Laugh-In No. 100

Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In was running out of steam by the start of the 1971-72 season. The show had taken some old vaudeville jokes, married them to nudges about the current counter-cultural (the satire wasn’t very biting), tossed in some catchphrases, and edited them all together at a quick pace. But that was in 1968. Since then, there had been changes in the cast, and a growing animosity between the stars in the title, the executive producer and the head producer.

A “100th show” seemed to be a good way to hearken back to when the show was beating Lucy in the Monday night ratings and getting a pile of publicity.

The first story comes from the King Features Syndicate, October 28, 1971; the second from the Los Angeles Times News Service, November 1st.

Laugh-In Has True Grit and John Wayne
By CHARLES WITBECK
HOLLYWOOD (KFS) —Taking a tip from Ralph Edwards, who lives off reunions, Rowan & Martin's "Laugh-In" celebrates its 100th comedy hour Monday by bringing back the show's first guest, John Wayne; Tiny Tim, a first-season headliner, and graduates Judy Carne, Henry Gibson, Jo Anne Worley, Arte Johnson and Teresa Graves. Goldie Hawn is among the missing, as the old-timers hobnob with the current crop.
In planning the reunion hour, Dan Rowan and Dick Martin considered giving the kids a day off to make room for the alumni, but producer Paul Keyes felt it was better to intermingle. The idea of an anniversary show compiled of highlights from the past was also rejected as something to be saved for future use. "We're not ready for that," explains Dick Martin, a man who saves show tapes and occasionally reruns one for reference. "The show has changed, but we’re not aware of it. Our first special looks slow now in comparison. Things we didn't like—the outdoor stuff, for example, didn't work."
The idea of Dick Martin filing show tapes amuses because his style is from the old saloon act which never had anything down on paper. Discarding jokes in the early stages, Rowan & Martin mined the free association field, and their bumbling detective act, or the drunk bit which began as a parody on Laurence Olivier and changed to Richard Burton, varied from night to night as straight man Rowan would lead off and watch Dick Martin's mind wander. The technique worked in clubs, at benefits and on television, though no one believed the act wasn't carefully set line by line. As long as straight man Rowan had an ending or something else to move on to, he didn't worry. Guest spots on television did present a problem because of the time limits, so the two had to plan more while still allowing leeway for ad-libs.
"Remember the Ed Sullivan Show in Berlin," said Dan to Dick recently, recalling one of his panic moments on the air. "Ed had asked us to build an act around Gina Lollobrigida, and when we arrived after flying tourist, there was a note under our door saying Gina had cancelled. We're left with zilch. The next morning, I was searching for something to use when Dick here says brightly, 'Let's go look at Berlin.' Well, Dick buys German binoculars — he has to have them — and we spent the day as tourists while I worry. That night Dick borrowed a couple of cameras from a guy in Louis Armstrong's band, and he walked out with the binoculars, the cameras, and an awful hand-painted tie, smiling like an idiot. I take a deep breath and say, 'Here we are in Berlin'. . . We winged it all and were a smash."
This doesn't quite happen on the stars "Laugh-In" spots, which total around 300 now. Every week, Dick and Dan huddle with writers working out ideas, but they insist on keeping it loose and free. Last fall, the two let the writers do it all for a while, then resumed control when the softness became apparent. "Producer Paul Keyes loves to watch us work," adds Dan, "but he doesn't realize you can't plan it. Writing out line by line ruins it."
"I like to wander," says Dick with that silly smile, "but we cut it short on the show. We have to." Asked if the art of wandering, or ad-libbing, or free association can be taught, Rowan said no, but felt one could lay down some guidelines.
"You watch Arte Johnson or Larry Hovis get into a character and lock themselves in. Jonathan Winters is great at it, and Buddy Hackett has total free association. He can take off and go for hours. It's a question of belief."
"Comedy actors are good at it," adds Martin, "but not comedians who are trained on jokes."
The sight of John Wayne working from nine in the morning to eleven at night for scale, mixing it up with the "Laugh-In" alumni and the current undergraduates, makes the old saloon boys like kings of the mountain on show number 100.
"This business narrows down to one thing — clout," says Dan Rowan. "And clout means having the power to do what you want. Dean Martin and Greg Garrison gave us that clout by allowing us to do their summer series, and after that, the networks let us do our thing. After 17 years on the road, we knew what we wanted, but before that I don't really think we were ready. Our timing was also right, and now I think it's time for something else in television."

