Here's something I never expected to see. October 26, 1976 was my second day as a Story Editor on the TV series, Welcome Back, Kotter and the day of the first taping for which I was present. I can't begin to tell you how many amazing (and in some ways, life-changing) things happened to me that day.
The place was swarming with stars, above and beyond those in our cast, and I met so many people and I heard a live studio audience laugh at a line I'd suggested and I was briefly trapped in an elevator with Olivia Newton-John and Elliott Gould and I started to feel like I was really in show business and…
…and Groucho Marx came to the set.
Some years ago, I wrote a two-part article on what Groucho meant to me and about the few, precious times in my life I was with him. If you want to read both pieces, here's a link to Part One and here's a link to Part Two. If you don't have time, the following is an excerpt from Part Two — the section where Groucho comes to the set of the show I was working on to tape a brief cameo appearance…
The studio audience was in bleachers, being warmed-up by comedian Mike Preminger. Mike was unnerved by all the noise in the wings and by conflicting signals he was getting as to how much time he had to fill before we'd be ready to roll tape. No one had told him about Groucho.
At about 8:15, a call came up to the writers' dressing room that Groucho was downstairs. (The writers got a dressing room so that they could be close in case of emergency rewrites. Executive Producer James Komack had a dressing room just off the stage but he vacated his for the evening and Groucho's name was inserted in the slot on the door.) We all traipsed down to see Groucho.
Our esteemed cameo guest was not feeling well and it was decided that he would not do the walk-on but would, instead, have his photo taken with the cast on the set. I'm still not certain if that was his decision or ours but one look at the man and you could see he was in no shape to go on-camera.
The shortest route from Groucho's dressing room was directly across the front of the bleachers, past where Mike Preminger was filling time, and through the center flap of the goldenrod curtain between the audience and the Kotter classroom set. With several people guiding him, Groucho was led out in front of the studio audience while cast and crew hustled around the other way to meet him behind the curtain.
Out front, the audience did not, at first, recognize Groucho Marx.
Mike Preminger looked over and saw an elderly gent, shuffling slowly towards him, interrupting in mid-joke. In a second or two, he sized up the situation and blurted out a quick introduction. The audience, responding to the name, burst into loud cheering and applause. "Thunderous" is the word that came to mind.
Groucho, making his way through the curtain flap, didn't hear them.
Behind the drape, cast members and crew members alike were introducing themselves to Groucho. He shook everyone's hand and mumbled "Nice to meet you," oblivious to whom he was actually meeting. He didn't seem to know where he was and he certainly didn't know which of the people gently pumping his hand were actors and which ones moved scenery for a living. He was steered to Mr. Kotter's chair in the classroom and gently eased into it as Gabe and the Sweathogs (John Travolta, Ron Palillo, Larry Hilton-Jacobs and Robert Heyges) crowded around.
Recalling Dick Cavett's warning to the audience on the record of Groucho's Carnegie Hall show, I warned the photog that Groucho was made dizzy by flash bulbs. He replied that there was plenty of light on the set and, besides, the way Groucho looked, these pictures would probably never be released. (He was correct. Days later, when I phoned up the appropriate P.R. folks to procure a copy, I was told that no such photos existed.)
As they went through the motions of taking the pictures, Groucho remained unmoving, unsmiling and about as unlike the fellow in Duck Soup as it would be possible to imagine. I found myself mentally repeating, "This is Groucho Marx," trying to get the notion to sink in. The Groucho I met at Hillcrest was the one I knew — older perhaps, and slower, but nonetheless recognizable.
This Groucho was not. I couldn't help but wonder, "Why is he here? What is he out to prove?" And just as I was wondering that, I overheard Erin Fleming pitching herself to our producer as an actress whose presence would do Kotter proud. Okay: Question answered.
The pictures done, Groucho was helped off the stage. Several people had already left, almost or actually in tears. "I don't want to see him like that," I heard a few of them say, exiting as quickly as they had eagerly arrived. Bobby Heyges was walking around saying, "How can I go on after seeing that?" Bobby was in no mood for comedy.
I got the idea to liberate the GROUCHO MARX sign from the dressing room door, an interesting memento. But, when I got there, someone else of like mind had beaten me to it. I arrived just in time to see Groucho and his entourage step slowly out the door to a waiting limousine.
In the months I worked on Kotter, I never heard anyone mention Groucho's visit again. You couldn't have found a person on the crew who would bet you a dime that the man who posed for photos with the cast would live another ten weeks, much less ten months. But he did.
After the taping, I tried like hell to locate photos of Groucho on the set. I was (of course) interested in any that showed me standing next to him but I was willing to settle for anything. I found nothing. The ABC Publicity Department told me they didn't have any and they told that to our show's star, Gabe Kaplan, who had about a jillion times as much clout with them as I did. I tried a few other sources but finally accepted what that cameraman had told me; that the photos would never be seen. Well, look what someone found on the Internet and forwarded to me…
Not the clearest photo but there's the cast and there's Groucho…and I think you can even see his disinterest in being there with those people.
I was standing just outside camera range when this was taken. As I recall, there was no real expression or anything from Mr. Marx. He sat there and all the photos that the photographer was getting were the same. Someone suggested changing things up a bit by giving him the book to use as a prop…so he held it but had the same blank, "When can we leave?" look on his face.
There were later reports that his secretary-keeper Erin Fleming sometimes gave him drugs he should not have been taking. It would not have surprised me if he was on something that night, though I'd prefer to think he was just an old man having a bad evening.
Either way, he should have been home in bed instead of on the set of a TV show. In fact, for the few sad minutes he was there, I wished I was home in bed instead of on the set of a TV show.
As I think I mentioned in one of the above-linked articles, I saw him one other time after this…an afternoon visit to his home. He was a little better there but not by much. I have no idea why but I've never written anything about that visit. I suppose I will one of these days but it'll be kind of a depressing article.