Growing Up Laughing_ My Story and the Story of Funny - Marlo Thomas [17]
A few nights later, our parents made their daily call to us from the road. Every night, they would make the call person-to-person to a different child, giving each of us our own turn.
“Long distance, calling Miss Marlo Thomas.” It was very exciting. Then we’d all get on the phone, one by one, and tell them about our day and what we did in school.
On that particular night, I proudly told Dad that I had gotten an A on my school essay, so he asked me to read it to him. I did. When I was done, there was a silence on the other end. Finally, he said softly, “That’s beautiful, Mugs. Daddy needs to think about that.”
Years later, I would learn that soon after he called Uncle Abe (Abe Lastfogel, his agent, mentor and surrogate father) and told him he wanted to get off the road. Could Abe get him a TV series? That set the wheels in motion. Dad spitballed with his writers, and they came up with the premise for the show—about a nightclub entertainer who is always on the road and desperately trying to have a family life. They got their title from what Mom used to say whenever my father was coming home from the road and she threw us out of her bed.
“We have to make room for Daddy.”
ABOUT A YEAR after my father died, I went on the road with the national company of John Guare’s Six Degrees of Separation. It was an eight-month separation from my husband and home. At the time, Phil was taping Donahue five days a week, and I was working six days a week in the play. So we took turns visiting each other, finding as many ways as we could to be together on our days off.
Opening in a new city every month, traveling and then promoting the show on your one day off is hard work. But Six Degrees is a wonderful play with a terrific part, and I loved performing it.
At night I’d get back to the hotel feeling exhilarated by that evening’s performance—all the laughs, applause and affection of the audience. I’d have my nightcap of an Amstel Light and a Snickers from the minibar, look out the window at another strange skyline, and think, Is this what it was like for you, Dad? Loving the few hours of getting laughs and being appreciated by an audience, then facing a night alone away from home? You didn’t have the circus either, did you?
DID YA HEAR THE ONE ABOUT . . .
A Russian and an American were arguing about
whose country had the most freedom.
The American said, “We’re so free in America,
if I want to, I can piss on the President’s car.”
“Big deal,” replied the Russian. “We’re so free in
Russia, if I want to, I can take a crap in Red Square.”
The American, feeling a twinge of guilt, confessed,
“Well, I have to admit. It’s true, I can piss on
the President’s car. But not while he’s in it.”
“Well, since you’re being honest,” said the
Russian, “I will be honest, too. I can take a crap in
Red Square, provided I don’t take my pants off.”
Chapter 10
The First Laugh—Robin Williams
If comic talent could be converted to nuclear energy, Robin Williams could fuel his own personal power plant. Ever alert, lightning-quick and practically possessed by an enormous cast of characters and voices, the man can’t help but be funny. And we can’t help but be drawn to him and his obvious joy in entertaining us. I worked with Robin on one of my TV specials, and he spent as much time cracking up the crew as he did performing on camera. I have gotten to know Robin over the years, so I’ve had the chance to discover the warm heart at the center of all this hilarious chaos. I was excited to sit down with him to find out how he grew up laughing, and early in our conversation, I asked him if he had a favorite joke. As you’ll see, he had many. But he started by talking about where all the laughter began . . .
—M.T.
Robin: The first laugh is always the one that gets you hooked. And it’s usually from a mother or a father. For me, it was my mother. I was always trying to make her laugh.
My mother was the funny one. My father had a