Merv Griffin- A Life in the Closet

by Darwin Porter

  Biographer Laurence Leamer called Paar an “emotional hemophiliac — scratch him and he bled all over the media.” Leamer went on to say, “Paar took his private neuroses and turned them into a public spectacle. Eight million viewers waited every night for Paar's catharsis of the moment. He might walk off the show, break into tears, steamroller a guest, insult a politician or a commentator, or threaten to quit altogether.”

  “He's a total shithead, but I still watch him,” Frank Sinatra told Merv in a phone call. “If you get a call to sub for him, don't do it. It'll mean your graveyard. His devotees love him too much, and they would hate you. And those who'd love you—that is, those who hate Jack Paar—wouldn't be watching anyway.”

  When Paar encountered Merv's agent, Marty Kummer, at a restaurant, he told him that Jack been impressed with their impromptu encounter on Play Your Hunch, and he wanted Merv to sub for him.

  At long last Merv's dream had come to be. But he stayed up the night before wondering if this big chance would turn into a nightmare.

  For Merv's Monday night debut on The Tonight Show, the regular production team took the evening off, not wanting to be linked to what they forecast as a potential disaster.“Putting Merv Griffin in Jack Paar's chair is like asking Jayne Mansfield to sit in for the President of the United States,” said a jealous Robert Q. Lewis to anyone who wanted to listen.

  As a producer for his debut, Merv was assigned Bob Shanks, a grassroots American who grew up in Indiana. This was viewed as a lucky break for Bob as well—his first chance to be the producer of a TV show. Up to that point, he had been a preshow interviewer for Paar's guests. Before landing on the Paar show, Shanks had been a struggling actor and freelance writer.

  Meeting Bob for the first time, Merv formed one of those instant friendships he'd become known for, although he could hardly imagine he was meeting the future producer of The Merv Griffin Show, both for NBCTV and CBS-TV.

  Right before showtime, Marty Kummer phoned all the network executives he knew, urging them to watch Merv's inaugural performance on The Tonight Show. With knees knocking and hands quivering, Merv walked out in front of millions of Tonight Show fans to sub for Paar. From the live audience, there arose a murmur of disappointment, which did little to quell Merv's anxieties.

  “I knew I was bombing only three minutes into the show,” Merv said. “After seven minutes when we broke for commercials, I bolted from my seat. I couldn't go on any more. I was overcome with panic. The worst stage fright of my life.”

  Behind the curtains he collided with Bob Shanks. “I'm out of here,” Merv said. “Get someone to fill in for me. I'm going home. I can't do this.”

  Bob gripped Merv firmly by the arm. “You're going to turn your ass around and get back out there in front of the camera and deliver a show better than any that Paar has ever done.”

  Bolstered by Bob's encouragement, Merv walked back on stage to finish the show. Seated in Paar's chair once again, he felt a renewed confidence. “I was going to bring on Mickey Rooney tonight,” he told the live audience, thinking he was on air. “But Jack kicked him off for having one too many.” The audience laughed before a member of the crew signaled Merv that broadcasting would begin in five seconds.

  When Titans clash:

  (left) Jack Paar (right) Merv

  Years later there was a lot that he didn't remember from that night except for Aretha Franklin, who was making her first talk show appearance on live TV. “She was just great,” Merv claimed, “a phenomenal entertainer. The audience loved her.”

  He had long supported black entertainers, but it was because of Aretha's stunning performance that he decided that if he ever got his own talk show, he would book frequent appearances of black entertainers, both the known and the unknown, both male and female.

  After the show, backstage, Merv embraced Bob warmly. “You saved my TV career tonight, and I'll always be grateful. If I go on from here and get my own talk show, you're the producer, kid.”

  Paar sat up that night watching Merv's performance, and liked it. “He's not as warm and personal with the audience as I am,” Paar later told Bob, “but he's a natural. Invite him back as the host this coming Monday night. I'm taking off to have dinner with Judy Garland.”

  On his second Monday night appearance on The Tonight Show, Merv did something provocative, so daring that it could have raised the ire of Paar and led to Merv getting kicked off the show forever: Merv summoned Woody Allen for an appearance on the show again.

