TINY TIM by Harry Stein


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Tiny Tim, the Human Canary of a Times Square basement flea-circus who tiptoed through the tulips into a 40-million-viewer wedding on The Tonight Show, is at present the frozen-stiff Little Match Girl of entertainment. After luxury suites and a $50,000 opening week salary in Vegas, he's now wifeless, just about jobless, and walled into his 82-year-old mother's peeling apartment. A religious nut, Tiny's deeply offended by his estranged wife's genital display in a recent two-page Oui spread, and moans, ""I wish I could find a Snow White, someone who'd never grow up."" Tiny has hangups, says his ex-manager: ""One thing that bugged me was his cleanliness fixation. . . I'd never know when the guy was going to disappear into the john and take a shower for three hours. It made it tough to plot a schedule."" Tiny showers thrice daily, sometimes more. Then there are his cosmetics: ""Right now I'm using Revlon products, the Moon Drops line; I use the facial cream, night cream, eye cream, eye balm, moisturizer with whole egg, a cleanser and a retexturizing cleanser. In the evening I like. . . demi-ivory under-neath, with soft ivory on top."" A sympathetic treatment, really keen on Times Square flea biz; do NOT miss the chapter on his bizarre protÉgÉ Isadore Fertel, a wildly lisping Capotesque midget who is ""Tiny Tim's Tiny Tim.

Pub Date: July 1st, 1976
Publisher: Playboy