Who even knew she was alive?

That's what the performers at Coney Island's "Burlesque at the Beach"
 show were asking after they received a letter the other day demanding
 that they "cease and desist" from bathing a woman in red wine.

Was it a problem with nudity? No, copyright infringement.

According to the Chicago lawyer who sent the letter, the act -- the famed
 "Tirza's Wine Bath" -- was the "intellectual property" of one Leona
 Duval, who created the original wine bath act in the mid-1930s.

"Needless to say, we were flabbergasted to get that letter," said Fred
 Kahl, the master of ceremonies at "Burlesque at the Beach." "Of course,
 we `ceased and desisted' right away. We never meant to alienate her, but
 we never imagined that she was still ALIVE."

Oh, Leona Duval is alive, all right. Alive and, with a lawyer on
 retainer, kicking.

"I was very upset that they were using my name and doing my act," Duval
 told The Gnome (she would not reveal her age, believed to be in the
 mid-80s). "I don't mind getting publicity because I'm publicity crazy,
 but I didn't like the way the act was being done. The whole thing was
 weird."

Weird? Certainly, "Burlesque at the Beach" isn't your father's
 vaudeville. It's best described as a post-modern interpretation of old
 burlesque featuring, well, some weird comic acts.

I attended a performance a few weeks ago (entirely as a sober,
 fact-finding mission, I assure you). A scantily clad woman danced like a
 chicken and plucked a hard-boiled egg from between her legs. A woman
 named Miss Dirty Martini (and was she!) performed her famed "Dance of
 the Several Veils." Another dancer, who wore a cow mask and two "udders"
 near her breasts, milked herself.

The only thing aroused was the funny bone.

Through it all, Kahl (a.k.a. "The Great Fredini!") toted around a creepy
 dummy named Vic who ogled the girls ("She'll twitch it, she'll twatch
 it, and you get to watch it!") or recycled old jokes ("This next act
 will make the old feel young and the young just wanna feel").

Before all the performers returned to the stage to pour wine over a
 half-naked lady, Kahl told the story of Leona Duval and the
 cease-and-desist agreement. Someone yelled out "F--- lawyers!" but most
 seemed content that even if the act was no longer called "Tirza's Wine
 Bath," they'd still get to see a woman being bathed in cheap Gallo wine.

The cheap wine is pretty much the only remnant of Duval's original act,
 which consisted of Duval, dressed only in pasties and a g-string,
 dancing suggestively under a cascade of water. She switched to wine
 because customers in the back rows couldn't see the water.

Originally, Duval called herself "LeeVal," but yearned for something more
 exotic. "I came across the name Thyrzha, who was a handmaiden to
 Bacchus, the god of wine," she said. "I changed the spelling so people
 could pronounce it."

Her creativity was not only limited to the stage: To avoid hiring union
 plumbers at every stop, Duval even passed the plumber's license test and
 got her own union card.

Duval's Tirza was one of the hottest acts during the golden age of
 burlesque. But by the mid-1950s, Duval left Coney Island, a victim less
 of urban decline than of changing social mores and increasingly sedate
 amusement tastes.

But when Kahl and Dick Zigun, who runs the Coney Island Sideshow, came up
 with the idea for a hipster burlesque show, they knew that they had to
 pay homage to Tirza.

But homage ain't free.

"This is an entertainer who developed a name and a national reputation,"
 said her lawyer, David Rosenbaum. "Her act and image were appropriated."

Of course, for "a reasonable royalty rate," Duval could get over her
 disappointment. Rosenbaum defined "reasonable" as 5-15 percent of net
 profits.

Kahl and Zigun opted for the cheaper alternative: ceasing, desisting and
 retooling the act.

So rest assured, when you go out to Coney Island this Friday, you'll
 still see a woman bathing in cheap red wine. Just don't call her Tirza
 and nobody will get hurt.

--30--

email: gershny@yahoo.com