I went to a rehearsal for Carousel, and my agent showed up out of the blue. In person. (I had a new agent by this time, and I never expected to see him in person outside of his office, let alone walking into a rehearsal space above a bowling alley!) I said, “What’s up?”
“I got a call from The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” he said. “They want you to do her pilot.”
“Wow! That’s great,” I said. “What part?”
He said, “I dunno. Is there a guy in there called . . . Murray?”
And that’s how it all began—landing that fantastic role of Murray Slaughter on the hit TV show that would change my life forever, with a cast that would soon be filled with people who would become my friends for life. In fact, I came aboard early enough in the process that I got to play a small part in the casting process itself.
The writers and producers were unsure about who to cast for the neighbor, and they mentioned Cloris Leachman. “Oh, wow!” I told them. “I played opposite her. She’s a gifted actress.” Cloris is so gifted, she could turn “Hello” into a monologue. I saw her on Broadway and she lit up the stage. I never dreamed I’d get a chance to work with her, and then we wound up doing a Western together, The Road West, at Universal, during my nonstop work period in the late 1960s. I knew she’d make a fantastic Phyllis on this show.
I also loved the character named Rhoda, but I couldn’t picture anyone I knew to play her. They mentioned someone named Valerie Harper, and I prayed she’d be gifted enough to handle that very important role of Mary’s best friend.
We were talking about the second script even before we shot the pilot, and that second script involved Rhoda and her mother. “Who are you thinking of for the mother?” I asked. They said, “Maureen Stapleton.” “Oh, what a good idea,” I said, “but you know who Nancy Walker is, don’t you?” They didn’t. “Nancy Walker is one of the best comediennes who ever walked. She’s directing a Noel Coward play, Fallen Angels, in New York right now. As soon as I read your script, her first two lines, I said, ‘That’s Nancy!’”
I didn’t know Nancy personally. I had just seen her on the stage.
When they finally got around to shooting that episode, guess who showed up? Nancy Walker. That show changed her whole career. She eventually found out that I was the one who recommended her, and we became very good friends.
Interestingly, CBS didn’t want to include Rhoda’s mother in the series. The censor department thought Rhoda was too Jewish as it was, and the mother was just way over the top. They didn’t want them to shoot that episode or any other that included the mother. Grant Tinker, Mary’s real-life husband and business partner in MTM Enterprises, said, “We’re going to do it anyway.” So we did it. Of course, that episode and that character went through the roof. The show won an Emmy. It started a whole new career for Nancy Walker. In addition to a series of Emmy-nominated roles in the coming years, everyone would get to know her as Rosie the waitress in twenty years’ worth of TV commercial for Bounty paper towels (“the quicker picker-upper”)! Hal Gould played Rhoda’s father, and he was brilliant too. Those were the kind of results this show wound up getting, even when we went against the wishes of the network. It was just magic.
The final character they were missing before we shot the pilot was Ted Baxter. It took them forever to find just the right fit. Wouldn’t you know it? They hired my old friend Ted Knight! We were going to be working together for the first time since he came in and did that guest role on McHale’s Navy in the early ’60s—when he told me, “You’re a glorified extra.” It’s funny how such little moments become giant catalysts in your life. Ted and I were the best of friends, but that line made me do something. Without that harsh line he laid on me, I might never have quit McHale’s Navy and might never have made it all the way to The Mary Tyler Moore Show. I’m glad he spoke up!
I could say the same thing about my decision to speak up about Murray at the MTM audition. I liked Murray. I didn’t care that he wasn’t the lead. He wasn’t as big of a part as Lou Grant, and he wasn’t as flashy a character as Ted—which really meant Murray was the third guy on the show. It didn’t matter to me. I liked him. I thought I’d like to play him. It’s about being honest to yourself and to others. That’s all I know. I tell that to young actors all the time. I have a feeling it holds true in other professions as well.
