillows in zebra patterns and fluffy white fabric. On the floor is a soft white shag rug that sits between the see-through fireplace (which is covered in the same tile as the floor, and whose other side faces the giant balcony).

There is interesting art scattered here and there on the walls of the condo, and Lisa says she and Bill bought most of it at the CASA art auction last spring. She says they flew home from the Bahamas a day early, so they wouldn’t miss the auction. And then they essentially wiped out all their home decorating needs in one evening by snagging the auction items. A particularly interesting Picasso portrait hangs in the master bedroom. A Michael Godard print of humanoid strawberries seizing a bottle of champagne sits in the dining room.

The dining room, with its extendable table to seat six or more and its modern frosted glass chandelier, has its own exit out onto the balcony. The mirrored back wall gives the small space a bigger feel. Next to the dining room and sharing an open space with the living room is the kitchen. It’s not huge, but like the living room, it’s dark and chic. The almost-black cabinets have frosted glass panels on the front. The glass tile backsplash is mostly squares of deep, rich reds and purples, but every so often there is one bright silvery tile. Lisa says those are white gold. Their metallic tones are brought out by the stainless steel bar stools. Nearby is a bar area with a wine rack, sink and similar frosted glass cabinets. They are etched with a “K” for Bill’s company.

That “K” logo is repeated on the glass shower door in the master bathroom. It’s a large and luxurious steam shower with tumbled marble on the floor an a glass tile accent in iridescent shades of violet, teal and blue. Across the bathroom is a jet tub that butts up against shutters that, when opened, look out into the master bedroom and out toward Lake Taneycomo. A benefit of condo life: There’s almost always a view.

Business As Usual
After stepping out of the elevator in the Branson Landing condos, Jeremy Carter can’t help himself. He reaches out and, with the effortless precision of a perfectionist fixing a flaw that only he can see, straightens the lamp on a coffee table. “I did all of this, too,” he says with a flourish of his hand in the air, gesturing toward the contemporary tables, lamps, mirrors and chairs that add warmth to the serene and dimly lit hallway. He’s leading the way to the HCW business condo, occupied off-and-on by the owners of the development company that made Branson Landing happen. It’s used for entertaining, as a place for out-of-town business associates to stay and as an on-the-Landing getaway for the owners themselves, Rick Huffman, Marc Williams and Santo Catanese. Carter is a design consultant who works out of Tri Lakes Interiors in Hollister. He has added his touch to 11 of the new condos at Branson Landing, including the HCW business condo. And although he’s known for French country style, luxurious custom draperies and bedding and obscure, foreign, antique books, he has taken more of a contemporary tack with this space.

In one of the guest bedrooms, there is an elegant Asian theme. Simultaneously warm and clean-lined, the bedding consists of a red and black cherry blossom comforter folded at the foot of the bed, and a red quilted bed cover under that. Accent pillows are tailored in red and black fabric, or covered in a black and white Asian-inspired box design. Behind that is a custom-made cream fabric headboard. Across from the bed is a chest of drawers that is covered in black leather for a sleek look and a masculine touch that complements the floral bedding.

A standard in the condo, there is a jet tub in each of the three bathrooms. Carter says he went for spa-inspired décor in the bathrooms, with thick and soft chenille loop rugs and a serene atmosphere. He even picked out the towels, which are monogrammed with the HCW logo.

There is an abundance of light in the other guest bedroom whose balcony overlooks the fountain at the heart of Branson Landing. (The condo is directly above Cantina Laredo.) The bedding in this room was custom-made (as was all the bedding in the condo), in rich green, red and purple chenille. Above the bed is a large contemporary brushstroke painting by Forsyth artist Christina Schanda. Simple and charming botanical prints of flowers in a field and two tall yellow and brown glass vases accent the space.

In the condo’s kitchen, a custom backsplash is made of stainless steel but has a brick pattern. The Asian theme continues here, with clean lines and simply elegant but not over-the-top dishes, linens, flatware and stemware. A black cornice accents the cherry cabinets that came standard with the condo. On the counter, ordinary items create clean and simple accents: A stack of cookbooks, perfectly aligned, is topped with salt and pepper grinders. The centerpiece, though, is a stunning single orchid in a round stone vase.

