An Old Part Of Me

Have you ever had something akin to “missing time” with certain friends; some blank space when you and your friend were on different tracks? Talking to Italiphil over the New Year, I realized there was almost a decade when we were not as close, didn’t speak as often and therefore lost track of important parts of each of our lives. I wish I had been there with him because, if anything, I am a curious person and just want to fill in the gaps of what I know about him.

I have been out visiting our Virginia estates and was telling a story to an old friend and it occurred to me that there are perhaps equal mysteries of my past to my friends both old and new. So here is a chunk of my life you may not be aware of.

When I went to the “Other College in Los Angeles” I had a huge interest in being a writer of anything – films, books and especially sketch comedy. Saturday Night Live was in its second season and the writers were really engaged in breakthrough comedy. Like any aspiring Hollywood-type I bought the Daily Variety and constantly read the help wanted section, searching in vain for that one ad seeking a network president, no experience necessary.

One day I saw an ad seeking writers for a comedy group and I immediately called and got an appointment with the director of the group named Ernie. Ernie was an old NBC vice president and had earned his stripes producing Martin and Lewis movies including the Nutty Professor. He had recently left NBC after producing the short-lived second incarnation of Laugh-In in which he discovered Robin Williams who had been a member of the group I was trying to get in.

Ernie told me the position was more of a writing school than a paying job, but if I wrote well and the group could book some shows, I could share in the revenue. Oh, and in the meantime, I could pay him $15 per week for his writing advice. It still sounded good to me so I gave him some writing samples and he particularly liked one that was influenced by Woody Allen, my favorite comedian at the time. Since Ernie favored old Catskill-style comedy, he decided to “take a risk on me” but said, “Don’t give me any of that Saturday Night Live stuff.”

I wrote a number of sketches that I really only remember the titles of now: “For The Halibut,” “Close Luncheon Counters of the Third Kind” and one called “The Detestable Debutante” which was about a snotty rose who looked down on the weeds around her until she was yanked out of the ground and sold to a debutante – it was a real think piece.

We were constantly approached by comedians that Ernie knew to write stand-up material and some came to our weekly sessions to brainstorm. One who came was a very young Gary Shandling who brought a guy named Teddy Bergman with him. Bergman was impressive because he was the producer of Three’s Company at the time, and Shandling looked the part of the future star with perfect Seventies no-pocket pants, coifed hair and a leather clutch purse. We tried to dazzle him but apparently to no avail.

Another comedian we pitched was Bob Saget who was only 20-years-old at the time. Despite the fact he sold out later and did America’s Funniest Home Videos and Full House, Saget was one of the funniest comics I had every seen. He used to pick on his audience in such a clever way, and I remember a bit in which he played “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” on his guitar that was, well, weeping, as he had rigged water to drop off. Perhaps you had to be there to find that one funny.

Our group was called the Laughing Stock Company and we did do several shows and I even got paid more than $25 a few times. Ernie later organized a group of older comics called Go Like Sixty and it enjoyed pretty good success doing Catskill comedy until Ernie died a few years later.

Ernie was a part of old Hollywood that dined at the Brown Derby and somehow kept their undergarments on while getting out of cars. He knew all the old stars in town and had numerous stories and maybe I will do another post about them someday. Ernie’s connection to these “stars” drew the curiosity of one of my co-writers. Eventually the co-writer became my co-conspirator and we would take turns asking for a bathroom break. Instead of following through on our original intent, we snuck into Ernie’s office, opened up his address book and wrote down private numbers of stars like Bob Hope, Jonathan Winters, Jerry Lewis, and Dick Martin. We never called any of them but we felt pretty cool having them in our own address book.

I should take that last part back. I did use Bob Hope and Jerry Lewis as references on a job application to be a waiter, figuring they would never have the guts to call these guys. However, I overestimated the intelligence of an assistant manager at a Bob’s Big Boy who never made the connection to the people he had on the other line who were wondering who this Mike guy was. I got the job, though, once again further demonstrating the level of intelligence of my new boss.

This is getting a bit long so I will write another post about my Big Time entry into the world of comedy writing on another day. Maybe some of you could share some old secrets about yourself too.