Return of Keys, Spurs Laugh-In
By CECIL SMITH
HOLLYWOOD—I dropped by a taping of “Laugh-In” last week. They were doing their Christmas show and were in a quandary.
Dan Rowan had put them there with the question: “What four people have been on every one of the first 100 shows?” Including, of course, the recent 100th anniversary show.
Dick Martin, playing Spiro T. Cratchett, tried to answer: “Well, Dan and I have been on them all. And Ruth Buzzi. And. And, and, and . . .”
He cleared his throat. “If it wasn’t,” he roared, "for the ranting of the radical rabble and,” eyeing me, “the perversions of the prevaricating press, I might remember.”
“I don’t know how you remembered that line,” said Dan.
“All I know is it wasn’t me, said Carroll O’Connor. He was playing Ebenezer Milhous Nixon to Martin’s Cratchett. “This is my first show.”
Paul Keys followed his pre-Castro cigar in. He explained the White House had called. On another show, this might be an event; on “Laugh-In,” it’s routine, such is the closeness of the association between the President and his one-time aide and permanent court jester Keys.
O’Connor put on his Archie Bunker voice and said: “I hope Mr. Nixon won’t be upset by this fun were having with him because I wouldn’t want no trouble wid the President!”
Paul shrugged. “He thinks it’s funny.” He thought about it. “I hope he’s right.”
Ruth Buzzi wandered in. She wore an orange bathrobe with a blue felt hat squashed over her ears. She was eating French-cut green beans out of a Jolly Green Giant can. She knew the answer.
“Gary Owens!” she cried, triumphantly. “He’s out back with his can of beans!” She whispered to me: “After another 100 shows, we get plates.”
Ruth did her Gladys to Arte Johnson’s Tyrone on the anniversary show. Judy Carne was drenched with water again; JoAnne Worley’s bugle laugh was heard; Henry Gibson recited a poem. Teresa Graves made it, but not Goldie Hawn; she declined. Even the first guest star was back: Tiny Tim. And one of the first “cameo” stars: John Wayne.
“The Duke,” said Keys, “called us and asked why the hell he wasn't invited to be on the show. He really broke the dam for us. After the Duke, everybody wanted to do it.
“I'll never forget the Duke's first appearance. Henry Gibson had done one of his flower poems called ‘Jackass.’ Then the Duke came on tarrying a flower, like Henry, and said ‘The Sky by John Wayne. The sky is blue, the grass is green, get off your butt and be a marine!’”
Any guests they’ve never been able to get?
“Liz and Dick,” said Dan, “but I think if they’d been here, they would have done the show. Cary Grant we never got.”
He and Keys did an historic exchange with Grant which went: “Do you know Laugh-In?” “Yes.” “Do you watch it?” “Yes.” “Do you like it?” “Yes.” “Will you do it?” “No.”
“Laugh-In” led the pack in the ratings race through its first three years, but dropped sharply last season. This fall, the ratings have been better, which Rowan and Martin credit to the return of Keys.
Paul, formerly head writer, left the show, not without bitterness, to produce specials, notably the John Wayne epic “Sing Out, Sweet Land.” He has plans for another special with the Duke, one to be filmed across the nation.
The return of Keys was a major part of the highly publicized dissension between “Laugh-In’s” stars and executive producer George Schlatter. Dick Martin says it is not only Paul’s skill at jokes that makes him valuable but his exuberance which infects the whole company—“the show is fun to do again, a million laughs.”
He was by now in cutaway and striped pants doing a bit with Ann Elder as his bride and Dan as a priest. Said Dan softly; “Before we start the ceremony, would you like to zip your fly?”
Martin began to laugh. He couldn’t stop. Every time they tried to tape the scene, he broke out laughing. Director Mark Warren came down from the booth to say the bit set a new “Laugh-In” record, 17 takes to get a 30-second scene.
Well, at least Dick proved his point.

Laugh-In carried on for one more season. George Schlatter tried reviving it but it failed. Bits of the original are on video sites for anyone that wonders what the fuss was about. It was a fun show, but time marches on.