Lost in the Funhouse_ The Life and Mind of Andy Kaufman - Bill Zehme [117]
It’s 2:30 P.M. and I’m sitting up here with Rhonda Young, the famous casting director, and Ginger Sax, Tony Clifton’s secretary/assistant. Ginger is a very pretty lady with blond curly hair and a very sexy green gown—just very classy, someone that Tony Clifton would approve of, obviously.
[Clifton entered here with his flanks.] Tony is now giving out gifts to all the members of the cast. Danny DeVito has a big smile on his face as he is opening up his gift. Judd Hirsch said, “Something’s ticking in here.” Randy Carver has a big smile on his face. [Much laughter could be heard.] There are a lot of little stuffed animals running around the reading table now—there’s a little Scotty dog, a whole bunch of different dogs. They are adorable! It’s absolutely adorable. Tony came out with these two young ladies who were in the trailer with him—a blonde and another blonde. The blondes are completely breaking up; everyone is breaking up. Tony Danza has a movie camera—he’s taking pictures of all the animals. This is sensational. Clifton is walking around in his peach tuxedo with black velvet collar and blue shirt. He just said, “Let’s get back to work!” And the director Jim Burrows said, “I have to talk to Ed. Weinberger about a script change.” Clifton just said that he rented a place and invited the whole cast to a party there after filming on Friday. He’s really being very friendly right now to the cast.
Weinberger just walked on the set—the executive producer and spokesman for the producing team. Tony just handed Weinberger a very nice gift and Ed. immediately handed it off to the executive in charge of production, Ron Frazier, who put it on the cab in the garage set. Now they are having a conference in the corner of the stage, away from everybody.
[Weinberger would recall, “I came on the stage, which was cluttered with all these little mechanical things tottering around. Clifton actually had the same walk as these toys did, which I’ll never forget. He was taking swigs from a pint of whiskey and saying that he just rewrote the script of the show during lunch. He told me that he wrote parts for the two girls he had with him. But I had to play my role as irate producer —‘Tony, I warned you about this! You’re late! I’ve hired another actor, so get off the stage—you’re fired!’ I thought it would be over. It wasn’t. He wouldn’t leave. He waved the script in my face and said, ‘Here, read my changes!’ And I ripped the script out of his hands and threw it away. He then held out his liquor —‘Here, have a drink!’ Everybody was now watching us and I was getting slowly pissed because he was betraying our agreement. But he just walked away from me.”]
Now Tony is walking back to center stage and he’s singing, “Let’s get this show on the road, let’s go!” He sits down at the table and tells the two girls, “Come on, sit on my lap.” Each girl is sitting on a knee in the middle of the stage. Ron Frazier went over and is talking to him and Tony said, “Getcha hands off me! Getcha hands off me! Who the hell are you?” [No one had touched him yet.] Ed. Weinberger is calling me, as [Tony’s] manager, onto the stage. I’m now walking down there to get him out. All sorts of commotion—Tony’s yelling “I’m calling the cops! Getcha hands off me! I’m calling the cops!”
George’s tape would now capture various screams from various players and yet it could not wholly contain the breadth of emotional forensics that engulfed the stage. Voices of order implored that valuable time was being squandered and that there was an actual show to work on. Voices of exasperation huffed into corners. Rages steeped