I guess if I were President of the United States and not one thing in this world mattered to me besides my popularity and my personal wealth…and if I thought the former would crumble if I didn't keep a stupid campaign promise that I made without even pondering how I could ever deliver on it…and if my aides told me declaring a national emergency was the only way I might at least look like I was trying to make it happen…
…yeah, I might declare a national emergency.
Okay, here's the Alice Ghostley story. You all know Alice Ghostley, who somehow managed to guest star on 75% of all sitcoms and 50% of all variety shows in the sixties and seventies. A very funny woman. Here's one minute of her selling refrigerators…
In 1997, I was working on a new cartoon show called Channel Umptee-3 and along with writing and rewriting episodes, I was to cast and direct the voice actors. One of the roles we cast was the evil zillionaire, Stickley Ricketts. We selected Jonathan Harris (see previous post) for that part but we had trouble finding the right lady to play his shrewish wife, Pandora. I knew the perfect person was out there but couldn't think of who it might be.
When I asked the show's creator Jim George who he had in mind, he mentioned three possible names — Joanne Worley, Rue McClanahan and Edie McClurg. I said, "I don't think any of them are exactly right" and he agreed with me and said, "Let's keep looking." This was early February.
About that time, we lost a friend of mine — a fine actor (both on-camera and voiceover) named Bob Ridgely. Bob was the guy who played the hangman in Blazing Saddles, the airport flasher in High Anxiety, the bigoted businessman in Philadelphia, the game show host in Melvin and Howard and many more. In voiceover, he was an oft-heard network and promo announcer as well as the Saturday morning voices of Tarzan, Flash Gordon, Thundarr the Barbarian and many others.
And he was also one of the funniest men I ever met with maybe the filthiest sense of humor. Everyone who knew Bob loved him and much of Hollywood turned out for the most hilarious memorial service I've ever attended. It was so entertaining that on the way out, everyone was saying we could have a hit show on HBO if we could somehow figure a way to have Bob die every week. The host was Jack Riley and the speakers included Mel Brooks, Hugh Hefner, Chuck McCann, Martin Mull, Gary Owens, Thom Sharp and many more.
On the way in, I ran into quite a few people I knew including Jonathan Harris. He came up to me and asked when we were going to begin recording episodes of Channel Umptee-3 ("Soon," I told him) and then he asked, "Haven't you found a wife for me yet, dear boy?" That caused me to start thinking about that again and I happened to look over at a long line of attendees who were waiting to sign the guestbook honoring Bob. There in line, I saw Joanne Worley, Rue McClanahan and Edie McClurg.
They were not together but I could see them all in one "shot" and I thought to myself, "No…none of them are exactly what I'm looking for."
Just then, I got a tap on the shoulder from another voice actress I knew, Sharon Mack. She said, "Mark, have you met Alice Ghostley?" I hadn't so I turned and there — big as life but two-thirds the height of me — was Alice Ghostley. And the first thing I said to her was "You're hired!" That was how perfect she was for the part.
She was startled and she asked, "Hired for what?" I said, "Never mind that now. Who's your agent for voiceover work?" She told me and it was the same agent who represented Jonathan Harris and also represented Bob Ridgely. A few minutes later, I found that agent and asked her, "Do you think Bob Ridgely would be offended if a fellow actor got a job at his memorial service?" She said, "I think Bob would love it. He might demand 10% but he'd love it."
I said, "I think he'd love it too. I have a part that's perfect for Alice Ghostley but I'm going to need to convince the studio, the producers and the network. Is there a way I can get some tape on her and Jonathan Harris doing a scene?" She said, "Jonathan adores Alice. I'm sure he'd come in and read with her." The agent scurried off and found and talked with Alice. Then she found Jonathan and spoke with him. Then she found me again and told me, "It's set. They'll both be at our offices one hour after the memorial service lets out." Perfect.
After the celebration of Mr. Ridgely, I dashed home and printed out copies of the audition scene I'd written for Stickley and Pandora. The agency's office was within walking distance of my house so I hiked there with the scripts. When I arrived, Jonathan and Alice were sitting in the waiting room, bickering over something like an old married couple. I probably could have just pointed a microphone at them and recorded that conversation — don't think I didn't think of doing that — but instead I herded them into the agency's recording booth.
