Two back-to-back numbers in the course of her program epitomize the range of her skill. Taking on Cole Porter’s “Too Darn Hot,” Ben-David turns on the steam heat in her sizzling interpretation delivered in full voice. Then she impresses with a contrasting turn caressing Billy Barnes’s “Something Cool” in a super calm style that is cool as a summer breeze.

She also has a fondness for novelty, as with Jason Robert Brown’s sarcastic “A Summer in Ohio,” and also with Tom Waits’s “Step right Up,” a rapid-fire stringing together of come-ons from a charlatan hawking cure-alls for everything under the sun—a really funny number that shows Ben-David has a bit of the comedian lurking beneath the pearly tones of which she is capable.

Ben-David, with long reddish brown hair rippling around her shoulders, is a hefty gal with a delicate, girlish face. Past 30, she still enjoys recalling her rebel days at summer camp, where she says she didn’t like anybody including herself. Some of her chatting helps define her persona, although there is a little too much chat that may leave some wanting her to get back the business at hand. And do we really need sing-along in the Oak Room?

Her rich voice is most impressive, as when she sings the Jerome Moross and John Latouche “Lazy Afternoon,” in which she conjures the requisite blend of summer and sexuality. Her other selections include such diversity as “Something’s Coming” by Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim, “At the Crossroads” by Leslie Bricusse, “I Miss the Mountains” by Tom Kitt (in the audience on opening night) and Brian Yorkey, “Come Summer” by Cy Coleman and Carolyn Leigh, “Here Comes the Sun” by George Harrison, “Waters of March” by Antonio Carlos Jobim, “Blame It on the Summer Night by Charles Strouse and Stephen Schwartz and the zestful “Under the Boardwalk” by Artie Resnick and Kenny Young.

DeRoy, after chatting about her childhood introduction to theater, opened with a spirited, amusing “Hernando’s Hideaway” from ‘The Pajama Game,” and later sang a hilarious parody of a number from “The Sound of Music.” She said she was getting a little old to sing it as written, and proceeded to rock the room with laughter as she delivered special lyrics by Barry Kleinbort spoofing aging, “I am sixty going on seventy,” with references to AARP, Depends etc.

The assortment of friends included KT Sullivan, who exquisitely sang a medley from “Kiss Me, Kate” with her customary vocal class. Pianist Jon Weber provided a rousing medley from the great “South Pacific” score.

Len Cariou, regaled the audience with a tale of how when he was first sent the script for “Sweeney Todd” he wondered about singing while getting ready to cut the judge’s throat, “Are they out of their f-----g minds?” But on second thought, he figured that it might work if the song were pretty. All of this was by way of a charming introduction to his singing “Pretty Women,” a reminder of what a great performance he gave when the Sondheim work was finally staged.

Cariou and Loni Ackerman did a duet, singing “One of Kind,” and Ackerman went on to perform “Crazy for You” and “But Not for Me.” Another highlight was Debbie Gravitte, who won a Tony as Debbie Shapiro. Singing “Mr. Monotony” from “Jerome Robbins’ Broadway,” she built from the easy-going beginning to a crescendo. She also vigorously sang “Memory,” which further demonstrated what a powerful performer she is.

Stephanie D’ABruzzo, who has personality plus, sang “42nd Street” from the show of the same name and also the love lament “There’s a Fine Fine Line” from “Avenue Q.”

This is composer Charles Strauss’s 80th year, an occasion for his collecting assorted accolades, and he was on hand to play and affectionately sing a medley from his “Annie.” Strauss exudes contagious pleasure when he gets before an audience.

In truth she is ageless, still the icon who has entertained audiences world-wide in her long career, and still able to flirt with the males in the audience and make the gambit humorous and charming rather than gross. “Pay attention,” she sexily advises one man. “You might learn something.”

The familiar attributes are there, including the trademark sound that emerges as something between a purr and a growl communicating animalistic sexuality. On opening night, Kit began with a vigorous medley including “Let’s Face the Music and Dance,” “Let There Be Love” and “L-O-V-E.” The sexual overtones ever present, she subsequently slipped into her ode to high living with “Champagne Taste.”

Of course, there are her signature numbers. By way of an introduction to “La Vie en Rose,” she recalled the first time she heard Edith Piaf sing. Kitt did her lively Turkish number “Uska Dara,” showed some leg and indulged in a bit of undulation, all with a sense of fun. One could bet money that her program would include her well-known rendition of “C’est Si Bon.” It did.