Next to the kitchen in the small dining room is a surprisingly large table with a glass top and stainless steel legs, chocolate-colored chairs with cream piping and a series of multi-sized round mirrors (as wall art). The mirrors continue one of the condo’s themes: circles.

Carter says the living room (which shares a wide-open space with the kitchen) was a challenge, as the room is long in two directions but shallow in the other two. To make a little more room, he removed the hearth from the see-through fireplace (which looks out onto one of the condo’s four balconies). The goal in this room, Carter says, was texture. The sofa is ultra suede. The drapes are an “eyelash” fabric that has teeny, tiny, delicate fringe details, which are truly as soft as eyelashes. In keeping with one of his trademarks, Carter lined a shelf with antique books. They sit right next to more modern touches, such as a contemporary glass bowl and a metal sculpture of coral.

The master bedroom is a lesson in fabric combinations. The headboard is custom-made with green quilted fabric. The pillows are striped with orange, brown and green. Others are solid orange. Still others are made of a brown fringed chenille. That fringe look is repeated on two square leather rawhide stools at the foot of the bed. Combining classic and contemporary, prints of antique-looking urns are framed with wide mattes.

The master bathroom has shutters that can be opened or closed to the master bedroom. Tall glass vases sit by the tub and tall metal vases sit on the sink. Adding just a touch of whimsy, the abode has a painting of two chubby ladies wading in a beach.

Easier to notice on the way out than on the way in, the centerpiece of the entry hall is an oversized mirror in a thick, black, classic frame. Beneath it, again combining a classic look with a modern touch—Carter’s modus operandi in this condo design—are two black leather quilted cube-shaped stools.

By Tiesha Miller

The rumors of a Branson airport circulated for so long that as the years passed it seemed like a pie in the sky. No more. After a seven-year fight on the behalf of Aviations Facility Co., Steve Peet, president and CEO of Branson Airport LLC, broke ground on July 17 for the privately financed and operated airport just south of Hollister and east of Highway 65. The opening is planned for May 2009.

The biggest hurdle in securing the airport was securing funds. Citigroup has underwritten $113 million in revenue bonds that were purchased by institutional investors, and the equity portion, $26 million and the land was donated to Taney County by magazine mogul Glenn Patch and is now leased back to the development company. But even though it’s the country’s first privately developed and operated commercial airport, the City of Branson will still be contributing.

In 2006, then-mayor Lou Shaffer signed a pay-for-performance agreement. For every inbound passenger, the City of Branson is to pay $8.24—an amount that was calculated using the projected tax revenue generated by each visitor. Annually, the amount cannot exceed $2 million, and the city is more or less locked into the agreement for 30 years. Taney County declined a similar deal.

On the surface, the city’s agreement makes sense. In general, the consensus on the airport is pretty unified. Most everyone seems to see it as a great thing for Branson’s economy. People coming into Branson bring revenue, including that of the tax variety. Everyone wins. But it’s not the airport that concerns Mayor Raeanne Presley. She’s in full support. It’s the deal the city made that concerns her.

“It’s not specific enough to who we’ll pay for,” Presley says. “We don’t know if [the inbound passengers] are new to the area. If I get on an airplane, and I fly back, then the city has to pay $8.24 for me. But I’m not growing the economy.” She also points out that while this sort of deal isn’t rare, she thinks the per-passenger dollar amount is too high.

The deal also begs the question, what happens if Branson isn’t the main attraction? Today, it seems unlikely that anything else in the area will draw more visitors than Branson, but there’s no guarantee the situation will stay that way. What happens if everyone heads south?

“I don’t want to dream what things will be like in 30 years,” Presley says. “You don’t know what will be built. A big destination resort might go up next to Big Cedar.”