Sometimes you don’t feel that you should speak up. Perhaps it seems impolite. Perhaps you think the respectful thing to do is to let others speak first or to hold their own opinions. You keep quiet because you want to be accepted. But sometimes, speaking up gets you noticed. Sometimes speaking up is actually more of a show of respect to the person in charge than just sitting quietly and being respectful—because it sparks something in them. Maybe it shows them something they might not have thought of themselves. In the end, maybe that’s the only way to get what you want: To speak up. To tell the truth. To say what you feel. To be honest. My own experience has proven time and time again that speaking up will get you accepted more than those times when you keep quiet in the hopes of being accepted. Funny, right? There’s a life lesson in there about not being afraid.
Speaking of afraid, that’s one thing I wasn’t when we headed in for our first table read. I was excited, man! It’s like opening on Broadway, where you’re filled with anticipation for those curtains to open and the show to start and you just can’t wait!
Walking in that first day, the writers were there, including cocreators James Brooks and Allan Burns, who introduced me to a guy named Lorenzo Music. I didn’t realize Lorenzo was a writer. I thought his first name was Lorenzo and they meant that he was in charge of “music.” Wow, we’ve got a music supervisor for a sitcom? This is fantastic! Maybe we’ll get to do a musical number, I thought. I was embarrassed later when I realized that was the guy’s name! What a fabulous, talented writer he was. He would go on to play Carlton the Doorman on Rhoda, and he and his wife, Henrietta, had their own song-and-dance show. They were wonderful people whom I’d get to know well over the years.
I saw Mary Tyler Moore right when I walked in, of course. We already knew each other a bit—not only from my two guest appearances on The Dick Van Dyke Show, but because she had come to see me in a couple of musical theater parts over the years. So it was nice to have that familiarity with the woman who was, as far as us actors were concerned, the boss.
I was looking forward to working with Ed, and it was a pleasure to shake his hand and have a laugh over the fact that we’d both been considered for the Lou Grant role. And I couldn’t wait for Ted to come walking through that door. What good fortune to be working with a pal I’d known since the 1950s!
Grant Tinker was there. Some CBS people were there. I met Valerie Harper for the first time that day. Boy, oh boy! If I had any doubts that a new actress could pull off that important role of Rhoda, they went flying out the window like a hairpiece in a hurricane. She was amazing in her reading. She had that character down.
I felt as though I had my character down too. Murray was originally conceived to be an emotionally erratic person who would throw his notes in the air. But when I took over, he evolved into being an “average Joe.” He represented the brown-bagger writers who work in newsrooms all over the United States of America. In fact, when the series became a hit and I went to different cities promoting it, every television station I went to had a real-life Ted Baxter (the comically egotistical, far-too-tanned, perfectly coiffed newsman), and at least one guy who would come up to me and say, “I’m Murray.”
In LA, at the ABC affiliate, their newswriter’s name actually was Murray. I met him one day and he said, “You want to see my brown bag? You’re playing me!”
But enough about me! I can’t say enough about this fantastic cast.
Mary Tyler Moore is fabulous. Intelligent. Funny. I pinched myself every day. It was such a treat to sit next to her. Everyone should be so lucky. She made going to work not only a great professional experience but a gift. She is a leader i
n the true sense of the word. She led our group without being condescending, without being bossy, but by example. She was on time, conscientious, never losing her sense of humor even on the most stressful, long days.
She was the first one on the set, and she never exhibited one iota of the sort of diva behavior an actress in her position might have on another show. Not one bit! And to think that she was giving herself two shots a day because of her diabetes. (She would become a powerful voice in the search for a cure for juvenile diabetes in the coming years.) She never complained. She spent her lunchtimes three days a week dancing in front of the mirror, staying in shape and at the top of her game.
I learned by watching her, and I would do my best during my Love Boat years, as the captain of that show’s cast and crew, to emulate her professionalism. She is the best of the best.
Later on, the writers would hand us a script titled “Murray in Love,” a show written especially for my character, and I have to say it was easy to play—because who wasn’t in love with Mary Tyler Moore?
