Dick Martin

1922-2008

The zany, zinger-full half of the comedy duo Rowan and Martin passed away yesterday. His career included stand-up comedy, sitcom appearances, and television direction, but Martin reached the zenith of his career as co-host of one of the most influential programs in television history, Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In.

In the early 1960s, Martin was a recurring regular on The Lucy Show, playing straight man to Lucille Ball and Vivian Vance, while continuing his partnership with Dan Rowan on the nightclub circuit. The duo received their big break when pegged to host Dean Martin's summer replacement series, a 12 week gig which proved their ability to host an hour-long variety show. NBC set about creating a series for Rowan and Martin.

In the 1968 season, spy-thriller The Man from U.N.C.L.E. faltered in the ratings, and Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In was born.

The series broke with the traditional variety show format, replacing it with frenetic skits and one-liners delivered by a young cast of first-class clowns:

JoAnne (is that a chicken joke?) Worley

Arte (verrrrry interesting...but stupid) Johnson

Ruth (wanna buy a walnetto?) Buzzi

Henry (a poem...by Henry Gibson) Gibson

Judy (sock it to me) Carne

Gary (from beautiful downtown Burbank) Owens

The show launched the careers of two women who became bona fide stars:

Goldie (giggles) Hawn

and a comic genius who joined the show in its second season:

Lily (Have I reached the party to whom I am speaking?) Tomlin

Laugh-In brought political and social humor to network television, and its various set pieces (The Cocktail Party, The Joke Wall, and most importantly, "Laugh-In Looks at the News") set the stage for later satirical series such as Saturday Night Live (Lorne Michaels worked on the show years before creating SNL) and The Daily Show. The program created half a dozen catch phrases which were gleefully welcomed by a general public in social turmoil: "Here come da' judge", "Look it up in your Funk and Waggonal's", and "You bet your bippy", among those cited above. The show also created a novelty star out of a freaky ukulele player with a hippy look and falsetto voice, Tiny Tim. Thanks to his appearances on Laugh-In, this oddball actually hit the top 40 chart with his rendition of "Tiptoe Through the Tulips."

Presiding over this chaos, Dan Rowan's exasperated set-ups and Dick Martin's cool obliviousness opened and closed the show. Laugh-In (it took its name from the sit-in protests which were happening on college campuses at the time) was an immediate smash, and topped the Neilson ratings its first two seasons. As many of the original loonies left the show, the program began a swift decline, but I was one of the viewers who hung with the show throughout its run, when later comics such as Alan Sues, Dave Madden, Fannie Flagg, and Patty Deutsch were unable to rescue the show.

In their post Laugh-In years, most of the original players continue to entertain. Goldie Hawn and Lily Tomlin have gone on to award-winning projects, JoAnne Worley returned to the stage, Ruth Buzzi contributes to humanitarian causes and appears regularly on children's programing, and Henry Gibson is a well-respected dramatic actor.

As for Dick Martin, he went on to become a sought-after television director, responsible for much of the success of both Bob Newhart's hit sitcoms. But I'll always remember him with the goofy grin, handing out the Fickle Finger of Fate Award to some politician embroiled in a scandal, or some celebrity who had overstayed her welcome.

Say good night, Dick.

On Film

My experience on film has been limited, considering I've been acting professionally for so long. I spent decades in LA, but while there, though I appeared in scores of theatrical productions, I worked only once on film.

The movie was called Red Nights, and I worked only one day on the thing, actually one night. All night. I had one scene with the leading man and leading lady, neither of whom you would ever have heard of, but the director was so charmed by my performance, he decided to add another scene to the movie. As we were on location in someone's Bel Air mansion, and we had to vacate by dawn, this additional scene was tacked onto the end of the work day. Thus, though my original scene was done by 9 PM or so, I was kept hanging around all night long. When the sun was beginning to lighten things up, they blacked out the windows of the upstairs hallway, and finally shot the new scene, which consisted only of my walking down the hall and passing the leading man.

Ever hear of Red Nights? Neither has anybody else. Shot in 1987, this independent film failed to find a distributor, and failed to pay their actors. Several years after this horror went straight to video (it's never been released on DVD), Screen Actors Guild got involved and finally, around 1990, I received payment of a whopping 500 dollars.