The idea of a new major attraction coming into Branson isn’t a big pie in the sky either. Stephen Critchfield is with Commercial One Brokers, the commercial real estate firm that landed the new Branson Convention Center and hotel. Because of confidentiality agreements, Critchfield says he cannot release the names of the companies he’s working with, but he says one in particular is looking to build a major attraction in the Branson area, and it’s in part due to the access the airport provides.

“Basically, [the market they were shopping] was in a day’s drive of Branson,” Critchfield says. “Now with the airport, Branson makes additional sense to them as well. Obviously, coming years will tell.”

There’s no saying for sure yet whether the attraction would fall within the city limits and if the incoming visitors would take their money into the city proper. The concern is that the city will end up paying for inbound passengers without reaping maximum benefit.

The argument can go in many directions. On one hand, $8.24 per passagner may be a small trade for the low-risk option of having a privately funded airport from which the city’s economy gains. Peet also says the agreement was hugely influential in securing the bond investors because they could guarantee a source of revenue. The city won’t take a loss if the airport fails because it only pays if people actually fly into the airport. Should Branson officials have been more specific on which inbound passengers qualified, and was $8.24 the ideal magic number? The question still remains whether the city’s move was business-savvy.

By Gregory Holman

Elizabeth Farris is a member of Branson’s Tsahiridis clan. Her father, Dimitrios Tsahiridis, owned Dimitri’s restaurant for about 25 years before it closed in the mid-’90s, which makes the Tsahiridises a fixture-family in Branson. They’ve been there since well before the Branson-got-on-60 Minutes-and-became-famous era, much less Branson-built-Branson-Landing-and-wants-to-modernize-
era.

Yet she’s part of Branson’s modernization; Farris, along with her husband, Brad Farris, and her brothers are behind several new interesting developments. In recent years, the Farrises developed the CastleRock office center, on Highway 248 in northern Branson.

As the name suggests, the center is French country all the way. It also houses many doctors’ offices. “We had this one space—it was the cutest space—but people were not clicking with it”—Farris says, meaning that she and her husband had trouble finding a tenant. “So we thought, ‘we have all these doctors here… why not do a little coffee house’?”

And that’s how the French Hen was born. Named girly-like, the place is emphatically not girly. “‘French Hen’ is a little fooling,” Farris says. “It’s for guys to get a good sandwich.” (French Hen also serves soups, ham-and-cheese croissants, salads and pastries.) She jokes that when creating the French Hen’s concept—a dude-centric breakfast and lunch place with just enough femininity to attract the ladies—her mantra was “If I go to another tea room, I’ll die.” The French Hen is aimed at Branson locals—attorneys sitting side by side with construction workers—not tourists with their tour buses. The idea is to fit a niche between Panera and Starbucks. “Panera doesn’t have the greatest coffee, and Starbucks doesn’t have any food,” she explains.

Farris’s brothers, Samson Tsahiridis and Peter Tsahiridis, are also involved in Branson developments. Samson opened Java Junction Koffeehouse last year. It’s open late and is home to a scene of Branson performers.

On Branson’s Commercial Street, Peter Tsahiridis is developing a block-long shopping center with the somewhat surreal name of “Chappy Mall.” The centerpiece will be the Eurocafé, a coffee house that’s intended to be a music venue for bands. Boutiques selling chocolates, wine and cheese will open over the next several months. Farris is opening Four Darlings, a children’s clothing shop named after her own four kids. Family friends from North Carolina are decamping to Branson to open a Mediterranean bistro called the Blue Olive.

The Tsahiridises’ legacy of Dimitri’s restaurant is even undergoing a rebirth. On October 30, Bass Pro’s Branson Landing location opened the 300-seat White River Fish Company in the floating barge that was purchased by Bass Pro a few years ago. Eric Alford, Branson’s Bass Pro’s assistant general manager, says the new restaurant is a specialized concept for the Branson market, created by the Islamorada Fish Company. White River Fish Company’s biggest draw is likely to be its transparent glass walls, which let diners view Lake Taneycomo and the fire-water fountains at Branson Landing.