  Woody had gotten his start at the age of fifteen, writing oneliners to gossip columns. Behind those thick glasses he always wore, he would later become famous for his oneliners: “Join the army, see the world, meet interesting people—and kill ‘em,” or “Not only is there no God, but try getting a plumber on weekends.”

  Bob Shanks, who served as a kind of talent scout for Paar, had caught Woody's act at The Duplex in Greenwich Village and, with Paar's consent, had booked him on The Tonight Show.

  Paar, who had not met Woody before the show, later claimed that he looked like “he'd been plugged into an electric socket and someone had flipped the switch.” Merv later claimed that impression as his own opinion, publishing it word for word in his second autobiography.

  Paar found Woody's act vulgar. He particularly objected to one line, “The difference between sex and death is, death you can do alone and nobody will laugh.”

  “The difference between sex and

  death is, death you can do alone,

  and no one will laugh.”

  Woody Allen

  As Woody finished his act, the cameras cut back to Paar, who was obviously enraged. In front of his audience, he angrily said, “Whoever booked that man and knew what he was going to say, I want to see in my office immediately following this show.” Fortunately for Merv's future in TV, Bob Shanks wasn't fired that night.

  Merv had been watching Paar's show on the night the Brooklynborn comedian made his TV debut, and despite the gaffes, recognized Woody's talent and audience appeal. Paar had given Merv total control over booking any guest he wanted to while he filled in for him, but Bob was nonetheless shocked when Merv asked him to book Woody Allen for a comeback. Defying Paar, Bob booked Woody once again—and he was a big hit. “Even though Woody had a peculiar New York kind of humor, audiences seemed to eat it up, probably because Woody was so different,” Merv later said.

  Woody later went on to face spectacular success as a writer, a film director, an actor, a comedian, a playwright, and to a somewhat lesser extent, a jazz musician.

  To Merv's dismay, Paar for decades dined out on the claim that he'd “discovered” Woody Allen and exposed him for the first time to nationwide attention. Woody, of course, would later be nominated for more awards than Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, or Harold Lloyd.

  For years, Merv and Paar competed about which of them had actually “discovered” Woody Allen. Merv, however, would also take credit for saving Woody from potential injury and disaster.

  Years later, when Frank Sinatra, former husband of Mia Farrow, learned that Woody was having an affair with her adopted daughter, Soon-Yi Previn, he called Mia and threatened to have “my boys” work over the comedian.

  When Merv learned of that, he phoned Frank and asked him to call off his boys and spare Woody. “After all, Frank, you owe me one.” Frank called off his boys, but spent the rest of his life raging against what he called “that incestuous bastard.”

  On the nights Merv did not join his family—and there were many of those—he might be sitting next to Johnny Riley watching Paar on The Tonight Show.

  “Merv had this incredible instinct that Paar was about to commit hari-kiri right in front of the Tonight audience,” Johnny said. “And so he did.”

  Paar sealed his doom on the evening of February 10, 1960, although it would be months before he was off the air. One of his harmless jokes was cut from a broadcast by studio censors. It involved a woman writing to a vacation resort and asking about the availa
bility of a W.C., meaning water closet or toilet. The person who received the letter thought W.C. meant “wayside chapel.” The full joke was filled with double entendres that seemed innocent even back in 1960. Paar became so angered at the censorship that he walked off the show, but then allowed himself to be lured back. However, his days with the network were numbered. Claiming that he was “bone tired,” he signed off for the last time at the end of his show of March 29, 1962.

  “Merv practically jumped out of his seat,” Johnny later reported. “I've never seen him so elated. He announced to me, ‘I'm taking over The Jack Paar Show.’”

  While the network debated a replacement, Merv, as he'd anticipated, was called by NBC to fill in for Paar on many a night. In all, Merv's gig totaled six weeks. He was not the only guest emcee, however. Temporarily occupying what was known as Paar's “tearsoaked seat,” were other entertainers. They included Jerry Lewis, Soupy Sales, Steve Lawrence, Mort Sahl, Joey Bishop, Jan Murray, and Peter Lind Hayes.

