Dick Martin, the easy-going half of the comedy team of Rowan and Martin, died Saturday night at the age of 86. He had been ill for some time. In fact, one week ago at breakfast, his friend Gary Owens told me (sadly) that Dick probably didn't have long to live.
Obits like this one can give you the raw details of his life so I'll just add some personal observations. When Dan Rowan and Dick Martin teamed up in 1952, they were another in a long line of such teams that tried to replicate the success of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. There were hundreds of those parlays and most of them played a few night club gigs, then broke up and went into other lines of work. Rowan and Martin weren't only the most successful of that flood, they were darn near the only ones to last more than a few years.
The secret, some said, was that Rowan was a sharp businessman and Martin was genuinely funny and likeable. Dick Martin was, in fact, one of the nicest guys you could ever want to be around, with a loud, contagious laugh. He got along with everyone…and if the stress of any job ever got to him, he sure did a good job of not letting it show. I used to hang out occasionally on the set of Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In, where it was not uncommon to see Rowan lose his temper and yell. And then along would come Dick Martin, breezing onto the set at the last moment, and the entire mood of the studio would lighten. He had that magic.
It served him well as a comedian and later, after the team split up, it worked for him as director of situation comedies. I got to know him a little when he was doing one of his early directing jobs, helming a short-lived sitcom called The Waverly Wonders. That show shared office space with a show I was writing, and Dick was always coming over to our quarters to chat, tell jokes and just to be sociable. One time, our associate producer greeted him by reeling off about a dozen of the filthiest-possible sex acts — a list, he said, of fantasies he'd had about Dick's wife, Dolly.
There was a pause and then Dick pulled out a pad of paper, began making notes and said — with the precision timing of one-half of a great comedy team — "Hey, I should try some of those." And then he broke into that loud, wonderful laugh of his.
Dick and Dolly were a wonderful couple. She's a former Playboy model who was one of the stars of the legendary movie, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. About fifteen years ago, there was a screening of that picture at UCLA with much of the cast in attendance, along with director Russ Meyer and screenwriter Roger Ebert. I took a cartoonist friend of mine, Carol Lay, and we wound up sitting in front of Dick and Dolly. As much fun as the movie was, it was even better to be eavesdropping on the Martins howling at the intentionally-funny parts of the film and convulsing at the unintentionally-funny moments.
That's what I've thought of ever since when anyone mentioned Dick Martin…the sheer joy that he and Dolly were sharing that afternoon. There's something beautiful about people who can be that happy.
That joy was, I think, the only reason Rowan and Martin were successful on stage. No one around them seemed to have much respect for Rowan as a performer. On Laugh-In, the crew cringed when he'd insist on playing characters and trying to be anything but a straight man. But to all those same folks, Dick Martin could do no wrong. It's sad to lose him and especially sad to lose that wonderful laugh.