Elvis Presley & Groucho Marx 8/19/02

by Alan Greenblatt

Just as was the case 25 years ago, when they actually passed, the death of Elvis Presley has completely overshadowed the death of Groucho Marx, whose yahrzeit, as we say, is today. I can remember my grandmother comparing the outpouring of tears over Elvis to the boo-hooing for Rudolph Valentino. But since things were so quiet as regards Groucho, I tried to work up my own tribute, using felt pens to paint on my face thick eyebrows and a moustache, plus a lit cigar on the side of my cheek.

I attempted to wear this cheap makeup into the photo booth set up in the gym for junior high school pictures. One of the coaches convinced me that I would be besmirching the precious yearbooks of my fellow students. Can you imagine? Thinking back now, I think I would have added some dignity to the pictures of kids at that age, particularly in the late seventies. Anyway, I was quite proud when I walked into the booth the next year and the photographer, several thousand children later, said, "Oh, no! I had enough of you last year."

Well, enough boasting. What is it about Groucho? I think he ages a lot better than a lot of other comedians because his jokes are almost all on timeless subjects -- money, lust and insecurity. Watching "Horse Feathers" the other night, I was struck by how much he serves as a foil for his brothers. There is a theory in comedy that it's not funny to watch someone act crazy, but it's funny to watch someone watching someone else act crazy. So Groucho stood in for the audience as Chico and Harpo did their little bits, but the fact that he ultimately was on their side and of course mocked the stiff actors around them who stood for establishment institutions is what people mean when they talk about him as one of the great anarchists. (It's no accident that the one great Marx Brothers revival took place during the early 1970s.)

Many people, such as Arthur Sheekman, made the comment that Groucho's humor sprang from his willingness to say boldly the kind of remarks we all wish we had the nerve to make ourselves. But Groucho was not just audacious, he was clever. On his radio and then television quiz show, "You Bet Your Life," he asked a woman who had 10 kids, "Why do you have so many children?" She said, "Because I love my husband." Groucho replied, "I love my cigar too, but I take it out of my mouth once in a while." Generally on that show he wasn't as much of a put-down artist as in the movies, giving his guests just enough rope to hang themselves -- again, playing that mediating role for the audience.

At the entrance to "American Treasures," the semi-permanent exhibit of worldly goods gathered at the Library of Congress, they endlessly replay a clip of Groucho's appearance on the "Tonight Show" in which he has Johnny Carson read the letter from the library asking for his papers. Although he ceaselessly needles Carson, Groucho's pride in the request is apparent. He supposedly was more proud of his writings, books like "Memoirs of a Mangy Lover," than all his stage and film antics.

After the library got hold of his stuff, a book appeared in the world called "The Groucho Letters," letters he wrote and some that he received. His exchange with T.S. Eliot was classic, the "British poet from St. Louis," as Groucho called him, clearly not knowing what to make of this livelier force. When the legal department of Warner Brothers tried to prevent the Marxes from calling a picture "A Night in Casablanca" because of their own famous film set in that town, Groucho wrote, "I just don't understand your attitude. Even if you plan on re-releasing your picture, I am sure that the average movie fan could learn in time to distinguish between Ingrid Bergman and Harpo."

Groucho comes across in the letters as a wise guy, of course, but also as a nice and concerned man. I love the advice he gave to his son Arthur after the latter had lost some tennis matches (he was a pro) and was stricken by the mumps. "Well, that's life," Groucho concludes. "As you journey through it, you will encounter all sorts of these nasty little upsets, and you will either learn to adjust yourself to them or gradually go nuts."

Some of the movies were pretty thrown together, but I think you would enjoy the likes of "A Night at the Opera" or "Animal Crackers" or "Duck Soup." I had not realized until renting "Horse Feathers" how short some of their pictures are, barely over an hour and even shorter if you fast forward through Zeppo's musical numbers.

P.S. George Clifford is a nice and concerned man and also a new father. He wrote in response to last week's book recommendations: I took a class from Massie one semester when he was a visiting professor at Tulane. He told a story about being at a dinner party when he was preparing to write "Peter the Great." Another guest was the grandson of Tolstoy. When Massie told him about the project, the Tolstoy heir replied with a warning: "My grandfather was going to write a biography of Peter, but it was too much work.

"So he wrote War and Peace instead."