We had met briefly at Groucho’s eighty-fifth birthday party. Shortly afterward I visited him (Groucho sometimes referred to Nat Perrin as “Deacon”) at his Beverly Hills apartment, where he talked about his forty-five-year relationship with Groucho:
NAT PERRIN
Groucho’s exterior belies a somewhat different interior. He’s a much more sentimental man than people know. He has enormous loyalties, and, for me, that’s the giveaway. He has many of the old friends he’s always had. Even though he’s famous for being one of the world’s greatest insulters, making people the butt of his jokes, he doesn’t seem to alienate many people because apparently he doesn’t strike very deeply with anyone. I’ve known him forty-five years now.
He has a very high regard for talent. He’s taken up a few people and always tried for them and pushed friends to listen to those he thought were good. He’s a different kind of person from what his brand of humor would indicate. He’s always had a lot of interest in family and family ties. He was always good company, and is. He doesn’t just sit back, but he works hard to make things pleasant. But it’s not that he’s always “on.” He doesn’t use people as an audience.
In his eighties, he’s become a cult figure, and I think he gets an enormous satisfaction out of that hint of immortality that’s in store for him. He had that phase in his life when he was an enormous success but not recognized in the streets. He’d been using a charcoal mustache, and when he walked around without it, the world knew Groucho Marx was successful but didn’t recognize the person.
I
How did you meet Groucho?
NAT PERRIN
I’d just finished law school, and I’d been studying very hard. I’d always fooled around writing for the Borscht Circuit, and I was in the law library writing a skit. Somebody looking over my shoulder said, “That’s funny. I know the agent who sold Moss Hart’s play, Once in a Lifetime. I’ll get you that agent.” It turned out that his friend was sort of a delivery boy in the woman’s office. I didn’t want to waste the trip downtown, so I dictated my own letter, signed it, and I took this forgery and my skit to Brooklyn, where the Marx Brothers were appearing at the Albee Theatre.
I gave the letter I’d done to the doorman, with the sketch. He came out about ten minutes later, and he said, “Mr. Marx will see you now.” I was shown into Groucho’s dressing room. He had read the material and liked it. He says, “We don’t use sketches now. We’re going to Hollywood to make a picture. We might be able to use a fellow like you. Why don’t you come out?”
I
What was your sketch like?
NAT PERRIN
Chico comes to Groucho for a job, and they start discussing money. Chico wants fifty dollars and Groucho offers him ten. They finally settle on a salary, and Groucho says, “Now what about references?” Chico says, “You don’t need any reference. I like-a your face and that-sa good enough for me.” And Groucho says, “I want references from you.” Chico says, “Oh, reference,” and he doesn’t know what that means. Anyway, Groucho finally calls somebody, and he tells him Chico is applying for a job. “I’d like to know what you think of him.” And we hear Groucho say, “What? Yes! What?” Chico says, “I’ll take forty.” Groucho keeps listening and making these shocked exclamations and Chico says, “Thirty.” Then Chico says, “Twenty,” and so on.
I
What was it like working with the Marx Brothers?
NAT PERRIN
Being around the Marx Brothers was always a bit chaotic, but it was fun. It was always fun. Through the years I’ve seen many people in difficult circumstances, and there’s anger, frustration, and total disgust, and a wanting to run away from it all. Nothing could have been more chaotic than working on a Marx Brothers picture, but I never ran into that kind of feeling about it. I kind of took it in stride and had fun despite the fact that there was so much confusion.
I don’t think Chico ever knew what the plot was about. I don’t think Chico ever looked at any of the lines but his, and hardly those. Harpo brought in a lot of his own material; things, props, business, ideas, all typically Harpo, whether they related to the plot or not. Groucho always was an enormous contributor during the writing of the script; on the set, onstage, for himself, and for everyone. He never took any writing credit, unlike many who took credit who didn’t deserve it. So there, too, is a difference between the hard-bitten, insulting Groucho Marx and many “lovable” comedians.
I
You knew their father. What was he like?
