Judy seemed to be delaying discussing the personal matter she'd mentioned several days previously. Almost as a means of avoiding it, they chatted about crossword puzzles, both of them claiming to be experts in solving them. Throughout the meal, Merv noticed that she was such a chainsmoker that she'd developed a cough. This heavy smoking would lead to her death from breast cancer in 1965 at the age of forty-three.
Finally, she revealed what had been on her mind all evening. She said that she'd met and befriended Hadley Morrell when he was being supported by Robert Q. Lewis. Lewis had dropped Hadley, cutting off his support, and
Merv's former friend was working at a grocery store on 8th Street to pay his bills. “I hope you don't mind,” she said, “but I've invited him here tonight. I know you guys still love each other, and I want you to talk things over with him.”
Merv later claimed that he felt trapped when Judy got up from her seat, and was almost immediately replaced by Hadley, who had been watching him from outside the restaurant.
Recalling that night years later, Hadley said the one hour he spent with Merv that night was filled with recriminations, Merv accusing him of “betrayal and sleeping with the enemy.”
Hadley revealed that it took a month before Merv let him move back into the hideaway with Bill and Paul. “But it was never the same again between us,” he said. “Merv agreed that we should remain friends, but he told me we'd never be lovers again.”
Merv did allow Hadley to quit his job, promising that he'd give him a hundred dollars a week in cash. It seemed that Merv was getting too well known because of his TV show, and he needed a discreet intermediary to help him arrange sexual liaisons with young actors and models.
“He said I could be his ‘Minister of Mischief,’ and I know how corny that sounds,” Hadley said. “Merv found the word pimp too hard to pronounce. I thought about it and finally decided it might even be fun for me. Little did I realize at the time that I'd just assigned myself to the role of Back Alley Friend for life, one that Merv was ashamed of. Year after year I swore I'd break away and find other, more dignified, employment. But I never did. The night I moved back in with the boys, I'd doomed my life but hardly knew that at the time. There would be many thrills in store for me, but also a heavy dose of pain.”
***
Months before Merv's interviews from London, his friend Mark Goodson had asked him and Betty White to go through the trial run of a new TV game show called Password. Betty and Merv were so good they sold the idea to “the suits.” Because of other commitments, it was understood that Merv would not be the show's emcee.
Ironically, The Merv Griffin Show eventually ended up in the same afternoon time slot as Password, and soon Password began outrating Merv's show by a fourtoone margin. “It was killing me in the Nielsen ratings,” Merv said.
At long last Johnny Carson had found his voice on The Tonight Show. He was not only getting four times more advertising revenue, but he was also luring many of the bigname guests who had originally launched the debut of Merv's show.
On April 1—April Fool's Day—1963, NBC notified Merv that his show was being taken off the air. “You have too much polish, too much sophistication for daytime TV,” one of the NBC “suits” told him.
Adela Rogers St. Johns was one of Merv's last guests. “It was one of the most tender moments I've ever seen on daytime TV,” she said. “The stage was dark, almost black. Suddenly, a spotlight shone down on Merv as he emerged with tears in his eyes. He was carrying a battered suitcase, a hat, and a raincoat. ‘I'm so sorry,’ he said to his audience. ‘I just hate ending the show. Haven't we had a good time?’ Then he sang ‘Lost in the Stars.’ I found myself shedding a tear or two, and in Hollywood they call me Hard-Hearted Hannah.”
Adela Rogers St. Johns
Merv brought her on just to
insult other guests--and she did.
Merv had some hope that year of salvaging his pride when he was nominated for Outstanding Performance in a Variety, Musical, or Series. He was up against competition which included Danny Kaye, Andy Williams, and Edie Adams. The award went to Carol Burnett. “Just to prove that there is no justice in the world,” Merv said, “the Best Supporting Actor award went to Don Knotts. He beat out Robert Redford. You figure.”