The leading man of the movie was a young guy named Christopher Parker (I can't claim to have remembered his name, I just checked the VHS cover), and the credits on the box include "Jack Carter as Uncle Solly." I did not work with Carter, an old-time borscht belt comic, and I wasn't even aware he was in this thing. The film was written and directed by Izhak Hanooka, and produced by the team of Gad and Amnon Lesham. Big names, eh? Red Nights was their only film, and my only LA film appearance.

While living in Los Angeles, I would never have considered working as an extra; conventional wisdom was, once you worked "background," you would never be considered for a speaking role in a film. But once I landed in DC, that "conventional wisdom" was non-existent. Most local actors here do extra work from time to time, if only to try to keep their SAG insurance. I've done my share over the years, including huge crowd scenes in flicks like Contact (starring Jodie Foster) and 1600 (that one had Wesley Snipes, way before his tax troubles). Though I have never seen the film (it flopped), I sat in a courtroom right behind Kirstie Alley and Tim Allen in For Richer or Poorer, so I have a hunch I can be seen in that one.

I KNOW I can be seen in one of the several episodes I filmed of the TV series Homicide. The series made its home in Baltimore for 6 or 7 years, so most of the locals turned up in various crowds over the years. In one particular episode, I was one of only two extras working as technicians in the morgue. We spent a full day hauling around carcasses while the principal actors did their shmacting for the camera. I never saw this episode, but I heard from a friend who called from South Carolina, moments after the show aired; he went on and on about how those scrubs I wore really accentuated my biceps (this was during my gym-bunny period, now loooong gone...that's another blog altogether).


Homicide was not the only TV series which gave DC locals employment. The West Wing visited the city several times a year to shoot their exterior scenes, and in one flashback episode, I was wandering around in the background of the campus of young Jeb's boarding school.

This background work sounds pretty lame, and the fact is, it's deadly dull to do. But the casting directors who supply these visiting productions with extras also cast most of the day player roles in these projects. A day player is exactly what it sounds like, a speaking role in a scene which will be shot in one or two days (or less). I've had a couple of those gigs come my way, including two episodes of The Wire, which shot its entire series in Baltimore. I played the small, inconsequential role of "the architect" in season three of the show. Even my friends looking for me missed my one-liner which took place in a restaurant during lunch. The scene took many hours to shoot, and the director was very concerned with authenticity (that was a trademark of The Wire), so I spent the day eating Maryland Crab Cakes, over and over and over and over again.

I was glad to have the work, but I haven't had a crab cake since.


The highest profile film work I have done to date is in the John Waters' film, Pecker. Actually, the official title of the movie is John Waters' Pecker. I have no doubt this was John's not-so-subtle birdie at the traditional Hollywood establishment, which never, until he hit Broadway with Hairspray, treated him with any respect. With his movie's title, he was able to poke the stuffiness of The Industry. All the movie's promotional materials trumpeted the arrival of "John Waters' Pecker." Bus and Billboard advertisements all declared "John Waters' Pecker is coming soon!!"

Film critics were forced into phrases such as "I enjoyed John Waters' Pecker last night." Siskel and Ebert? "Two thumbs up for John Waters' Pecker!"

I played a small part in this flick, appearing in one scene which took place in a thrift shop. I worked with famous photographer Greg Gorman, making his acting debut, as well as with the film's stars Edward Furlong (he had four lines, but couldn't remember them) and Mary Kay Place.

It was a long but fun day of filming, and the resulting scene was funny enough to be included in the theatrical trailer for the film. So, while the movie was only a moderate success, I was seen on many, many big screens across the country during the Coming Attractions, uttering the now famous line, "EVERYBODY wants to be in Vogue!"


I hope I have as much fun on my next film project. I've been offered a day-player role in an upcoming comedy to be shot in Maryland, My One and Only. Based, loosely, on a childhood adventure of George Hamilton's, the flick concerns a divorced mother in the 1950s, on the hunt for a rich husband. I was pleased to be invited to audition for the role of one of the leading lady's ex-boyfriends, a role for which I was, unfortunately, too old. (The leading lady is being played by Renee Zellweger). But a few weeks after my first audition, I was called back in to read for another role, that of a drama teacher. I apparently nailed that one, as the call came today to secure my services.

I can't hope to be in the final theatrical trailer for this one, even if my scene survives the editing room (my scene does not include the star, so is probably ejectable). But because of the presence of Oscar-winner Zellweger in the cast, the project may attract some major attention.

