In Such Good Company, page 13
Vincent also wrote several books about his love of food. A Treasury of Great Recipes has come to be regarded as “one of the most important culinary events of the 20th century” (Saveur magazine) and was named the eighth most popular out-of-print book of any kind by Booklist. It has inspired countless chefs around the world.
Our cue card boys had their table set up right outside my dressing room. On Thursdays, our blocking day, they would bring in a hot plate, various ingredients, and magically cook up a meal for their lunch, worthy of a five-star restaurant! Including the sauces! I don’t know how they did it, but they did. One week when Vincent was on the show, they chose to create one of his favorite recipes from his book and invited Vincent and me to join them during our lunch break. It was an amazing spread and Vincent was absolutely overwhelmed. Me, too.
Donald O’Connor
Donald O’Connor was on our show twice. It was a thrill for me in a special way. When I was ten or eleven years old and living in Hollywood with my grandmother, a friend of ours who worked as a stagehand at Universal Studios took me to the set of a movie, Mister Big, starring Donald O’Connor, who was around eighteen or nineteen at the time. I was a huge fan.
It was the very first time I was on a movie set, and the very first time I was up close to actual movie stars! Enthralled, I watched Donald do a number with his costar Peggy Ryan. They were playing a song with hand bells. After the take, I was over the moon when I got to meet Donald. He signed my autograph book, “To Carol. Love, Donald O’Connor, ‘Mr. Big.’ ” And here we were, working together twenty-six years later! I was still a huge fan! Who can ever forget his star turn in Singin’ in the Rain when he performed “Make ’Em Laugh”? “Fantastic” isn’t a big-enough word.
Lucille Ball
It was Tuesday night, May 12, 1959. I had just opened the night before in the Off-Broadway musical Once Upon a Mattress, playing the role of Princess Winnifred. We had received pretty good reviews and we were settling in for our limited six-week run. I was happy and pretty relaxed that evening, compared to the butterflies in my stomach just twenty-four hours before. Now I could just kick back and have fun without thinking about the critics. I was in my funky dressing room, at the Phoenix Theatre, which was partly furnished with a couch that had seen better days (one of its rusty springs coiled up through the cushion looking like a dangerous Slinky), getting ready for the 8:30 curtain, when I heard a distinctive “buzz” backstage. I opened the door and walked to the wings and saw several cast members excitedly peeking through the house curtain. I asked our stage manager, John Allen, what was going on.
“Lucy’s in the audience!”
“What???”
“Lucy! Lucy’s in the audience!”
“THE Lucy?”
I peeked through the curtain, and spotted her smack-dab in the middle of the second row. You couldn’t miss that bright orange hair.
I thought I might faint. The butterflies were back with a vengeance.
Somehow, I got through the show intact. I swear I was more nervous than I was on opening night. While we were taking our bows, Lucy was on her feet clapping away. I was back in my funky dressing room and there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and there was Lucy. I invited her in, and she said, “Kid, you were terrific.” I almost fainted again. She approached the couch, and just as I was about to warn her about the offending spring, barely glancing at it, she said, “I see it.” She stayed for several minutes and left saying, “Kid, if you ever need me for anything, call me.” After she left, I was ten feet off the ground.
I did need her five years later, when CBS had offered me an hour special, if…I could produce a big star as my guest. I got in touch with Lucy, and without hesitating she signed on. We had a wonderful time doing sketches and the finale where we played two cleaning ladies in a talent agency who think they know more about making movie deals than William Morris. We wound up dancing and singing an original song written for us by Ken and Mitzie Welch, called “Chutzpah!” Lucy tore into it and afterward said it was one of her very favorite musical experiences. Mine, too.
In 1966, when I was pregnant with my daughter Jody, Lucy gave me a baby shower. And what a shower! It was a black-tie affair at her home, with both women and men! Gary Morton, Lucy’s second husband, was given the job of opening the gifts, and being a successful comedian in his own right, he kept everyone in stitches with his comments and one-liners about diapers, baby booties, and rattles. Lucy and I became close friends, and she always sent me flowers on my birthday, with the card reading “Happy Birthday, Kid.”