Then there was Valerie, a sensational person. The character of Rhoda took the country by storm. Her character gave hope to so many women who watched every Saturday night. After she won her first Emmy, she asked Mary if it would be okay to start losing weight. Mary said yes, and Valerie and I did Weight Watchers together. On some Friday nights after shooting the show, we’d frequent a well-known four-star restaurant that wasn’t far from the studio—a place called Tail o’ the Cock, on Ventura Boulevard. (By the way, that’s the same restaurant where Ernie Borgnine held his engagement party, the first time I met Ethel Merman!) Valerie and I would get there, place our orders, and then take out our scales at the table to weigh our food. It wasn’t very kosher to do a thing like that, but it sure helped us. Her weight loss was inspiring to many young women. Then she went on to star in her own spinoff, Rhoda. Her show was a winner, and so is she.
Lou Grant, the newsroom boss, would get his own spinoff years later, too, and that character was a breakthrough for the gifted actor and fabulous human being, Ed Asner. He was so caring, and his wife, Nancy, was one of my favorite people. Years later he became the president of the Screen Actors Guild, and he really was for the rank and file. He’s a special guy and deserving of all those Emmys he won, which I think were more Emmys than just about any other actor on TV.
And Ted? What can I say about one of my best friends? He was seven years older and in so many ways was like a big brother to me. He had a tough life. I’m not sure a lot of people know about that side of him. He was a Polish kid from Rhode Island, and he lost his father at a young age. I suppose having lost our fathers was one of the things that helped create a bond between us. As funny as he was, Ted was an extremely gifted dramatic actor—and unfortunately that’s not something a lot of people know about him either. Playing Ted Baxter would make it tough for him to get away with playing just about any other character for the rest of his life. That’s not easy, especially for a guy as gifted as Ted. But again, I’ll get into that more a little later on. For now, I’ll just reiterate what a joy it was to work with that man every day, and what a joy it was to have him as a friend.
Then there were the four supporting women.
I’ve already mentioned Cloris Leachman, who was and is such a talent, and was quite a looker in her day too. Paul Henreid, one of my favorite actors from Casablanca and other things, directed us in The Road West. He had a crush on Cloris. Her Phyllis was a pain in the tush, but you saw a brilliant actress at work.
Joyce Bulifant played Murray’s wife, Marie. She was the cutest, most lovable, giving actress I had ever worked with. Her voice was so unique—and who could forget the sass she showed off during her appearances on the hit ’70s game show, Match Game. My wish was simply for her to have had more episodes to shine in.
Georgia Engel became one of my favorite people in the world. She is an amazing, talented actress. She’s so unique and lovable. We could hardly believe her honesty and her take on Georgette. Talk about comedic timing! She was one of the best I’ve ever encountered, in all my years in show business. Georgie, as I call her, is also so honorable a person I would trust her with my life. That’s the truth. She’s never out of work on TV or in theater, and she’s a gift to the world.
Georgie and I almost had the chance to do a musical together on Broadway many years later. I blew my audition, though. I got onstage and instead of doing a well-known musical number from some fabulous show, I performed a song I cowrote with my friend John Bartholomew Tucker back in college. The song was called “Bath, New York.” And it went, “I like to take a bath in Bath, New York—cleanest city in the state.” Ridiculous, funny lyrics that would’ve gone over well in the days of vaudeville! Oh, well. I blew my audition, but I had so much fun calling John to tell him, “Our song made it to Broadway!”
Finally there was Betty White. What can you say? Her Sue Ann Nivens was classic. Do you remember the episode when she was ill, and you weren’t supposed to see her, so Ted, Lou, and Murray went into her bedroom and looked up and her whole ceiling was a mirror? The ceiling was only upstaged by her vibrating bed. The audience roared with laughter. Our characters didn’t even have to say anything. Betty had done so much with that man-crazy character, just that visual image made your imagination run wild! She breathed so much life into that character of the Happy Homemaker. Betty made every moment count. She still does. I’ve declared her an American treasure, because she is just that.
Out of everyone, it was the three guys who hung out the most with each other off the set: Ed, Ted, and me. We’d always find something fun to do. Our kids all knew each other. We got together for family barbecues, and hung out at each other’s houses.
