16. THICKE AND BURNETT: HERE TO STAY BUT
I CAN SCREW THAT UP
Fernwood 2Night
was a mock talk show starring Martin Mull and Fred Willard. It was actually a spinoff
of the quirky late night show Mary
Hartman, Mary Hartman, which took place in Fernwood, Ohio. Fernwood’s
name came from a small street bordering Metromedia Studios, once located on
Sunset and Van Ness in Hollywood, and at the time home to Lear’s company of
numberless classic TV shows. Mull played a character named Garth Gimble on the
show, who was actually killed by being impaled I think on a fireplace poker, or
something like that. Google it. On the Fernwood
2Night talk show, Mull plays Garth’s twin brother, Barth. The basic premise
is a bit pathetic, as it’s about a wannabe who’s fallen on hard times, and is
trying to keep his show business hopes alive by doing this talk show, and all
sorts of sidebar businesses, generally subtly promoted by the various guests
(weird products are a “product of Gimbleco”).
It was all very weird, wacky and fun – at once capturing a small town,
inexpensive talk show – complete with a TV tray as a desk – and great parody.
It was very unlike the hefty Norman Lear shows – like One Day at a Time or All in
the Family – so perhaps it explains why, and is perhaps good that, Norman
left it alone. It was, after all, a syndicated show. Who knows if it was a big
time money maker? But people of college age at the time remember it fondly. So
I’m told.
And I fit right
in, at long last – the irony of it all, that it was a Norman Lear company
production. We picked up on the formula right away – a seemingly straight
interview that turns funny. The first bit we wrote was about a popular local restaurateur
in Fernwood whose competitors are mysteriously disappearing, or catching on
fire. And of course it’s soon obvious the guy is a mobster.
The quirky interviews
– bogus authors and such – were the bread and butter of the show, and then
there were local eccentrics who would come on the show regularly. It was really
very entertaining, and much fun to work on.
Meanwhile, we had
been around long enough to try and help acolytes get started in the business. I
learned much later that the great Larry Charles, who worked a great deal with
Larry David, and directed several Sacha Baron Cohen movies, had been one such
acolyte who met with us during the Fernwood days (I guess after sending us
material), and we gave him encouragement. Who knew??
Head writer? Alan
Thicke. Yeah THE Alan Thicke, now often known as Robin Thicke’s father. Thicke was a very big deal in Canada before
he moved south. I think I first met him when I was doing the Sonny Bono show – he probably knew
Bearde and Blye, all being Canadians and he was wearing a suit. A writer
wearing a suit; I knew he must be from some other country. He later played the
Dad of Kirk Cameron, former child actor and current religious wack job, on Growing Pains. But I knew him when he
was a genius, herding cats as head writer of Fernwood. He would field the pitches, re-write stuff, cast people, and
schedule a show that was on nightly. My
understanding is that Norman Lear & Co. (and by the way, Norman Lear was never
a presence during the production that I can recall), wanted the show to be
completely improvised, but Thicke insisted on scripting. Thicke won out, under threat of firing. But
of course that didn’t stop Mull from insisting it was improvised. It wasn’t. All the script was on cue cards, and
Mull would read them. Now of course there was some meandering off the script, especially
during “interviews” but the show was far from being improvised, since the
interviews were really small sketches that required set ups and punch lines, so
to speak. People like Ken Mars, who played the crazy mayor of Fernwood, would
meander quite a bit. Let’s say Mull and Willard, and the superb regular cast
and guests, did a fantastic job of making it seem like it was improvised, like,
I suppose, the Tonight Show is (but
even Johnny had cue cards on the floor for his nightly monologues).
We caught on
quickly to the tone and the satire of it all, and thoroughly enjoyed the
experience. We would dictate our scripts into a tape recorder – not really my
preference - and a staff of assistants would transcribe them into scripts. There
was a hot Asian assistant who would work on the transcribing, Leslie Winner,
and we or some writers would throw in a few flirtatious remarks onto the tape. We had a good time collaborating.
I didn’t
especially like that system, but no doubt it was done in the interest of time.
There was a huge maw on this monster, as it was a daily show, although of
course not done live.
The audience for
the show was two-tiered, partly because indeed it was a “show within a show”,
and partly because some people saw the parody, and others didn’t. The Lear
people cleverly brought in an audience of mostly retired folks who did not see
the parody aspect.
The formula for the
show, at least as far as our writing of the basic “guest interview” bits was to
slowly suck people in that a guest was legit, and then eventually reveal the
craziness, i.e., the actual parody part. For instance one of our bits was an
author who wrote a book called “Winning Through Acting Crazy” wherein one can
manipulate or negotiate with people by seeming to be unglued, which is not far
from a book called “Winning Through Intimidation”. Of course the interview ends
with the “author” holding a gun on the hosts, sticking them up. They think he’s
merely demonstrating his methods, but he doesn’t relent. Another of our bits
was a guy, played by Fred Grandy, later of Love Boat and the U. S. House of
Representatives (!), who was supposedly a doctor who treated glaucoma with
marijuana. He said it was alarming how many people have glaucoma, and really
should take their medicine. Barth points out how the band is taking their
medicine. Of course by the end of the interview, the guy is really just a dope
dealer.
On Grandy - I also
played soft ball with him once, in a qausi-show business pickup game, wherein
we had to let his daughter, who was about 5, play. Well okay. But he remembered
well the glaucoma doctor bit, and as I say he went on to get elected to
congress from Iowa. I assume his
daughter is now a lovely 39 year old.
There were regular bits and
characters on the show, the main ones being Barth and Jerry themselves. Jerry,
the sidekick, masterfully played by the comic genius Fred Willard, was a dim
bulb who would go on comic, kookie rants. Barth was equally hilarious doing the
opening monologue – generally written by Harry Shearer.* * *
Get more stories about crazy fun times in Funny is Money published by The Ishmael Tree soon.
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