The house I grew up in and the house Betty Lynn lived in next door were a few blocks from the Twentieth-Century Fox movie studio in West Los Angeles. The houses are still there. Other people just live in them now and the studio has dropped the "Fox" from its name.
I don't know what prompted my folks to select the home they purchased in 1953 — probably just that it was the right size and the right price — but I know why the Lynns lived where they did. Betty had moved to L.A. under contract to Fox and for a while, made most of her films there.
My earliest memories of our neighbors were of Betty, her mother and her grandfather George. Everyone called the grandfather "Mr. Lynn" and he was a sweet old guy who was always building or fixing something in a two-car garage in their backyard that was so full of stuff, there was no room for one car in it, let alone two. One time, a toy of mine broke and Mr. Lynn applied some glue to the pieces and locked the assemblage into a clamp on his work table for few hours…and, lo and behold, it was good as new.
I also remember when he died. I was around nine and it was the first time someone I knew — a real person, not a character on TV or in a comic book — died. Or maybe it was the first time it happened when I was old enough to understand. I remember crying and Betty — who done a lot of crying herself that day — held me and she started crying again and we cried together for a while. She told me it was okay to cry but you had to stop at some point. We talked about that moment in later years and she told me I'd said, "I'll stop if you will" and she thought that was so funny.
Betty and her mother were both named Elizabeth but everyone called Betty "Betty" and everyone called her mother "Boo." Boo was like Betty — pure niceness with love for everyone and everything. The character of Edith Bunker on All in the Family reminded me of Boo because both were always so cheery but both could be a bit absent-minded at times.
Betty and Boo were both devout members of St. Timothy's, a Roman Catholic parish about three blocks from where we lived. I wrote in a piece here some time ago about how my family knew people who disapproved of my father (Jewish) and my mother (Catholic but non-practicing) not rearing their only child to be particularly either. Betty and Boo were not among those who felt that way. Would that all people of diverse faiths got along as harmoniously as the Lynns and the Evaniers.
The Lynns had a Christmas Day ritual. They'd rise bright and early and walk down to St. Timothy's for services. Then they'd return home in time to welcome a guest into their house. Each year, they would invite some friend Betty had made in the movie business over for drinks and conversation in their living room. At some point during that afternoon, Betty or Boo would phone us and say, "Could you send Mark over? We have a gift for you and there's someone here we think he'd like to meet." I would take the present we had for the Lynns over and accept their gift for us and they'd introduce me to —
— well, I may have the order wrong and I can't recall the names of at least two of them but I remember three: Roddy McDowall, Fred MacMurray and Bette Davis. I think the others might have included Jeanne Crain and/or Maureen O'Hara but I was very young and my knowledge of old movies — though more thorough than most kids my age — was somewhat spotty. Whoever else I met there, I really didn't know what they'd done except be in movies I hadn't seen.
I knew Fred MacMurray because of My Three Sons and a Disney flick or two. I do not know now how I knew who Bette Davis and Roddy McDowall were but I did. I also don't know how Betty knew Roddy McDowall because I don't think they were ever in a film together. I have the vague notion that they'd made some personal appearances together for charity events.
Whatever, I remember him sitting in the Lynns' living room, talking about appearing in the original production of Camelot on Broadway. He left that show in September of 1961 so this was probably the following Christmas when I was nine. I'm going to guess Mr. MacMurray was 1962 and Ms. Davis was 1963. I definitely saw The Parent Trap when it came out in Summer of 1961 so I would have known who Maureen O'Hara was if I'd met her after that.
I did not have in-depth interviews with any of these stars. That wasn't why I was summoned. Betty and Boo knew I was interested in show business and movies, and they just wanted to give me the thrill of meeting them…and maybe it would please their guests to meet a kid who was so impressed to meet them. That was the only thing the Lynns were about: The happiness of others.
One of the few facts I knew about Bette Davis then was that impressionists would imitate her by saying "What a dump," which was a line she uttered in the film, Beyond the Forest. I never saw Beyond the Forest — and never even knew what film that line was from until I just looked it up on Google — but that Christmas afternoon in (maybe) 1963, I actually thought of asking Ms. Davis, "Would you come next door, look at my bedroom and say, 'What a dump"?"
I didn't say it and I still regret that because I now think Bette Davis would have told that story on every talk show she appeared on for the rest of her life. But I was afraid it would somehow upset or embarrass Betty and Boo, two people I never would have wanted to hurt in any way.
