WEDNESDAY, July 21, 2010

In an attempt to win back young soda drinkers who have switched to healthier juices and tea drinks, no-calorie Coke Zero and Pepsi Max squared off in a taste shoot-out.  The 30 eighth-graders in the taste test will vote as soon as the researchers can scrape them off the ceiling.     

The United Arab Emirates has placed a $9.1 billion order with Boeing for 30 of their new 787 Dreamliners, the slightly larger successor to the 747 -- the size and weight difference being about the same as that between Queen Latifah and Kirstie Alley.

Founded at the turn-of-the-century, the Young Mens’ Christian Association is changing it’s name to the more hip “The Y.”  In a related story, the Village People changed their name to the more truthful “Lip-Syncing Gays In Costumes.”

Their profits plummeting, Blockbuster hired an experienced restructuring expert to attempt to revive the company.  So far, his most promising suggestion is to switch from video rental to demolishing condemned buildings so they wouldn't have to pay for a new name. 

Fidel Castro recently made a rare speech on Cuban television during which he condemned Cuban-Americans who support the U.S.-sponsored blockade…  the imperialist leaders who invaded  Afghanistan… and the gays who named their San Francisco district after him. 

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

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

When I won my commission in August 1977, I joined a skeleton crew (for Hope) that included Charlie Lee, a relocated Brit who had been toiling in the Hope vineyards for twenty-five years, and Gig Henry, a Brooklyn Polytechnic grad who had worked for U.S. Intelligence during World War II and had been with Hope for two decades — save for a brief period in the seventies after Texaco prevailed on Hope to let his longtime producer and writing staff go. (Charlie and Gig were quietly rehired several months later.)

Billed as a “consultant,” Norman Sullivan, a seventyish, red-cheeked
Irishman who had been with Hope all of his adult life beginning in radio, lived on a sailboat docked at Malibu and several times a week delivered monologue jokes sealed in Manila envelopes.

Gig, Charlie and I worked under a forty-week contract to provide
material for the television specials as well as Hope’s personal appearances which at the time averaged three a week. In the summer we were given the option to continue working under a separate contract covering only personal appearances.

When Charlie retired in 1979, Hope hired a pair of variety show and sitcom veterans, Seaman Jacobs and Fred Fox (I Love Lucy, The Red Skelton Show, F-Troop, The Addams Family) to assist Gig and me on the TV side. When Gig retired four years later, he was replaced by Gene Perret who had been freelancing monologue material for Hope while working on Laugh-In, The Carol Burnett Show; The Bill Cosby Hour; Welcome Back, Kotter and Three’s Company. (The latter three he co-produced with his partner, Bill Richmond.)

In 1986, Martha Bolton came aboard. She had been a cartoon caption writer for Bill Hoest, creator of the nationally syndicated Howard Huge and The Lockhorns. She also wrote religious-themed books ("A Funny Thing Happened on My Way through the Bible") and would be the only full-time female writer Hope would ever hire. Jeffrey Barron, a University of Chicago graduate and former staff writer on SCTV in Montreal who had worked on various Hope specials in the seventies, joined us a year after Martha.

Writers brought in by the various producers included Harvey Berger, Howard Albrecht, Sol Weinstein, Bob Arnott, Bryan Blackburn, Marty Farrell, Chris Hart, Stan Hart, Casey Keller, Richard Albrecht, Gail Lawrence, Peter Rich, Pacy Markman, Steve Perani, Paul Pumpian, Charles Isaacs, Dick Vosburgh and Gary Chambers.

Freelance contributors to the television monologues included over the years Joe Madieros, Ron Burla, Cathy Green, Doug Gamble, Tom Shadyac, John Markus, Dennis Snee, Phil Lasker, Pat Proft and Bob Keane.  These were the Laugh Makers.

Little Ol’ Line Makers

Working individually, we prepared eight-to-ten pages of topical jokes for each of Hope’s live performances — his standard fee for Bob Hope in Concert had climbed, by the mid-eighties to $85,000 — laced with local references prepared with the aid of questionnaires provided by local contacts.

It was a process that had served Hope well for years — allowing him to “personalize” each appearance with opening lines tailored to current happenings in that town or city. (“Nice to be here in Pitiful Falls — the gateway to Nowheresville. I thought I’d visit your former mayor.  What time are the jail visiting hours?”)   After a half-dozen or so local references, he’d segue into his regular material and the entire two-hour routine would seem “fresh.”

A call from Hope could come from anywhere in the country — or the world, for that matter — and we’d spring into action like so many comedy firemen responding to an alarm. He’d have spotted some news items for us to “jump on.” (His longtime producer, Mort Lachman, had dubbed the calls N.A.F.T.s — “Need A Few Things.”)

We’d usually have several hours to come up with the jokes, and then
one of us would call him back and recite them one-by-one, as he’d scribble his picks on the backs of envelopes or hotel stationery. Returning home, his secretaries would retype the lines for inclusion in his joke file.  The process was tedious, and we rejoiced at the arrival of the fax machine that did away with the lengthy calls.

Once on Hope’s payroll, you were tethered to him with an invisible
telephone cord. If he knew you were accessible by phone, he relaxed. But if he thought you were out of Ma Bell’s reach — even if you were on vacation — he’d quietly panic. Each summer, Gig would spend several weeks in Europe, but no matter where he’d go and despite his attempts to keep his itinerary secret, Hope would somehow track Gig down. So one year, he decided to book his tour under his given name, Henry Rosenfeld.   Checking into a hotel in Paris, he ran into actor Gig Young, whom he knew slightly. “Gig, would you mind telling Hope where you are?” said Young. “He keeps calling me!”

In vaudeville, catching trains on-the-run to get from one booking to the next, napping in railway depots or hotel lobbies when short of cash, Hope had become accustomed to operating with little or no sleep — or rather, the amount of sleep most people require. Actually, he got enough sleep but in small increments, just as Thomas Edison reportedly did. He could nap at will, nodding off almost instantly. It was a rare ability I would witness time and again.

Because of his unorthodox lifestyle, he got used to working when other mere mortals were exploring Lullaby City.  The primary victims of his odd hours were his writers.  A story had been kicking around for years — about a writer named Cy Rose whose marriage was threatened by Hope’s late-night calls.

Cy’s exasperated wife finally says to him, “This has to stop. The next time he wakes us up, I’ll answer the phone.” Thinking she intended to deliver an ultimatum, he agrees. Several nights later, the phone rings around two in the morning, and she answers. “Sorry to bother you at this hour,” says Hope, “but I’ve got to speak to Cy right away.” “He’s not here,” says the wife. “He told me he’d be with you tonight.” Without missing a beat, Hope replies, “Oh, yeah, here he comes now!” And hangs up.

So on the day Hope asked me to join the staff, I decided to level with
him right up front and explained that I’m a morning person. He said,
“What time do you turn in?” I said, “About ten o’clock — almost every
night.” He seemed unfazed. “I can live with that,” he said. “I’ll make sure I call you before ten.” Over the next seventeen years, he missed the deadline only once. I answered the phone one night around ten past ten and, without saying hello, he says “Am I too late?” I said, “Well, you’re lucky we’re watching the news, so I’ll let it slide.” Then I paused and said, “But don’t take advantage.” He let out one of the biggest laughs I ever got from him.

To be continued…
 
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