Hello, I Must be Going

by Charlotte Chandler

  GROUCHO

  You don’t remember what you said to me when we were watching Bill Cosby? When his act was over you said, “I wish he was a Jew.”

  GEORGE BURNS

  That’s right. A lot of talent.

  GROUCHO

  Great nightclub entertainer.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Look, if the whole world were Jews, we’d have no problems. (Laughs) Right now, I wish he’d marry my sister. (Pause) You’ve got tea? Any kind of tea, just so it’s hot. I find if your food is hot, nobody knows it’s bad. You can have a marvelous dinner at your house, and have marvelous food, but if it comes in cold, it’s a spoiled dinner. Nobody knows the difference. But you can always put a little catsup on it. Anything with catsup on it isn’t bad. I can’t have any catsup anymore.

  I

  There is salt-free catsup, too.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Yeah. Well, I tried that. It’s like this broken-down salt that he’s got here. (To Groucho) Why you put salt in there I’ll never know, because that soup doesn’t need it.

  GROUCHO

  I put salt on apple pies.

  GEORGE BURNS

  You do? I put catsup in vanilla ice cream. I even put catsup on Trixie Hart.

  I

  Who’s Trixie Hart?

  GEORGE BURNS

  She’s dead now. Funny thing about Trixie, but you never know how old you are. When I was young, when I was in my early twenties, I went around with this Trixie Hart, and my idea of sex, that was it. Whenever I thought of Trixie Hart, for the next fifty years, I had to wear a double-breasted suit. If not, you could tell I was thinking about her. So, I’m coming out of the Brown Derby, a couple of years ago, and this little old woman met me—little gray-headed old woman. Little hat, little bow under her chin. “You don’t remember me, do you?” And I said, “No.” She said, “I’m Trixie Hart,” and I knew how old I was. I looked at her, and says, “Well, kid, if I were you, I’d change my first name. It’s time to go to St. Mary.” (Laughs)

  GROUCHO

  Tell her about the fellow that used to write for you.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Oh, John P. Medbury. Well, a great Medbury story—I’ll clean this up a little tiny bit—Medbury had offices at the Hollywood Plaza Hotel, and working for him was this young writer, Harvey Helm. He worked for him in the other room. In later years they both worked for me. Anyway, his wife came into the office, and she opened a drawer, and there was a pair of lace pink panties in his drawer. She picked the panties up gingerly, and she said to Medbury, she says, “What is this doing here?” And Medbury, without blinking an eyelid, hollered, “Harvey!” Harvey came in, and he says, “You’re fired!”

  GROUCHO

  Well, there’s more to it than that. The party.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Oh, the party’s different. The party’s the party he gave for Gracie and myself, and Olsen and Johnson. That’s the party you’re talking about, aren’t you? There was a tent and there was a guy…

  GROUCHO

  There was something about a toilet.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Yeah. A guy sitting on the can in the tent, and one guy taking a bath. And you had to go through the tent to go to the party. Oh, the first place you came to, there were four donkeys tied up outside. See, you parked your car, and you don’t know what’s going on. Then you go through the tent, and there’s a man sitting on the toilet. One man taking a bath and the guy sitting on the toilet was reading a paper. You came through, and you’re all dressed up, and he says “The party’s that way.”

  You went to the party, and on the way in, there were about eight or ten guys sitting in trees. He had quite an approach to his house—they were sitting in trees fishing. Don’t ask me what any of this meant, ’cause I don’t know. I don’t understand. And when we passed his garage, he had that made like a hookshop. He had the beads outside, you know, like they have in the whorehouse. And the bed inside, and the dame outside trying to hustle you in. Then when you came to the door, there was Medbury with this woman, dressed up great. He said, “I want you to meet my wife, Mrs. Gladys Medbury.” And as you went in, she goosed you. He got her from the actors, the extras, or something.