***
As thousands of letters poured in from NBC, protesting the cancellation of Merv's show, he said goodbye to his friends in New York and headed for Europe for a vacation. He later estimated that the studio received nearly 175,000 letters of protest from viewers, which at the time was an alltime high for any network. The “suits” at NBC belatedly realized that they had let a valuable property escape and that they had committed to Johnny Carson too early.
Paris and London were fine with Merv—“That is,” he said, “if you like the charms of yesterday.” But when his feet touched the soil of Ireland, he felt he'd come home again, as this was the green land from which his ancestors had sailed to the New World so long ago.
While NBC tried to find the proper showcase to woo Merv back on the air, he signed a twoplay contract on the strawhat circuit after having been inspired watching Judy Garland perform in her 1950 movie Summer Stock.
The comedy, The Moon Is Blue, was presented at the Bucks County Playhouse in New Hope, Pennsylvania. Many of Merv's friends, including Hadley, Bill, and Paul, drove down from New York to see him emote. The comedy by F. Hugh Herbert seems harmless today, and it is almost inconceivable that it could have caused nationwide protests in 1953 when Otto Preminger had brought it to the screen in a version that starred William Holden, David Niven, and Maggie McNamara.
At one point, Maggie herself came to Bucks County to see Merv in the play, which had been her one crowning moment on screen, thanks partly to the Oscar nomination she'd earned for her performance. The play involved two aging playboys who were attracted to the same young woman.
Backstage, Maggie told Merv that her movie had been the first to use the words “virgin,”“seduce,” and “mistress” on screen. In the more permissive 60s, Merv told her that he'd been aware of no protests at all.
The pert, perky actress had been charming on the night Merv met her. In 1978 he was saddened to read about the failure of her career. She'd ended up barely supporting herself as a typist, and had killed herself with an overdose of sleeping pills.
When not performing on stage in Bucks County, Merv rushed to and from New York to host Talent Scouts for CBSTV, the summer replacement for The Red Skelton Hour.
The series was an attempt to revive Arthur Godfrey's popular 1950s show. With Merv as host, the show went on the air for CBS on July 3, 1962. Young newcomers were asked to perform, and they were introduced on stage by such stars as Jim Backus, George Maharis, Ann Sheridan, Lauren Bacall, Hugh O'Brien, Liza Minnelli, and “Mama” Cass Elliot.
Merv wanted to make a name for himself by discovering exceptional talent like Godfrey had done. Many young performers who got their first major exposure on Godfrey went on to great success. They included Pat Boone, Tony Bennett, Rosemary Clooney, Eddie Fisher, Connie Francis, Steve Lawrence, and Patsy Cline. Merv expressed a certain sense of glee when hearing how wrong Godfrey could be in appraising talent. He had turned down both Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly.
During his hosting of Talent Scouts, Merv did showcase some new talent, but made no great discoveries like Godfrey. George Carlin, Charles Nelson Reilly, and Vaughn Meader did go over big, however, and Meader did an impression of JFK which led to a hit album.
Merv's next acting gig was Come Blow Your Horn, the first play written by Neil Simon. It had premiered on Broadway in 1961. Even though Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin had starred in the movie version in 1963, “The play still had legs,” according to Merv. “William Bendix and I sold out every seat.”
As a footnote to this play, the offstage character of Felix Ungar later became one of the onstage protagonists of Simon's The Odd Couple. Reportedly, the producers of the show had considered Merv for the role of Felix, but
he turned them down, claiming that the character he'd have played “is that of a menacing queen.” Eventually, the part went to another closeted gay, Tony Randall.
Merv's costar in the play, William Bendix, hated him on sight. By the time he met Merv, Bendix's star had faded. He'd been popular in the 1940s, playing a dimwitted but lovable lug. In 1944 he'd starred in the radio series, The Life of Riley, which had made him a household name.
In Warren, Ohio, Merv overheard Bendix telling the director, “I've starred with Hepburn and Tracy, with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, even Kirk Douglas and Groucho Marx. And now you give me Merv Griffin, a mediocre leftover from the Big Band era.”
