Socal Mom by Donna Schwartz Mills

Johnny Carson, Faxes, and How Email Changed My Life

 

Thank you to Yahoo! Mail for sponsoring this post about staying connected. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

I'm sorry if the title of this post sounds like an exaggeration, because for years, I've told anyone who listens that I do feel that the adoption of email was a life changer for me.

Last week, I wrote about my first experience with online computing. I pick up the story in 1988, when Johnny Carson's nephew decided I needed a computer.

I should probably mention that at the time, I was employed at The Tonight Show, where my job was to type and distribute the scripts and otherwise support the staff of ten comedy writers. And that Johnny's nephew was one of the show's producers.

A typical work day for me would begin at 9:00 AM and end around one or two in the morning, after the writers had finished work on the following day's sketch, which I would then type and send to Carson's Malibu home via messenger. Johnny had just acquired a computer of his own, and so it was decided that from that point on, I would simply transmit the script directly to him via modem.

Except that it wasn't so simple in those early days of character-based computing. We tried to make it work a couple of times, but it did involve calling the house to let them know the script was coming (which wasn't exactly welcome when that occurred in the middle of the night). After about a week, they decided to invest in another newfangled electronic device that had just become affordable: a fax machine. 

But I got to keep the computer, and I put all my energy into learning how to use it effectively. This was often at odds with my boss, the head writer, who begged me to go back to the IBM Selectric after a snafu with the daisy wheel printer delayed the script pages one day (there were times when the desk piece was being rewritten as Johnny was delivering the monologue; speedy typing was extremely important and it was frustrating to be held up by a piece of equipment). 

I stuck to my guns (after you've experienced the ease of editing on a word processor, how can you go back to physically cutting and pasting?), and once I got over my learning curve, it all became easier  -- especially after the daisy wheel was replaced with a speedy laser printer. 

I mentioned that I put in some extremely long days -- but unlike "real world" offices, where you are pretty busy every minute of the day, television production back then was kind of a "hurry up and wait" proposition. Once I was given script pages, I would have to turn them out FAST -- but there wasn't a whole lot to do while the material was being written. I used this time to work on my own projects (I sold a sitcom script of my own while working there). And now that I had a modem with a line to the outside world, I had a new distraction:

Local Bulletin Board Systems. I started with one that was operated by the WGA (which I joined upon that first script sale). I developed a new habit: I'd come to work, distribute the day's newspapers to the writers, and then fire up the computer to see if I had any email. 

I was addicted again. I purchased a computer for home, and I would unwind after work by hitting my favorite BBS sites.

By this time, the WGA wasn't enough -- I was active on several local "dating boards." Hey, when you're a woman in your 30's and spending all your time at work, how are you going to meet a nice guy to settle down with? By this time, I'd grown tired of the club scene and had concluded that if you hang out in bars, you're going to meet an awful lot of drunks. 

The great thing about cyberdating before the advent of sites like Match.com is that back then, just being female made you instantly popular, as the ratio of men to women was about 10 to 1. You also needed to have attained a certain level of income and intelligence to have figured out how to get online in the first place -- and by getting to know people via email and chat, you could tell if they possessed a sense of humor.

I met my husband on one of these local boards -- back in 1989 (don't believe him when he says he picked me up in a bar, which for some reason he thinks sounds better!) It was a modern way to meet - but it also felt very old-fashioned, although instead of a packet of love letters tied with a ribbon, we had email saved to a 5 1/2" floppy disk (which we're unable to access now, but at least we made the effort to preserve it). I can't imagine what it would have looked like if we'd had the ability to send photos and videos back then! 

 

 

 

 

Confessions of a Comedy Geek

Most of the people who come here are aware that I was a production assistant on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show while aspiring to write for television myself.

Of course you know that, because I never stop reminding folks, lest you all think I've always been the 50-Something suburban gymnastics mom you see today. I really was a capable and accomplished young person once, and I may even have been borderline cool.

I think that's why I had SO MUCH FUN at last week's PBS showcase for television critics. For one thing, I ALWAYS enjoy it when my silly little blog is treated with the same respect shown for "real" (traditional) media. But TWO of the presentations dealt with comedy and comedians... and once a comedy geek, always a comedy geek. So I hung on every word spoken by veteran stand-ups Lewis Black and Richard Belzer as they talked about George Carlin and what made his work so extraordinary.

Carlin's daughter Kelly was also on hand to help promote the network's broadcast of the Kennedy Center's tribute to him as recipient of this year's Mark Twain Award (set to air February 4th).