  When you got in the house, there was a Santa Claus. It was in July. A big tree, and a Santa Claus who was very mad if you got near the tree, and hit you with a stick. And every half hour, a bellboy went around to the guests—there were about 250 people—this kid kept saying, “It’s now eight o’clock! It’s now eight o’clock!” Then at eight-thirty he said, “It’s now eight o’clock!” At nine…it was always eight o’clock. I have no idea why. Then a Russian came in. Sort of a Russian diplomat, with the breeches and with the sash, and a big gold medal, and got up and made a speech—absolute and honest—for about twenty minutes in Russian.

  But the greatest gag was when someone came in. As soon as somebody came in the door, they’d say to you, “Have you got a match?” So, you’d put your hand in your pocket, and you’ve got a box of matches, and you give him a light. The first thing you know, he took your matches. Now, at the party, there’s 250 people without matches. They took everybody’s matches! But there were matches in little glass things, and you’d get those matches and they would light, but they’d go out right away. So, wherever you looked around the room, everybody was trying to light a match, but they couldn’t. He did all kinds of things. A real wild party. And Olsen and Johnson came to the party in a hearse.

  GROUCHO

  Tell her about Venus.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Naw! I can’t. It’s too dirty. I’ll tell another English story instead. They have a funny sense of humor, you know. For instance, when Gracie and I went there, there was an act called the Ward Brothers, a dancing act. The Ward Brothers were Englishmen, and they wore a yellow vest, you know, it came down with two points over your trousers. And they wore striped trousers, and black, short coats, with a yellow handkerchief in the pocket. And then they wore sort of felt hats…like in the gangster era here. They looked very sharp. I was very stupid when I first went into show business. I thought all English people dressed that way. Forgot it was just stage vaudeville.

  So Gracie and I were booked in England, and I said to myself, “I’m not gonna be conspicuous. I’m gonna dress like the English dress.” I got myself a yellow vest, the striped pants, the black coat, and the hat. I looked like an idiot, but I went down to see Henry Sharick—we were booked in the Victoria Palace. There was no Palladium at that time. The Palladium came the following year. Sharick took a look at me, and he couldn’t believe his eyes. He said to me, “Look, kid, you can take that off. You don’t open until Monday.” He thought I was wearing my stage clothes.

  GROUCHO

  Tell her about Wienig’s. Remember? It was right by the Variety office. Around Forty-fifth Street, between Third and Lexington Avenue. It was a kosher restaurant. And a full meal was thirty-five cents. Unless you had poultry, and then it was forty.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Yeah, right near the Princeton. Well, these were two Jewish fellas, and they owned a restaurant called Wienig’s on Forty-fifth Street. They were characters. Like you would come in, and Swerber would never know that you were talking to him. He always remembered the last conversation, but not the one that’s happening at this moment. So if you’d come in and say to Swerber, “Hello, Mr. Swerber. Is Manny Manashur in?” He’d say, “Look on the floor. Maybe it fell down.” Or some silly line like that, you know? And everybody’s eating there—all the big stars…and all the fighters…and all the prostitutes, late at night.

  So Jolson is in there one night, having vegetables and sour cream. And Swerber passes Jolson, and he says to Jolson, “You know, Rockabye”—he used to call everybody by their billing, whatever they sang. Like, “Rockabye Your Baby” was a big hit then. He called Jolson “Rockabye.” Eddie Cantor he called “Whoopee.” You know, whatever. He never called you by your real name, by your billing. So he says, “You know, Rockabye,
I love you, because I love the way you sing, and I love music.” And Jolson looked at him and says, “You really like music?” Swerber says, “I come from Chicago.” Now what the hell that means, I don’t know. He says, “I come from Chicago, and I go to all the operas. Take Carmen. I have seen Carmen twenty times. I know it by heart.” Jolson says, “How does it go?” He says, “Good.”

  And then, the phone would be on the wall. And to answer the phone, you’d have to turn your back on the restaurant, see? So as soon as the phone would ring, either Swerber or Wienig would pick up the phone. And when they’d pick up the phone, they wouldn’t face the wall, they’d face the customers. ’Cause everybody picked up a piece of sugar. And Swerber—let’s say he answered the phone—he’d say, “Hello!” and he’d duck, and everybody threw sugar. And these two Jews got sick of being hit with sugar, so they put in granulated sugar. So nobody came in to eat, until he put back the lump sugar. Spoiled their show. Crazy restaurant.

