In early 1976, I was teamed with a bright gent named Dennis Palumbo and together, we were one of a bazillion up-and-coming comedy-writing teams skulking about Hollywood, waiting for a break to find us. Nothing we'd written had made it to a TV screen yet but we were getting a rep and we'd gotten some good agents...and there were folks at studios and networks who looked favorably, they claimed, on our work. And I guess they did because we were being offered jobs.

Our representatives called and told us to report to a screening room at ABC to view a new, as-yet-unaired pilot. We so reported and were shown a two-hour TV-movie called The Love Boat — an anthology starring as the ship's crew, Dick Van Patten, Terri O'Mara and a whole bunch of other actors who would not be in the subsequent series. After the viewing, which was just for Dennis and me, we met Dawn Aldredge and Marion C. Freeman, who were the writing team that was developing the project. Here is what they told us...

ABC liked the pilot but had major problems with the cast and with the show's level of sophistication. The latter was all over the place, inconsistent from one segment to the next. What we'd just been shown might never air. A few months later, it did, though heavily re-edited to try and correct that inconsistency.

In the meantime, ABC had ordered another Love Boat pilot — another two-hour TV movie which, like the one we'd just seen, would interweave four separate stories. The ship's crew would be completely recast and they were about to sign Sandy Duncan to play the cruise director, who'd been tentatively named Sandy. (I have no idea what happened there.)

The plan at that moment was to make this a racy, adult series with way more sex than had ever been featured before on network TV. It would probably not become a weekly hour series but would more likely be a string of more two-hour movies. They'd run from time to time in some unspecified late night berth that didn't yet exist — maybe on Saturday nights from 10 PM 'til Midnight, changing forever the whole parameters of customary network time slots and on-screen sexuality. What's more, the material might be filmed and edited in two forms. The one that would air on ABC would feature adult themes and brief nudity. Another version, featuring more adult language and more nudity, would probably be released overseas, perhaps even as theatrical films.

Anyway, Dennis and I were hired at a nice fee to write one of the segments for the second Love Boat pilot, and we came up with a story about a bunch of frat boys who go for a cruise. One of them is a virgin...a condition which causes the lad to be much-mocked by his buddies to the point where the whole ship gets to talking about it. Before long, strangers are even giggling at him and wagering as to whether he'll become a Real Man by the time the ship makes port. All of this ratchets up the pressure on Danny (as we called him) to score and he tries like crazy, making an increasingly-grander fool of himself with the ladies upon whom he hits.

Finally, on the night before the ship docks, he gives up and it's only then, when he drops the Blitzkrieg approach, that he meets a woman who likes him without his tricks and "lines." They spend that last night together and it's so wonderful that when it comes time to disembark and his friends ridicule him for having spent a whole week on the guaranteed-to-get-you-laid Love Boat without being deflowered, he doesn't tell them otherwise. He and the lady go their separate ways with nice memories, uncheapened by him bragging to his pals.

We handed in our script and everyone said they liked it. One exec at ABC was so impressed that it helped us land our jobs as story editors on Welcome Back, Kotter, which in turn kept us from writing more for Love Boat. But our script was not filmed for the second two-hour Love Boat TV movie or even the third. We were told that the network was balking at making the franchise as "adult" as had been planned and that our script would be "ruined" if it had to be rewritten to the current-but-likely-to-loosen standards. It was being held, we were told, until the network would allow two people to have sex without them either being married or deciding to immediately get that way.

And indeed, that script was not ruined until Love Boat became a weekly one-hour series. It aired at 9 PM and all talk of making it close to R-rated subsided. Someone rewrote darn near every word of our effort to fit the much-less-naughtier motif. Robert Hegyes, with whom we worked on Kotter, was grossly miscast as the boy. We'd written the role for someone frail and innocent...no actor in mind but we were thinking, like, a younger Gene Wilder maybe?

The lady with whom he finally canoodles was to be played by someone who was not a star. That was because she was supposed to more or less come out of nowhere and apart from a parting exchange of smiles on the dock, she would disappear after. At least, that's what everyone understood when we wrote it. But ABC now wanted billable names in their show so they got Maureen McCormack of The Brady Bunch and then they had to give her scenes earlier in the story to establish her presence and make sure Maureen got enough to do.

