After dinner, there is dancing. The conversation is shoptalk about films and the people who make them and about the Academy Awards. This particular year, a nude male “streaker” ran across the stage while David Niven was speaking, so this, naturally, figured in many conversations.
Seated at Groucho’s table was the late Henri Langlois, who had received an Oscar for saving and preserving sixty thousand films in the Cinémathèque Française. Many great films would have been lost had he not saved a print, even at the risk of his life during the Nazi occupation. Greeting Langlois with “Crepe Suzette,” Groucho asked him if he had a copy of Humorisk, the Marx Brothers silent film. He didn’t but wished he had.
GROUCHO
Which of our pictures do you like the best?
HENRI LANGLOIS
I like very much Duck Soup, Night at the Opera, At the Circus, The Cocoanuts, Animal Crackers, and Horse Feathers.
GROUCHO
Night at the Opera is my favorite.
HENRI LANGLOIS
But any Marx Brothers film we see is fantastic. I see Duck Soup many times in my life. But in 1940, just after the end of the French war and the invasion, I go to the South of France and I see Duck Soup. Fantastic! It was exactly like a documentary of the time I was a soldier in France. It was absolutely mad. So, if you want to know what happened in France between May to June 1940, you must see Duck Soup. It’s the only film to explain what happened in France at this time.
GROUCHO Do you think the Maginot Line is very safe?
HENRI LANGLOIS
Do you know what they make with the Maginot Line now? They sold the fragments of the Maginot Line, and nobody wants. They sold in public auction, and nobody wants buy the Maginot Line.
GROUCHO
It’s very simple. Instead of attacking the Maginot Line, they went around it.
HENRI LANGLOIS
It’s just like Duck Soup exactly.
GROUCHO
He was a great director, Leo McCarey. And a funny man. We had a lot of fun with him.
HENRI LANGLOIS
But I think the most great directors of the Marx Brothers films are the Marx Brothers.
GROUCHO
You know we’re more popular now than we were thirty years ago? The kids have taken us up.
HENRI LANGLOIS
Every year new ones come to the Cinémathèque to laugh. The books write why, but not important. They laugh because the Marx Brothers make laugh everyone. There was a chair, and a philosopher and a scientist and others discuss the chair, in their way. Then a man came in who doesn’t know better. He sat in the chair. And the chair she was so very happy, because that’s what she was made for. Today I have discovered how much all these films are shown on television. I see Mae West today. She showed me the letters she receives now, letters of children of eight, twelve, and sixteen who said, “Madam, I have seen your films on television. You are wonderful. I love you.” It’s fantastic.
GROUCHO
Two eleven-year-old kids came to the front door today and brought me a box of cigars. Do you smoke cigars?
HENRI LANGLOIS
Cigarettes always. I smoke five paquets a day.
GROUCHO
How do you like America?
HENRI LANGLOIS
It’s wonderful! I’m very happy because I’ve found a place in the world where when you say, “Please give me water,” they don’t think you are mad. Everywhere I go I say I want water, and they give me water. In all restaurants, they bring the glass of water without your asking.
GROUCHO
First thing they do in Paris is they slap a bottle of champagne on you whether you want it or not.
During dinner, Groucho turned to me and said, “I should have got this Oscar years ago.” He was quite serious, as he had been all evening.
The next day, Erin received her own Oscar—a tiny gold charm. It was, in fact, Erin who decided where Groucho’s Oscar would be displayed in his house:
ERIN
The Academy Award is going in the back of the hall in front of the picture of the four Marx Brothers, with a spotlight on it. I want you to round that corner on the way to your room and be absolutely thunder-struck. I’ve got a little thing for the front hall, a little French settee…
GROUCHO
I’ve got a little thing, period.
ERIN
When you take people on a tour of your photographic collection, they’re gonna be thunderstruck when they see that painting with the Academy Award in front of it. That’s very dramatic.
One of Groucho’s guests was Billy Wilder, himself the recipient of six Oscars of his own. Another guest, Bill Cosby, picked up Groucho’s Oscar and examined it, observing, “He looks like one of my people as opposed to one of yours.”
