Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [192]
An unpleasant little episode. Eric refuses to join in. The press and photographers are singularly objectionable and the python is getting very hot and disturbed. It’s about eighteen feet long and, after a while, its huge body begins to writhe slowly in discomfort. The idiotic pictures go on and on … ‘Would you stand here by its face, please?’ ‘Come on, someone tell a joke …’ ‘You’re Pythons – do something funny for me.’
We have to hold up a copy of our book by the python’s head. All of us, including the snake, are getting hotter and crosser. Finally I can’t take any more of these asinine remarks from the cameramen and I walk away, muttering angrily. Most unpleasant.
At the show tonight George Harrison, looking tired and ill and with short hair, fulfils what he calls a lifetime’s ambition and comes on as one of the Mountie chorus in the ‘Lumberjack Song’. He’s very modest about it, wears his hat pulled well down and refuses to appear in the curtain call. He’s now off on holiday to the Virgin Islands. He needs it.
Thursday, April 22nd, New York
Suddenly we’re half-way through.
After the show, who should come round but Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin, owners of 242. My heart missed a couple of beats as it was only today that Sally Jones1 had painted a mural over one of their walls. But they were a charming, disarming pair. She, who must be 80, full of life – a real sparkle in her eyes. Did she enjoy doing Where’s Poppa? (one of my favourite comedies), I asked cautiously. No, hated it, she replied, quickly and convincingly – then, with a broad grin, accepted the compliment and eulogised over the film with me.
They had both loved the show and Kanin commented on how surprised he’d been by the mixture of people in the audience – young, middle-aged, old, smart Broadway pros, scruffy college kids and boys and girls with their parents. ‘Just one thing,’ said Ruth G, as they left, ‘When you write another Python movie, make sure there’s a part for me in it.’ I will, too.
Friday, April 23rd, New York
Up at 10.30 after good sleep. Breakfast at coffee shop. Oh, the fresh orange juice! Nancy rings about 11.00. Familiar tale – could I go to an important ABC radio interview with Gilliam this afternoon? Eric won’t, John has a ‘prior commitment’. Either I refuse and Nancy breaks down – she sounds very weak, having been up all night on the LP – or I accept the emotional blackmail. I feel good this morning – New York’s sunny. A perfect day. Yes, I’ll do it.
On the way out my one and only encounter with our legendary neighbour – Kate Hepburn. She’s at the wheel of an unpretentious green car, she wears a headscarf which carefully covers most of her face. Low, gravelly voice offers Tom and Willy the use of her fountain to paddle in. I introduce the boys. ‘Oh, I know Tom and Willy, I’ve seen them out in the garden.’
From ABC and the crowds in sunny Sixth Avenue, I meet Helen and the boys and we take a cab down to Battery Park and out to the Statue of Liberty. A great success. The weather sunny and clear. Fine views of Manhattan skyline and climbing inside Liberty’s ‘skirt’ appealed to the boys’ imagination. ‘We’ll soon be at the underpants,’ says Willy – as the three of us toil towards the crown.
Sunday, April 25th, New York
The boys come to see the matinee this afternoon. Favourite moment – Gilliam’s exploding stomach!
During the second show a two-foot-long prick is thrown on stage. Eric —’One of these little American penises.’
Wednesday, April 28th, New York
The boys, dressed in their new Spiderman outfits (bought yesterday), escorted me across Second Avenue to the coffee shop. At 11.00 all the Pythons, bar Terry Gilliam who is giving a court deposition, arrive at 242 for the first meeting/discussion about the next Python movie. It’s a pleasant day. Sunny