The biggest change, of course, was that the one-night stand could not be a one-night stand because, though that's apparently what the real Love Boats were mainly about, there were none then on network television. The boy and girl had to have a real relationship that was likely to culminate in wedlock. So the rewriters rewrote such that Danny and the lady turned out to be friends from school (it had briefly slipped his mind) and they were going to continue dating after the cruise and probably get married. Not at all what our story was about.

By the time it aired, Dennis and I felt pretty distanced from it all. It was a nice credit since the weekly Love Boat series was a pretty big hit but there were only two lasting remnants for me from the experience. One was that after Dennis and I decided to go our separate ways, I teamed up for a time with Marion Freeman and worked on a couple of shows, and she's still a good friend. And every so often, I get a Love Boat residual check for about a buck-eighty.

Embedded below is the entire hour episode. Our heavily-rewritten script is entwined with two other scenarios...and I'm really not suggesting you view it. I didn't, except the first minute or so, just to see if the type font of the writer credits was actually as hard to read as I recalled. It was, which coupled with how briefly our names were on the screen, may have been a blessing. I believe all the credited folks complained and Love Boat later changed fonts and increased screen time of their credits. In any case, the link below may require you to sit through an ad before it plays...in which case, I would really recommend you not watch it. But I put it there because I could and because I thought you'd enjoy the story that leads up to it. You've read it so now you can find something better on the Internet to watch...like this, for instance.

Still, I can see that something has to be done about all the folks in this country who have no insurance, all the people who do have insurance but discover (usually at the worst-possible moment) that it won't cover what they need it to cover, and the sheer fact that most health care is just too damned expensive. In intolerable numbers, people die and/or go bankrupt because of the system. In the absence of a fix, it'll eventually get so bad that even rabid Republicans will be wishing we'd passed the Hillary Clinton plan.

I follow as much of it as I can...as if anything I might say or do will ever make a difference. Two of the best sources of news and analysis I've found online are Ezra Klein and Jonathan Cohn. These are Liberal voices but so far, I haven't come across a Conservative take on health care that wasn't based on either or both of the following premises: That anything the government touches is invariably going to be a disaster and/or that it would be a shame to see the insurance companies not make every possible nickel off your Grandma's arthritis.

Opponents of revamping health care are losing ground every day. Every poll says that even G.O.P. voters want it fixed and you have entities like Walmart demanding health care reform. I can't believe something won't get done. But then again, I also can't believe we have Senators and Congressfolks acting like the system is fine or, at worst, just needs a little Bactine and a band-aid. Or maybe a loving mother to kiss the boo-boo.

I say "seem" because one is in the category of "Special Award for Excellence in Presentation" and I'm not sure if that's for me or for the folks who designed the book, one of whom was an uncredited (for that) me. This is not a point that needs clarification; just something I mention to underscore how nebulous these things can be. I am occasionally congratulated because Groo the Wanderer has repeatedly won the Harvey in a category called "Special Award for Humor in Comics" but I don't think that award was for me. It's gone to my collaborator, Sergio Aragonés.

I also don't think the distinction matters because awards, though nice, don't make you any better and the absence of them doesn't make you any worse. They have a slight marketing value and they please certain people in your life. The first time I was up for an Emmy, my father was still alive and the only reason I cared if I won was because I knew how happy it would make him. Oh — and maybe because the statue might (emphasis on the "might") have given me a little more clout on my next project.

I don't mean to disparage anyone's award because winning any such trophy is not at all a negative unless, as a few unfortunates do, you take it as incontrovertible proof you're a genius and needn't listen to others. There's also nothing negative about being nominated unless you overdramatize it to the point where you'll be crushed if you lose. Anyway, I've learned to just say thanks and to otherwise pay no nevermind to awards. The first time I won an Eisner, I carried this to an extreme. I didn't even know I was nominated, didn't attend the ceremony, didn't find out until years later that I'd won and never got the actual trophy, which I think was then a certificate.

Tom Spurgeon and others are making the case that the Harveys are redundant and ill-administered and that they oughta be put to sleep. As a nominee this year (and I believe but am not sure, other years), I'm being asked what I think about this. What I think about this is that I don't think a lot about this. I completely buy any argument that the absolute best work is not being selected but I kinda feel that way about every award in every field. Perhaps given the response to the current list of Harvey nominees — and I hope, not because I'm on it — their process does need some fixing if it's going to retain any credibility.