They did it three times. The first was so perfect, it couldn't have been any better. The second was better. The third was pretty much the same as the second. I had the agency engineer make me several copies of Take 2 on tape cassettes and I called a messenger service. An hour later, the producers, the studio execs and the network all had their copies and an hour after that, everyone who had to approve Alice Ghostley had approved Alice Ghostley and a deal had been made with her agent. (Today, I would have e-mailed everyone MP3s of the audition scene and the whole process would have happened even faster.)
That evening around 9:00, Alice Ghostley phoned me and said, "My goodness, that's the fastest I've ever gotten signed for a TV series. I've finally figured out what I've been doing wrong in my career. I should stop going to auditions and just attend more funerals!"
One of the great things about some jobs I've had has been getting to work with fascinating people. One such was the late Jonathan Harris, who played the diabolical Dr. Smith on Lost in Space. Our clip today will show you why he was so fascinating.
The show I did with him was a short-lived animated series called Channel Umptee-3. It was on what was then called the WB Network from 1997 to 1998 and I was its Story Editor and Voice Director. It was produced by Norman Lear's company and animated by Sony Animation and the regular cast consisted of Rob Paulsen, David Paymer, Alice Ghostley, Neil Ross, Susan Silo, Gregg Berger, Greg Burson and Jonathan. It wasn't a hit but it was a lot of fun and I was reasonably proud of what we did. Most of the credit should go to a brilliant talent named Jim George who created the program.
(Note to Self: Tell the story here of how Alice Ghostley was cast. I can't believe you haven't posted it on this blog but you haven't.)
Jonathan was a charming, lovely man but he had about eight anecdotes and at every tape day, he somehow got around to telling at least half if not all of them. We did thirteen episodes of the show and I heard some of Jonathan's stories thirteen times. It is a measure of how fine an actor he was that no matter how many times you heard one, it was still good.
Each tape date, there would be someone in the session meeting him for the first time. That person will tell Jonathan how much they loved him on Lost in Space. Jonathan would accept the flattery in a most gracious manner because he was a most gracious man. Then that person would ask how it was that he was always, for all three seasons, billed as a "Special Guest Star" on this series on which he was a regular. Jonathan would take his cue and launch into the story and it always went exactly like this for exactly seven minutes and forty-six seconds. I still enjoy hearing it…
Five quick links for your clicking pleasure…
Speaking as we were about Broadway revivals being altered to fit today's sensibilities, that's being done now for the forthcoming revival of Kiss Me, Kate.
There's a pretty good argument that can be made that this should not be attempted; that a show staged in the past and set in the past should reflect the attitudes of the past. I'm not that interested though in making that argument. I think it's okay in some instances and not in others. The revival a few years ago of Annie, Get Your Gun with Bernadette Peters changed a lot about American Indians and I suspect it was a better production for doing that. Kiss Me, Kate though is about men mistreating women and how it's wrong to do that. Don't you kinda have to keep in the part about men mistreating women in order to do that? We'll see what they do to it.
I'd never seen the 1970 Broadway musical about how four of Minnie Marx's five sons turned into Groucho, Harpo, Chico and Zeppo. The show Minnie's Boys opened March 26 of that year after an unusually-long string of previews — 64. Every so often, a new musical tries to open in New York without going outta-town first for tryouts. That means that New York audiences see the actors trying to perfect their performances plus all the stuff that the creative team decides must be tossed out or rewritten.
While Minnie's Boys was doing serious repair work, word got around and I recall reading an article at the time that said that much of the audience was going to see it not because they'd heard it was good but just the opposite. As I mentioned here, a lot of theater fans love it when a show flops and they can savor the pain of its creators and backers. Once it finally did have an opening night, it ran ten weeks and that was that.
Shelley Winters played Minnie and, according to all reports, lacked (1) the ability to sing, (2) the ability to remember lines, (3) the ability to deliver them in any tone but serious angst and (4) the sense and heroism to get out of a show she couldn't handle.
The producers wanted to fire her and bring in comedienne Totie Fields, who just might have had the star power to make the thing work, but Groucho (then 79 years of age) was insistent about how his mother would be depicted and for him, it was either Shelley W. or nobody. Also, it was rumored Ms. Winters announced that if she was ousted, she would sue the show into oblivion and also go on Johnny Carson's and others to denounce the whole project as the utterest of crap. So it was Shelley W. who stayed in it and is usually blamed for the failure, along with Groucho's stubborn refusal to allow her to be replaced.