When I got my variety show, we traded guest shots. After I Love Lucy, she had two other shows, The Lucy Show and Here’s Lucy. I did a few of those, and she was on my show four times.
Lucy had a reputation for being somewhat “tough” when it came to running her show. “Tough” could be a compliment if you were talking about a Milton Berle or a Jackie Gleason, but back in the sixties it was just the opposite if you happened to be talking about a woman in the same business. I saw her as simply being honest. She didn’t mince words when it came to voicing a negative opinion (about the writing, lighting, or whatever), and the funny thing was, none of her coworkers or crew took it personally, because she was just as free with her praise for jobs well done.
One week when she was my guest, we walked across the street to a Chinese restaurant in the farmers market during a dinner break and settled down in a booth. She began to talk about the time she and Desi were doing I Love Lucy.
“Y’know, kid, when I was married to the Cuban, I never had to worry about the writing, or any of the inner workings of the show. Desi did all that. He ran the show. He was the boss.” She went on to say that all she had to do was come in on Mondays, read the polished script, and simply be “Lucy.” Desi took care of all the rest. We talked about how I was lucky to have my husband, Joe, to do the same for me. I was never one to make waves with the writers or the crew. I was totally nonconfrontational. Actually, you could say I was chicken. If a sketch wasn’t working, I would often wind up apologizing to the writers when asking for a little help.
Lucy understood, exactly. Then she told me about the first day she had to do Desi’s job. She and Desi had parted and Lucy was embarking on a new project: “The Lucy Show, starring Lucille Ball.”
There was a table reading of the show that first Monday, and the script was…no good. “No good?” she said. “It STANK!” She went on, saying she was at a total loss for words and told everybody to break for lunch. “I went into my office, and just sat there for over an hour, trying to figure out a ‘nice’ way to handle the whole thing.” She came to the conclusion that there really wasn’t a nice way to do it, and went back to face the writers. She screwed up the courage to tell them exactly what she thought of the script, not mincing her words, but being brutally honest.
“And, kid, that’s when they put the ‘s’ on the end of my last name!”
I loved Lucy. She died on my birthday in 1989. Her flowers arrived late that afternoon, “Happy Birthday, Kid.”
There was no one like Lucy!
There’s a quote of hers that I’ve always loved: “I guess I would rather regret the things I’ve done than to regret the things I’ve never done.”
“Pillow Squawk”
Another sketch that was fun to do was our takeoff on the Doris Day/Rock Hudson movies of the late fifties and early sixties, such as Pillow Talk, produced by Ross Hunter. This particular sketch was a spoof on the genre, not the specific movie. We called our version “Pillow Squawk”!
I was the perennial blond freckle-faced squeaky-clean virginal-type character that Doris played in these films, and Lyle was the handsome playboy bachelor and ladies’ man (à la Rock Hudson).
The plot: Doris is fresh off the farm and has traveled, with her teddy bear, to the big city to find fame and fortune. Innocent as the driven snow, she is shown into a penthouse apartment by the snooty manager of the building (Harvey), who explains that she’ll be “babysitting” the apartment while the playboy owner is out of town. All she has to do is make sure his electric toothbrush is fully charged. Doris is thrilled, and excitedly bounces and twirls around the apartment shouting “Gloriosky Zero!” and “Jumpin’ Jehosaphat!” while the manager looks at her with disdain.
MANAGER: (Anxious to get away from this ding-a-ling) “I’ll help you with your bags.”
DORIS: “Oh, be careful with the big one!”
MANAGER: “What’s in it?”
DORIS: “Extra freckles!”
The manager shows her around the apartment and she shyly asks, “Where is the” (Embarrassed to say the “naughty” word, spells it out) “B-E-D?”
The manager points to a button in the wall.
MANAGER: (Sarcastically) “Is it all right to say ‘button’?”
DORIS: “ ‘Button’ is okay…‘zipper’ is a no-no.”
He pushes the button in the wall and the bed flies down. He gladly exits while Doris happily skips over to the phone.