But really, discussing whether or not to abolish an award is almost treating it with too much seriousness. It's suggesting that the ones you don't want eliminated do a highly efficient job of zeroing in on The Best and the Brightest. Each year, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences doles out a lot of Oscars that elevate one film or contributor above others that do not seem directly comparable or often, to me, less deserving. I don't see it as an injustice that demands correction if the Harvey Awards do this. It also wouldn't change all that much if either set of awards went bye-bye.

We all have a chance to vote on this. We cast our votes with whatever amount of attention we pay to a set of awards. If we afford them none, they'll fade away. And if we get excited about them and talk or write a lot about them, then they probably deserve to continue. It's all blue smoke that means as much as you want it to mean...no more, no less. The administrators of the Harvey Awards may have some problems to solve but we don't, except to decide how much, if at all, we care.

Anyway, across the pond they not only collect this tax, they do clever commercials to encourage folks to come across with their fees. Here's one that uses a tune that regular readers of this blog are probably sick of by now. Thanks to Tony Redman for the tip.

Here is my one Karl Malden anecdote. It's about ten, twelve years ago. I'm directing a voice session for the Garfield cartoon show. I'm sitting at the little console and the actors are in another room, visible through a large glass window. When I wish to speak to them, I push a button on the console and they can hear me. One of the actors in there is Howard Morris, beloved character actor better known to some of you as Atom Ant, Ernest T. Bass, Uncle Goopy, Jet Screamer, Jughead Jones, the Qantas Koala, Waid Duck or dozens of other roles he played.

So I'm fumbling through the script and a man in a suit and tie comes in from the hallway and, ever so politely, he says "I'm sorry to intrude but could I just take a moment and say hello to my friend Howie?" It's Karl Malden. He was recording something in the next studio and someone told him Howie Morris was in with us. I tell him he's more than welcome, whereupon he hits the little button and says, over my microphone, "Howie? It's Karl Malden!"

Howie looks through the glass, sees Malden and says, "Karl! Still foolin' 'em?"

Karl grins and says, "Still foolin' 'em!"

Howie, who is about the size of Karl Malden's nose, runs out of the booth. They embrace. They discuss how each has aged since their last encounter. Howie itemizes his marriages and divorces since then. Karl says, "You're working. I don't want to take you away from that." He hugs Howie again and moves towards the door.

Howie yells, "Keep foolin' 'em!"

Malden laughs, promises to keep foolin' 'em and then he leaves and we go back to work.

That's my one Karl Malden anecdote. Sorry it isn't better because a guy with his body of acclaimed acting work deserves better. But it's the only one I've got.

For a while now, Jerry Lewis has been talking, as if it's a done deal, about a Broadway musical based on his 1963 movie, The Nutty Professor. In the past — here and here — we've tracked the announcements and expressed skepticism that this thing would ever make Manhattan. Lewis didn't announce a book writer, a lyricist or a composer...or any trace of a theater in which to mount a first production. It was, he said at one point, likely to debut in '07 at the Old Globe in San Diego, but apparently no one ever talked to the Old Globe about that.

What he did seem to have was the idea (a good one, probably) and he had selected a performer named Michael Andrew to star in the title role. Mr. Andrew was showcased as such on Jerry's Labor Day Telethon at least one year.

Well now. The Nutty Professor (The Musical) is finally getting somewhere. It's nowhere near the Great White Way but it's getting somewhere. Lewis has announced that Marvin Hamlisch will compose the music and that Rupert Holmes will write the book and lyrics. Those are two guys with genuine Broadway chops...so the project has suddenly taken a massive leap towards reality. We need to dial our skepticism back a few clicks, though it won't go away altogether until we hear of an actual theater and a tentative opening date. Oh, and a star would be nice, too. The press release says casting is to come. There is no mention of Michael Andrew.

It all still sounds to me like the endeavor is also lacking proper financial backing and that fingers are crossed that this announcement will jar that trivial element into place. But it sure wouldn't be the first time that someone tried to raise money for a play by acting like it was more definite than it actually was. That's not the least uncommon...though since such plans usually don't have such big names attached, we usually don't hear much about them. What is rare is for the necessary millions to be entrusted to a guy who's never staged for the stage before. My guess is they won't be able to line up the bucks unless there's someone on the premises who's experienced in that regard, even if Lewis retains the official credit as director.

So this thing could happen. I went to New York to catch Jerry's opening night in the revival of Damn Yankees — his Broadway debut. I'm not ready to book my tickets yet for the world premiere of The Nutty Professor on stage...but I'm prepared to be surprised that there may just be one.

