Hello, I Must be Going

by Charlotte Chandler

  Once at Chasen’s I happened to order something relatively inexpensive. He observed, “You’re inexpensive. That’s dangerous.” But Groucho, who never liked to leave an unused light burning, later approved my behavior: “You’re a careful eater. Waste isn’t luxury.”

  Bert Granet revealed a Groucho faux pas which Groucho said was “more of a ‘fox’s paw’”:

  “It was during the time when Groucho wasn’t married, and we thought he seemed lonely. We suggested that he might like to take out a very attractive lady we all knew whose husband had died. And Groucho said, ‘That old bag,’ and then he stopped because suddenly he realized that all of the women at the table, all of his friends’ wives, were older than the one he had just scorned. Groucho did some pretty fancy ad libbing which he could be great at, but he didn’t quite get his foot out of his mouth for the rest of the evening.”

  Terry Hamlisch, as Marvin’s sister and as a pretty young girl, had a special place in Groucho’s affections.

  “He always kisses me on the lips. Very European. Big, wet kisses. As we gave each other a big wet kiss, my opening line would be, ‘Have you been true to me?’ and he would say, ‘No, but at least I’m telling you about it.’”

  Marvin Hamlisch, who saw him in action, was not unimpressed by Groucho’s propensity for inspiring and commanding lip service. “I love the way he goes up to a girl and says, ‘Kiss me, honey,’ and practically has her over his shoulder. He’ll say, ‘Kiss me, you fool,’ raising his eyebrows. I love watching him do that. I love the way he can get away with anything and he loves getting away with it. It’s fantastic. Terrific!”

  Groucho made a vice of necessity, his advancing years providing a haven for his advances. “When I was young, they would have slapped my face for that, and so would I.”

  He learned to capitalize on his age, at least with pretty young girls, and the rebuff was rare. Most were flattered and pleased by his attentions. Groucho Marx was a sacred bull, and you couldn’t slap an institution. He was also quick to suggest that a young girl couldn’t take an old man too seriously. Hearing about an old man who had married a young girl, Groucho observed, “It can’t work out, and it can’t work in. It can’t last.” I said, “You mean a fool and his honey are soon parted?” Groucho looked at me only slightly askance and corrected my statement: “A fool and his honey are soon potted.”

  Not many women rejected him, but when it happened, he was not disconsolate. In vaudeville he learned that you can’t expect a laugh every time, and he didn’t expect a kiss every time, either. I asked him if, in the battle of the sexes, he had ever been defeated, and he answered, “Even Napoleon was defeated by Josephine.”

  “And you?” I asked.

  “No,” he answered, “dismayed, not defeated.”

  Just before Christmas 1974, Groucho and I went with Billy Marx to the Mark Taper Forum Theatre in Los Angeles to see Juno and the Paycock, which was being directed by George Seaton, and which starred Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau. He was offered a program by the trim young usherette.

  USHERETTE

  (Wide-eyed) I’m glad to see you, Mr. Marx.

  GROUCHO

  I’m glad to see you. (He kisses her)

  Giggling, she fled to report, “Groucho kissed me! Groucho kissed me!” to her cohorts. Several of the other usherettes rushed over to help show him to his seat, hoping for similar treatment. Meanwhile, the other patrons, many of whom were celebrities, groped and fumbled their ways to their seats unattended.

  Groucho, of course, understood that they were kissing the legend, and not necessarily the man, but the man enjoyed it no less.

  One day, after Christmas shopping, he and I walked to the parking lot in back of the Beverly Hills Saks Fifth Avenue. We were carrying bottles of perfume that were his nurses’ Christmas gifts. Suddenly he handed me his packages, went up to a pretty blonde who was standing by her car, and kissed her. “I had to,” he explained. “Look at her license plate. It says, ‘BIG EYS.’”

