Shirley, I Jest!: A Storied Life

by Cindy Williams

  At this point I had never seen the character of Tony Clifton, I’d only heard of him from Bob and Andy. Andy informs me that he’s staying in character the entire weekend, so he’ll be ready for the Sunday night show. I don’t think too much about this until Bob drops him off. When I opened the door, the first thing I noticed was Bob sitting in his car, in the driveway waiting to see my reaction. I looked at Andy. He stood there gazing down at me looking like a member of the Rat Pack gone mad! The suit he was wearing was horrendous! He was carrying a briefcase and a cheap-looking garment bag. He had a malevolent look about him. I must have reacted to this in the way they intended, because Bob waved at me and laughed as he drove off!

  Andy pushed me aside and said he needed a drink.

  I said, “You don’t drink and besides I don’t have any liquor here.”

  He says, “Yeah, well next time, take care of that!”

  He’s speaking in a manner I had never heard before. He rattles off a list of things that will be required for his stay. He hands me the garment bag and demands that I press his other suit and hang it up so it will be ready for Sunday night. He’s going so fast I can’t catch up to him.

  I tell him, “Cut it out, Andy! I thought we were going to dinner and to see a movie?”

  He asks me who Andy is and tells me, “I’m spending the weekend with you, baby, not this Andy!”

  He informs me he doesn’t want dinner and a movie, he wants to go somewhere where there are “women and booze!”

  “Come on, Andy,” I tell him. “I don’t find any of this funny!”

  He peers in my bedroom and asks me, “Where are you going to sleep?”

  I warn him. ”Andy, stop!”

  He says, “Again, with this Andy, is that some jerk you’re seeing on the side?”

  “Stop it, Andy!”

  “There’s that name again.” He continues marching around my apartment checking everything out. At one point he sees my cat, Chang, and insists he wants “that thing” kept in the bathroom, “so he can’t look me in the eye!”

  I tell him for the last time, “Cut. It. Out!” He chuckles at me. Now I’ve had it! I grab his hair at the temple and when I know I have a firm grip, I start pulling.

  “I don’t like doing this and I need you to stop immediately, whoever you are!”

  He pinches my cheek. I pull his hair harder. My cat makes a mad dash for the bedroom to hide.

  Andy won’t break character and now he’s laughing at me, mocking me in an odious manner.

  “You women are all alike. You think you’re strong, but you’re not!”

  “Really?”

  I yank his hair even harder pulling his head toward the floor. I get his head to the floor. He lets out a yelp, and starts laughing and finally breaks character.

  “OK, OK, I give! Let go!”

  “Really?” I ask, maintaining my grip.

  “Really!” he says.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe me!”

  “Prove it! Be Elvis!”

  “OK! OK!” he says. I let go and without missing a beat he pops up, looks me in the eyes, and says, “Well, hello, little lady!”

  An hour later Elvis and I went to dinner and saw a movie!

  Before Andy, I never really appreciated Elvis Presley as much as other people did. When I was in junior high, a contest was held: Elvis Presley or Roy Orbison. Who was the better singer? I voted for Roy Orbison. Roy Orbison’s voice made me feel, at thirteen, like I was living in a beautiful, romantic dream. But now, Andy made me understand. Somehow when Andy transformed into Elvis, I got it! I understood the majesty of Elvis Presley.

  Andy told me one time he found himself in Las Vegas in an elevator with Elvis Presley. Elvis recognized him and said, “I understand you impersonate me!”

  Andy said, “Yes I do!”

  So Elvis asked Andy to do just that right there, impersonate him. I forget which song Andy told me he sang to Elvis as Elvis, but when he was done, Elvis told Andy, “Yeah! That’s good! You’re really good!”

  Andy took that as a sincere compliment.

