Growing Up Laughing_ My Story and the Story of Funny - Marlo Thomas [36]
Guy: Fly down Beverly Boulevard.
Harry: Right. Go down Beverly Boulevard to La Cienega.
Guy: To La Cienega.
Harry: Yeah. And tell the bird not to go during rush hour. Then tell him to make a left turn on La Cienega . . .
Guy: Left on La Cienega.
Harry: Yes, to 1213 South La Cienega. He knows the apartment.
Guy: Oh.
Harry: And if you’ll be so kind, can you tie a little birdseed to his leg? Because he’s just a baby. Has he been crying?
Guy: No.
Harry: Has he been yelling “Nat?” That’s my name, Nat.
Guy: Uh . . . no.
Harry: I’m heartbroken. You haven’t hit him, have you?
Guy: No!
Harry: That’s good.
Guy: Can we call you in case he seems reluctant about . . .
Harry: Flying here?
Guy: Yes, because it’s a long ways, and he may not be up to flying back. It’s a pretty hard flight. And there are cats around and such.
Harry: Well, I don’t know. I mean, he’s never soloed at night. But he’ll do a day flight. If you let him fly at about four o’clock, he can make it in an hour.
Guy: But that’ll be during rush hour.
Harry: He’ll be fine if he doesn’t stop to fool around or anything. My bird can go pretty good, you know. And if he gets lost, he can always call me.
Guy: Well, he hasn’t asked to use the telephone yet, and we have some other people who think this bird belongs to them . . .
Harry: I’d like to see them take that bird.
Guy: Well, there’s a lot of green birds and . . .
Harry: I’d like to see them take my bird.
Guy: Well, I can’t say if it’s your bird. What is the number on his band?
Harry: Does he have a band on?
Guy: Yes. Doesn’t your bird have a band?
Harry: No.
Guy: Oh. This bird has a band.
Harry: Well, somebody put that band on, damn it!
Guy: Well, we talked to some bird owners down the street, and they say it’s impossible to get a band on or off once the bird is grown.
Harry: No, that’s not true. Look, if I give you my number, will you call me?
Guy: Yes.
Harry: At five o’clock sharp?
Guy: Uh-huh.
Harry: You sure?
Guy: Yes.
Harry: OK. I’m at Hollywood three . . .
Guy: Hollywood three . . .
Harry: . . . five, two, one, five.
Guy: . . . five, two, one, five.
Harry: Can you read that back to me?
Guy: Hollywood three, five, two, one, five?
Harry: No. It’s Hollywood three, five, two, one, five. You’ll call, right?
Guy: Yes.
Harry: At five.
Guy: I’ll call at five.
Harry: You won’t fail, no matter what?
Guy: No.
Harry: Because I’m so crazy about that bird.
Guy: Okay.
Harry: You won’t let me down?
Guy: No.
Harry: Okay. [Laughs]
(Click.)
Chapter 18
Angelo’s Boy—Jay Leno
Jay Leno is TV royalty, having worked his way up from the grungy comedy club circuit to the Tonight Show throne, as the heir to the king of late night, Johnny Carson. But his heart is always in the clubs. He plays more than 160 club dates a year—trying out new material, hunting down the killer laugh, polishing his skills. You would think that’s the last thing he’d need to do, but there’s a reason for this—and you can see it in his face the moment you ask him about his work. He simply loves what he does. To Jay, there’s not some magic component to telling a joke—there’s the right way, the wrong way, and the Leno way. And the Leno way has made him a superstar.
Most of the comedians I talked to demurred when I asked them to tell me their favorite joke. Not Jay—he had two. I’m sure he would have told me more, but he had to get back to work . . .
—M.T.
Jay: I grew up in a household with a dad who was very Italian and very loud, and a mom who was Scottish and timid. I was trapped between those two worlds, and that’s where my humor comes from. It was a funny place to grow up.
My father was very outgoing. No matter what I was doing or who I was going to meet, he’d say to me, “Look, you make sure you tell them you’re Angelo Leno’s boy!” My mother was the exact opposite. To her, the worst thing you could do was call attention to yourself.
Here’s the perfect example. When I made it in show business, I bought my dad a Cadillac—and because he’s Italian, I made sure it was a white