  Groucho would have been the last to deny that he always enjoyed the admiring attention of a pretty young girl, although it didn’t always live up to his hopes. Sidney Sheldon told of one disappointing encounter:

  “Many years ago, he went to some nightclub with us, and a cute little dancer who was in the show came up afterwards and asked if she could sit with him, and he said, ‘Of course.’ I think Grouch tried to make every pretty girl he could get his hands on, at least verbally. Anyway, this pretty girl sat down, and they started talking, and she said, ‘I’ve only done this once before in my life, but could I have your autograph?’ Grouch said he was very flattered, and he gave her his autograph. Then he said, ‘By the way—you said you’ve done this only once before. What other autograph did you get?’ She said, ‘Fifi D’Orsay,’ and Grouch nearly threw her out.”

  Terry Hamlisch told me, “He’s always kidding me about men. He always wants to know why I’m not with a man. Then, when I am, he doesn’t like them. I love his smile. It’s not a wide smile, it’s all in his eyes. You know what he did for my birthday? He gave me a negligee—a white lacy thing, really right for Playboy. The card said, ‘To Terry. I wish I could do to you what some lucky man is going to do to you in this. Wowee! Love, Grouch.’ And then it said, ‘And soon.’”

  Terry said that even in his eighties, “When the lights go out at Groucho’s house, it’s every girl for herself.” She found this out the easy way:

  “New Year’s Eve last year, we were watching Duck Soup, which Groucho always calls the ‘war picture,’ and kinda necking in the dark, and Groucho really enjoyed the film. He really thought it was terrific. The lyrics, the songs, the numbers and everything, he remembered how each thing was shot. He got so excited, he almost broke my knee in the dark, which was a big thrill.”

  Terry described Groucho as someone for whom life was too important to be taken seriously.

  “He walked over to his own picture on the chest on the day he got the Academy Award, and he slowly smiled and said, ‘Who is that jerk?’ He really endeared himself to me, because he really knows that the thing I think people sometimes forget is the question, ‘So what?’ We all try hard, we all struggle and strive, yet he’s in a place where he sees the ups and downs, and he can keep his perspective on life and laugh at himself.”

  I went with Groucho to the Zandra Rhodes fashion show in Beverly Hills, where the girls modeled see-through fashions that left little to the imagination. He commented, “This is a nice undress rehearsal,” and as the bevy of sheer-topped models in “gownless evening straps” paraded by, he announced vociferously, “It’s a gala day.” Then he added with mock modesty, “I never could handle more than a gal a day.” He was happily distracted from his next comment by Michelle Phillips, who, modeling a wispy creation, stopped by to kiss him.

  Groucho’s nurses enjoyed a certain reflected celebrity, and each one became, for her own friends, something of a celebrity herself. They traveled with Groucho, visited his friends with him, ate meals with him, and shared his life for a shift. Around him work often became a diversion, and even his captive audience was captivated as his nurses confided in him and frequently solicited his counsel on all manner of subjects:

  NURSE DONNA

  Oh, Groucho, I’m afraid I’m gonna wind up an old maid.

  GROUCHO

  Well, bring her in and we’ll wind her up together.

  NURSE DONNA

  Do you believe in computer dating?

  GROUCHO

  Only if the computers really love each other.

  Groucho, nurse Linda, and I went to a film that he and I were ready to leave after a few minutes. But we stayed until the end because Linda was obviously deeply engrossed and much amused. Observing that, he settled back into his seat, advising me, “We can’t leave.”

  For Groucho’s entertainment Robin, his cook, sometimes did her “Rapunzel act,” letting down her long blond hair at the end of the meal at his request.

  GROUCHO

&n
bsp; How did you decide to become a cook?

  ROBIN

  Because I did it well, and then I decided that I liked to do it, and I might as well try and make some money while I was doing something I liked to do.

  GROUCHO

  Strange profession for a young woman…who is pretty. A lot of cooks look lousy. They ought to be ashamed of themselves.

  Miriam Marx was always a mysterious, enigmatic figure in Groucho’s family. Her half sister, Melinda, was known to millions through appearances on You Bet Your Life, and her brother, Arthur, was a well-known tennis player before he became a writer. But Miriam rarely shared the spotlight with her father. He told me this story about Miriam:

  “One day Miriam came home late from school, and I said, ‘Where have you been?’ She said, ‘I’ve been to the movies, and I saw the Ritz Brothers, and they’re really funny.’”