Other numbers included “Besame Mucho,” “What Is This thing Called Love,” “I Don’t Remember Christmas,” “I Will Survive,” and “Alone.” Appropriately, Kitt closed with a rousing “Here’s to Life.” One could drink a toast to that, if life means continuing to keep up the zing and spirit that Kitt still can convey to an audience.

During her show Akers includes quotes from the poetry of Dorothy Parker, an appropriate idea given Parker’s legendary association with the Algonquin Hotel. She has chosen excerpts from Parker poems that dovetail nicely with the evening’s theme.

Early on Akers surprises with the country-style “I’m Checking Out,” with music and lyric by Shel Silverstein. She accents her theme with “Ready to Begin” by Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller, and with Stephen Sondheim’s “Move On,” then gives a nod to the future with “Where Do You Start?” a number with music by Johnny Mandel and lyric by Alan and Marilyn Bergman.

When listening to Akers, one can always count on total clarity, superb enunciation of every word and crystal-clear hitting of every note. Her poise is impeccable, whether striking an elegant stance, singing in the direction of a particular audience member or gesturing toward her musicians when introducing them. However, in part of this particular program, a sameness of tone creeps in, and one sometimes longs for her to let go more broadly and loosely, as she did in a past appearance.

She does that to some extent with “A Terrific Band and a Real Nice Crowd,” music by Billy Goldenberg and lyric by the Bergmans. The vaunted sophistication of Akers is especially evident when she eases into her French mode to sing “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” with every note true and the song itself true to her theme.

Other selections in the current show include “My Garden,” “Between Men,” “The Kindest Man,” “I Had a Dream About You,” “Since You Stayed Here” and “At the Rialto.” Akers injects particular passion into “I Was Here” (music by Stephen Flaherty, lyric by Lynn Ahrens), and you can say that about Akers herself. She certainly is here, commanding a room once again in her inimitable style.

They got underway with a lively rendition of “Up, Up and Away,” with Davis following vigorously with “In the Midnight Hour.” In rapid fire the team launched into a super medley of “Go Where You Wanna Go,” “You Don’t Have to be a Star,” “Solid Gold,” “Just a Lucky So and So,” “Can’t Help Lovin’ That Man,” and “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.”

McCoo spoke of the influecne Laura Nyro had on her, and delivered Nyro’s “Wedding Bells.” Davis excelled with a strong “A Change is Gonna Come.” The couple interspersed comments about their lives and work, and at one point McCoo passionately sang what she called her favorite torch song, “One Less Bell to Answer.”

Singing tenderly to each other, the couple performed “You Are So Beautiful” and created a similar I-love-you feeling with “How Do You Keep the Music Playing?” By the time they got to “Let the Sun Shine In,” the audience joined in with hand-clapping gusto.

For one thing you have to hand it to George Halley for the evocative Ziegfeld-style costumes, and Margret Fiedler for those eye-catching hair and headdress designs. The look of the show provided just the right aura. The appealing cast and Gillette did the rest, along with executive producer/director Mark York providing the zestful piano accompaniment.

What would a Ziegfeld memory lane trip be without showgirls? This production, choreographed by David Auxier had three of them, Merrill Grant, Sagan Rose and Lexi Windsor, different types skilled in provocative movements, grace and perky, flirty attitudes that showgirls are expected to deliver. Rose and Lexi were the taller showgirls. Grant was winsome as the especially lively, cute contributor.

Gillette, who sang the provocative “Lovie Joe”, also gave a most unusual and interesting interpretation of “You Made Me Love You,” which she made very much her own. Gillette looks great and she’s always enjoyable to hear, what with her wide Broadway show background and talent that I’ve watched her hone since she first became a hit in “Carnival.”

The music is sometimes more interesting than the lyrics, and Cross performs with an ultra laid back manner, mostly gazing straight ahead as he accompanies himself on the guitar and becomes immersed in lyrics into which he obviously injects his personal feelings about love and life in his soft-mannered, sweet vocal style.

Pleasant in a humble, unpretentious way, Cross is not a performer to ignite a room, but those who admire his compositions and his simple, straight-forward style are more likely to appreciate such signature songs as “Sailing” “Ride Like the Wind,” “Never Be the Same,” “Think of Laura” and others that he has penned and recorded with success.

The performance gets livelier near the end of the trail when he sings the bouncy, up-tempo “Ride Like the Wind,” for which he wrote the words and music. His best and more satisfying work is “Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do),” for which he won a 1981 Oscar, but that is one on which he was part of a collaboration that included Burt Bacharach, Carole Bayer Sager and Peter Allen.

