DOUG KENNEY died on the island of Kauai on August 29, 1980. His death was officially ruled an accident. He was thirty-three. Kenney was credited as an executive producer on the 1981 Chevy Chase comedy Modern Problems, which was in development at his Twentieth Century Fox–based production company, Three Wheel Productions, when he passed away. Director Harold Ramis and writer Chris Miller—Kenney’s writing partners on National Lampoon’s Animal House—paid tribute to Kenney in their 1996 film Multiplicity, naming Michael Keaton’s lead character “Doug Kinney.”
TED KNIGHT lived just down the road from Chevy Chase in Pacific Palisades for years after the making of Caddyshack. The Emmy-winning Mary Tyler Moore Show star returned to television for the hit series Too Close for Comfort, which ran on ABC, then in first-run syndication from 1980 until 1987. Knight died from cancer in 1986. He was sixty-two.
MIKE MEDAVOY continued to be a successful Hollywood executive after leaving Orion in 1990, first as chairman at TriStar Pictures (where he made Philadelphia, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, and Sleepless in Seattle), then as chairman and CEO at Phoenix Pictures (The People vs. Larry Flint, Zodiac, and Shutter Island).
CINDY MORGAN followed up her debut as Lacey Underall by starring in the cult science-fiction movie TRON (1982). She continues to act and is working on a book about her experiences during the making of Caddyshack.
BILL MURRAY went on to star in some of the most iconic movies of the past forty years, including Ghostbusters (1984), Groundhog Day (1993), and Rushmore (1998). He received a Best Actor Oscar nomination for his dry, debauched performance in Lost in Translation (2003). He was also the voice of Garfield (2004). When he’s not acting—or turning up at random kickball games and crashing weddings—he can be found on the links, pursuing his passion on the pro-am circuit.
MICHAEL O’KEEFE has remained an in-demand actor, appearing in such films as Michael Clayton (2007) and television shows as Homeland (for which he received a Screen Actors Guild Award nomination). O’Keefe married—and divorced—singer Bonnie Raitt and became a Zen priest in the 1990s.
JON PETERS went on to produce such hit movies as Flashdance (1983), Rain Man (1988), and Batman (1989). For a brief period, he also ran Sony Pictures alongside Peter Guber. Their profligate partnership was chronicled in the 1996 book, Hit and Run: How Jon Peters and Peter Guber Took Sony for a Ride in Hollywood. After parting ways with the studio, Peters produced several successful films including Ali (2001) and Superman Returns (2006).
HAROLD RAMIS acted in front of the camera for such generation-defining comedies as Stripes (1981), Ghostbusters (1984), and Knocked Up (2007), and called the shots behind it as the director of National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983), Groundhog Day (1993), and Analyze This (1999). His “$6 million scholarship to film school” on Caddyshack paid off. Ramis died in 2014 from complications of autoimmune inflammatory vasculitis, a rare disease that involves the swelling of blood vessels. He was sixty-nine.
THE GOPHER was briefly the toast of Hollywood after the release of Caddyshack. But his career flamed out after 1988’s ill-fated and ill-advised sequel, Caddyshack II. In the decades since his film debut, however, he has achieved a measure of wealth and fame licensing his likeness for golf head covers, T-shirts, and book jackets. He is currently retired and resides in Davie, Florida.
The Harvard Lampoon’s enormously successful 1966 Playboy parody
Doug Kenney and Rob Hoffman with the debut issue of the National Lampoon, April 1970
Members of Second City in 1969. From left to right: Brian Doyle-Murray, David Blum, Harold Ramis, Jim Fisher, Roberta Maguire, Nate Herman, and Judy Morgan
Doug Kenney shows off his signature party trick at the National Lampoon office.
The National Lampoon staff gets serious in the early ’70s. Co-founders Doug Kenney and Henry Beard (behind fake schnozzes): top row, third and fourth from left
The Lampoon’s most famous cover: “If You Don’t Buy This Magazine, We’ll Kill This Dog,” January 1973
New York magazine anoints Chevy Chase as Saturday Night’s first breakout star, December 22, 1975.
Former hairdresser Jon Peters and his famous girlfriend, Barbra Streisand, in 1975
Doug Kenney, John Belushi, Chris Miller, and Stephen Furst on the set of National Lampoon’s Animal House
The official theatrical poster for Caddyshack—the unhappy result of a fistfight between Doug Kenney and Orion executive Mike Medavoy
One big happy family? From left to right: Jon Peters, Chevy Chase, Ted Knight, and Rodney Dangerfield on the Davie, Florida, set of Caddyshack
Rodney Dangerfield doing one of his “bits”
Bill Murray amid battle of wits with the Bushwood gopher
Cindy Morgan leaves little to the imagination as the liberated libertine Lacey Underall.
Bill Murray and Chevy Chase put aside their history of tension and “get weird.”
Michael O’Keefe and Sarah Holcomb as lovebirds, largely left on the cutting room floor: Danny Noonan and Maggie O’Hooligan
Caddyshack’s climactic fireball, the result of some old-school Hollywood deception, was so gigantic that the nearby Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport received reports of a plane crash.