Who knows? It could turn out to be bigger than John Waters' Pecker...

Technology Bytes

My dear little laptop, which has kept me company for over four years, is, sadly, about to crash.

I picked up the little critter at Costco, where it attracted my attention simply because it was white. The manufacturer, Averatec, has rarely been heard of, but the machine has done all that I required for low these many years. My geek friends who have examined him are amazed at all the bells and whistles which came installed, but I never used most of them.

In fact, the laptop played second fiddle for the first two years I owned the thing, as I struggled with the lousy desktop model I purchased online. When that monster finally expired (without warning, so I lost everything on it), my Whitey became my only online source, and it met the challenge with ease. I carried the little thing (only about four pounds) with me to Shenandoah for two gigs, and on many trips to visit the siblings and the pater. I also brought it with me on my most recent visit to L.A. , where my buddy Scott declared he hated the thing.

Well, he had his reasons. Truth be told, the laptop has long been past its prime. It started to show its age about two years ago, when I was out at Wayside Theatre on a gig. The internal CD burner had, I suppose, burned out, so I was unable to create a CD. Luckily, one of our actors was a true Geek (thanks, Will!), and he downloaded a program to replace it.

Soon after, the computer's internal speakers got cranky, and would only work if the top of the machine was about three quarters closed. I have no explanation for this phenomenon, except that the poor creature was aging, but still trying to give me his all. (It was this quirk which prompted Scott to declare, "I hate this computer.") While I was in L.A., Scott noticed another quirk: for some spooky reason, the "n" on the keyboard had rubbed out. No other letter, just the "n". Certainly it was a result of the natural oils from my fingers, but why only that key?

Despite Scott's suspicions, I can state here and now that I did NOT visit Naughty Nuns Needing Nookie. Net with any regularity...

Well, last night, the screen on the old dude started to flicker, and this morning, I could only get the screen lit if the lid was closed 3/4ths, just like the speakers. The message is clear: this laptop is dying. But instead of simply ceasing all activity, this little Averatec athlete is still trying to do his duty.

I spent the day downloading files and programs onto CDs, in hopes of transferring them to a new computer before the old one finally expires.

I dislike technology, and have always been a decade behind. I refused to invest in a CD player back in the day, sure that the fad of digital music would pass. When I finally succumbed (forced into the new age of music when artists stopped making vinyl recordings all together), I promised myself two things: I would only purchase two CDs a month, and I would NEVER purchase a CD version of an album I already had.

I broke both those promises in the first month. Aren't you dying to know which CDs were the first of my collection (a collection which now houses over 600 items)? That first month, I had to have Dave Grusin's Greatest Hits, Andrea Marcovicci's What is Love?, and the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas.

I seem to have drifted off-point here.

My technological stuntedness was nowhere more apparent than in 1993, when I entered graduate school. More than 15 years had passed between my college graduation and my grad school entrance, and in that time. computers had come out of the sci-fi world, and infiltrated our lives. Or at least, the lives of students. When I arrived at USC, I had no idea that my lack of computer knowledge would become such an issue. Hey, I had my portable electric typewriter with me, so I was good to go.

My dandy Smith-Corona was sadly inefficient in Theatre History class, when I spent more time typing my first term paper than writing it (The Ineffectuality of the Landed Gentry of Pre-Revolutionary Russia, as illustrated in Anton Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard...riveting stuff, I must brag). Luckily, I was saved by a fellow student, who took the time to instruct me on how to use a computer (well, on how to use the word processing functions, anyway), so my subsequent paper (Lead Into Gold: the Uses of Alchemy in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales and Greene's Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay) would not require the constant use of white-out.

I appealed to dear ol' Dad, and purchased a second-hand IBM. By the time I presented my third term paper in as many months ("When? Where? What?" The Unities of Time, Place, and Action as discussed in John Dryden's "An Essay of Dramatic Poesy" and applied to John Guare's Four Baboons Adoring the Sun), I was pretty good on Wordperfect, the standard program used at the time.

Since those grad school days, I have had more than a handful of computers, both desktops and laps, but none have functioned with the dexterity of my poor, ancient Averatec. I have never been one to assign human characteristics to inanimate objects (I would be the LAST person to name my car, for example), but still... it seems my little laptop, with the tilted screen, the eccentric sound, the missing "n" and the transplanted internal drive, just wants to age with dignity.

