TUESDAY, July 20, 2010

In Switzerland, a solar-powered airplane set a world record by flying at 30,000 feet for 24 consecutive hours without landing.  The only other known instance of a European remaining that high that long was Amy Winehouse in 2007, but she was disqualified for "tattoos unflattering to the judges."

Testing popular food sources for contamination, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that guacamole often contains illness-causing bacteria.  Inspectors became suspicious when they noticed the "Flaming Cactus" avocado dip at El Torito was eating more tortilla chips than the customers.

The Los Angeles Sheriff's Department recently confiscated 100,000 marijuana plants growing on one farm in a remote section of the Santa Suzanna Mountains.  Which answers a question we've all been asking for years -- what was it that made that annoying Giant so green and jolly. 

A supermodel from Romania has announced plans to establish a political party that would restrict its membership to good looking people only.  On hearing this for the first time, most Americans express shock and disbelief -- they thought Nadia Cominiche would be middle-aged and dumpy by now.

To foster gender equality, the International Olympic Committee is encouraging leaders in Saudi Arabia to enter female athletes in the 2012 Olympics in London.  Insiders close to Saudi athletics predict they would be going-away favorites in the 'Hop, Skip, and Pebble Dodge." 

Serialized excerpt from THE LAUGH MAKERS: A Behind-the-Scenes Tribute to Bob Hope’s Incredible Gag Writers © copyright 2009 by Robert L. Mills

PREFACE

When I was born, Bob Hope was thirty-five and already a star who could boast a vaudeville career that dated back to 1924, a stint on Broadway in Roberta, seven short films beginning with Going Spanish in 1934 and a starring role with Jimmy Durante and Ethel Merman in Red, Hot and Blue!, which had been a highlight of the Great White Way’s 1937 season.  When, forty years later almost to the day, Hope hired me to write for him, he had dominated the airwaves in radio and had starred in fifty-two movies. (The sudden death of Bing Crosby just two months later would scuttle plans for yet another, The Road to the Fountain of Youth.) 

Hope had been visiting America’s living rooms, first on kinescope and later on tape, for almost three decades. Yet, at the age of seventy-five, he was in many ways just hitting his stride and would, over the next fifteen years, produce and star in over eighty-five television specials, many of which would rank among his best. 

When you signed on with Bob Hope, it was akin to entering an ancient, tradition-laden religious order where you agreed to forgo the temptations of the secular world in exchange for a life of unwavering loyalty, absolute obedience and, I have to admit, more thrills and excitement than anyone could possibly imagine.  First, there was great professional satisfaction in being a “Hope writer.” In those days, a contract to write for him was considered gilt edged— the comedic equivalent of a degree from Harvard.

As for the work itself, he might have been the pope and you a cardinal commissioned by the Almighty to provide a never-ending supply of wit and drollery for delivery to the masses assembled in Vatican Square.  Hope-staff-alumnus Larry Gelbart (M*A*S*H, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum), quoted in
the Museum of Broadcasting’s "Bob Hope: A Half Century on Radio and Television," summed it up perfectly:

“Hope would never fire anybody. If he bought you, you were there. He knew pretty much you were going to stay. He got his help down to a science — people preparing him, massaging him, laying out his clothes. It was a little like preparing a bullfighter.”

The only difference being, the work was steadier. When a bullfighter dies, you’re out of a job. When Hope died, he kept coming back for more.  When you were invited to take a seat at his comedy Round Table (to switch to a less religious metaphor), you were keenly aware that your name was being added to a venerable honor roll of humorists. 

Hope had employed more writers over a longer period than any performer in history and among the veterans of “Hope’s Army” (so labeled by the press) were Mort Lachman, Mel Shavelson, Larry Rhine, Sherwood Schwartz, Norman Panama, Jay Burton, Jack Douglas, Larry Marks, Si Rose, Mel Tolkin, Al Schwartz, Jack Rose, Les White, Johnny Rapp, Mel Frank, Bill Larkin, Hal Goodman, Marty Ragaway, Ray Siller, Hal Kanter and Milt Josefsberg. To a man, these veteran jokesmiths shared a common talent: the ability to put words into Hope’s mouth that appeared to have originated there.

Hope himself was the first to point out that having maintained a staff of the most able writers he could find contributed as much to his sustained popularity and prodigious body of work as the uncommon physical stamina with which he had been genetically gifted.  The unique performer-writer symbiosis that developed between Hope and his comedic entourage was the first — and most likely will be the last — of its kind.  What follows is an inside look at how Hope’s system operated — one that I hope will provide clues as to why it did for seventy years.

Next:   Chapter 1   "When You See an Opening, Jump In!"

Order THE LAUGH MAKERS on line at Amazon.com and download a FREE AUDIO VERSION, unabridged and read by the author:

http://bearmanoraudio.com/audio/BOB-MILLS-AUDIO-BOOK/
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