NAT PERRIN
He was like the man on the cologne bottle. He’d always make a little sign with his forefinger and his thumb holding his mustache—you know, “It’s perfect!” It’s a French sign. He was so dapper. All he ever wanted to do was to go fishing, which kind of surprised me. It’s not a big-city pastime. I did go fishing with him once, and nothing happened. We didn’t catch any fish. The thing that was interesting was the way the Marx Brothers always had this genuine affection for him. It was never just that we-must-respect-and-obey-him thing because he’s our father. They found him amusing. I knew their uncle, Al Shean, who started them in show business. He was a likable rogue, and we went to the fights together. Zeppo worked with him in an act called Quo Vadis, Upside Down—don’t ask me why. They had a fake horse in the act and Zeppo was either the front half or the back half.
I
You knew Harpo well too…
NAT PERRIN
An imp, on-and offstage. One night in Palm Springs we all had dinner and started to say good night. Well, we saw each other all the time, so we didn’t shake hands, but this time Harpo did, and all the silverware started falling out of his sleeves. He’d taken it out of the restaurant. He took it back, I guess. Harpo used to love funny hats. Groucho, too. Harpo used to like to wear a French gendarme hat.
Harpo used to play golf at Tamarisk Country Club. He’d wear his swimming shorts. There were houses, lining the course, and everyone had a swimming pool. Harpo would play a little golf. Then, he’d jump in someone’s pool, cool off, play some more golf, and then jump in someone else’s pool. If you heard a splash, it was Harpo.
I
And Chico?
NAT PERRIN
I was enormously fond of Chico, too. He had some of the traits of my own brother. If Chico had three of a kind, he’d throw two away to see if he could buy two pairs. He was a really good card player, but he had to show kibitzers that he could do it the hard way. I had a brother like that. He never did anything the easy way, and Chico would do everything the hard way, too. Chico was a big spender, and I think that’s why he wound up so broke. He was an enormous gambler, but he made an effort to be liked. Harpo wasn’t really making an effort to be liked. Harpo was just genuinely likable, lovable, and pixieish.
Zep is the slugger of the outfit, you know. But Zep is fun to be around. He is a very humorous guy. I wouldn’t want to get into any battles with him, though. He’s the dead-end kid of the Marxes. I never really got to know Zeppo too well, but I’ve always been genuinely fond of Zeppo, as I’ve been fond of all the Marxes. Their wives, too.
I started with the Marxes at a very early age. I’d just finished school. A great deal of my feelings toward them are kind of bolstered and maybe have grown in retrospect because I realize I was a kid, and here they were, famous stars, and I was just the errand boy really. I’d throw in what I could, and they could not have been kinder to me. They couldn’t possibly have included me more in what they were doing. I was invited to all their homes. I played tennis with them. They made me feel perfectly at home. They were mythical people to me, and I never for one minute dreamt that I would be in this kind of company. It all happened overnight. No one in my home believed I was going into professional show business.
I
You mentioned the Marx Brothers’ wives. What were they like?
NAT PERRIN
Ruth wanted to dance, go to nightspots, and she was athletic. She was a good tennis player. She wanted to do a lot o
f things that she couldn’t get Groucho to do. Groucho had his likes and dislikes, and his tastes. He liked to sit around with his cronies, his friends, and make jokes, talk about show business, listen to Gilbert and Sullivan. I’m sure Groucho was very fond of her, but they were pulling in different directions.
Kay was a high-strung woman. Our relationship was purely social. We’d meet at parties. A very pretty girl. She seemed a little tortured in her relationship with Groucho. She felt—and I’m only guessing—on the fringe of things. She felt she didn’t belong with Groucho’s friends, who were kind of cultivated literary people. He corresponded with world-famous people, which you well know. I’m sure many people who came to his home were very literate, articulate, and famous, and Kay was just a little girl. I think she couldn’t quite cope with these people. Eden was up here just a week ago. She and Groucho seemed crazy about each other. Then, suddenly, they’re divorced. She’s friendly with Groucho now, actually. He never had any battles in the courts with his wives over money. That shows how generous he must have been with them in spite of the fact that he’d been poor and wasn’t cavalier about money.