  I’m not sure where this falls in the order of things, but I believe it was just around the time he started playing the character of Latka on Taxi. We were playing around, improvising. He started taunting me as Tony Clifton. I started shouting back at him, as an even-more obnoxious character. An in-your-face, brassy French woman! Anyone who has seen the first season of Laverne & Shirley, when I tried matching Penny’s Bronx accent, knows I’m miserable at it. I don’t have the ear for accents. I sounded like Maurice Chevalier hopped up on cold medication. It made us laugh. These two characters, going at it! Tony Clifton being challenged by this French woman! Of course, Andy wanted to try it out on a crowd.

  We were going to do a late set at the Improv in L.A. I would sit in the audience. He would start his Tony Clifton routine and go on about how women were inferior and how they belonged in the kitchen. At this point I would start heckling him from the audience; shouting back how he was a hideous little man and how he should be ashamed of himself.

  That brings us back to the beginning when the audience was trying to stop me from going on-stage. Even though he was on Taxi and I was on Laverne & Shirley, I realized no one recognized us. When I finally made it on-stage as we’d rehearsed, we slung insults at each other volleying back and forth, then getting slightly physical, with him gently smacking my face. The audience screamed in horror. I tried to deck him. We circled each other and then at one point, I stood on a chair we had “pre-set.” I jumped on his back and he tried to throw me off. I shouted a few more insults, he shouted back and managed to “pretend-fling” me off. I ran off-stage and in my bad French accent screamed, “Yoo muzzure fukkah!!” Andy continued his routine as Tony, while I stood off-stage. I felt someone breathing on my neck. I turned around and it was Budd Friedman, the Improv’s owner, who usually loves Andy and me. He glared at me and waited until Andy got off-stage.

  “What was that, what do you two think you were doing out there?” Budd asked.

  Andy tried to explain that it was a bit he was trying out as Tony Clifton, a new character he was developing. Budd informed us both that it was awful and we can’t be doing that kind of material in the club. He asked us to leave.

  We found ourselves out on the sidewalk on Melrose Avenue in front of the Improv right where we began on the night we first met. The circle was complete.

  Except this time I was speechless in my humiliation. Andy was laughing, he thought it was great. I told him he was crazy and he should never try that character again. I gave him a ride home, and because of our hectic TV schedules we wouldn’t see each other for a while. But when we did, we would make up in spades for fumbling the comedy football that night at the Improv.

  In 1979, Andy called me and asked if I’d be on his TV special, titled Andy’s Funhouse.

  “Well, yes!” I said.

  I had finally recovered from our debacle at the Improv in L.A. Andy was working a few soundstages away from me on the Paramount lot on Taxi while I did Laverne & Shirley. He hadn’t written the entire special yet, but he and Bob Zmuda had ideas. The special would be a talk show with Andy as the host sitting slightly elevated above his guests. Along with Howdy Doody, he wanted me to be one of his guests. We started throwing around ideas about what to talk about. I don’t know whose idea it was, but Edward Albee’s The Zoo story came up. Andy thought if he started off by asking me what I was up to I’d answer, “Well, I went to the zoo today.”

  Then he would continue on prompting me into going through the entire monologue of the play which would end with me killing him. As he was dying, he’d cut to commercial. We, of course, thought it was hysterical. Bob and Andy ran it by the network and they flipped out. So instead they wrote an introduction for me that was something like, “She was in American Graffiti, Travels
with My Aunt, and The Conversation. She is also a member of the prestigious Actors Studio. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Cindy Laverne & Shirley Williams!”

  Then they had me come out to a podium with low lighting and read a poem about death. But the thing I had the most fun with was Andy insisting I was booked to sing “Mack the Knife” with the Rag Tag Band he had on the show. I told him I know nothing about this. I don’t even know the lyrics! Andy talked over me, leading the audience in applauding me on and I was forced to sing. (Of course this was all rehearsed.) Purposefully I never rehearsed or learned the words. I had the most fun trying to sing the song, stopping when I didn’t remember a line, and the band stopping with me. Andy would shout it out and the band would start up again. If I can remember, it did have a great flourish at the end or maybe I’m imagining that. Andy’s TV special was a big hit with both the audience and the critics. I was proud of my friend!