  Everyone who remembered Miriam described her as an extremely sensitive girl who adored and worshiped her father. She was indirectly responsible for the birth of her half sister, Melinda. It was Miriam who introduced her friend Kay to Groucho, who married Kay, and Melinda was their daughter. Miriam and Kay remained good friends. Very briefly, Miriam herself was married.

  When Miriam attended a party at Groucho’s, she would introduce herself to guests, saying, “I’m Miriam. I’m the one no one talks about.”

  Groucho remembered without bitterness that Melinda never watched him on television: “When Melinda was ten years old, she didn’t watch my quiz show. She used to look at Westerns or wrestling instead.”

  He never made a secret of his special affection for Melinda, believing that she would be the Marx to carry on the show business tradition in the family, but Melinda disappointed him in that. She could sing and dance, and he never tired of watching the film of a twelve-year-old Melinda dancing with Gene Nelson. Years after all the appearances on You Bet Your Life, she told him that she had disliked having to perform as his daughter. Melinda grew up, married, and had two children of her own, but Groucho still continued to have vivid memories of her as a little girl.

  ROBIN

  Did you ever play Santa Claus for Melinda?

  GROUCHO

  No, I didn’t dress up like Santa Claus.

  ROBIN

  Did she believe in Santa Claus when she was a little girl?

  GROUCHO

  Until she was three years old. The truth came out in kindergarten. She heard it from the other kids. One day she came home from school, and I said, “Melinda, what’d you do all day?” She said, “Nothing.” I said, “You’re there every day from nine to twelve. You must do something.” She says, “All we do is paint and go to the toilet.”

  The youngest woman in Groucho’s late years was one without much past. With only a few years behind her, he said of her, “She’s not as young as she used to be. She’s been around.” The youngest of his grandchildren, Jade was his only granddaughter, although son Arthur had a daughter many years ago who died in infancy. Irene Atkins, Arthur Marx’s former wife, told me this story:

  “I have one story about Groucho I’d like to tell. I’ve never seen it published anywhere, and I don’t think very many people know about it. It certainly hasn’t been in any of the books about Groucho, and I’m not even sure it’s the sort of thing you’re interested in. It’s slightly maudlin, and it’s not typical Groucho.

  “In 1947 my older son, Steve Marx, was born. As this was my first child, and Groucho’s first grandchild, I was very excited, and I presumed everyone else was. Everyone came to the hospital to visit and to get a look at this new baby. Everyone, that is, except Groucho, and I was beginning to feel a little bit hurt. You know, like new mothers do, and I said to Arthur, my husband at that time and Steve’s father, ‘Everyone’s been to see the baby except your father, and I’m a little bit insulted.’

  “Finally, after several days, Arthur said to me, ‘I have to tell you that my father’s father died at the Cedars of Lebanon Hospital, and he swore never to set foot in a hospital again. That’s why he hasn’t come to see the baby. It’s just a phobia about hospitals.’ So I said, ‘You know, you should have told me immediately. I would have understood.’ When I came home from the hospital, Groucho came immediately to see the baby.

  “Now, as I said, this is a little bit maudlin, but exactly two years after that, we had another baby, and she only lived a short time. Well, I think the next morning Groucho was at the hospital to see me to kind of pay a condolence call. I felt shattered, but it was so nice of him coming to console me. And I felt, ‘Gee, what a trauma, to have not only to come to the hospital for this reason, but also after he’d sworn he’d never come to a hospital.’ I thought it was really a nice gesture on his part, and it isn’t really the kind of thing that you hear about.

  “Well, two years after that, Andy was born, and by this time the whole thing about his father was put aside or he had broken the barrier. He rushed down to see the baby, and not only saw Andy, but put on kind of a show for the nurses. He did all his eyebrow-raising, and practically danced in the hall. He signed autographs and did just about everything, and it was the talk of the hospital. But I always remember not so much the visit when Andy was born, but the condolence call. He was trying to cheer me up, and it ended up that I was cheering him up because he was much more depressed, I think, than I was.

  “He was terribly apprehensive the whole time I was pregnant with Andy. I think this happens with people who have lost a baby—they are just so anxious the next time that same person gets pregnant. I think that’s why he was so relieved when Andy was born. He was so elated to see Andy, who, incidentally, weighed eleven pounds at birth—a huge, monstrous baby.”

