Should He, Goody?

We don’t discuss local, national and world affairs on this blog. You don’t come here to read a rant about that sort of thing. You come to look at frames from old cartoons and maybe find out some things about them, or read about radio and TV actors of a different time. That’s what we do here. You can read about the state of affairs in your town or country in countless other places. We do something else.

Jack Benny had the same attitude. And that didn’t sit well with one of his long-time friends.

Goodman Ace (right) was a top comedy writer in print, on radio and TV. For a while, he and his wife had a radio show of their own and did comedy shorts. I recall their show being full of misspoken words a la Gracie Allen; I don’t recall it being full of social activism. But that didn’t stop Goody from being angry that Jack didn’t include social activism in his comedy; presumably espousing a viewpoint that coincided with Goody’s.

Jack’s attitude seems to have been he spent years and years building a character, his audience loved it and that’s what they wanted to see. If they wanted social activist comedy, they could see someone else make pungent observations on L.B.J. and the American scene.

Evidently this enraged Goody so much, he made it the subject of it in his column in the Saturday Review of October 5, 1968. I’ll avoid further comment other than to say you will not read my opinion here about Lyndon Baines Johnson (if I have one).

Shoulda Said
TAXI CAB HINDSIGHT reflections consist of the clever, diabolical points you suddenly think of as you drive away, still steaming, from a luncheon where you found yourself the minority dissident in a two-party argument on the state of the world and other trivia.
"What did you say, Mac?" the driver asks, staring at me, appropriately enough, through his rear-vision mirror.
"I didn't say anything. It's what I should have said," I reply angrily.
Actually it's myself I'm angry with. After years of watching politicians and civilians being interviewed on TV, I have developed this divine gift of being able to think of tricky questions no newsman ever asked that would leave the hapless interviewee sitting there, a quivering bloody pulp. In living color.
I was overwhelmed with this esprit de Vescalier the other evening while watching Jack Benny being questioned on the NET network. The interviewer asked Mr. Benny if he ever did any political humor on his TV shows.
Mr. Benny had an easy copout. He could have said he didn't do political humor because his show is taped weeks in advance and the material would be dated. But he didn't.
"No," replied Mr. Benny. "I don't think it's right to do jokes about our President."
He admitted it was all right for Bob Hope because "you can see he doesn't mean it," he said.
"Who can see Bob Hope doesn't mean it?" I shouted at my TV set.
Which was more than the interviewer did. He segued, very kindly I thought, to commenting that Mr. Benny used "character" humor.
"Yes," said Mr. Benny quietly, and, I thought, breathing a sigh of relief, "our material deals with human frailties."
I was on my feet again. "Jack, are you inferring," I screamed, "that our President has no frailties? Or are you implying the other alternative?"
This esprit of avoiding even a suggestion of lèse majesté is prevalent among most TV stars who have made themselves beloved of their fans by sealing themselves in a vacuity of neutrality. Any utterance that might estrange even one out of the millions of their devoted followers strikes terror in their hearts. Every line their writers contribute is suspect and is gone over with a finetooth magnifying glass.
Example: Two years ago while on assignment to write for a televised variety hour, the writers were asked to devise a script that would feature Canada's Expo 67. For openers, the star of the show wanted to do a short humorous monologue about Canada.
We were hard put. But finally, with the aid of The World Almanac—the last book you would hunt; through for jokes—we came up with an opening line:
"Tonight we honor Canada. Did you know that in area Canada is the second largest country in the world? Russia is first, Canada is second. I guess you thought it was Avis."
Well, what can I tell you? All heck broke loose, as they say on TV. The juxtaposition of Canada and Russia was just too much. The line was immediately placed under tire microscope and examined for Communist cells, sabotage, World War III, and even treason.
After an hour's discussion, during which the writers were asked to swear on the Bible (the Nielsen rating book), show their citizenship papers, sing the third stanza of the national anthem, and stand to pledge allegiance to the flag, the line was left in.
The victory was Pyrrhic. On the show the next night the delivery of the line was something less than masterful. The straight lines were spoken impeccably. But poor Avis was lost in a slur of mumbling.
Terror had struck again as the star envisioned countless sets tuned out.
This aberration can be further exemplified in a conversation this writer had recently with the above Mr. Benny. He was going, he told me, to Atlanta for one of his charity symphony concerts. He asked for a line in a monologue. Any writer worth his laugh-track is eager to contribute to this master of all comedians, knowing it will get the most skillful delivery. I gave him one:
"I've met the mayor of Atlanta, and I found him to be a progressive and courageous man who is not afraid to call a spade, mister."
"No," Benny said, "I can't use that."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because I'm not mad at anybody."
Later in a taxicab I realized what I should have said:
"When will you get mad, Jack? When they have one door marked WHITE, another marked BLACK, and a third door marked COMEDIANS?"