But not so fast. I have to yank out all its innards before its final crash and burn.

Then, of course, I have to figure out how to load all the files onto a new computer.

No wonder I never bought a microwave....

Events, current

What's been happening in this actor's life?







Lots of stuff, but nothing to write home about. Or in this case, write to the ether about.






But as my last several posts have been all about other things, I'll try to bring this one a bit closer to home.






Well, the Madness of Shear continues, with about a month left on my contract. Last week, we were visited by the Big Boss, the Grand Pooh-Bah, the Chief Gee-Whiz, Bruce Jordan. He is the co-creator of the show, and was its first (and probably best) Tony, the role I continue to attempt.










We spent several hours in rehearsal with Bruce, who is an expert at comic acting, and he afforded us new and useful techniques. While advising our cast, Bruce was also training a new director, who will be putting together a production in Malaysia. I don't even know where Malaysia is, or what language they speak, or even if they have hair dressing salons like the one in Shear Madness. And where are they going to get all that shaving creme?






But other things have been going on, too. I've been appearing in a series of staged readings with my buddies at the Washington Stage Guild, while they await the completion of their new theatre. I've been pleased to be included in most of the readings they have been producing this season (in lieu of fully staged productions). It's been a great opportunity to try out different roles, with wacky accents and such, without pressure.








There is an Art to performing in a Staged Reading, and I think I am getting pretty good at it. A Staged Reading, for the uninitiated, is simply a reading of a play by a bunch of actors, with an audience in attendance. With script in hand, the actor attempts to create a semblance of a character, something which might be useful in a fully staged production.







The Stage Guild's season of readings has afforded me the opportunity to experiment with a variety of characters, including an all-knowing butler in The Return of the Prodigal (by St. John Hankin), a doltish copper in The Rising of the Sun, and a suspected Irish murderer in Spreading the News (both by Lady Gregory), a middle class British doctor trapped by his own hypocrisy in Widower's Houses (George Bernard Shaw's first play!), and a cuckolded husband in Dangerous Corner (by J.B. Priestly). My most recent reading for the Guild was a hoot and a half, as I played a myriad of characters, including an upper-class yachtsman, a Cockney zookeeper, a lifeguard right off the beach in Malibu, and a lizard. (In fact, not just a lizard, but the King of the Newts, "Commander Salamander.") The play, called War with the Newts, is an adaptation of a Czech science fiction novel written back in the 1930s, but is, freakishly, very relevant today.










These staged readings yield artistic satisfaction, but no monetary gain. So, I've submitted myself for several sessions of Lawyer Training. These are seminars set up by big law firms to train their young associates on the finer points of appearing in court. These law firms hire actors to portray various litigants, in order for their newbies to practice. I have no doubt I will be reporting more on these episodes as they develop.








And lest you think I have abandoned looking for traditional acting gigs, I'll reveal that I have auditioned twice for the new Renee Zellweger flick which will be filming in our area soon. I've also attended the general auditions for two local theatre companies, in hopes that they might fall madly in love with me.















[uncomfortable silence]
















So far, there has been no happy dancing...

On My List

I never go to New York for pleasure anymore, those days are long gone. Only the possibility of snagging some work will lure me up I-95, as I've already mentioned.

But truth be told, if I had a bucket of expendable income, a long weekend to kill, and a delightful little pied-a-terre in Midtown (or even the Upper West Side! I'm not picky...), I would probably hop a train and return to the City to refresh the juices.

I would love to see Nathan Lane in the newish Mamet play, November. I've been a fan of Lane's since I saw his work several times at the Mark Taper Forum in L.A. This was years before he became nationally known, but his performances in Lips Together, Teeth Apart, and The Lisbon Traviata turned me into a life-long admirer.

I've seen Patti LuPone twice onstage, but never in a musical. As I've already mentioned, the story of Gypsy Rose Lee's mother has been revived a number of times. I've seen Angela Lansbury and Tyne Daly both play the role in the theatre, and Bette Midler's television movie sits in my video collection. But Lupone and Mama Rose seem made for each other, and I bet she's taking the roof off the joint.