“Well, at least you don't have to wear a dress in this play,” the director told Bendix, referring to his drag role in Abroad With Two Yanks in 1944.
Merv's stage nemesis:
William Bendix
Merv knew that Bendix had appeared during that same war year with Tallulah Bankhead in her greatest film, Lifeboat, directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Merv wanted to swap Tallulah stories with Bendix, but the actor cut him off. “I do not know Miss Bankhead,” he said. “Nor do I care to.”
After that encounter, Bendix never spoke to Merv again except on the stage. Actually, he didn't speak to him then, either, addressing comments meant for Merv to the audience instead. The former star did what he could to sabotage Merv's performance, “but I turned out to be a trouper,” Merv recalled. “I would have been more understanding if I'd known that Bendix was in great pain during the run of the play.” Suffering from a long bout with cancer, the actor died the following year, 1964, just before Christmas.
During his lonely nights in a hotel room in Bucks County, Merv worked on an idea for a television quiz show. He continued to perfect his idea in Warren, Ohio during other lonely nights, although a handsome young Ohioborn stagehand relieved the bleakness of many of those nights.
That show of Merv's was tentatively called What's the Question? Even if Merv dreamed of its future success, he could hardly have imagined that it would become the rock on which he'd build a billion dollar fortune.
***
Merv returned to television with his own show, Word for Word, for which he was both producer and star. The “suits” at NBC had wanted to cast him in a show which, in their opinion, might be more popular, but Merv held out for Word for Word, which was tied in with his passion for word games.
Contestants tried to extract the greatest number of threeor fourletter words out of a bigger word. Launched in October of 1963, the show was not a critical or popular success. The reviews were bad, the worst coming from some nameless critic in Newark, who wrote, “Watching Merv Griffin perform in Word for Word is about as exciting as scrubbing your kitchen floor with a very stinky mop.” Most reviewers, however, found Merv a “likable but mediocre performer—the show just has no excitement.”
One executive at MGM gave Merv some very bad advice. “I think you should look elsewhere,” he said. “Game shows are not your forte.” Even Merv grew bored with the show, later comparing it to “sleepwalking.” The audience, of course, picked up on his boredom.
Merv's boredom was relieved when he got what he called “the most surprising invitation of my life.” From the White House, he received an invitation to emcee the 1963 White House Correspondent's Dinner in Washington for President John F. Kennedy. “I started quivering like a bowl of jelly and didn't have a clue about what to say in my monologue. I immediately called Pat McCormick.”
As a gag writer, Pat reigned supreme, and was an expert at offbeat, often warped humor. “No one did topical jokes better than Pat,” Merv said. “He could even make politicians laugh at their own mistakes, and if you could pull that one off, you could get away with murder…at least. My favorite Pat story was when he celebrated the baptism of his baby boy. He invited some buddies over for dinner. After plowing them with booze, he went into the kitchen, emerging later with his naked baby child on a silver platter surrounded by cooked vegetables like carrots and onions. He gently took hold of his little boy's wee wee and asked his friends, ‘Who wants the Pope's nose?’”
Merv's job was not only to entertain the President but the press corps, members of Congress, Supreme Court justices, the President's Cabinet, and the Diplomatic Corps.
Previously, he'd worked a few times with Edie Adams, so he contacted her and she agreed to appear. He also called the comedian Guy Marks, whom he would book on several of his future talk shows. Guy was a topnotch entertainer who was known as a master of impersonations. “He could do anybody or anything—birds, animals, even inanimate objects,” Merv said. “He sounded more like Bogie than Bogie himself. I just knew he'd be a big hit.”
During the early planning stages of the event in Washington, Merv received a surprise call from the White House. It seemed that on the night of May 12, 1963, the president was watching Dinah Shore's popular NBC talk show when he became mesmerized by the appearance of a young singer, Barbra Streisand. Merv was informed that Kennedy wanted Barbra to sing at this big event.