On the night I caught her, Rivers began by shouting out a series of racial epithets. “Let’s get that out of the way,” she announced. “Did I leave any out?” A patron quickly obliged with another. Rivers shrewdly made her sell-out crowd accomplices in her candor, as if she were talking to a group of those ready to embrace her outrageousness or feel un-cool if they didn’t. This enthusiastic gang didn’t need much urging.

Some of her humor is self-deprecating, as when she ribbed the state of her body, describing herself as standing naked in front of her daughter Melissa, urging her to take a good look and warning, “This is going to be you.” She has crass lines about women aging, like being able to get a mammogram and a pedicure at the same time.

Men get the shaft too, as with the state of guys a single woman has to date these days. “There are no more one-night stands,” Rivers proclaimed, describing the process of getting a decrepit man out of a car, up the stairs, into the bedroom and having to get him dressed, down and back in the again—now a four-day process. She described one guy who died in the middle of dinner; it became necessary to get the credit card out of his pocket to pay.

Like Jackie Mason, she’ll focus on people in the front row, tagging someone as a lesbian, or singling out someone who is British while blasting Brits for, given the low value of the dollar, being able to come here, gain the upper hand and buy up everything on the cheap. “It took you 200 years, bitch,” she said.

Rivers has a plethora of famous names to spoof, especially of the Hollywood set, including actors pretending to be straight but really gay. She dispenses greedy advice to first wives, like urging getting everything they can out of a man and leaving nothing for the second wife.

Rivers has the gift of making everything seem fresh because of the energy she plows into her delivery. Occasionally she slows down, probably trying to collect thoughts for the next outburst. It is reassuring to find that after all the red carpet nonsense and other stuff she has done on TV, when she gets up before an audience in a room, she remains the original Joan Rivers, with funny material and an attitude that brooks no compromise in the name of so-called good taste. “I hate the handicapped,” she said at one point. “They take my parking spaces.”

Celebration is the order of the day—Maye considers the entire month of April her birthday, actually on the 12th—and the tone is with her first number, “Celebrate the Good Times.” When she launches into “Let the Good Times Roll,” her hell-raising fervor permeates the room and Maye is off and running. Her patter is fun too, as she tosses in an occasional anecdote, such as when she injured a shoulder and had her left arm immobilized. “It’s hard to sing with one arm,” she says, producing the hilarious effect of using only right-arm gestures.

Her range is wide, and she blends different styles into her numbers, sometimes within the same one—jazz, swing, a touch of blues or hot mama stuff. Her “Easter Parade,” for example, is unique in the way in which she provides a swinging style instead of becoming saccharine. Sometimes her pianist Billy Stritch gets into the act singing along with her. Her other musicians include Tom Hubbard on bass, and Jim Eklof, her drummer who, she points out, has been working with her for 45 years. The resulting smoothness shows.

There isn’t a hint of nostalgia in her performance. Everything is geared to the here and now, as Maye sounds totally fresh and ultra energetic with each interpretation. She is also generous, unleashing a torrent of tunes for the occasion, songs such as “No Bad News,” “It’s My Party,” “Applause” (She prompts the audience into especially applauding that one), “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Your Smile” “April in Paris,” and “I’ll Remember April.”

That would be enough for one outing, but she also pleases with “Put on Your Sunday Clothes,” “That’s Life,” a mellow rendition of “Bye Bye Country Boy,” and the sassy “Rain,” among others.

I suppose she does talk about her theme a bit too long, as if trying to justify fixating on it. Every show seems to need a theme these days. It isn’t enough to just get out there and sing. But the proof is in the performance, and Maggart delivers appealing results. She leads delicately with “Here Come the Dreamers” (Marshall Barer and Hugh Martin), “In the Heart of the Dark” (Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II) and “Isn’t It Romantic (Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart).

When she gets to “I’ll Buy That Dream” (Allie Wrubel and Herb Magidson), Maggart loosens up into more of a swinging style, which accents the fun that she can project with her personality as well as with her vocal skill. I particularly enjoy her when she ventures into more complexity, as with her intriguing exploration of Stephen Sondheim’s “On the Steps of the Palace” from the show “Into the Woods.” Typical of Sondheim, the music and lyrics are challenging, and not every singer can pull it off. Maggart does handily.

Also impressive is her interpretation of “Lost in Wonderland,” by Antonio Carlos Jobim and Marshall Barer. More than any other number, apart from Sondheim, this choice demonstrates Maggart’s ability to put across numbers that are intricate and special. She also exhibits a natural charm when she recounts anecdotes that help her connect with her audience.