Wouldn't this be fun to see? The revival of the 60s era flop Boeing-Boeing has the critics hootin' and hollerin'. It's apparently the slightest sex farce ever, with one-dimensional caricatures and non-stop pacing. Bradley Whitford, returning to his stage roots after a long time in Television, is being teamed with two of my favorite actresses, Christine Baransky and Mary McCormack, and a British actor known largely for his classical work, Mark Rylance, who seems to be stealing the show. Perhaps all these weeks in Shear Madness has put me in the mood for more over-the-top door-slamming.

I wouldn't mind seeing the "Encores" staging of No No Nanette, with Sandy Duncan leading a tap-dancing cast through the froth. These "Encores" are limited runs (about two weeks), so they tend to attract big talents who are reluctant to commit to lengthy runs. Rosie O'Donnell is apparently absolutely hilarious as the maid in this one.

I might put the whole trip off until Bill Irwin's new show, currently in development in Philadelphia, makes it to New York. Irwin is a certifiable genius. I've loved his clowning for many years, though he's a first-class director, too (his adaptation of Scapin ran at the Roundabout years ago). Recently, he's turned to acting in straight plays, and has made a name for himself as a strong interpreter of Albee's words (he won the Tony for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?), but I look forward to his return to his theatrical roots.

Well, I don't have any expendable income, so my long weekends will be spent, in the foreseeable future, here in DC. I have little or no chance of snagging a cozy hideaway in Manhattan in which to hang my hat, so a trip north to see the above shows remains, well...

...out of reach...

Tina, bring me the ax

Thanks to Stephen Gregory Smith for bringing this very special Mother's Day tribute to my attention.

...by the way, DID YOU SCRUB THE BATHROOM FLOOR TODAY ????

Theatre Droppings: A Happy Time, and Tony and Cleo's Wedding

Signature Theatre took a beating in New York recently, but at their home in Shirlington, it's a happy time, artistically speaking. I really enjoyed the first show of their Kander and Ebb Celebration, Kiss of the Spider Woman, though the local reviews were mixed. I caught the second show of the series several weeks ago, a production of the little-known, scantly-recalled The Happy Time. The show, initially produced back in the 60s as a follow-up to the team's hugely original Cabaret, was not a success in its first production. This intimate story of the black-sheep son returning to the bosom of his small-town French-Canadian family was given an overblown, Full Broadway Treatment, and apparently, the show's assets were swallowed. But here in Signature's smaller space, the show has been scaled down to become the chamber musical it probably always should have been, and it's a real charmer.

Michael Minarik plays the pivotal role of Jacques, the wayward son who returns to his hometown with wild and wonderful tales of the outside world, which he imparts to his impressionable nephew over the objections of his family. For the life of me, I cannot picture Robert Goulet in the role, for which he won a Tony in the original production. Goulet's only asset was his voice, so I cannot imagine he was at all successful in this role, which requires all the nuance, specificity, and internalized conflict which Minarik provides in the Signature production. The supporting cast here is superb, with the emphasis of the show being the close interaction of the family members as they struggle to regain "the happy time" of the title.

Antony and Cleopatra, currently in rep at The Shakespeare Theatre Company with Julius Caesar, has never been one of my favorite plays by the Bard. I'm told the thing has forty scenes, which take place all over the ancient Roman world. This hugeness tends to dwarf the human love story between the two title characters. There isn't much heat generated between them, though when they are apart, they shine. In particular, Suzanne Bertish as the Egyptian queen mines her early scenes for all their comedic potential, and later, as she waits impatiently for news of her beloved Antony, her histrionics seem justified. She's better waiting for Antony than when she's with Antony. The couple's scenes together never seem to ignite. Several of the supporting players make their mark, notably Ted van Greithuysen, who contributes a hilarious drunk scene, and Aubrey Deeker, who makes some interesting and unusual choices as the upstart Octavius.

Naturally, my buddy Kurt Rhoads contributes solidly as Ventidius (it's a mystery, but my friends always do great work), and really, nobody makes a false move. But it's a lengthy evening with lots of dry politics, men in togas, men in tunics, and men in sandals. But the show did remind me of my first acting class in graduate school, where all the MFA actors were assigned the same scene from Antony and Cleopatra. I was singularly unimpressive as Antony, but the experience did introduce me to what has remained the favorite Shakespearean line I have ever uttered:

"Hence, saucy eunuch!"