Chico’s wife, Betty, was a good-hearted dame from a low-or middle-class background. She seemed the most pleasant kind of woman, and suddenly they’re divorced. I can’t tell you why. She seemed the perfect wife for Chico. Well, Chico was a hard guy to harness. She turned the other cheek, and after a while Betty ran out of cheeks, so a divorce was inevitable. I still see Zeppo’s wife, Marian. She is a very good-hearted dame, and she turned a good phrase, too. An extremely attractive woman, with a lot of style. She was crazy about Zeppo, and he was crazy about her, too. But I wasn’t there and I’m not a house detective. I can’t tell you what caused breakups, but I’m positive they still like each other—very much, as a matter of fact.
Zeppo was a gambler, and a very smart guy in business. Highly underrated, a success in most everything he did except the Marx Brothers. There, he was a part of their success. He broke away from that. Then he was an extremely successful agent. He sold that agency for a lot of dough. Then he got into some ammunitions thing, and again he did well. He did something with citrus groves, and I understand he’s an expert on that. He had a most unusual home in Beverly Hills which I understand he built mostly with his own hands. A very stylish house right in the heart of Beverly Hills. He’s a man of many varied abilities, but people just don’t seem to realize it. He was kind of a curious guy, but he’s a very likable guy. I really do respect his talents, and I know that he probably was the unhappiest with the Marx Brothers because he was the low man on the totem pole. I don’t think he was happy to be in the romantic parts of the Marx Brothers pictures. He must have felt sappy.
I
What was it like writing a Marx Brothers picture?
NAT PERRIN
Arthur Sheekman and I would meet early in the morning, and it might be afternoon before we really got started. Sometimes we would talk, read the papers, play chess, anything to keep avoiding it. He was a very decent, honest man, but there was one thing I found difficult. It was in the step when we had to go and see the producer. I found that most producers are nervous and shaky enough about most material without his making them more uncertain by telling them he knows it’s only a first draft. If you don’t have absolute confidence in what you bring in, you immediately have two and a half strikes against you. But he was never the kind of person to use “I” instead of “we” about anything where we were collaborators. We sank or swam with the material submitted.
I remember Sheekman used to criticize Groucho for not letting contestants finish their sentences on You Bet Your Life, and Groucho never minded being criticized. Of course, he still didn’t let the contestants finish their sentences, but he didn’t mind being criticized. I think it wasn’t that he didn’t hear the criticism, nor that he didn’t pay attention, but that his style was so ingrained that it was a part of him, and he was a part of it. He was Groucho, and he couldn’t change, and he shouldn’t have.
I
I saw you at Groucho’s eighty-fifth birthday party, but we didn’t have an opportunity to speak. There were so many people…
NAT PERRIN
It was awfully crowded, a lot of people I didn’t know, and there were a lot of young people like you. It wasn’t exactly a place for group discussion. It was more of a situation where somebody could rub up against somebody if the somebody was attractive. You know, some guy’s standing there with some broad trying to get her to his pad, and somebody else in a corner is talking about TV today and ratings. The food and drink was plentiful and very palatable, and an enormous number of people turned out to pay their respects to him. It was sort of an open house.
I
But a closed open house.
NAT PERRIN
Yeah. A closed open house.
I
Groucho loved singing at his party. Did he always enjoy that so much?
NAT PERRIN
He used to like quartet singing a lot. He’d always grab a guitar and sing. He’d love to be around a good pianist with a group of five or six or seven fellows who could sing harmony. He seemed in my estimation to get greater pleasure from that than from doing one of his songs solo, like “Captain Spaulding.” He’d always do his share of the performing or talking, but in conversation he was always just as interested, or more interested, in hearing what the other person had to say.
I
You did the original script of The Big Store. Do you remember what that was like?