  The next time I saw Andy was one night during the filming of our show. Penny and I were dressed as cave women. We were standing on the stage off to the side watching a scene being shot. Andy came up between us and whispered these words: “Penny, Cindy, would you girls mud wrestle me at the Shrine on Friday night?”

  Penny and I looked at each other, considered it, but had to tell him no, we’d be too tired from rehearsals. Andy said he’d make it easy on us. We still had to turn him down. Discussing it later, I told Penny that maybe we should have made the effort. I could see the funny picture in my head. It was pure Andy Kaufman!

  The very last time I saw Andy he had arrived late to my house for a party. Most of the guests had left and we were in the process of cleaning up. He sat down on the couch with Carol. Harriet, the bartender, took me aside and, gesturing toward Andy, asked, “Is that Andy Kaufman over there?”

  “Yes, it is!” I said.

  “Do you think he’d wrestle me?” she asked.

  “I’m pretty certain he would!”

  “Will you ask him?”

  I went over to him and said, “Andy, will you wrestle Harriet?”

  Andy looked up. Harriet gave him a little wave and with that we all helped to clear the furniture from the center of my living room. Harriet removed her bartender’s vest and belt. Andy took off his jacket and handed it to Carol. They circled each other and then it was a melee of arms grabbing waists, quasi-chokeholds, and a little tripping.

  “Cindy, get your camera!” Carol shouted. “Take a picture!”

  I did and it was a good one. I’m sad to say I can’t find the picture to put in this book. Harriet had Andy in some sort of hold. He was going pale.

  I thought, she’s good!

  Maybe Andy had finally underestimated his opponent.

  Nine

  The Adventures of Laverne and Shirley

  Like many of the TV stars in those days, Penny and I were asked to record our own album, and we did “Laverne and Shirley Sing,” which consisted of hits from the 1950s and ’60s like Chapel of Love, Da Do Ron Ron, and Sixteen Reasons. One of our stops for the promotion of our album was Philadelphia to appear on The Mike Douglas Show. Then we were headed into New York where we would be staying for the next two weeks for more promotion and to be in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

  Instead of taking the train, a stretch limo was sent for us. The driver was a nice young man named Phil and this just happened to be his first day on the job. When he saw who he was driving he got very excited and told us what big fans he and his family were. Penny and I got into the car and settled in for the long drive from Philly to Manhattan.

  We hadn’t been in a limousine as large as this, ever! It had a bar, television, and couch. It also had a moon roof that let light in, but we couldn’t find the switch to open it. I tried pushing on it with my hands, but it didn’t budge. Penny tried pushing on it with her feet. It still wouldn’t move. We asked Phil how it opened. He didn’t know either. Not only was it Phil’s first day, but Phil also didn’t know Manhattan! He had a map, but by now it was dark. We had somehow managed to get ourselves into Central Park so he couldn’t pull over and stop. We knew we needed to be on the other side of the park to get to the Sherry-Netherland Hotel where we were staying. Penny knew the city better than I did, and at some point told Phil to take a right. That took us onto a one-way street. The only problem was we were going in the wrong direction. We had just turned around when flashing lights came up behind us. It was the police. Phil pulled over obeying the voice on the loud speaker. Poor Phil! He was trembling.

  “Oh boy,” he said. “My first day and I’m going to get a ticket and tomorrow I’ll be fired!”

  Penny and I looked at each other. We flung the car door open, sank to our knees, clasped our hands together, and begged: “Please don’t give Phil a ticket! It’s his first day! It was our mistake!”

  A huge spotlight from the police car hit us and from behind it an incredulous voice shouted, “Oh my God! It’s Laverne and Shirley!”

  Well, Phil didn’t get a ticket and the nice policemen ushered our limo to the hotel! We thanked the officers, promised autographed pictures, and made sure Phil could find his way home. We offered him a room for the night, but he said he needed to get back to Philadelphia for his second day on the job. He thanked us many times over and we waved to him as he left, both of us hoping he would find his way.

