We lost one the other day that hit home a little bit. At the age of 93, Kaye Ballard went to that great supper club in the sky. My writing partner and I got to know her a little bit and spent one glorious day with her at her Palm Springs home which she purchased from Desi Arnaz. In fact, Kaye told us that, for the first few years she was there in Rancho Mirage, the doorbell would frequently ring at 3AM. It would be some well dressed woman.
"Is Desi home?"
Well, there.
So, with Kaye's passing, I decided to dig up the blog spot that tells all about how we got to know her. And it all was a result of a small little sitcom that ran for 56 episodes over two seasons back in the 60s.
"The Mothers-In-Law" was a hallmark show of my youth. Once again, during its original primetime run, I was led to this Sunday night show by my grandmother. Back then, Sunday nights were meant for America to connect with Ed Sullivan, who had his finger on the pulse of the nation's entertainment scene. But, as he gravitated towards nothing but Motown groups and endless chats with Topo Gigio, my grandmother was ready to disconnect.
"Ed Sullivan? He's got too many n%g*ers and puppets!"
Indeed, she had never really forgiven him for bringing over the Beatles and "all that hippie style."
Her TV dial drifted over to "The Mothers-In-Law." And, as usual, I followed.
"The Mothers-In-Law" was safe and fun. As developed by "I Love Lucy" creators, the late Bob Carroll Jr. and Madelyn Pugh Davis, and executive produced by none other than Desi Arnaz, the show was essentially a throwback to the 1950s. In reality, "The Mothers-in-Law" was nothing more than an extension of what might have happened if the Ricardos and the Mertzes had children and then they married. Reviewers called it "old hat."
In the living room on 15th Avenue in Mount Vernon, we loved it. The cast, as led by Eve Arden and Kaye Ballard, was marvelous and I remembered us laughing a lot. For budgetary reasons, "The Mothers-in-Law" didn't make it past its second season. We noticed its cancellation. Not many others did. And, except for maybe a few years being rerun on WNEW Channel 5 in NY, "The Mothers-in-Law" drifted away to whatever oblivion marginally successful TV shows enter. Sadly, I never really gave it a second thought.
Until three decades later.
My writing partner and I have moved to LA. And we have become friends with Bob and Madelyn. We have even become business partners with Madelyn's stepson. And, one day, we are having lunch with these two legendary TV writers. As Bob ate French Fries off my partner's plate, the conversation surprisingly meandered off "I Love Lucy." Both Carroll and Davis started talking affectionately about Desi Arnaz. And doing "The Mothers-in-Law." I mentioned how I used to love watching it with my grandmother, although I did not share that it was due to her disdain for specific races and/or Italian puppets. We all lamented that the show was not available for viewing anymore.
And then my partner and I got to thinking. There was, at the time, a magazine devoted to articles on retro TV shows. I queried the publisher if there would be any interest in running a story on "The Mothers-In-Law." She bought in big time.
"People have been dying to see it again."
So, two would-be TV writers suddenly became magazine writers. And set about researching anything and everything about "The Mothers-in-Law."
Spending time on this with Bob and Madelyn was a slam dunk. We formally taped an interview with them in Madelyn's home office, while I salivated over a huge framed and autographed wall poster of Lucy and Ethel on the candy factory assembly line. But, it was also key for us to hook up with the surviving cast as well. Madelyn very matter-of-factly offered up what she knew.
"Well, Eve's dead."
But she also knew that Kaye Ballard had bought Desi's Palm Springs house. And she thought that veteran actor Herbert Rudley, who played Eve's husband, was living someplace in Marina del Rey.
Twenty plus years ago, there was the Internet, but IMDB was less reliable. We proceeded to do searches on Kaye, Herb, and the two actors who played the young married couple, Jerry Fogel and Deborah Walley.
When our investigative work on Rudley revealed that he had retired from acting in 1984, we went to a very obvious last resort. The Marina del Rey telephone book. Sure enough, there was a Herbert Rudley listed. After many coin flips and several days of procrastination, I picked up the phone and dialed the number.
"May I speak to Herbert Rudley, please."
"This is he."
I gulped again.
"Is this the actor Herbert Rudley?"
"Yes, it is."
Bingo.
