New Comic in Manhattan

Broadway columnists were busy as swizzlesticks, mixing a fresh batch of superlatives. The comedian they sweated to honor was a young (31) ex-G.I. named Peter Lind Hayes.

Last week, besides his three-a-night routine at the Copacabana supper club, Peter Hayes also: 1) began a four-a-day run at the Roxy Theater (thereby upping his weekly take to $4,000); 2) quit radio writing, acting and singing (because he wanted time to sleep); 3) landed a principal comedy role in the Nunnally Johnson-George Kaufman fall play Park Avenue; 4) was offered, but had to refuse because of previous commitments, the serious Eddie Dowling role in The Glass Menagerie road company; 5) received a $30,000 offer to do one movie for International Pictures.

Old Chestnut. The hub of this hubbub has a soft speaking voice, crew-cut brown hair, a shy smile and stands 5 ft. 10 in a Brooks Brothers suit. He traces his comic ancestry to Frank Fay (for sharpness and restraint) and Bing Crosby (for relaxation and affability). But his thoughtful, economical comedy style is probably more aptly compared with Chaplin's.

"I guess comedy begins with sadness," Hayes says. "Well, with reality, and that's usually pretty sad. I don't want to pull the old chestnut about the fine line between comedy and tragedy but, well, I think the more serious you are, the funnier you are."

Hayes thinks his comedy ideas are best expressed in his characterization of "Punchy Callahan"--a hilarious but touching portrait of an ex-pug, as shapeless, scuffed and unwanted as a worn-out boxing glove. Even after three weeks, busy Copacabana waiters still stop, look & listen to Punchy.

New Ambition. Success was a long time coming. At 16, he ran away from the Irish-Christian Brothers School in New Rochelle, N.Y. to join his mother, oldtime Actress Grace Hayes, in a Broadway variety act. All through the '30s he played theaters and saloons, had parts in 15 movies (13 B, two A). In 1940 he married Actress Mary Healy, now starring in Orson Welles's Broadway extravaganza, Around the World (TIME, June 10).

When war came, he joined the Air Corps, played in Winged Victory, then toured the Pacific with the "Winged Pigeons," an eleven-man entertainment unit ("we played close to a million men and were never fired on once"). He also wrote a G.I. song hit, Why Do They Call a Private, Private? and most of the material for the 27 impressions and seven character studies that make up his present repertory.

Having shrunk from 183 lbs. to 158, he received his discharge last Christmas Day, and was back on Broadway (at the Strand) a month later. When he moved over to the Copa May 30, the boom was on.

"I've got a sneaking feeling this thing may be just an illusion," he says. If the "illusion" lasts until fall, he wants to try serious acting on radio, stage & screen. Like many another comic, Hayes is a frustrated "heavy."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.