  GROUCHO

  The tips were something.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Well, the five-cent tip was the normal tip. But a ten-cent tip was a real big tip. Because the meal was thirty-five cents—seven-course dinner. Finally got to be forty cents. Finally got to eighty-five cents. That was the tops. But this time was thirty-five cents. So you’d tip a waiter five cents. So the waiters all watched the tippers. Let’s say Groucho would come in. He’d tip ten cents when he’d leave. That was considered a big tip when your meal’s thirty-five cents. He’d give ten cents. So the other waiter would come over from the other table, and he’d drop five cents and steal the ten cents. They’d steal from one another. He’d pick up your ten cents and drop a nickel. And then your waiter would say, “That Groucho’s a cheapskate.” They were really characters. I’m trying to think of some of the things they used to do. Oh, Damon Runyon was in there once. And next door was Abe and Jack’s, a cigar store. So they raised the price of herring from five cents to six cents…

  GROUCHO

  Herring, six cents?

  GEORGE BURNS

  Sure, herring. A whole herring. Well, a meal was thirty-five cents. Anyhow, they got into a big fight with Abe of the cigar store. He says that Wienig and Swerber are both crooks to charge six cents for a piece of herring that they only paid five cents for yesterday. Got into this big fight. And Runyon, sitting there, was a great newspaperman, he went out, he bought a piece of herring, and he put a little note on it and attached it to a string. And he says, “Wienig and Swerber are crooks.” Then he threw it into the restaurant. Swerber picked up the herring and went next door to the cigar store, and threw it in the cigar store. Well, all night long they were throwing herring at one another. It was a wild restaurant.

  I

  Groucho told me you were a good friend of Harpo’s.

  GEORGE BURNS

  I knew him very, very well. Harpo I knew the best of all the Marx Brothers.

  GROUCHO

  Great man.

  GEORGE BURNS

  I thought so. Really great. One thing he said to me that was so, so nice…He adopted four children, you know. So I said to him, I said, “When are you gonna quit? How many children are you gonna adopt?” He says, “I’d like to adopt as many children as I have windows. So when I leave, I want a kid in every window, waving goodbye.” Nice, huh?

  GROUCHO

  Wonderful man.

  GEORGE BURNS

  I thought so. And he did something. He told it in his book, but he didn’t tell it right. Going into the Pantages Theatre, there’s Gracie and Susan, and Harpo and myself. And he loved black jellybeans. He couldn’t get any black jellybeans, and all of a sudden there’s a little candy store next to the theatre. It’s during the war. All of a sudden he sees this candy store, and in the window there’s black jellybeans. He went in and he says, “How many black jellybeans have you got?” The guy says, “Well, I got an order today. I paid thirty dollars for the black jellybeans.” Harpo says, “I’ll give you thirty-five dollars for all the black jellybeans.” Have you any idea how many jellybeans you can buy for thirty-five dollars?

  Well, Gracie carried a bag of jellybeans, and Susan carried a bag, ’cause we’re going into the theatre, and the little candy store would be closed when we left. And we couldn’t walk down to where the car was or we’d have missed the beginning of the picture. So the four of us are carrying about twenty-five pounds of black jellybeans into the theatre. But…before we went out, he also bought some colored jellybeans—ten cents’ worth of white, red, and pink jellybeans. That is, if we wanted a jellybean, he’d give us the colored ones because he didn’t want anyone to touch the black ones!

  GROUCHO

  I don’t blame him.

  GEORGE BURNS

  How ’bout that? (Laughing) He didn’t tell the truth in his book. He told the story, but he forgot the finish.

  GROUCHO

  He forgot black jellybeans, too. He never ate them after that.

  GEORGE BURNS

  The funniest story that I know about show business, and I think the greatest, and it’s a true story, they say, was when Wilton Lackaye played Cincinnati—I think I told you this story—but it’s a great story. On the bill was a dancing act—Brown and Williams. And when they went into a bar at twelve o’clock to get a drink, there’s Wilton Lackaye, and of course they were thrilled that they were on the bill with Wilton Lackaye. They never played a big-time theatre, and this was a big-time theatre, and Wilton Lackaye was the star.

