People

Kidder's kid sister

Marsha Boulton December 3 1979
People

Kidder's kid sister

Marsha Boulton December 3 1979

Kidder's kid sister

People

"I told my kids I wouldn’t bake cookies, but if they ever needed a singer . . .” says Sandra Beech, 37. Her offer was accepted by the three Beech children, who soon had their mother starring in a round of classroom concerts all across Ontario. That led to an unlikely non-disco hit, The Block Parent's Song, and a children’s album, Chickery Chick. Though she calls herself “a mum and a singer,” Beech’s showbiz roots were grown in Northern Ireland where she grew up as part of a singing clan which included her brothers George and Will Millar of The Irish Rovers. “My father used to have to drag Will on stage,” recalls Beech, who had top billing as “Ireland’s answer to Shirley Temple.”

There is nobody named Buddy in the Cape Breton quintet Buddy and the Boys. “Buddy is a form of greeting. It’s handy if you don’t know somebody’s name,” says lead singer Max MacDonald. The band made its first album, Buddy, two years ago and it is finally hitting the airwaves with songs such as Working at the Woolco Manager Trainee Blues. This fall they released a single called Fast Food (in which they contend that “McDonald’s will do it all to you”) and “the boys” are fast gaining a reputation as social satirists. “We’re involved in the general morality of who’s getting screwed and who isn’t,” says “Buddy” MacDonald.

Nobody ever said that being a teen idol would be easy, as 15-year-old Chris Makepeace is discovering. Makepeace, who played a sensitive loner in the runaway summer-camp hit Meatballs, is still getting anonymous phone calls from congenital gigglers and letters with the succinct message,“I love you.” Since he has spent most of this year working on two films, My Bodyguard and The Last Chase, Makepeace hasn’t had much time to try out his newfound sex appeal. In fact, he really prefers straight acting. Cheryl Ladd is his favorite actress and he wouldn’t mind modelling his own image after Clint Eastwood. “I’d like to be like him, but I know I can’t. For one thing, I’d have to squint a lot.” In the meantime, Makepeace is content to return to his Grade 10 course of studies at Jarvis Collegiate Institute in Toronto.

They why really there is are no family. one Sister And Sledge— that’s rather, three or four depending on the variables of maternity and viruses. Last week, Joni, Kathie and Kim, of the Phila-

delphia Sledge family, opened at the Royal York Imperial Room in Toronto. It was a momentous occasion for the sisters and for the 50-year-old nightclub which had not yet catered to a disco crowd. Not since the outrageous performance of female impersonator Craig

Russell in 1978 has the Imperial Room’s regal splendor withstood so much gyrating and waving of napkins. The sisters sang every song from their platinum album, We Are Family, and ran through some devastating impersonations of such folks as Diana Ross, Billie Holiday, Cher and the Andrews Sisters. Mama Flo Sledge, who chaperons her lovely daughters, had only one disparaging word about the group’s yearlong on-the-road sisterhood. “There isn’t any home life. Why, I looked into my kitchen the other day, and it had become an alien place.”

Astrologically, Sheik Ahmed (Zaki)

Yamani believes he has it made in the shade. “I am a Cancer with a Leo ascendant and a Leo moon. It’s unique,” says the 49-year-old Saudi oil minister, who is said to consult his chart before making any major decision. Recently in Washington, Yamani claimed to have been seeking star-advice that would help his American friends. “You must start gas rationing with coupons—raising prices, improving mileages, encouraging public transportation and producing an electric car,” he said with all the clarity of professional astrologer Jeane Dixon.

f f|’m fed up with all of that equality I crap,” snapped Jeanne Moreau., 51, at the Chicago International Film Festival where L'Adolescente, her second film as a director, received its North American premiere. No wonder Moreau wastes little time pondering the prob-

lems of feminist film-making—she is playing with the big boys and contends that financing has nothing to do with sex. This week Moreau begins acting in Your Ticket Is No Longer Valid, a film version of the Romain Gary novel set in Montreal and Paris. She plays a bordello madam opposite Richard Harris, who plays a character afflicted by impotence. Will Moreau rectify Harris’ sagging virility? “If it is impotence,” she purrs, “I don’t think even I could do anything about it.”

fflAfhen I was growing up people WW would ask me if I was going to be an actress like my sister and I would always say ‘No,’ ” says Annie Kidder, 26, whose sister Margot, 31, flew in the arms of Christopher Reeve in Superman. The younger Kidder proceeded to try a variety of careers, culminating in a job as a cook in a British Columbia logging camp. With her major claim to fame being the ability to cook the perfect grilled cheese sandwich for 50, she decided to go to university. There she broke down on her childhood vow and studied theatre. This January, Kidder makes her debut in an episode of CBC TV’s The Great Detective. Her next project hopes to involve both Kidder sisters. Margot owns the rights to Margaret Atwood’s hilarious novel Lady Oracle and it is being scripted with parts for the older and younger versions of the heroine.

In 1972, Michael Gormley of Saint John, N.B., flew to Vienna to study musical composition and conducting at the academy of music. One of his professors there turned out to be Hans Gillesberger, director of the Vienna Choir Boys. Under his tutelage, just more than four years later, Gormley himself became one of the boys—the first non-Austrian choirmaster in the ensemble’s 481-year history. In January, Gormley, 29, will be bringing his 24 excited 10-to-14-yearolds on a tour of Canada and the U.S., starting in Fairbanks, Alaska, and winding up in March in St. John’s, Newfoundland. Last year the choirboys were prevented from singing in public because of an obscure Austrian child-labor law. This year they may face quite a different problem. “Laryngitis,” says Gormley hoarsely. “It’s been going around.”

Andy Warhol admits to an incurable social disease. “I have to go out every night,” he says, describing the symptoms. “If I stay at home one night I start spreading rumors to my dog.” After achieving celebrity status nearly 20 years ago with his pop art paintings,

Warhol has become a fixture in New York’s café society and if you are rich, famous or simply stunning he’ll hover nearby with a pocket-sized camera and tape recorder. The conversation might end up in Warhol’s Interview magazine. “I started it so I could be invited to more parties,” he explains. Some photos fill a new coffee-table book, Andy Warhol's Exposures. It’s loaded with candid shots

of buddies such as Truman Capote (having his face-lift operation), Bianca Jagger (shaving her armpits) and Margaret Trudeau (at Studio 54). While Warhol loves his role as a celebrity groupie, he is still fascinated by the Campbell’s soup cans that made him famous. Only now he favors “the big family-sized ones.”

Marsha Boulton