At the Governors’ Ball, Henri Langlois had invited Groucho to a screening of some rare turn-of-the-century French films which he had brought from the Cinémathèque Française in Paris especially for the Los Angeles Film Exhibition. Several days later Groucho’s grandson Andy and I accompanied him to the Paramount Theatre, where we were greeted by Gary Abrahams and Gary Essert, directors of Filmex, and led up to the balcony, which had been closed off. Although the rest of the theatre was full, we were there alone in the balcony.
Groucho was quite impressed with the films. His enthusiasm was articulated loudly and carried through the theatre, since the films were silent. “I’m glad I’m here.” His voice was immediately recognized, and below us we could hear people saying, “It’s Groucho Marx!” He continued to make comments throughout the films. The audience enjoyed not only the rare program but Groucho’s occasional commentary. He got a big laugh when he said, “These films are as old as I am.”
The program, which lasted two hours, began with films made before 1900 and continued with later films by such pioneers as Lumière, Mèliés, and Zecca. There was also a Sarah Bernhardt Hamlet, which reminded Groucho that he had once played on the same bill with her. Groucho’s favorite was Zecca’s Victims of Alcohol. He especially admired the performance of the drunkard, and he also liked Little Tich, a comedian in French silent films. Afterward Groucho stopped to talk with Henry Langlois and Dan Price. “I liked the drunk best,” he told them.
Four weeks later Groucho gave a memorable party at Hillcrest Country Club for his Oscar. All of his friends were invited, and there were no insults—not even friendly ones. The party took place on April 30, 1974.
The afternoon of the party, Groucho, Erin, and I went over the guest list. Groucho wanted it checked meticulously to be certain that none of his friends were left out.
ERIN
Liza Minnelli is coming. Why don’t we ask her to sing?
GROUCHO
She’s a guest. I invited her. She’s not coming to work.
On the evening of the party, I had dinner alone with Groucho while Erin went on ahead to make certain that all was in order at Hillcrest. She put the finishing touches on Groucho’s apparel as his wardrobe mistress. She laid out his blue denim suit and white turtleneck sweater, then fastidiously brushed and fluffed up the blue beret. Demonstrating just how it should look, she explained to me that I was to make certain that he wore it exactly the right way. Erin’s parting admonition as she went out the door was, “Groucho, don’t wear your pants too high.”
We finished a small meal. Even knowing what a feast he had arranged for his guests at Hillcrest, Groucho still preferred the regularity of his own dinnertime and the privacy of his own dining room, with limited partaking later on at the party. He also recognized that there wouldn’t be much time for eating at Hillcrest, since this was not only a personal party but a command performance. “I never get a chance to eat at these things,” he confided to me.
When Groucho and I arrived, Hillcrest Country Club was already filled with people. Making his grand entrance, he was greeted warmly by friends and acquaintances like Morrie Ryskind, Bill Cosby, Jack Nicholson, Marvin Hamlisch, Nat and Helen Perrin, Milton Berle, George Burns, George
Seaton, Eden Marx, Steve Allen, Liza Minnelli, Jack Haley, Jr., George Segal, June Banker, Tony Navarro, Bud Yorkin, Robert Altman, S. M. Estridge, Alice Cooper, John Guedel, Terry and Lilly Hamlisch, Joe Hyams, Elke Sommer, Irving Wallace, Walter Mirisch, Carl Reiner, Cass Elliott, Freddie Fields, George Peppard, Lee Bowman, William Wyler, Hugh Hefner, Barbi Benton, French Consul General Jacques Roux and his wife, Gunvar, Warren and Josette Cowan, William Peter Blatty, Bill Feeder, and Marvin and Nan Meyer. Zeppo was there too, accompanied by his former wife Barbara, but Gummo hadn’t been able to come. Groucho’s cook, Martha, and his maid, Agnes, were invited, and Groucho posed for pictures with them.
Groucho ordered the best of everything in virtually unlimited quantities. It was accompanied by an endless stream of Mouton Cadet. As soon as any of the wine in the guests’ glasses was even slightly diminished, it was replenished. There was a profusion of oysters, lobster, shrimp, and salads in such an elaborate cold buffet that most of the guests had already eaten well past their capacities when it was announced that dinner was served. Then followed prime beef, chateaubriand, chicken, veal, fresh salmon steaks, and all the accompaniments. The elaborate flower centerpieces at each table were festooned with ribbons to which were attached animal crackers. Desserts were festive bombes, tortes, pastries, ices, and petits fours.