  In spite of this competition, Merv still clung to the belief that he was Paar's heir apparent. One night his agent, Marty, rained on Merv's parade. “I've got the scoop,” Marty said. “NBC's first choice is Johnny Carson. But you're second choice if Johnny doesn't sign.”

  Merv was horribly disappointed. “At least they're not offering the deal to that fuckface, Robert Q. Lewis,” he said. His face brightened. “Frank Sinatra's always claiming he owes me one for saving his life. Maybe I should call Frank and ask him to have his boys work over Carson so much he won't emcee any show.”

  “I hope you're joking,” Marty said.

  “It's no joke!”

  Paar watched all the appearances where Merv took over for him on The Tonight Show and had this comment: “Merv is a quick study. I would have to give him an ‘A’ in economics, because he knows more about the money end of television than anyone. He will never need food stamps. He will probably outlast Johnny Carson and all the rest because of his ‘laidback’ approach. He is a decent and likable man.”

  That was Paar's public opinion. Privately he had a darker one. He told Johnny Carson and the NBC suits, “I still can't believe all those stories about Merv being a homosexual. I hear he likes wellbuilt, wellendowed men and attends orgies staged by his best pal, Liberace. The evidence is overwhelming from countless sources: Merv Griffin is gay. Yet, amazingly, he doesn't come off as mincing or limp-wristed like most fag-gots. To give him his due, he conceals his homosexuality very well, although I predict that one day all that man chasing will get him into serious trouble.”

  It was Paar's discomfort with Merv's homosexuality that led him to endorse Johnny Carson for the latenight slot. Carson signed the deal.

  “Merv later claimed that at the time, he fully expected Carson to take over the show,” said Johnny Riley. “But that wasn't true at all. He thought he had the inside track. When he got the bad news, he went into an incredible depression, thinking his TV career—his big chance—was gone forever. I did everything I could to bolster his ego and make him believe in himself again. We were never closer than we were during this period. And then something happened. I fell in love with a guy. Nobody special. But I loved him. I was never in love with Merv. We were bedmates, but never lovers in the full sense of the word. The only problem was, I couldn't tell Merv the bad news—not when he was down.”

  ***

  As it turned out, NBC did not want to cut the umbilical cord with Merv. In July of 1962, he was offered a 55minute daytime chat show to be launched in October. Hailing Merv as an entertainer of “star magnitude,” NBC's Mort Werner, one of the network's vice presidents, promised that Merv's new show would be “amusing, adult, articulate, and alive.”

  Although elated to have his own talk show, Merv was terribly disappointed that it was scheduled for broadcasting every weekday at two o'clock in the afternoon. “That is the graveyard for daytime TV,” he claimed. Merv's show was positioned within the orbit of his newly established Merv Griffin Productions, which gave him creative control of the guests he could book.

  NBC made a mistake in announcing that Merv's show was going to be part of their autumn lineup. When he found this out, Merv had not yet signed a contract, so with his lawyer, Roy Blakeman, he pounced.

  Meeting with Herb Schlosser from NBC, Merv listened politely as the executive offered $8,000 a week.

  “Merv had us by the cojones,” Schlosser said, “since we'd already announced him as part of our team. He refused to accept the $8,000 and wanted another $10,000 a week to sweeten the kitty. No one in those days made that kind of dough. When I faced the executives at NBC, I was shocked that they agreed to the $18,000. It was just unheard of.”

  In the wake of that decision, Merv reached out for “my savior,” Bob Shanks, raising his salary as producer from $200 to $1,000 a week.

  Call it beginner's luck, but Merv managed to hire a trio of the most talented young writers in television, each man headed for future acclaim. Dick Cavett was the first to sign on. He'd come from Nebraska, a state that had produced such other talents as Henry Fonda, Marlon Brando, and Montgomery Clift.

  “Thank Zeus I finally made it here with a contract,” Dick told Merv. “I once applied for a job as a page at NBC's office in Rockefeller Center but was turned down.” Merv discovered that Dick was one of the most brilliant comics he'd ever encountered, but he suffered from a manicdepressive disorder that had begun during his freshman year at Yale. Both Dick and Merv's rival, Johnny Carson, were also magicians, Merv learned.

  He told Dick that, “The salary that I'm shelling out to you will more than pay for your $51 a month walkup.”