DORIS: (Unbelievably cheerful) “Hello, Operator? I’d like to talk to my mom in Minnie Falls, Iowa.” (Immediately) “Hello, Mom? This is Mary Ellen Janie Sue! Golly, it’s sure good to hear your voice again! Oh, it’s you, Dad!” (Giggling) “Oh, Daddy, how are all the chickens and the piggies and the horsies and Mom? Oh good! Well, I’m here in New York and I have an appointment tomorrow morning with H. L. Smith, the King of Advertising, and with any luck, I’ll become his secretary or even a vice president! Oh, golly, Dad, it sure was fun talking over the plot with you! Well, now I have to go brush my teeth, up and down and all around, so Mr. Tooth Decay won’t come my way. And then I’m gonna recite the Girl Scout rules and sing myself to sleep, and then in the morning…hello? Hello?” (To herself) “Golly, that was nice of Dad. Mom usually hangs up much sooner.”
Doris, cradling her teddy bear, skips into the bathroom to change into her pajamas. Enter the Handsome Playboy with two ladies in tow. He shoos them off, claiming to be tired and needing some sleep after having flown his private airplane all the way from Rome. The ladies reluctantly leave. Complimenting the departing women for having “such good taste in men,” he cockily walks into the kitchen for a drink. Doris reenters wearing only a pajama top (decorated with red hearts). She has blindfolded her teddy bear. “Sorry, Teddy, but Mom forgot to pack my bottoms!” She sits on the edge of the bed, takes out a mirror, and proceeds to draw more freckles on her face. The Playboy, oblivious to Doris’s presence, comes out of the kitchen and goes into the bathroom. Not having seen the Playboy, Doris is thirsty and hopscotches into the kitchen to get (naturally) a glass of milk. The Playboy reenters wearing only his pajama bottoms (also decorated with red hearts!) and gets into the far side of the bed and covers up. Doris returns with her milk. Not seeing that she has a bed partner, she sits on the side of the bed, focuses the lamp on her face like a spotlight, and belts out: “QUE SERA! SERA! WHATEVER WILL BE! WILL BE!” (a Doris Day hit song).
Suddenly she flings her arm back and feels someone else in the bed!
PLAYBOY: (Smiling) “Hello!”
DORIS: (Horrified! Jumps up screaming and begins running around the room in circles) “Oh! Oh! OHHH! Who are you???”
PLAYBOY: “Who am I? Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?”
DORIS: “This is my apartment! And that’s my” (Spelling) “B-E-D!”
PLAYBOY: (Amused) “I beg your pardon, but this is my B-E-D.”
He approaches her.
DORIS: “OOOH! Don’t you come near me! You…you…MAN!”
She dashes into the bathroom, slamming the door.
PLAYBOY: “What’s going on here?” (To the door) “Lady! Will you come out of there?”
DORIS: “NO! I WILL NOT!!”
PLAYBOY: “Come out! I wanna talk to you!”
DORIS: “NO! And if you were any sort of a gentleman, you’d do me a favor!”
PLAYBOY: “What?”
DORIS: “Call the police!”
PLAYBOY: “Stop acting silly and come out!”
DORIS: “I will not!”
PLAYBOY: “Please come out! I LOVE YOU!”
DORIS: “You’re just saying that.”
PLAYBOY: “No, I’m not just saying that. If you come out, I’ll marry you!”
Doris enters, smiling and wearing a wedding gown! (Quick change!)
PLAYBOY: “Sweetheart, you get more beautiful every day.”
DORIS: “Thank you, Mr….Mr….”
PLAYBOY: “H. L. Smith.”
DORIS: (Delighted) “Not the millionaire advertising executive?! Why, I have an appointment with you tomorrow morning!”
PLAYBOY: “I won’t be there, I’ll be on my honeymoon.”
DORIS: “Watch your language!”
PLAYBOY: “Sorry. Now, this is the plan. It’s late, so we’ll get a good night’s sleep, and then the first thing in the morning, we’ll go down to City Hall and get married!”