  Although Groucho was considered by some to have scant sympathy, and he wasn’t given credit for much empathy, there were those who found him both sympathetic and empathetic. His goddaughter, Mary Sheldon, was a girl in his life who brought out these feelings. Sidney Sheldon described an instance of Groucho’s consideration for his goddaughter:

  “A number of years ago, Mary did a play at a boys’ school, and she was the only girl in the play. Grouch went to see it, and afterwards he went backstage, and the boys were very excited about having Groucho there. So Jorja suggested having a party over at the house, and I walked into a rather large den that we had, and I saw Groucho sitting in an armchair, and on the floor all over the room at his feet were these high school boys, drinking in every word that he was saying. He was just charming to them. It was a wonderful evening.”

  There were a number of women for whom Groucho had affection and admiration.

  “I was in love with the girl who played the lead in Day at the Races, the mother of Mia Farrow. I’d like to see her again. She was an Irish beauty. But she was married.”

  Maureen O’Sullivan remembered Groucho too:

  MAUREEN O’SULLIVAN

  Groucho was great fun all day. He was always putting himself out to make it more fun for everyone. It was a real pleasure to work with him. The one word that comes to mind when I remember working with him is “fun.”

  I

  Groucho remembers you well—as an ideal dream girl.

  MAUREEN O’SULLIVAN

  Well, I’m glad I was a dream rather than a nightmare.

  I

  He told me you didn’t seem to notice how much he liked you because you were married at the time.

  MAUREEN O’SULLIVAN

  Well, he was married too!

  I

  Did you ever see Groucho after Day at the Races?

  MAUREEN O’SULLIVAN

  We used to meet on the lot, but we only spoke a few words each time.

  Budd Schulberg’s ex-wife, Virginia, was another woman Groucho sometimes talked about with nostalgic affection:

  “I was also in love with Virginia Schulberg. She was beautiful. When I went to a party with Virginia—I went with her for a while, you know—well, ten minutes after we were at somebody’s house, there were eight men around her, becaus
e she was so pretty and she was so bright. Oh, she was bright! I’d have married her, too.”

  Groucho was also fond of Carole Lombard, whom he admired, though in a totally different way. He told me about meeting her on the street just after she married Clark Gable:

  “I loved Lombard. She was a great dame. I did a whole series of shows with her, you know. I met her on the street one day, and I said, ‘How are you and Gable getting along?’ And she said, ‘He’s the worst lay I ever had in all my life.’ That’s the way she talked. Very sexy dame. She spoke the way a lot of men speak.”

  When I said, “Maybe she was just angry at him that day,” Groucho disagreed:

  “You don’t know very much about life. Just because a guy’s tall and good-looking and his ears stick out doesn’t mean he’s a good lay. She said he was lousy, and she oughta know. She talked like a man, words men use with other men. She used everything. She was a gutsy dame. She was a real show business girl.”

  Groucho also liked Carmen Miranda. In addition to his respect for her talent, he respected her family values. “She always sent all her money home to her family. She had a big family back in Brazil. She was very small, and she wore special shoes.”

  I told him that I had seen the collection of her tiny, high-platformed shoes in a museum in Brazil, as well as some of her costumes that were there.

  GROUCHO

  She had talent, and she was a nice person. I told you Harpo’s harp is in a museum. I’m gonna be in a museum myself pretty soon.

  I

  Your Animal Crackers jodhpurs and safari pith helmet…?

  GROUCHO

  No. Me.

  Groucho liked Zeppo’s former wife, Barbara Sinatra, too. “She wasn’t only a beautiful blonde, but Zeppo’s ex took care of him while he was sick.”

  Groucho told me of his interest in what he called “The Monroe Doctrine”:

  “First job Marilyn Monroe ever got was with me. Tell you what happened: the producer had me over to his home, and he says, ‘I got three girls. I want each one to walk up and down, and you tell me which one you like best.’ First one walked up and down, then the second one, then the third one was Marilyn Monroe. He says, ‘Which one do you pick?’ I says, ‘You’re kidding. How could you take anybody but that one?’ It was for a bit in Love Happy. She wore a dress so low, I couldn’t remember my lines.