One of the last known photos taken of Doug Kenney: Hawaii, August 1980
Acknowledgments
THE RED LIGHT ON THE PHONE in my office rang at 9:30 p.m. On most nights, I would have been long gone by then. On most nights, I also wouldn’t have bothered picking it up. But the deadline on my first feature for Sports Illustrated, a magazine that I had subscribed to and devoured since I was eight years old, was closing in fast. A few months earlier I had been assigned to write a six-page oral history on the making of Caddyshack by then-editor Terry McDonell. Now I found myself with two short days until the agreed-upon deadline with one glaring piece of the puzzle missing. I had spent the previous weeks in a nearly constant state of anxiety thinking that I was about to screw up an opportunity that I’d dreamed of for decades. And the cause of that anxiety was Bill Murray. I had not yet been able to secure an interview with the film’s biggest and most elusive star.
Then the phone rang. The caller ID flashed a number with what I recognized to be a South Carolina prefix. I quickly picked up the receiver before the man on the other end of the line had a chance to change his mind. The voice that greeted me was instantly familiar from a lifetime of watching movies. “Is this Chris?” Yes. “This is Bill Murray. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you … so, what do you want to know?” Underneath that voice, I distinctly heard the sound of tinkling ice cubes in what I imagined was a perspiring highball glass.
Let me backtrack a bit. As you may or may not know, getting in touch with Bill Murray is a bit like tracking down Sasquatch. Since the mid ’80s, the actor has eschewed all the normal Hollywood publicity machinery. He has no agent. No P.R. rep on retainer. Just an attorney, who will kindly take your interview request while apologizing that it’s highly unlikely to ever lead to anything. Half the time, Murray’s legal representative doesn’t even know what time zone his client is in. The only way to contact Murray if you’re a journalist (or a director itching to cast him in your movie) is to call a highly guarded 1-800 number that has no outgoing message, just a beep followed by … silence. Leaving a message is like casting a prayer into the void. Murray may respond to your entreaties, but more likely he will not. And should he choose to indulge you, it could take months—or longer. After obtaining the 1-800 number from a friend and acquaintance of the star’s, I left more than a dozen messages for Murray, taking an array of varied tacks and shameless displays of flattery. All of them somewhat desperate and embarrassing. I am not proud about the rambling, incoherent monologue I left about my (sincere) passion for his sole directing effort, Quick Change, but there it is.
It turned out that Murray was everything I could have hoped for over the course of our hour-long phone call. He answered every question that I tossed his way with good humo
r and was surprisingly thoughtful, shockingly introspective, and, of course, hilarious. It turns out that Caddyshack, one of his earliest films, held a special place for him. Not merely because he’d been a caddie himself as a kid. But also because he had been surrounded by a trio of dear friends on the film that he had looked up to from an early age: Harold Ramis, Doug Kenney, and his older brother Brian Doyle-Murray—the three co-writers of Caddyshack. When I eventually hung up the phone, I immediately emailed McDonell, who seemed as genuinely stunned as I was. I had been granted a last-minute, Hail Mary stay of execution.
During the course of reporting that initial magazine story, I was lucky to be on the receiving end of kindnesses, both large and small, from two other people who gave me more time than I could have ever expected: Chevy Chase and Harold Ramis. Chase was candid and sentimental in his recollections of his pal Doug Kenney and a film he’d made decades earlier and the important role it played in his then-fledgling screen career. Ramis, who would pass away in 2014, was a gift, not only in his reflections on the film that would mark his baptism into the world of directing, but also the crazy years leading up to it. During my twenty-five years as a writer at Entertainment Weekly magazine, I had the good fortune to interview Ramis several times. Each time, he was unfailingly polite and also proved to be a master storyteller. He was truly one of the few “nice guys” in an industry with too few of them. He is and will continue to be missed.
Writing a book about the making of a Hollywood film, especially one as distant in the rearview mirror as Caddyshack, presents a tricky balancing act of separating fact from the foggier realms of fiction. No one goes out of his or her way to remember the past inaccurately, but accounts of certain events and time lines differ, often in an attempt to flatter the teller. It was my job to sort through those varying accounts and determine which side the truth laid on. Not everyone involved with the making of Caddyshack will agree on certain points, but I feel confident that I have cast the net wide enough to come down on the side of the facts.
I would like to offer my sincere thanks to the rest of the people who agreed to be interviewed (on and off the record) for this book. In many cases, they shared not only their memories, but also telephone numbers and personal photographs. I am particularly indebted to a group of friends, angels, and colleagues without whose help I could not have completed this book. I would like to single out Elvis Mitchell, who put in a kind word on my behalf with Bill Murray. Elvis is a mysterious guy, and also as well-connected as anyone I’ve ever met in this business. He possesses that all-too-rare trait of being gracious when it comes to using those connections in the service of others. I would like to thank—in addition to McDonell—Adam Duerson and Chris Stone at Sports Illustrated, who not only helped to champion my original Caddyshack story but also continued to take a chance on me on several occasions since. At Entertainment Weekly, my employer for nearly a quarter of a century, I would like to express my appreciation to managing editor Henry Goldblatt for his remarkable support at every turn, and editors Sean Smith, Jeff Giles, and Jeff Labrecque (my brother-in-arms when it comes to ’80s comedies). Plus, photo editor extraordinaire Michele Romero, who in addition to being a true friend, guided me through the maddening ins and outs of tracking down and gaining the rights to many of the photographs that appear in this book.