And, amazingly, after only five minutes on the phone, he invited us down to spend an afternoon at his condo. He was close to 90, but amazingly compliant with memories. Not only about "The Mothers-in-Law," but also about his film career in the 40s and 50s. He also regaled us with the tale of how he and Ingrid Bergman made out in the back of a sedan. We were astonished at how welcome he made us feel, given we were complete strangers who had essentially "cold-called" him out of the clear blue sky. And he shared with us for copying his complete collection of "Mothers-In-Law" episodes, which were recorded on that old trusty VCR.
We found Kaye Ballard through her agent, but she was equally accommodating and invited us down to her (Desi's) house in Palm Springs for lunch. Not only was she a fabulous host, but her assistant concocted some dynamite garlic toast. I remember using her bathroom and, as I peed, found myself staring at a painting done by Red Skelton. The only thing I ever saw while I was peeing back in Mount Vernon was my mother's can of Caryl Richards Just Wonderful Hard to Hold hair spray.
We moved on to tracking down the actors who played the newlyweds. To be efficient, we divided them up between us. I did my detective work on Jerry Fogel, who played Jerry Buell. He had given up acting and Hollywood. I traced him to some real estate/financial investment company in Kansas City. As I was not budgeted or really interested for a trip to the Midwest, Jerry and I spent 90 minutes on the phone and he waxed fondly about all his acting memories.
My partner had it a bit harder to track down former "Gidget" Deborah Walley, who had apparently did some hard living in the wild and wooly Hollywood of the 60s and perhaps evaporated into a narcotic haze. Somehow and someway, he talked to somebody who knew somebody else who knew where she was living in Sedona, Arizona.
When he finally got her on the phone, the Deborah Walley who was some goofy teen starlet/air head/pot head of previous decades had morphed into a crafty businesswoman and proud mother. More importantly, she was very candid about her past and was even more interested in our future. Several months later, she moved back to Los Angeles to try and start up her acting career one more time. We got together from time to time.
And, for some reason, my partner and Deborah developed a unique on-line relationship of trading jokes, stories, etc.. Indeed, he was on the short list of her friends who received the news a few years later that she had been diagnosed with inoperable cancer of the esophagus. He was on the e-mail cc: list when she sent out a note to close associates that talked about she wanted to aggressively beat the dreaded disease. And he got the e-mail news from her assistant when she finally succumbed to her illness in 2001.
All of the research and interviews lent to a terrific story when it finally appeared in the magazine. Moreover, thanks to Herb's tapes, I got to revisit a show that I had not seen in over 30 years. A bit "old hat?" Perhaps. But, the writing and acting was spot on. Crisp, clean, and professional. And there were certain episodes that I would put alongside other sitcom classics. One show featured the in-laws and the newlyweds participating in a group therapy session. The final scene of that script featured some of the best writing that I have ever heard in any comedy show ever.
Another episode was super-clever, because it employed the no-longer-used-by-Hollywood theater of the mind. Harkening back to the days of radio when you didn't have to visually absorb something in order to get to the comedy. The kids have moved and the two in-law couples sneak into their new digs one at a time to inspect. Each of them winds up piling into an old armoire when they are caught.
Of course, at the end of the scene, the kids have sold the armoire and the delivery guys show up to take it. The armoire is tipped on its side, rolled onto a dolly, and dragged out of the room. Of course, you know the actors aren't really inside. But, for the moments you are suspending reality, there are waves of laughter that I have never heard before from the legendary "live studio audience." Brilliant comedy. And it's even more amazing since Madelyn told us that particular script had been concocted quickly over a single weekend.
This magazine article was a long time ago. Indeed, the magazine itself went out of business a year later. Our friends Bob and Madelyn are sadly gone. Now, with Kaye's passing, the last person in the cast still with us is Jerry Fogel. But the series was released in a DVD set and, on a viewing the other day, it still holds up in a very quaint fashion.
We got Christmas cards from Kaye for about five years and then they stopped. She kept working a bit, mostly doing her act at supper clubs in Palm Springs. Oddly enough, there's a new documentary about her that a producer is trying to get some traction to. Ironically, it had a showing at the Palm Springs film festival a few weeks ago and Kaye, frail and failing, did get to show up in her wheelchair and acknowledged the accolades. Perhaps her death will get it a wider release.
I remember two years ago a similar documentary on Rose Marie. It got a small release and I even attended a screening where she appeared. She died about a month later. The same has happened to Kaye. Perhaps they both knew that the documentary was perfect closure to stellar careers.
Indeed, the memories will live forever. For fans. And for those who got to know Kaye Ballard just a little bit.
How do you manage a standing ovation on a blog?
Dinner last night: Hot dog.
Sunday, January 27, 2019
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