The discussion reminded me of my days on the Carson show (I was the writers' assistant), when the guys would parse jokes and sometimes get into heated (and somewhat academic) discussions about what constitutes "funny."

I became even more nostalgic later that afternoon, when Amy Sedaris took the stage to talk about "Make 'Em Laugh," a six-part series tracing the history of comedy in America, from the turn of the 20th Century. Amy narrates the series, which debuts tonight and is hosted by Billy Crystal. Each episode deals with a different aspect of funny business.

I've seen five of the six episodes already (thanks to the DVD review copy the PBS folks gave all in attendance - like I said, "treated with respect"!) - and the entire series is comedy geek heaven. 

Tonight's program consists of two episodes:

1: "Would Ya Hit a Guy with Glasses?"

Subtitled "Nerds, Jerks & Oddballs," the hour features clips from silent comic Harold Lloyd to Woody Allen, Phyllis Diller, Jonathan Winters to Steve Martin, Robin Williams, Cheech & Chong and Andy Kaufman through to stars of today, like Steve Carell and Seth Rogen. But it's the commentary from admirers like Judd Apatow, Michael McKean, Richard Lewis, Jerry Seinfeld and Chris Rock that put it all into context.

I love that they went to Bob Hope's comedy writers (Harold Kanter and Larry Gelbart) to talk about the evolution of Hope's material. Of course, the man isn't around to do new interviews, so all that's left are his writers! Still, it's always nice when someone reminds the public that while comics are naturally funny and witty people, most are usually supported by an army of writers.

Most illuminating for me is the focus on how difficult it was in the 50's and 60's for females who aspired to be comics: Jean Carroll, Phyllis Diller, Joan Rivers and Lily Tomlin are all represented, and they talk frankly about how difficult it was for women to step out of the accepted role of housewife and mother.

Back then, it helped to be unattractive, which Phyllis Diller says was part of her initial success. People (men) had a hard time surrendering to a female commanding the stage.

I think a documentary on female comedians would be a fabulous follow-up to this series.

The second hour of tonight's program is "Honey, I'm Home!" (Subtitled "Breadwinners and Homemakers"). This is an excellent history of the American situation comedy - from The Goldbergs (which is so old even I'd never seen it before!) to the Simpsons. It's got as many clips, interviews and analyses as the first episode -- and is just as interesting. And funny.

The entire series is wonderful relief from the reruns and reality dreck the commercial networks are feeding us this month -- not to mention the fact that the world seems to be crumbling down around us. I don't know about you, but I don't think I will get through the next two years without my fix of The Daily Show and SNL.  (Alas, you will have to wait a couple of weeks to see those shows covered in the final episode on satire and parody. It's called "Sock it to ME?" - and if you're as old as I am, that phrase will mean something to you.)

As the old saying goes, "Laughter is Medicine."

And if you're a comedy geek like me, you'll love it.

Hey! I'm giving away a Superbowl Party pack (valued at $250) over at SoCal Stuff. Find out what's in the pack and how to win it here.

Requiem for Another Drummer

My friend Karoli posted a link today announcing that the great drummer Max Roach has died.

I'm not a huge jazz fan, but the news triggered one of my Hollywood memories, anyway. And as it's Friday, and I haven't had one of these to post in a very long while, I'm gonna give it to you now.

A lot of people don't know this, but Johnny Carson was a pretty fair amateur drummer. The 60 Minutes interview he did in the 70's showed him letting off a little steam with his drum kit -- which was a gift from one of his closest friends, Buddy Rich.

The day Buddy Rich died, we were supposed to go on the air with one of Johnny's popular Reagan sketches. I don't know how many people who see this blog were old enough to see the show in the 80's -- but I can tell you that Johnny Carson did a really good Reagan imitation. The head writer (my boss) had White House connections. He told me that Nancy Reagan, ever protective of her husband's image, once asked him to stop writing the sketches. He then found out that the President himself enjoyed them so much, he kept a reel of them on Air Force One to entertain his guests.

So the monologue was finished, the Oval Office set was on the stage, and Johnny came out in his Reagan suit, makeup and wig. The sketch began. He said his first line, but no sound came out. For some reason, his microphone was not properly set up.

And then I -- and the studio audience -- saw something that few people ever got to see.

The usually polite, quiet Johnny Carson blew up. He uttered a curse word and went straight to Fred de Cordova. He wanted to know who was responsible for setting up the mike. And he wanted that person fired.