After seeing a production of it last Sunday evening, I would like to suggest some blame is due to the script, which was by Arthur Marx and Bob Fisher and heavily rewritten on the fly during previews. A number of writers took a crack at fixing it and I dunno if they did too much or not enough but it was one of those. Ms. Winters is gone but the unimpressive book remains.
The production I saw was a one-shot staged reading in Glendale by the Musical Theater Guild, a prestigious organization which often takes on impossible challenges like this and usually succeeds. I really liked Susan Edwards Martin as Minnie and Matthew Patrick Davis, who played the man who would be Groucho. He did a fine job mimicking Groucho's famous delivery. His big problem was that Mr. Davis is 6'8" so even when he stooped over to do the famous Groucho walk, he was still taller than Harpo or Chico. Best of all was the score, which has many delights. It was by composer Larry Grossman (who was there for the performance and the limited rehearsals) and lyricist Hal Hackady.
The Broadway World website has posted two reviews of the one performance. This one I think overpraises it a bit and this one underpraises it a bit.
I admired the effort that the cast and their enablers put into it and there was a certain joy emanating from the stage that made me more forgiving of weaknesses. It also helps to remember that this was never represented as a polished presentation. It was a staged reading that was blocked, rehearsed and presented in a measly twenty-five hours with the actors holding their scripts throughout. I suspect if you saw Laurence Olivier do Hamlet book-in-hand after only 25 hours, you might well think he was among the worst actors ever.
I'm skeptical that we will ever see a major theatrical revival of this show. They don't do that for non-Sondheim shows that close on Broadway in ten weeks. But it does get revived a lot in community and local theaters. I did not have a bad time — and believe me, I've had them at musicals that had a lot more budget, a lot more prep time and a much better script to begin with.
Last June, Amber and I went back to New York and one of the things we saw there was the new production of one of my favorite musicals, My Fair Lady. I loved everything about it except the new ending. If you go to this post and scroll way down, you'll find a long explanation of why I didn't like the new ending.
The production has changed since then. Three of the stars I saw — Lauren Ambrose, Norbert Leo Butz and Diana Rigg — have departed. They've been replaced by (respectively) Laura Benanti, Danny Burstein and Rosemary Harris. Also, there appears to be a change to that ending I so disliked. Let me put up the spoiler alert —
— and then I'll quote a message I received from Dan Kravetz…
I saw the current production of My Fair Lady at Lincoln Center for the first time the other night, after having read the detailed review in your blog last May. The ending seems to have been changed. Benanti's Eliza does not run away or storm off stage into the audience.
I had read that in some early performances, Lauren Ambrose had actually slapped Higgins in the face before turning and running from him. Now, after Higgins asks
where his slippers are, Benanti comes up close to him and gives him a smile and friendly pat on the cheek, then turns and walks slowly in the other direction. The lights black out before she has stepped off the stage.I think it much more in keeping with Shaw's proposal that although Eliza intends to marry Freddy, she and Higgins have not seen the last of each other. Her brief return visit can be interpreted as a way for her to pay one more tribute to the man who changed her life and changed her father's life, while also being changed himself, as she had observed during their scene at Mrs. Higgins' home.
People in the audience were still a bit surprised that the two are not reunited as lovers (Shaw was apparently asexual, and may have wanted Higgins to be the same), but it was really touching and effective, unlike what you described several months ago.
That's nice to hear…but did someone really think Higgins deserved a slap in the face? For what? Taking in a "prisoner of the gutters" and giving her exactly what she asked him for? Making sure she was properly chaperoned? Offering to fund her in a business of her own? Did anyone there understand that Professor Higgins was not Harvey Weinstein?
I wrote this entire post yesterday and it's just a coincidence that today, I see my buddy Ken Levine is highly recommending it on his blog. He saw the softened ending that Dan saw and still thought it was wrong…and he adored Laura Benanti. If she's still in the show next time I make it to Manhattan, I'm going again. Thanks, Dan. I hope you and my other readers enjoy these clips from the current version of the show in New York…
Give a read to Jonathan Chait here. He's quoting White House chief of staff Mick Mulvaney admitting that when he was in Congress and Obama was President, the Republican Congress did everything in their power to stop Obama from having any legislative successes. In the meantime, we have plenty of Trump supporters saying it's unethical and evil to do that to the current President.
