09/17/2025
Here is a great story that Danny Kaye's only child, Dena, wrote about her father... Her Heart Belongs to Daddy: A Daughter Reminisces By Dena Kaye
I was six years old the first time I saw my father perform live in a theater. I can still see myself sitting in the third row of the orchestra. From the stage, my father called out to me, "Are you having a good time, sweetheart?" I emitted a faint and hesitant "yes." A little while he asked me again, and then again. Each time my "yes" got more and more tremulous. After the show, I ran into his dressing room, threw myself into his arms and said, between sobs and gulps, "I don't want anybody laughing at my daddy." How could I have known at such a tender age that laughter was the gift he gave to the world? It wasn't until years later that I would find myself doubled over, my ribs aching with glee, my spirit light as air.
I loved what Walter Winchell once wrote about my father in a movie review; "Ushers might be knocked to the ground by people rolling in the aisles." Making people laugh, though, was only part of his repertoire. In his own profession, a word he used with great pride, he was an actor who danced (just think, he performed Fred Astaire's role in 'White Christmas'), a dancer who sang and a mimic who brought tears to your eyes. He had style and grace. He was elegant even when he was zany. His gymnastic face expressed every emotion. The great pianist, Artur Rubenstein noted, "As with Chaplin, I am not so much amused as I am moved."
Unlike anyone else I can think of, my father had a breathtaking assortment of talents. His roles ranged from a concentration-camp survivor in 'Skokie' to the title character in 'Hans Christian Anderson'. He enunciated to perfection the furiously fast and complex lyrics written by my mother, Sylvia Fine, and invented a gibberish of onomatopoeia - interspersed with the odd real word - whose meaning was somehow absolutely clear. "Danny accepted no boundaries," Harry Belafonte, a fellow UNICEF ambassador, once said. "That's the highe