Growing Up Laughing_ My Story and the Story of Funny - Marlo Thomas [65]
When I got to his office, we made the usual small talk for a few minutes. Then I casually segued to Tony’s pilot.
“I read Tony’s script for The Practice,” I began, “and I like it a lot.”
Marvin smiled. “We love it, too,” he said. “The network is very high on it.”
“You know,” I said slowly, “my dad wants to play the doctor . . .”
Marvin was totally caught off guard. I could see how uncomfortable he was.
“Oh, Marlo,” he said, “this part isn’t right for your father at all.” He then described the rumpled, disgruntled kind of guy they were looking for.
“My dad can do that,” I said. “Let me show you.”
And I pulled the tape out of my bag. I might as well have pulled a rubber chicken out of my bag. He had no idea what was happening, but what could he do? So he put the tape in his player and clicked it on. We watched it together.
It was even better than it was at 6:00 A.M. I kept looking at Marvin as we watched. There was no way to read him. (Network guys never show you what they’re feeling.) When it was over, he leaned back in his chair.
“That’s very good,” he said. “I have to admit I’m surprised.”
“Does that mean he can have the part? Who else has to decide on this?”
“Dave Tebet,” Marvin said.
That was good news. Dave had always been a fan of Dad’s. Marvin buzzed Dave and asked him to come to his office. We watched the tape again. Dave wasn’t so easy to read either.
Twenty minutes later, with the tape in my bag, I went down in the elevator and thought of all the things my father had done for me, had taught me, had given me. And I thought about what an odd reversal of roles this was.
I guess we all do this with our parents in some way. I had never seen my dad as needing any help—certainly not from me. What could I have ever given him, anyway? Successful children give their parents a house, a new car, a trip to Tahiti. I could never give him any of those things. He had everything. But here was this one thing, out of the blue, that I could do for him.
I walked out of the building and looked for a phone booth. There was one on the corner. I was already starting to cry as I put the coins in the slot. I waited anxiously for him to answer. When he did, I could hear the apprehension in his voice. So I got to it quickly.
“Daddy,” I said. “You got the part.”
With Tony and Dad on the set of The Practice. We rumpled him up pretty good, didn’t we?
Chapter 33
Oh, Donald
Anyone who works in comedy knows that, unless you’re a solo performer, you’re only as good as the guy who sets up the joke. Speaking about his wife and comedy partner Gracie Allen, George Burns once said, “Gracie and I worked together for four decades. We walked on stage, I said to Gracie, ‘How is your brother?’ and Gracie talked for the next forty years.”
Gracie Allen was brilliant, no question, but George was one of the greatest straight men who ever lived. It takes perfect comic timing to be a good straight man. First you have to know how to lead into the joke, and then when to talk into the laugh—before it dies down—to lead into the next joke. And being a straight man takes generosity.
I was lucky to have had Ted Bessell as my straight man on That Girl. The story line of the series was constructed around the idea of Ann Marie being a free spirit, a force of nature who somehow always got herself into funny jams.
Not many actors with Teddy’s comic abilities would have set Ann up so well, let her take the spotlight, and not been mowed down by her. As Ann’s beleaguered boyfriend, Donald Hollinger, Teddy was the perfect foil. And he was pretty funny himself.
The girls who watched the show all had crushes on Donald Hollinger, and the guys wanted to be like him. But Teddy’s most remarkable skill was being able to step aside from Ann—or be beside her—without diminishing any of his own strength or maleness. Quite an accomplishment. When I spoke to Jerry Seinfeld, he told me that he and a friend had been talking