I am informed that on tomorrow night's episode of Jeopardy!, one of the categories in Double Jeopardy will be The Eisner Awards. I have no idea what the answer is but if the correct question is "What is Groo the Wanderer?," you can probably bet that the contestant won't get it and that Jeopardy! will be cancelled soon after.
As mentioned here, our pal Frank Ferrante is currently starring in in Ken Ludwig's play A Comedy of Tenors at the historic Walnut Street Theater in Philadelphia. Frank also directed this production of the bawdy farce and like most farces, it requires the actors to make split-second exits and entrances and often costume changes. Since Frank plays two look-alike characters, he has at least twice the normal number of exits and entrances, plus plenty of costume changes.
Here's a short video shot backstage that may give you some idea of how hard one has to work doing a play like this. If you're anywhere near Philadelphia and would like to see it from the front and learn what all the running-around is about, here's how to get tickets. Frank will be doing this until March 3 by which time he should have dropped at least twenty pounds doing this eight shows a week…
Back when we had an Internet but no Facebook yet, a lot of our arguing was done on what were called Newsgroups — which I believe still exist but now Facebook is a much handier place to call someone an idiot. I once was involved with a lot of discussions on a newsgroup about Broadway-style musicals.
It was a gathering place for folks who claimed to love musical comedies but I was amazed how many of them seemed to live for the opportunity to trash some new production of something. There were people there who didn't seem to think anything was any good…and boy, were they happy when something flopped. There's no schadenfreude like theatrical schadenfreude.
As I get older, I have less tolerance for lists of The World's Worst Movies, The World's Worst Records, The World's Worst Comic Books, The World's Worst Cartoons, etc. I have one acquaintance who I doubt has ever seen a movie that he didn't describe at the time as "The worst movie ever made." They're all "The worst movie ever made!" Not long ago, we had approximately the following conversation…
HE: That movie I saw last night was the worst movie ever made.
ME: I thought the movie you saw last Saturday was the worst movie ever made.
HE: Oh, God, it was. The worst movie ever made.
ME: You cannot by definition have two films be the worst movie ever made. One of them must have been the second-worst.
HE: No, they were both the worst movie ever made.
ME: Why do you even go to movies if every one of them is the worst movie ever made? That's like saying, "Hey, tonight, I think I'll go eat the worst meal I ever had!"
HE: Not every movie I ever see is the worst movie ever made.
ME: Okay, name one that wasn't. Name one from the last three years.
HE: [Long pause while he tries to think of one.]
ME: [Trying to be helpful:] The Big Short?
HE: The Big Short? Are you kidding? That was the worst movie ever made.
ME: The Martian? Moonlight? The Shape of Water?
HE: No, those were all the worst movie ever made. Oh, I know one I liked! Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri!
ME: You told me that was the worst movie ever made!
HE: Well, maybe I did. But everything else has been so much worse so that one's looking pretty good now.
ME: Okay but you haven't told me why you still go to movies.
HE: Because I love movies.
ME: Just not 98% of them.
HE: Well…I have high standards.
I don't buy that. Maybe with some people but not with this guy. I think he hates movies because he's not part of that industry. It's not high standards. It's jealousy and resentment and maybe an inability to understand and/or respect how much hard work and best intentions go into even films that ultimately please very few people. I'm not saying there aren't bad movies — obviously there are plenty of them and reviewers should help identify them. But I sometimes can't take the glee some people show when they find something they can trash. They go in praying for it to be attackable.
This article started off to be about the musical Minnie's Boys which opened on Broadway in 1970 and closed there, eighty performances later. It has been said that it only ran that long because a segment of the theatergoing community bought tickets to chortle about how poor it was and to savor the schadenfreude. Its failure obviously pleased some.
I saw a production of it last night — a staged reading, actually — and I was going to write about it when I wandered a bit off-topic. Ill try to get on-topic by tomorrow. It was not the worst musical ever, as some have called it. I liked some of it but am not surprised it wasn't a smash and I'll try to tell you why I thought that.