DORIS: “That’s lovely, dear, but wherever will we stay tonight?”
PLAYBOY: (Eagerly getting into the B-E-D) “Well, right here! You don’t mind, do you?”
DORIS: “Why no, not at all. I know I’ll be perfectly safe. Nighty-night!”
She pushes the button and the bed and the Playboy fly up into the wall! Doris sits on the sofa, puts her feet up on the coffee table, and sings, “QUE SERA, SERA!”
THE END
I get to become a Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes.
—
I got a phone call from Rock Hudson, who told me he got a big kick out of our takeoff.
I was told that Doris Day didn’t get a big kick out of it. In watching it after all these years, I can understand why she didn’t like it. I was pretty much over the top in my portrayal of her goody-two-shoes persona. But again, we were really spoofing the typical romantic comedies she made with Rock Hudson (as well as Cary Grant and others).
As a matter of fact, Ross Hunter himself was in the audience the night we taped this show, and he laughed like crazy. During our bows, he came on stage, surprising me by saying he always presented his stars with their “million-dollar wardrobes” and, as a gag, presented me with the wardrobe worn by Debbie Reynolds in Tammy and the Bachelor…a pair of old worn-out jeans.
As for Doris Day, I loved all her movies. My particular favorite was Love Me or Leave Me, the Ruth Etting story, which she made with James Cagney in 1955. It was a highly dramatic role, and I always thought she should have been nominated for an Academy Award for that performance.
“Oh! Oh! OHHH! A man!”
Rock Hudson
In 1966, I signed to do a CBS special, Carol and Company. I decided, right away, to ask Ken Berry and impressionist Frank Gorshin to be my guests. Then I remembered seeing Rock Hudson and Mae West at the Academy Awards in 1957, where they sang a very funny rendition of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” and brought down the house.
I didn’t know Rock, but I knew he’d be a great addition to the special. He was a major movie star who was a great comedic actor and was definitely musical! Bob Banner was producing and called Rock’s agent to set up a meeting.
We met for lunch in the famous Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Even handsomer in person, he couldn’t have been more down-to-earth or nice. He accepted my invitation to do the special and we were off and running. In the special, written by Buz Kohan and Bill Angelos, Ken, Frank, Rock, and I did several musical sketches and we had a great time. Our favorite number was when all of us played six-year-olds and sang an original song, “It’s Our First Day of School.”
Rock and I kept in touch after that.
Early in 1973, Gower Champion, the great director/choreographer, called on me at my house saying he would like to direct me in the two-person musical, I Do! I Do!, which had been done on Broadway starring Mary Martin as The Wife and Robert Preston as The Husband. We would do it at the Huntington Hartford Theater in Hollywood, during my summer hiatus. I jumped at the idea and suggested Rock as The Husband.
“He sings?” Gower asked.
“Yep,” I replied.
Gower loved the idea, so I picked up the phone and dialed Rock’s number. I told him Gower and I would like to meet with him about something, and he said, “Come on up!” He lived just up the hill from my home and we were there in five minutes.
Rock had never performed on stage as an actor, much less as a musical comedy performer. Gower assured him that he would be in good hands and be well taken care of. I just kept saying how much fun we’d have!
An hour later, it was all settled. Rock was all for it.
I wasn’t wrong about the fun!
After the successful run at the Hartford, Rock and I decided to take I Do! I Do! on the road the following summer. We played major venues in Dallas, Indianapolis, and St. Louis and wound up at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. It was a great success, selling out in every venue.
Rock and me in “When My Baby Laughs at Me.”
Washington Star-News critic David Richards wrote: “If they had chosen the Yellow Pages or the Amana Home Freezer manual as a vehicle, I doubt it would have made one iota of difference.”
Rock was a guest on my variety show three times. On one show, we did another one of our backstage movie musical parodies. This time, it was a tribute to the Betty Grable/Dan Dailey movie When My Baby Smiles at Me. We called ours “When My Baby Laughs at Me.” Rock threw himself into it wholeheartedly.
Our paths didn’t cross much after that, but we kept in touch.