NAT PERRIN
Nothing like the film that was done. I had a legitimate mystery story. Good, bad, or indifferent, it was more of a story than any of the Marx Brothers films had except those with Thalberg at Metro. My plot went by the boards, sacrificed for comedy routines, but I always felt the comedy routines were funnier with a real plot to hang them on.
I
You saw Groucho just a few days ago at Julius Epstein’s house for dinner.
NAT PERRIN
That’s right.
I
Besides obviously being forty-five years older, do you think Groucho has changed basically since you’ve known him?
NAT PERRIN
No. Maybe he spends more now, as a concession to old age. What’s your slant on writing about Groucho?
I
I’m emphasizing the later years during the time I’ve known him.
NAT PERRIN
That’s interesting. I think that’s the most interesting slant. The way people feel about him now is extraordinary. You go to a party and there are the rock groups, the country singers, Elton John, Alice Cooper, and all the new cats. You would think that the guest of honor would be twenty-seven or twenty-eight, but a man of eighty-five steps out, and it’s all for him. All of them are important in their own ways, and yet they have this enormous respect for Groucho as an equal or more, not as just an old-timer. Age seems to be washed away.
In many ways, he’s kind of an ageless man. He might be the oldest guy around but he doesn’t think of himself that way. He could look at another eighty-five-year-old, and it would be another world he’d be looking at. He doesn’t relate to a world of old age except that he’s not physically able to spring up and do things the way he used to. I don’t think he relates an iota to the aging process. He thinks like he’s young, he doesn’t hold back, then he just runs out of gas. But while he’s got gas, he uses it, that’s all.
JULIUS EPSTEIN
Writer Julius Epstein, who won an Academy Award for the Casablanca screenplay, was a friend of Groucho’s dating back to the middle thirties when he first came to Hollywood. I talked with him at a party given by Sidney Sheldon. Just a few weeks earlier, Groucho had attended a dinner party at Epstein’s house.
In order to talk, we went upstairs to one of the bedrooms in Sidney Sheldon’s house, closing the door behind us. During the interview, Sidney Sheldon’s daughter, Mary, and a group of her college friends opened the door and were startled to find us there. J
okingly, Julius Epstein called after them as they rushed away, “You know, it’s impossible to have an affair in this town.”
JULIUS EPSTEIN
What do you want to talk about, his later years?
I
No, not just the later years. Tell me about when you met Groucho.
JULIUS EPSTEIN
It must be forty years ago. Groucho’s friends of forty years ago are still his friends today, and I’m talking about the friends he always had who weren’t necessarily top echelon celebrities. He always had a great respect, a great love for writers, and you still see those who are alive at Groucho’s today. I have two Groucho stories which reflect his attitude toward writers.
In the first one, we were at somebody’s house. The man is here today—I won’t mention his name. I was just married at the time, so I guess it was twenty-five, twenty-six years ago. It was summertime, and it was an outdoor barbecue. The host was a very skillful barbecuer. I can’t do anything like that. I can’t even drive a nail. It seemed that Groucho and I have two things in common: first of all, both of us are named Julius. That was a common bond. The other bond was that neither one of us could drive a nail or do anything a man is supposed to do around the house. The host was very skillful with the barbecue, so my wife, who kind of resents my being such a schlemiel around the house, said, “Watch him! See how he barbecues.” Groucho flew into a fury and said, “Why should he watch him barbecue? Barbecuing is for people who have no talent.” He was resenting what he considered an attack on a friend, me, when for me it wasn’t anything.
The other story happened quite a few years after. It was again at a party, and I was talking with a very good friend of mine, a woman who was a story editor at a studio. We were all sitting around talking about my low cholesterol diet. My doctor was one of the pioneers of the low cholesterol diet, and I was one of the first guinea pigs. The woman said to me, “Do you follow the diet strictly?” and I made a very bad joke. I said, “I follow it strictly six days a week and religiously on Saturdays.” She said, “That’s a very bad joke,” and I said, “Yeah…” but Groucho flew into an absolute fury.
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