The main thing I took away from these encounters was the close camaraderie between Betty and these movie stars. Apart from her appearing now and then on My Three Sons as Fred MacMurray's secretary, she wasn't working with these stars but there was a strong bond. They spent part of Christmas Day together and that's not something people like that did with people they did not consider, in some sense, family. She was not a big star but that didn't matter to her and it didn't seem to matter to other actors. She was one of them.
Most of you, of course, know Betty best as Barney Fife's girl friend, Thelma Lou. That was only one of many things she did in her career but of course, that's the way it works in show business. You can play hundreds of roles but you're only remembered for a few…and that's if you're lucky. Betty was fortunate that the main thing she was known for became such an important part of so many lives. There are cities in this country that rerun that program eight or more times a day.
Just before he passed away, I worked with the actor Roger C. Carmel, who told us that the following weekend, he was going to be appearing at a Star Trek convention in, I believe, Seattle. He had done dozens and dozens of roles in movies and TV and had been on darn near every series of the sixties — Route 66, Naked City, The Man From U.N.C.L.E., The Dick Van Dyke Show, The Munsters, et al — and those residuals had all either run out or the checks wouldn't cover the price of a Snickers bar. But he was remembered. He had people clamoring for his autograph and he was getting a guarantee of $25,000 (minimum) for one weekend because many years before, he'd worked three days on one episode of Star Trek and three more days on another…probably for scale.
Betty was on 26 episodes of The Andy Griffith Show. Before she was cast as Thelma Lou, she was up for a regular role on The Danny Thomas Show, which was done by the same company and was, when they were both on CBS, about equally popular. It was on that network longer but its reruns aren't even close to being as beloved or remembered or rerun. If Betty had been on Danny's show, the last few decades of her life would have been very different — nowhere near as much attention, fame or money.
In her retirement years, she had the honor/thrill — it was probably a lot of both — of representing the much-loved Griffith series and giving so many of its fans the memorable moment of meeting Thelma Lou. I witnessed several such moments at autograph shows in L.A. and two years ago in Mt. Airy where she'd relocated, the following happened…
I was pushing Betty in her wheelchair into The Andy Griffith Museum. It was a Monday and she usually appeared there to meet her fans every second or third Friday…but I was visiting her on Monday and she wanted me to see the place so I drove us over. As we were heading in, a family was heading out: A father, a mother and two daughters around, I'm guessing, ages nine and eleven. We passed them and the father saw us, recognized Betty and ran over to me…
"That's Betty Lynn, right?" I nodded yes. He said, approximately, "My family and I…we come here every year on my vacation. We drive hundreds of miles but we never got to meet her because I can never get Friday off from my job. We've never been able to meet Ms. Lynn…"
I checked with Betty but I knew what she would say. Of course, she would be pleased to meet them. She was pleased to meet everyone. The man fetched the rest of his family and they talked with Betty for five or ten minutes that I'm sure none of them will ever forget.
It was not just a matter of meeting someone they'd seen on TV. The show was almost sacred to them and the parents were using certain of its episodes to teach basic morality and manners to their daughters. The show represented "good, old-fashioned American values" to them and while many of us could discuss how real and all-encompassing those values were, that's what it meant to that family.
And yes, it did dawn on me at that moment that one reason Betty was so good at speaking for the show was that she was devoid of meanness or selfishness or greed or any of the sins that never lasted very long in Mayberry. She urged those two young women to work hard in school and live exemplary lives…
…and I don't know if they will or they won't but at that moment, they sure took Betty seriously and promised her they'd try. I don't think anyone who was on The Danny Thomas Show had that impact on anyone. Betty had those encounters everywhere she went.
The family left, we toured the museum, I took her to dinner and eventually, we were back at the Assisted Living home where she lived…where she was treated very, very well by the staff. You couldn't not love this woman.
When it came time for me to go, she insisted on getting to her feet for hugging purposes and we kissed like you kiss a relative you treasure dearly. We were both aware this might be the last time we would ever see each other and we were both crying. That is, until Betty made me laugh by saying, "I'll stop if you will."
If this story warms you in any way, think back over your life. The answer may well be "no" but ask yourself if there's anyone you ever loved who's still around and you need to connect with them before they're not. Don't endanger their health or your health but if it's possible to let them know what they mean to you, do it. And not just for their sake but for yours.