Growing Up Laughing_ My Story and the Story of Funny - Marlo Thomas [66]
Teddy was a born jokester. A lot of our show took place in Ann’s apartment, so I was constantly going to the door to let him in—and, of course, let him out, as we had to be absolutely clear that Donald was not spending the night. But often when I opened that door, even with the cameras rolling, Teddy would be standing there in some crazy get-up—a policeman’s outfit, a Superman costume, a dress—anything to make me and the crew laugh.
The Donald who all the girls loved.
The Teddy who made us all laugh.
After the series was over, Teddy briefly appeared on a short-lived sitcom about a dentist who lived with his wife and children—and a little monkey. I heard through the grapevine that Ted was unhappy with the show, so I called him to ask what was the matter.
“I can’t believe they’re giving me second billing to a monkey,” he said. They’ve named the show The Chimp and I. I was your sidekick for five years. I’m not now going to be the sidekick to a friggin’ chimp!”
God, it made me laugh. But he got the title changed to Me and the Chimp. I guess the chimp didn’t have that good an agent.
Of the many signatures of That Girl—notably, the opening, in which a character would point at me and say the words “That Girl!”—one of the most popular was Ann’s all-purpose exclamation, “Oh, Donald!” I would say that line to Teddy several times on every show—sometimes sweetly, other times angrily, often romantically.
When we were doing the series, I had no idea that this recurring bit of dialogue would become memorable. But it did. And to this day, I’m still regularly approached on the street by someone who says, “Please say ‘Oh, Donald!’ for me.”
Whenever that happens, I remember all the great times with Teddy. And it always makes me smile.
Chapter 34
Lew Parker
Lew Parker, who played my father on That Girl, was on Broadway in 1972, in the role of Senex in a revival of Larry Gelbart’s A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, starring Phil Silvers. He had started his career on the New York stage, so this was a wonderful homecoming for him.
Lew was a true Damon Runyon character. Dapper as hell. When we were doing That Girl, the rest of us would come to work in sweat suits and jeans. But Lew always showed up wearing a checked or tweed sport jacket with a pocket hanky, sometimes an ascot. And he loved the horses. Any day he wasn’t on the call sheet, he was at the track at Santa Anita.
We’d had five terrific years together on the series. Lew played Lou Marie, the owner of a neighborhood restaurant, and I played his struggling actress daughter, Ann Marie. But before we found Lew, we saw a lot of actors for the role.
Early on in the casting, Billy Persky, the show’s co-creator, came to me and said that Groucho Marx was interested in reading for the part of the father. Everyone involved with the show knew he wasn’t right for it—but how could anyone refuse Groucho?
“I can’t read with Groucho!” I said to Billy. “He’s the Mount Rushmore of comedians. What agent had this brilliant idea?”
“It will be worse if we have him read with the casting director,” Billy said. “You have to do it.”
So out of respect, I read with Groucho for the audition—but I could barely look him in the eye. I’d grown up on the Marx Brothers—my whole family adored all of their movies—and it pained me to be put in the position of having to read with this legend, knowing that he wasn’t right for the role. But I was touched, too, that he was game to do it. Someone once said that show business is not for sissies. And Groucho was no sissy.
Soon after, Lew came in to read—and from the first line, we all knew that he was perfect for the part. He was in almost every episode, and he and I not only developed a terrific on-screen rapport, but we grew close offscreen as well. Though married, Lew never had children, and I think he saw me as the daughter he’d like to have had.