No author researches, writes, and publishes a book by him- or herself. I am grateful for the assistance of the staff at the Margaret Herrick Library of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in Los Angeles and Second City archivist Chris Pagnozzi in Chicago. I would also like to offer a tip of the cap to John Ptak, who always made himself available to help recall the hazier events of a very hazy period in time. I am also deeply indebted to Kerry Brock and John Seigenthaler, who gave me a private oasis in the woods of Connecticut, which proved invaluable in completing this project.
I offer a deep bow to my agent Farley Chase, whose faith, enthusiasm, and perspective helped me recognize that this was a project worth pursuing. He is the best kind of advocate—supportive, patient, and always available without ever tapping his watch wondering where the manuscript is. At my publisher, Flatiron Books, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to Colin Dickerman, James Melia, and Bob Miller—a publishing triumvirate as passionate about books as anyone I’ve ever met. I’d also like to single out publicist Steven Boriack, production editor David Lott, and copy editor Bob Ickes, who saved me on too many occasions to count.
I would also like to thank my parents, who never regarded a day spent inside watching movies as a wasted day, and my brother Keith, who was always watching them beside me (and I believe still is). Most of all, I would like to thank my exceedingly patient and loving wife, Jennifer, who sustains me every day, and our two sons, Charlie and Rooney, who I look forward to watching Caddyshack with one day. This book would be unimaginable without all of their unconditional love, generosity, encouragement, support, and inspiration.
Notes
Prologue
But the stingy smattering of laughs…: Ramis, Harold. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. May 20, 2010.
For his encore…: Boxofficemojo.com.
Kenney’s voice rose…: Josh Karp, A Futile and Stupid Gesture (Chicago: Chicago Review Press, 2006), 359.
Then, just to prove…: Kate Meyers, “King of Comedy,” Golf Digest, May 2004. Accessed online.
He was sabotaging…: Chase, Chevy. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. May 27, 2010.
When Kenney asked…: Ramis, Harold. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. May 20, 2010.
By the end…: Boxofficemojo.com.
David Ansen in…: David Ansen, Newsweek, August 11, 1980. Accessed online.
And in New York…: David Denby, “In the Rough,” New York, August 11, 1980. Accessed online.
1. The Algonquin Round Table
As they predicted…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. November 27, 2016.
It sold out…: Craig Lambert, “Comic Sutra,” Harvard Magazine, July-August 1992, 26.
It opened our…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. November 27, 2016.
In truth, his…: Karp, A Futile and Stupid Gesture, 6.
The Life parody…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. November 27, 2016.
Wanting to keep…: Simmons, Matty. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 12, 2016.
And Doug…: Simmons, Matty. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 12, 2016.
Beard admits that…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. November 27, 2016.
“He went through…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. November 27, 2016.
Bored of the Rings…: Ellin Stein, That’s Not Funny, That’s Sick (New York: W. W. Norton, 2013), 31–36.
To their surprise…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. November 27, 2016.
Thirty-two editions…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. November 27, 2016.
Since they planned…: Simmons, Matty. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 12, 2016.
Simmons, desperate for…: Simmons, Matty. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 12, 2016.
“Rob Hoffman was…: Simmons, Matty. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 12, 2016.
They began casting…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. November 27, 2016.
He had made…: Chip Kidd, “Doonesbury Turns 40,” Rolling Stone, October 27, 2010. Accessed online.
But O’Donoghue thought…: Dennis Perrin, Mr. Mike: The Life and Work of Michael O’Donoghue (New York: Avon Books, 1998), 172.
I think he…: Kelly, Sean. Interview by Chris N
ashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 25, 2016.
The Newsweek writer…: “Postgraduate Humor,” Newsweek, March 23, 1970, 94.
It sold less…: Simmons, Matty. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 12, 2016.
The May edition…: Samuel Z. Goldhaber, “From the Newsland Poons,” The Harvard Crimson, April 7, 1970. Accessed online.
It was…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. November 27, 2016.
His best man…: Josh Frank with Charlie Buckholtz, In Heaven Everything Is Fine: The Unsolved Life of Peter Ivers and the Lost History of New Wave Theatre (New York: Soft Skull Press, 2010), xvi.
I remember feeling…: Fisher, Lucy. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 29, 2016.
One thing leads…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. September 13, 2016.
The Walt Disney Company…: Karp, A Futile and Stupid Gesture (Chicago: Chicago Review Press, 2006), 79.
It was incredible…: Beard, Henry. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. September 13, 2016.
It wasn’t like…: Miller, Chris. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 31, 2016.
It didn’t help…: Kelly, Sean. Interview by Chris Nashawaty. By telephone. New York, NY. August 25, 2016.
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