Growing Up Laughing_ My Story and the Story of Funny - Marlo Thomas [47]
Marlo: So your mother knew you were funny.
Rickles: Yes, she knew I was funny, but believe it or not, she didn’t believe in my humor.
Marlo: Meaning?
Rickles: Meaning, she’d laugh, but she’d say, “Why can’t you be like Alan King?”
Marlo: That’s funny.
Rickles: Used to break me up. But once my career took off and she started to get jewelry and a nice house, she said, “Okay. Your humor has some merit to it.”
Marlo: Right. Let’s get back to the synagogue. You’d actually get up and imitate the rabbi? That’s pretty nervy.
Rickles: Oh, sure. But I’ve always had a way of doing things that were funny. Like at the Kennedy Center Awards. When Clint Eastwood received that honor, he invited Barbara and me to be there. A lot of stars were invited to speak, and everyone’s saying, “Clint is a genius,” “Clint is the greatest,” “God bless Clint,” and so on. And I get up and say, “Now, Clint I’m gonna be very honest with you—you’re a lousy actor.” And everybody falls down.
Marlo: That’s great. You know, my dad used to take me to comedy clubs and I remember seeing you at a little place called—
Rickles: . . . the Slate Brothers. They’d line up around the block at this dumpy joint. I had no act, really. I’d just get up and make fun of people. Everyone showed up.
Marlo: Was this the act you wound up doing later, or were you doing something different?
Rickles: I was honing it. I developed a beginning, I developed a middle, and I developed an ending. And now, today, I got music and I’m a big star.
Marlo: You always end your act by confessing that your ribbing is just in fun, and that you really like people. Didn’t my father tell you that you needed that little cutter at the end, just to let people know you’re a good guy?
Rickles: Yes, and I still do that to this day, but in a much smaller way. If I’d left it up to your father, I’d be reading the Bible at the end of my act.
Marlo: That’s funny, Don.
Rickles: But, yes, your dad was always full of advice about how to make a joke better.
Marlo: He was that way with me, too. I was on Letterman’s show once, and he asked me to do a spit-take, because Dad was famous for spit-takes. Well, I’d never done a spit-take in my life, but I said to Letterman, “Okay, give me a glass of water.” Then I whispered in Letterman’s ear, “You’ve gotta say something to set this up. Say to me, ‘Aren’t you the girl who’s married to Geraldo?’ ”
So Letterman says, “Oh, I love this—this is going to be fun!” So I lift the glass to my lips, Letterman says the line and I spit out the water. But the spit-take is terrible. The water just kind of dribbles out. Sure enough, that night I get a call from my father. He says to me, “You’re supposed to blow, sweetheart. You don’t spit, you blow.” And I said, “Oh, okay, Daddy. I don’t think I’ll be doing a lot more of those; it’s not really my thing. But if I do it again, I got it now. Blow, don’t spit.”
Rickles: Oh, that’s funny.
Marlo: You mentioned before that when you were a kid, your mother made you do impersonations. In a way, are you still trying to perform for her?
Rickles: Well, if we get into the mental stuff, who knows? But I will say that if it wasn’t for my mother, I’d probably still be a very shy kid living in a box. She always made me get up and entertain—and I would.
Marlo: You wanted to please her.
Rickles: Yeah. She was the driving force behind everything I did.
Marlo: And your dad? Was he funny?
Rickles: He wasn’t a funny guy, but he was a kibitzer—and very warm. Nobody in my family was really funny. My mother was like a half-assed entertainer. She’d stand up and do an impression of Sophie Tucker. She loved to get up on the stage. She was a frustrated actress, I suppose, living her life through me, performing-wise. But her Sophie Tucker was pretty good.
Marlo: You make me laugh, Don. Okay, I’m going to let you go now. You’ve been wonderful.
Rickles: You, too, Marlo. And, listen, if you and Phil are in L.A.—and I mean this sincerely—we’d love to see you. Give us a call sometime.
Marlo: I’ll do that.
Rickles: And could you please tell