Erin, wearing a clinging long white dress with ropes of pearls, sat on one side of Groucho, and I on the other, as each guest approached the table to greet and be greeted by the host, who was also the guest of honor. At the table with us were Keenan Wynn and his daughter, and Bill Cosby. George Burns came by to greet Groucho, and told us this story:
“Years ago there used to be a song that went, ‘If you don’t see your mama every night, you don’t see your mama at all.’ Well, I like sea bass. But every time I ordered sea bass for forty years, Groucho would hit me with ‘If you don’t sea bass every night, you don’t sea bass at all.’
“It was a funny line forty years ago. Today after forty years, it’s not that funny. So, the other day I’m hungry for sea bass. But I’m not going to order it in front of Groucho and hear that lousy joke again, so I whisper in the waiter’s ear. The waiter comes back to me and says, ‘If you don’t sea bass every night, you don’t sea bass at all.’”
Hugh Hefner and Barbi Benton came over and he told Groucho how much he admired the interview Groucho had given Playboy—and Groucho told Hefner how much he admired Barbi.
Tony Navarro verbalized one of Groucho’s most striking qualities:
“When I first met him, what impressed me then and what still impresses me is that the character from the films and the real person coincide so perfectly. Look at him now. It’s as if he just stepped off the screen.”
Before the entertainment began, an orchestra provided music for dancing, an opportunity not missed by Groucho to dance with Erin.
Bill Cosby acted as the master of ceremonies for the evening’s entertainment. Most of the famous guests performed, and so did a few of the less famous. Groucho’s maid, Agnes, sang “Summertime,” as she had often done at Groucho’s parties at home. George Segal played the banjo and sang “Darktown Strutters’ Ball” while Bill Cosby backed him up on the drums, Steve Allen and George Burns told stories, and Robert Altman lumbered up to the microphone to announce, “This is the best party I’ve ever been to.” Alice Cooper presented Groucho with the second annual Alice Cooper Living Legend Award—a coiled snake on a plaque. “Do I have to keep this?” Groucho asked, then reciprocated with a stuffed gorilla wearing a “Tell ’em Groucho sent you” T-shirt.
Morrie Ryskind, one of Hollywood’s and Broadway’s best writers, got up and spoke. Although an interesting speaker, he didn’t have the delivery of a professional performer, and he got few laughs. “I’m not a showman,” he told me afterward. “If Groucho had said any of it, they’d still be laughing. Nobody ever asks for my autograph.”
Near the end of the evening, after almost everyone had left, Erin got up on the dance floor. She looked at Groucho, then the music started again, and she began to do her solo dance for him. Starting at a modest frenzy, it accelerated to the point of wild abandon as the musicians tried valiantly to follow her gyrations. Erin was bending, spinning, and dipping, with her skirt often swirling above her head. (Afterward she asked me, “You couldn’t see anything, could you?”) Her agility and fervor merged with an intensity that left the small remaining audience almost more spent than the performer. No one left; in fact, scarcely anyone even moved until she had finished, and Groucho never once took his eyes off her. Tremendously pleased, for days he proudly told everyone how great she was.
The party ended, as so many of Groucho’s parties do, with da capo choruses of the ubiquitous “Peasie Weasie.” People left Hillcrest that night in a mood of poignant euphoria. The next morning The Hollywood Reporter called the affair “the most beautiful blast of this year or any year.”
After the Academy Awards, Groucho continued to make professional and public appearances. He was on the Bob Hope Comedy Special, and the Emmy Awards, and he participated in numerous charity fund-raising events. He made front-page news with the New York opening of Animal Crackers.
For legal reasons, Animal Crackers had not been shown commercially for more than twenty years. Meanwhile, a whole new generation of Marx Brothers fans had come along. Through revivals and television they had become familiar with all of the pictures except Animal Crackers, and a huge demand was building up for this film, which, by the 1970s, had become something of a cause célèbre. But Universal Pictures, which had acquired Animal Crackers from Paramount, couldn’t reissue the film until negotiations were completed with the George S. Kaufman estate, which owned the dialogue rights. On top of all this, Universal was not entirely certain that a big enough demand existed to warrant the expense of new prints, and of distributing and promoting a 1930 New York–made film of a dated 1920s Broadway musical comedy, even if the Marx Brothers were in it.