Ted and I were as close as could be. He would call me after every showing on Saturday night and dish the show. Every single Saturday night for the first few years we were on: “What do you think? If we did it this other way, would we have got a bigger laugh?” He was very analytical. He would analyze the whole episode, start to finish. He cared about the work that much—as did all of us.
Because he was the last man cast, the rest of us had nice dressing rooms and Ted had a lean-to—one of these canvas things they prop up, like they had for me way back on that fateful day when I went to shoot the pilot for Hal March. This was just for the first year. Ted would say, “Well, you go to your dressing rooms. I’ll go to my pizza oven.” Oh my, he was funny. The fact is, they only had so many dressing rooms to work with. MTM Enterprises didn’t have a lot of dough in those early days.
Our first year we shot at General Services, smack in the middle of Hollywood. The lot had its upside. They were shooting Green Acres there, and we’d see Eva Gabor on the lot; Shelley Winters and Debbie Reynolds were doing a movie on that lot, as were George Burns and Gracie Allen; I think Coppola started one of his major films there too. But it left much to be desired. One night, during a Friday shoot in front of our live audience, the rain started coming through the roof, all over our set! Mary’s husband said, “We have to get out of here!” So we went to CBS Radford the next season.
CBS Radford is located in the Valley, closer to where everybody lived, so it was more convenient and a big step up. Years later they put a plaque on that stage: “On this site a group of friends produced The Mary Tyler Moore Show between 1970 and 1977.” That’s all it says. I’ve always thought that was a nice thing for them to do—and a wonderful way for them to put it: “a group of friends.” That’s exactly what we were. They were friends who in some ways were very much like family to me—at a time when my marriage was falling apart.
You know what show shot on that very same stage years later? Roseanne. Another hit show that broke through a whole new set of cultural barriers. Then a few years after that, the studio broke through two soundstages, and That ’70s Show shot there. Mary and I did one of those shows, all those years later. And I did another with Dick Van Patten—right there on my old soundstage. I went down and saw my old dressing room, just fo
r kicks. That was cool! As I’ve mentioned, I love all that Hollywood history, and feel so privileged to be a part of it.
The thing that really showed me how little money MTM had at the beginning, though, wasn’t the location, or Ted’s “pizza oven” dressing room. It was how little we were paid. I think it’s off-putting to talk about money, but I met a very sweet woman, an actress and dancer over at Words and Music, who had a daughter who happened to be on TV that same year. Her daughter was just a kid with a small part on a much smaller show—but she told me her little girl was making more money per episode than I was!
Our salaries would change pretty significantly once The Mary Tyler Moore Show started pulling in big ratings every Saturday night, once it became a cultural phenomenon that television critics and women’s rights advocates alike viewed as important, and once it earned its first slew of Emmy nominations in 1971. But the real reward for playing Murray wasn’t the money. It was something much more important to me—a wonderful side effect that would brighten my life by the time our first summer hiatus came around.
Oh! And that little girl’s mom that I mentioned? That sweet actress and dancer I met over at Words and Music? She would become a dear, dear friend to me.
In fact, she would soon become my new wife.
11
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
I MET PATTI IN 1970. ROOTIE AND I WENT TO SEE A performance of The Chocolate Soldier, put on by the theater group I belonged to called Words and Music. The leading lady was from the New York City opera that night, a very high-level performer. She was extraordinary. One of the things I find so wonderful about theater is that actors (and singers and dancers) want to work, and it doesn’t have to be on Broadway. So the best of the best can be found on stages all over this country on any given night of the week.
But my attention was pulled away from that grand dame and my eyes were drawn to a little soubrette on stage that night—that’s the old-fashioned term for the ingénues, the younger ones in opera and theater—this blonde in pigtails, cute as can be, dancing up a storm. I hadn’t seen her before, and I thought, Who is that?
This Is Your Captain Speaking: My Fantastic Voyage Through Hollywood, Faith & Life Page 11