Merv would later admit that he'd been the last talk show host to appreciate Barbra's singing talent. Jack Paar had been one of her early supporters, but Merv had turned down her agent's request five times. “I just don't dig her voice,” he told her agent. “Not my thing at all.”
Of course, he would honor the President's request and book Barbra, but he warned the White House aide, “I still can't believe Streisand is the President's cuppa. Maybe she can get a nose job before the dinner. She's completely sexless. Not the President's type. Why don't you let me contact Marilyn Monroe? Isn't she more the president's type?”
“The President doesn't have a type,” the young White House aide stiffly informed Merv. “But if he does, she's Mrs. Kennedy herself.”
Against Merv's better judgment, he booked Barbra for the show. Nervously standing in front of the august audience, including the President, Merv introduced “the little girl from Brooklyn with the powerful voice.”
Barbra made a spectacular entrance wearing a satin gown that showed plenty of cleavage. She wowed the audience, including the President, with “Happy Days Are Here Again.” At no point in her song did she take her eyes off the President.
“Knowing Kennedy's penchant for whoremongering,” Merv said, “Barbra readily signaled him that she was ready, willing, and able to do his bidding.”
Merv was a smooth emcee and kept the President and the audience laughing. After the reception, Merv and Barbra, along with the others, were invited to join a receiving line to meet the President. A White House aide had warned them in advance that it was impolite to ask for the President's autograph.
Barbra stood in the receiving line before Merv. When she was introduced to the handsome, charismatic president, she curtsied as if meeting the Queen of England. He smiled at her and asked, “How long have you been singing?”
Without losing a beat, she shot back, “About as long as you've been President.” He laughed and smiled at her. Defying the White House aide, she stuck the evening's program into Kennedy's face and handed him a pen. “Mr. President, if I don't get your autograph, my mother back in Brooklyn will never allow me into the house again.”
Peter Daniels, Barbra's accompanist, was standing nearby, and he quickly offered the President his back to write on. Accepting the autographed program, Barbra said, “You're a doll, Mr. President, and thanks. I'd sing for you any night.”
Merv was shocked at her blatant disregard of protocol and how she'd been so suggestive with the President.
When he had breakfast with Edie, Guy, and Barbra the following morning, he chastised Barbra. “For God's sake, why did you have to go and ask for his autograph?”
“Because I wanted to,” she said rather grandly.
“At least you could tell us what he wrote,” Merv said.
“He wrote, ‘Fuck You, the President,’” she said.
Later Barbara confessed to friends that he'd actually written, “Best Wishes, John F. Kenne
dy.” She also admitted that she'd lost the autographed program. “I slipped it inside my dress and it must have fallen out somewhere.”
Later that morning when Merv read the newspapers, he realized how clever Barbra had been. He suspected she didn't really want the President's autograph. A nearby photographer had snapped a picture of Barbra standing next to the President as he autographed the program on Peter's back. That picture made the front page of newspapers across the nation, and became one of the biggest publicity breaks of Barbra's career.
Throughout the course of breakfast that morning, Merv kept a secret from Barbra, Guy, and Edie, but later confided it to his friends, Hadley, Bill, and Paul. In the receiving line the previous evening, as Kennedy was shaking Merv's hand and congratulating him on a job well done, he whispered an invitation in his ear. “Join me and some of my friends upstairs for some cigars and brandy.” He motioned to an aide to escort Merv upstairs.
“Thanks, Mr. President,” Merv said. “I'm honored.”
“It was the most vulgar gathering of macho men I'd ever attended,” Merv later said. “All these guys did was talk about cheating on their wives and the various specialties of prostitutes they'd encountered. Senator George Smathers of Florida was one of the guests. One very unattractive man—I don't have a clue as to who he really was—told the President about his encounter with this incredibly beautiful showgal who was called ‘the Queen of Anal Sex in Las Vegas.’ Apparently, Frank Sinatra and countless others had had her. The President announced that he'd arrange for Peter Lawford to hook him up with this backdoor whore.”
Merv Griffin- A Life in the Closet Page 50