Our sound guy (who incidentally, was an Emmy winner), scurried on the set to fix the problem, while Fred tried to calm Johnny down. After several uncomfortable minutes, the sketch began anew, without a hitch (but perhaps without as many laughs as it would have had).

The explanation, of course, was that Johnny was distraught after learning just a couple of hours before air time that his friend Rich had passed away.

The next day, the Tonight Show was dark. We ran a "Best of Carson" on Friday night, and Johnny was on vacation the following week (I do not recall if that was one of his scheduled weeks off; at that time, Johnny hosted the show live on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday and took one week off every month -- except during sweeps, when he would be on four days a week for the entire sweeps period).

The sound guy kept his job.

One Final Post About the Tonight Show

When I applied to my first "straight" job, after 12 years in radio and TV production, the personnel director had a problem with my resume.

"Why have you had so many jobs?" she asked.

I had to explain to her how it is in entertainment -- that work is seasonal, that jobs you think of as worthy of listing (i.e, "permanent") may not last as long as the ones designated as "temporary." That the fact that you keep getting hired means you're good, not flakey (although being flakey isn't necessarily a bad thing in Hollywood -- as long as you get your job done).

Even if you are lucky enough to find yourself on a hit show that lasts more than a six-week run, you will inevitably go on "hiatus." A show's stars, producers and directors (the folks whose names flash by in the opening credits) earn enough money to enjoy these periods with lavish vacations -- or even just getting to know their families again at home.

The rest of the production staff - the assistants, runners and crew - need to plan for this period of several weeks (or even months) when they are off work with no pay. If you are not good at planning your finances (like me), a hiatus can be a stressful time. And if your show abruptly ends without a pickup, you have the additional stress of trying to line up your next gig.

The Tonight Show didn't go on hiatus. Johnny may have taken many deserved vacations, but his staff continued to report to work, day after day. The exception was when NBC ran the Summer Olympics and we got two weeks off... with pay. This was in addition to our regular paid vacation. We also had health insurance and a pension plan and annual raises. Ask any non-union worker in Hollywood -- even 20 years ago, this was unusual. And it's one of the reasons I admired Johnny Carson.

When the WGA held its five month long strike, a work stoppage that pretty much shut down everything in the business, the entire Tonight Show staff (except the writers) continued to report to work. By that time, I had sold my own first sitcom script -- but as I was not contributing writing services to the show, the Guild allowed me to continue working, too. On days I was needed for picket duty, I would run over to Disney or Universal or CBS, carry my sign for a couple of hours and then go to work. (The one exception was the day we picketed NBC; I thought it might be tacky to return to my office right after I'd been marching below it.)

The Tonight Show was dark for the first month, after which it was announced that Carson Tonight was negotiating an interim agreement with the WGA so we could get back on the air. And we did go back shortly before that deal was in place; Johnny wrote the first monologue all by himself and it was good.

It's no wonder that people who were fortunate enough to be on the Tonight Show staff stayed on for years -- lifers. In fact, the only real turnaround was with the junior writers... and the writers' assistant.

It was a comfortable, but not satisfactory for someone with ambitions of her own. It was three years before I sold another script, and I attributed that partly to the security of that weekly paycheck. I figured that if I was a little bit less secure, I might be more motivated to write. So with the promise of a new script assignment and the acquisition of a major league agent representing my partner and me, I quit.

My last day on the job, Fred de Cordova said goodbye to me in his own inimitable manner:

"Hurry up and fail so you can come back to us."

There are days when I wish I could...

Funny Props

In the winter of 1987, Johnny caught a winter bug that caused him to miss a week of regularly scheduled shows. While home sick, he discovered the newest phenomenon on cable: The Home Shopping Network. He came back to work with videos he'd made of the channel in its early phase, complete with pitchmen and women offering to "toot toot" a horn to encourage buyers.

The "Tele-Scam" sketch made its debut in February of that year and repeated several times over the next few years, with Johnny and Teresa Ganzel playing the Art Fern-like shills, selling elaborate prop pieces, like a "cubic zirconium" ring the size of a tennis ball, and a "pet branding set" that even included a little plastic branding iron ("Flipper") for your pet fish. On that first run, the bit was climaxed with a "Jamie Farr Orange Juice Squeezer." This was a bust of the erstwhile Captain Klinger's head, with an old fashioned squeezer on top. It was rigged so that when you twisted an orange half in the squeezer on top, juice would drip out its enormous nose.

It was hilarious. Siskel and Ebert were guests that night, and they begged us to sell that prop to them. Nothing doing; each subsequent time we did that sketch, we finished with Jamie Farr -- and it never ceased to get a big laugh.