A group of students at UCLA who were also Marx Brothers fans decided to do something to convince Universal that Animal Crackers was worth rereleasing for theatrical distribution. They formed a group dedicated to bringing Animal Crackers back, and called it CRAC, the acronym for the Committee to Re-release Animal Crackers. CRAC quickly became a national group, and petitions with thousands of signatures from campuses all over the country were collected and presented to Universal.
Groucho himself was deeply concerned with and involved in getting Animal Crackers “out of the can,” even though he no longer had any financial interest in the film. Universal was intrigued, even impressed, but less than totally convinced as to the potential drawing power of their acquisition from Paramount. Groucho’s personal campaign for Animal Crackers included “bending the ear” (“which is a pretty funny expression if you ever saw a bent ear,” Groucho told me, folding over his own ear) of Universal’s Sid Sheinberg at the Jack Benny March of Dimes tribute dinner. At the Oscar ceremonies, Groucho buttonholed (“And he didn’t even have a buttonhole”) Universal’s Lew Wasserman with his plaint. Wasserman visited with Groucho and Henri Langlois at the Governors’ Ball after the Oscars, and Groucho talked with him about Animal Crackers openings in California and New York, and the planned Cinémathèque Française benefit. Perhaps Groucho’s Oscar standing on the table next to the one Henri Langlois had received also exerted some silent ethos-enhancing persuasion. Jennings Lang of Universal was virtually tackled as he walked in the streets of Beverly Hills by Erin, who was never timid in her role as Groucho’s personal manager.
A special screening was held for an invited group so that audience response could be judged. This took place shortly after the Academy Awards. Many of the jubilant members of UCLA’s CRAC group were in the crammed theatre that night, as were Groucho, Erin, and I. It was, therefore, the exact opposite of a scientifically controlled situation. The air of elation and mirth, however, proved an accurate precursor of things to come. The very young audience was thrilled afterward as we exited thro
ugh an almost blinding glare of popping flashbulbs. Bill Feeder shepherded us through the crowd lining the way to the parking lot.
Perhaps the most sentimental showing of Animal Crackers for me was the first time I saw it. Groucho had it screened at his house for Jack Nicholson, Mike Nichols, Marvin Hamlisch, Erin, and me. Groucho shrugged off our enthusiasm, saying, “It’s a silly picture.” But clearly there was pride in his tone when he said “silly,” and he did add, “It’s a funny picture.” Groucho, who considered false modesty a form of hypocrisy, was definitely a Marx Brothers fan.
On May 23, 1974, Animal Crackers had its official new premiere at the United Artists Theatre in Westwood. I joined Groucho and Erin for the occasion, as did many members of CRAC.
Groucho had arranged that the East Coast opening of Animal Crackers would be a benefit for the Cinémathèque, and he had agreed to fly to New York City to make a personal appearance on opening night. On his arrival in New York, one of the first things he did was to try to call Lou Soren, his old friend from Broadway days. His good mood turned to extreme sadness when he hung up after talking with Mrs. Soren.
“She told me he died a few months ago. He was wonderful in Animal Crackers. He was a wonderful man.”
There was a phone call from Maxine Marx, Chico’s daughter. She said that she would be coming to Animal Crackers with Toby (Harry Ruby’s daughter) and that they would need only one seat. Maxine explained to me that, as little girls, whenever they were taken to see the Marx Brothers, “We were always expected to share one seat.”
The new premiere took place on June 23, 1974. That evening, before going to the theatre, Groucho had dinner in his suite at the Regency with Adolph Green, Goddard Lieberson, Erin, and me. Groucho and I divided his favorite hotel dinner, a steak tartare. He liked to eat only half and couldn’t bear to leave the other half. After dinner, Betty Comden arrived with her husband to have some coffee. Then we all proceeded to the Sutton Theatre on Fifty-seventh Street.
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