  They went over to him—he was standing at the bar—and they said, “Mr. Lackaye, we’re the Brown and Williams dancing act that’s working with you, and it’s a thrill to be on the bill with such a big star.” Lackaye says, “Thank you, boys.” And Brown says, “We would deem it an honor if you would let us buy you a drink.” And he said, “Boys, I’d just as soon drink alone ’cause I just got a telegram saying I lost my mother.” And Brown turned around and said, “We know just the way you feel. Our trunk is missing.” That’s the greatest show business story that I know, because your trunk was your life savings. Your trunk came before your mother. Great story.

  GROUCHO

  You didn’t know my mother!

  GEORGE BURNS

  No, I didn’t. I didn’t know the Marx Brothers then. You see, don’t forget that I did nothing but play small-time theatres until I was twenty-seven years old. And they were a big-time act by that time. You know, they were Broadway stars.

  I

  Then, you were all under contract to Paramount?

  GEORGE BURNS

  Well, that came later. That’s after I met Gracie. See, when I met Gracie, I got to be something. ’Cause she’s the one that took me, you know? So, then I met them later in life and Groucho and I got to be pretty close friends. Susan was…I think that was about the greatest marriage that I know of, Susan Marx and Harpo. Anything Harpo wanted, she would do. Like she had these four children, and she’d have dinner on the stove. Let’s say, seven o’clock at night, dinner is ready. And Harpo would come in and he’d say, “Susan, let’s eat out.” She’d say, “Okay.” Bop! Turn out all the lights, and out they’d go. Isn’t that marvelous? Great woman.

  GROUCHO

  Great man.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Yeah. And one day, one of his little boys, Alex, was playing hooky from school. Harpo got up in the morning, and there’s Alex. It’s nine o’clock in the morning. He says, “Alex, what are you doing here?” “Shhh! Not a word to anybody!” He says, “I’m playing hooky from school.” And Harpo says, “You get your books right now, and go back to school!” So the kid got his books, and looked at his father, and says, “Harpo, I’ll never tell you anything again!” I love the way they all called him “Harpo.”

  I

  You knew Chico, too?

  GEORGE BURNS

  Yeah. I’m gonna taste that little salt-free cheese. I just want a little snip. Not bad! See, what I do sometimes, if I sit down and have a martini. I can’t have any hors d’oeuvres—all
the hors d’oeuvres are salted. So I have a little bit of cheese on a bagel.

  GROUCHO

  You can come again for lunch, because Erin wants to see you.

  GEORGE BURNS

  All right, I’ll do it.

  GROUCHO

  She’s doing a picture now. She’s a great dame.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Well, you’re lucky to have her.

  GROUCHO

  She’s lucky to have me, too.

  GEORGE BURNS

  Of course! You’re at the point now where you just want somebody to keep you warm. So am I, Groucho. That’s why I can say that to you. The other thing is out the window.

  GROUCHO

  Would you like a box of good cigars.

  GEORGE BURNS

  No. Because I don’t smoke good cigars. They’re too strong for me. And I only smoke cigars that fit my holder. I smoke these domestic cigars. I love ’em, because they fit my holder. I think that when you smoke a Havana cigar, you should get paid for smoking it. They’re very strong. Like Milton Berle’s cigars. You know, two dollars. If I spent two dollars for a cigar, first I’d go to bed with it. It’s ridiculous, two dollars for a cigar.

  GROUCHO

  When I was a young man there was a cigar called La Preferencia, and it said “30 minutes in Havana.” It was a ten-cent cigar, so I bought one and went to my room, got in bed, and lit it. I set the clock. After twenty-five minutes the cigar was out. So I went back to the cigar store, and I said, “You advertise thirty minutes in Havana, and it only lasted twenty-five minutes. I want another cigar.” So they gave me another cigar. The same thing happened. So I went back again, and they gave me another cigar. The third time I went in, they threw me out of the cigar store. It wasn’t Havana; it was tobacco that was made in Connecticut. And when I was a boy, I used to smoke rolled-up newspaper.

  GEORGE BURNS