Fifteen people have won an Emmy, an Oscar, a Grammy and a Tony Award. Can you name them all? I couldn't.
I go to too many funerals and memorials…but some you feel a genuine need to attend. Last night, there was a private, invite-only celebration in San Diego of the life of the much-beloved Batton Lash. Bat left us at way too early an age last month and I couldn't not be there for that one.
It was held in the mostly-empty museum in Balboa Park which will soon be the home of a museum dedicated to comic art and to the entity behind it, Comic-Con International. It consisted of several hours of people who loved the guy telling each other why they loved the guy. There were enough reasons that it didn't get too repetitive and even when it did, so what? I went fourth and I emphasized the organic nature of Bat's work; how the work was so likeable because the writer-artist was so likeable.
Also, I reminded folks that while Bat had studied the works of great comic creators and even studied with several of them, what he put down on the paper was uniquely his. He understood what they did and then did it his way…with a little help from his beloved spouse and partner, Jackie Estrada. And you'll be happy to know that Jackie, who did her usual superb event-planning, somehow managed to survive the evening without overdosing on hugs. If we must have people we care about die, they should all be sent off with an evening like that one.
Mark Mills writes to ask…
I guess I'm naive but isn't prostitution illegal in Las Vegas? Doesn't the law say it's legal only at a farther distance from state lines?
I get that it happens everywhere but it sounds like a cop could make dozens of arrests an hour. Are the police paid off or are there so many hookers that police can't dent their numbers?
My understanding is that it's legal in the state of Nevada but up to each county to ban it if they wish…and most wish. It's banned in Vegas or anywhere else in Clark County but if one drives far 60-90 minutes, one can find legal brothels in other counties.
The cops are not paid off. Within Clark County, it's one of those things where the law looks the other way as long as it stays among consenting adults and doesn't involve more overt crimes or minors or drugs. They police it when it becomes a nuisance or when someone complains they've been victimized or made uncomfortable.
At times, some of the casinos have let it be known that the ladies are welcome on their premises as long as they confine their solicitations to one specific bar and don't cause trouble. It's kind of a service to their customers. It is said that if you were a "whale," (a gambler who bets huge sums and usually loses) and you told your casino host that you wanted them to get you a girl for the night, some (not all, certainly) casinos would arrange that.
And that's about where my expertise on this topic ends.
Some years ago in Vegas, I was hanging out one evening with a group of stand-up comedians including a couple whose names you might know. They were playing whatever the comedy club at the Riviera was then called. This was back when it was run by Steve Schirripa, a few years before he hit in big on The Sopranos. Steve gave us all comps to the Riviera coffee shop after the last show that evening and we were sitting there eating free steaks when one of the comics proposed we all get into his van and drive to the next county for "window shopping."
He had in mind an area where there were three or four brothels close to each other. He explained that each had a little bar and you could go in and ask for a "lineup." All the ladies who worked there and weren't busy with customers would appear in a line wearing evening gowns or considerably less. You could look them over, pick out the one you liked best and go back to her "office" to discuss terms of employment and enjoyment. Or you could say, "Thanks, I may be back" and leave without making a purchase.
The latter is what he wanted to do — look without buying at each establishment. I'm not sure if this is because he was faithful to his wife or just cheap…probably both. But he just thought it would be fun to check out the whores and then maybe discuss which one each of us would select if we did make a selection. I couldn't think of very many things in this world I would less want to do. Maybe actually making a selection would be less desirable but not by much.
So I didn't go. One of the comedians who did described it the next night as the single most depressing experience of his life. And later, he said it made him feel worse about going on auditions.
Yes, yes…I understand why such places exist and why some men are glad they do. And I guess I think it oughta be legal everywhere for those who need the money and those who need the arousal. Supposedly when Australia made prostitution legal, albeit with many laws and restrictions, sex crimes went down and tax revenues went up.
But that's just for people who would find that appealing. Personally, I always thought the best part of sex was the thought that some woman I found attractive liked me enough to do that. A prostitute can do anything for you except give you that feeling.
As you might know, and will learn now if you didn't, Walt Disney had an apartment at Disneyland — a place he could stay when he worked late at the park. Let's go on a little tour of it, shall we?