  Although Merv liked the material Dick submitted, years later he would complain to associates that “Cavett writes better lines for Johnny Carson than he ever did for me.” Merv especially liked it when Dick had Carson say, “Having your taste criticized by Dorothy Kilgallen is like having your clothes criticized by Emmett Kelly.”

  Years later, Merv expressed a kind of malicious glee when Cavett got his own talk show and competed against Carson in the same time slot. But after that, Merv came to view Dick “as more competition than Carson himself.”

  Paul Schone, Merv's friend, said, “If you want to make our boy angry, just compare him to Dick Cavett.”

  A critic for a New York newspaper had already done just that. “Cavett is an intelligent, penetrating interviewer who is not afraid to ask probing questions or even insult an obnoxious guest, the way Jack Paar did. After listening to Timothy Leary blabber on, Cavett right on the air told him, ‘I really think you're full of crap.’ Merv Griffin on the other hand is Mr. Nice Guy on the air. Being interviewed on his show is like having a steakandpotato dinner with an insurance salesman from Kansas City.”

  Pat McCormick was the most outrageous writer Merv ever hired. Over the course of Pat's career, he would also write for Bill Cosby, Don Rickles, and Jonathan Winters. When doing so, he tested the barriers of what was acceptable as comedy on TV.

  Merv was startled the first day Pat, all 270 pounds of him, lumbered into his office. Standing 6'6”, he had blond curly hair and a big walrus mustache adorning his ruddy face. After Pat's first week on the job, Merv told Bob Shanks that “Pat's weird, but he can deliver one-liners as good as Woody Allen.”

  Pat's most notorious appearance was not on Merv's show but on Johnny Carson's show. On an episode of Carson's Tonight Show in 1974, while Carson was delivering his opening monologue, Pat suddenly emerged from behind the curtains. Totally nude, he streaked across the stage behind Carson.

  Today Pat is best remembered for playing Big Enos Burdette alongside Burt Reynolds in Smokey and the Bandit (1977) and its two sequels.

  Brilliant, witty,

  and manic-depressive:

  Dick Cavett

  The third writer Merv hired was David Lloyd. Mild-mannered and unobtrusive, he evolved into one of the top writers on serial television, creating 30 episodes of The Mary Tyler Moore Show in the 1970s. He also wrote many episodes of
series which included Taxi, Cheers, Wings, and Frasier.

  With creative freedom over who would appear on his show, Merv hired Woody Allen as a performer, getting him to sign a contract for an appearance every Friday. Welcoming the exposure, Woody gladly accepted the deal.

  Merv wanted big names for his debut shows, and he asked his former roommate, Harry Belafonte, to come on. When Harry showed up at the studio, however, Merv realized that he'd lost his youthful beauty and even much of his charm. “But I embraced him and treated him like my best and long lost friend,” Merv said. “People in show business do that all the time.”

  Merv recalled that Harry “seemed a bit full of himself,” reminding Merv of some of his achievements. Frank Sinatra had recruited Harry to perform at the inaugural gala of President Kennedy, and Harry's latest album, Jump Up Calypso, had become another of the star's million sellers. Also, Harry reminded Merv that whereas he'd succeeded in the movies, Merv had not.

  To the surprise of Bob Shanks and the rest of the staff, one of Merv's most interesting and most provocative guests was an acquaintance from the 1930s. Adela Rogers St. Johns had met Merv when she'd played tennis with his Uncle Elmer. Merv had been her “ball boy.”

  Adela was a famous and wellconnected American journalist, novelist, and screenwriter. She'd reported on everything from the controversial Jack Dempsey-Gene Tunney “longcount” fight in 1927 to the 1935 trial of Richard Bruno Hauptmann for kidnapping and murdering the son of Charles Lindbergh. “She knew where all the bodies were buried in Hollywood,” Merv said. “And I mean all. The stories she'd privately tell about Rudolph Valentino, Gloria Swanson, and Greta Garbo would shock the unshockable.”

  In anticipation of one of the several shows he did with Adela, Merv called on Joan Crawford, not knowing if she would even speak to him after their last disastrous encounter. The aging movie queen accepted the offer to appear on the show, treating Merv as if she'd never met him before.