  The Sherry-Netherland Hotel on 5th Avenue and East 59th Street is an enchanting place. It has a small lobby with a beautiful, ornate marble floor, gorgeous chandeliers, and gracious staff. When you step into the lobby you get a sense of the wonderful people and things that have gone on there. They gave us beautiful accommodations. We each had a two-bedroom suite, and each one had a sound system with large speakers that sat on either side of the fireplace mantel. It was odd to me, but I guess since we were in town for our record promotion, Atlantic Records thought we might want to, I don’t know, play our album for guests? My suite was on the twenty-second floor. (There’s that number again!) I avoided looking out toward the park and the carriage horses standing in the cold. It has always made me sad. They seem so tired. Do they ever get to play?

  The first day of promotion in New York we were taken out to Sam Goody Records in Paramus, New Jersey, to promote our album. We had been working so much that we honestly didn’t realize just how popular the show was. We were literally mobbed. We were pushed to the back of the store by the crowd they let in the door. Penny and I had to stand up on a table and ask everyone to settle down so we could have our meet-and-greet. It was bedlam. We had to have security guards holding back the wave of Laverne & Shirley humanity! The frenzy had just begun. The next day we were in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

  During the parade our float stopped to let us off to lip-sync Da Do Ron Ron, which we chose because we thought it would be a crowd pleaser. We had just started the song when we saw the crowd break through the barriers and run toward us. Penny and I, still not used to our newfound popularity, looked behind us to see who it was they were rushing to see. Realizing it was us, we hastily hopped back up on the float to finish our song.

  After the parade I went back to the hotel. Fans stood outside asking for autographs. It was all very flattering! Penny had gone off with some friends so I ordered Thanksgiving dinner for myself. Dinner had just been brought up when there was a knock at the door. I answered it to find John Belushi standing there. If I could describe this man to you I would tell you that I found him magical, and crazy as a hatter. I adored him, but what was he doing here? I asked him to come in. The waiter was still setting up my Thanksgiving table. John was eyeing it. The waiter was eyeing him. I asked him if he had had dinner yet. He said no. I asked him if he’d like me to order one for him. He said yes. I asked the waiter to please bring up another Thanksgiving dinner. And while we were waiting John started looking out the window.

  The day before, I had been in Penny’s suite when John showed up there. The three o
f us were having a good time chatting. Then we started discussing the sadness people feel around the holidays. Penny’s sound system and speakers were on the mantel. I had brought my Electric Light Orchestra cassette tape with me and wanted to play them a cut from it explaining how uplifting it was to me. I put it on and we all started listening. It was pretty spectacular music. John walked over to the speakers putting one up to each ear as if they were headphones and nodding his head in time with the music.

  He said, “Oh yeah. Yeah I’m gettin’ it now. This is doin’ it! This could change somebody’s mood. It’s changing mine right now.”

  And with that, he ran for the window. Penny and I leapt up in unison and ran after him each grabbing an arm just as he got to the window, which was wide open. We pulled him back. He was laughing. Now, we knew he wasn’t going to fling himself off the twenty-third floor of the Sherry-Netherland. We knew it was all in good fun. And we also knew he ran full speed knowing darn well we’d catch up with him. I have to admit it was funny. Scary, but funny.

  Finally, the waiter showed up with John’s dinner and we sat down to eat. He put his napkin up to his face and pretended to sneeze endive out of his nose. It really made me laugh. When we were sitting there eating dinner, he looked at me and said something like, “I have to tell you something. I think my apartment is burning down.”

  “What? Your apartment is burning down?”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure, but I think so.”

  “You think so?”

  “Maybe I should go check on it.”

  “Maybe you should!”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  And with that, he took a dinner roll off the table, put it in his pocket, and left. I tried to call after him, “Wait! John, maybe we should call somebody!”