It's from the linked article about the newly-released Nixon tapes. Everything you ever heard about the moral bankruptcy of Richard Milhous turns out to be so — again and again and again...

You can listen to the new tapes or read transcripts here. This is the Nixon Presidential Library and Museum, where every effort is made to put its subject into a sympathetic context and to suggest that the pressures of the era would have driven even a saint to treacherous action. But even if one accepts that framework, Nixon and his associates still look pretty damn bad.

I have a friend whose car was taken by a thief. The car was worth maybe $5000 and they caught the guy who took it and he got 3-5 years behind bars. If he did the minimum sentence, which he probably did, that's like $139 a month.

Bernie got a helluva bargain. At those prices, I would have stolen more.

I'm all for the public's right to know but we don't have a right to know everything. There's such a thing as attorney-client privilege. And doctor-patient confidentiality. And your right to talk to someone else without them recording it and posting it on the Internet without your consent.

A person finds a friend or family member passed out and not breathing. In panic, they call 911 and that's often one of the worst moments of a life. They're scared. They're overcome with emotion. Sometimes, they're facing the very real possibility that the person they love the most has just died or is about to die...

Why is it anyone else's business what they said or what the operator said in reply?

Okay, yes, it's amusing to hear when some mother calls 911 because her daughter won't eat her asparagus. And I suppose if some death was under suspicious circumstances, that 911 call might be evidence...but then, it belongs in a courtroom, not on TMZ.com.

Am I missing something here? When "authorities" release such things, is it ever on the authority of the caller? Is the family consulted? Or do they, as it would seem, just put it out there for public titillation without regard to anyone's feelings?

Damn. Another one of these.

For the last few months, it was a hush-hush secret that master impressionist Fred Travalena was in and out of hospitals, battling cancer again. It had come and gone in various parts of his body but was back, attacking his precious throat. At the beginning of May, Sperdvac — which is the local old radio show society — had its annual convention and Fred was supposed to appear and play George Burns in a re-creation of an old Burns & Allen radio show. When he cancelled, that was a bad, bad sign. Fred was a trooper in every show biz sense...and if he was letting someone down, it had to be for a dire reason.

He died yesterday of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma at the age of 66. This obit will give you the details of his career but basically, he bounced around in early life between the possible careers of singer, impressionist and commercial art before finally settling on the first two. He was a darn good mimic, especially his replicas of Sinatra and the other members of the Rat Pack. He did a darn good Jim Nabors, too. And just about anybody else you might request.

I first worked with Fred when he supplied voices for an animated special I wrote for ABC called The Secret World of Og. It was one of the first times he did a cartoon, if not the first and as you might imagine, he was quite good at it. Later though, when he was offered more work of that sort, he usually declined. "I like being in front of an audience," he told me once when he courteously turned me down. He was also bothered that most cartoon jobs pay union scale. That's more than enough money for most people. I have friends who've gotten very wealthy doing animation gigs for union scale.

But Fred was uncomfy with the whole concept of working for minimums as a matter of principle. He didn't like doing it and he didn't like hearing that others did it...and this was not out of greed. No performer I can think of did more pro bono work than he did, lending his talents to every charity and noble cause that asked him. He placed a high value on what entertainers supply and when you saw him supplying, you could understand why. I hope you got to see him live, at least once. He sure did like being in front of an audience...and audiences liked having him there.

Here's a repeat of a clip I linked to a year and a half ago of Fred in front of audiences...

That's kind of like saying of a convicted serial murderer, "We really think you should execute him twenty times but for God's sake, at least kill him once or twice!"

They also quote a lawyer — I don't think it's one of Madoff's — saying, "This isn't a guy who murdered people, who raped people or who sexually abused children. This is a guy who stole money, and it's terrible. But when you climb down through the hysteria, we don't generally give life sentences to people who steal a lot of money." That's true. Then again, criminals don't usually steal amounts equal to the entire gross national product of Uzbekistan.

"A lot of money" is kind of the key phrase here. A few days ago, I believe I used that term to describe the full retail price of Adobe InDesign. The amount Mr. Madoff made disappear is a wee bit more than "a lot of money."

What would I do if I were the judge? Easy. We throw the guy in prison for an indeterminate time. We give him a job in there...working in the laundry or making license plates or something. And we pay him for this at the full minimum wage, which is presently $6.55 an hour.

Then he stays in prison until he pays back the full $13 billion. With interest.