TALES FROM THE SCRIPT: THE BEHIND-THE-CAMERA ADVENTURES OF A TV COMEDY WRITER (19 page)

This is me preparing to board our DC-9 to begin our journey to
New York, and then on to the Mediterranean to entertain
our troops fighting in Beirut, Lebanon.

special at nBC studios in Burbank. After the taping several of us writers
were in Bob Hope’s dressing room. Hope dressed and was getting ready
to go home. As he passed me in the doorway, he whispered, “Pack.”

We began that trip on a navy DC-9, which was arranged just like
a normal passenger airliner. in the forward part of the craft, there
were four bunk beds, and behind that were the first class seats, which
were two sets of seats on each side of the aisle facing each other with
a table between them. Then, there were partitions separating the first
class from rows of seats in the tourist section. i was assigned the second aisle seat in the tourist section on the left hand side of the aircraft.

My seatmate, whom i’d never met before, was Dale Hostetler,
Bob’s masseur. We introduced ourselves, made some small talk, and
then settled down for the long journey to Beirut.

Bob was in the first class section on the same side of the aircraft as i
was. The first class partition was between us. However, during the flight,
he moved over to the other side of the aircraft. i got up and moved over
to the other side, also. Later, Bob moved back across the aisle. i did, too.

Bob moved several times during the flight. Each time he moved,
i moved. Finally, Dale asked me, “What are you doing moving back
and forth across the aisle so much?” i explained to him that i always
wanted the partition between me and Bob. “if he catches my eye,” i
told Dale, “i’ll have to go to work writing jokes.”

While i was explaining that to Dale, Bob moved across the aisle
again. When i turned, he was looking directly at me. Our eyes met
and he motioned for me to come see him. He wanted material. He
moved up to where the bunk beds were and laid down in one as he explained what he needed. i sat on the bed across the aisle, taking notes.

“We’ll be landing in new Jersey and they’ll have a press conference there,” he said. “i’ll need some gags.”
“Okay,” i said.
“Maybe we can do some things about bringing the beautiful . . . .”
He stopped. i glanced at him and saw that he was enjoying a nap.
i lay down for a bit of a rest, too, but i didn’t sleep.
About
ten
minutes later, Bob woke up and immediately continued, “. . . girls to
the troops.” He had taken a short nap in mid-sentence.
The navy was pleased to have us on their DC-9. The chef on
the flight, so we heard, was from the White House. However, Bob
wasn’t satisfied with the accommodations. The craft was comfortable
enough, and the treatment we received was gracious, but the DC-9
had to stop for refueling several times on the way to the Mediterranean. That, of course, made for a much longer flight.
So, Bob contacted Casper Weinberger, then Secretary of State,
and arranged for us to transfer to a C-141 transport craft when we
stopped on the East Coast. That plane could be refueled in the air and
could get us to Oman without stopping.
The new craft had rows of seats bolted down for our crew, but
it also had two ViP compartments. Those were like mobile homes
that could be rolled onto the craft and bolted down. They were quite
comfortable with large seats, couches, desks, and so on. Since we’d be
doing a lot of rehearsing during the flight, i was assigned a seat in the
ViP lounges along with the cast.
it was much more comfortable. The only real discomfort was
that Cathy Lee Crosby had a cassette of her song numbers. She put
on a headset, so she was the only one who could hear the musical accompaniment, but she sang full out for a goodly portion of the flight.
We landed in Oman and then transferred to helicopters to deliver
us to the
USS Guam
, a helicopter carrier that would be our home and
headquarters for the duration of our trip. When i was thinking about
the trip, i pictured myself flying around in the type of helicopters they
used for traffic reports on local radio. i visualized me and one or two
other passengers buzzing around over the Mediterranean. The helicopter we boarded was a biggie, large enough to take all forty or so of
the troupe along with all of our equipment.
We were all issued life vests and helmets with earmuffs to cut
down on the noise. We had to wear them. i must have looked terrified because Bob glanced at me and laughed. He pulled away one of
my earmuffs and said, “You look like the company Rabbi.”
i really wasn’t too concerned until one Marine stood up front to
give us our safety instructions. He showed us how to hook up the seat
belts, which were a bit more complicated than the normal passenger
airline belts. Then, he issued the instructions in a gruff, Marine drill
instructor tone.
He said, “Should we crash at sea . . . .”
i turned to Bob and mouthed the word, “crash?”
The marine continued. “. . . wait until all violent motion ceases . . . .”
i turned to Bob and mouthed, “violent motion?”
“. . . then evacuate the aircraft and gather at the front of the craft.
Should we crash on land . . . .”
Again, i mouthed the word to Bob.
“. . . wait until all violent motion ceases . . . .”
i did it again.
“. . . then evacuate the aircraft and gather at the front of the craft.”
i looked towards Bob as if to say, “What have you gotten me into?”
He lifted my ear covering again and said, “You’re probably not
going to get a bag of peanuts on this flight, either.”
it was a breathtaking experience when we landed on the
USS
Guam
. First of all, it was exciting to look down and see that tiny speck
in the Mediterranean and realize that was where we were going to land.
When we did settle on the deck and disembark, there were servicemen and women all over the place. They were hanging from the
railings and climbing up on any piece of equipment that would hold
them. it was amazing.
Bob was greeted by the brass, of course. As they walked along,
i followed, but i kept looking around at the wall of sailors that were
waving to us. Finally, when i turned to follow our group, they were
gone. One minute, they were standing behind me, and the next minute, they had disappeared. They literally disappeared.
i had no idea where they went.
A young sailor saw my confusion and rescued me. “They went down
on the elevator,” he said. i didn’t know it, but they have a large elevator on
the side of the ship that takes aircraft up and down from the hanger deck
to the flight deck. i was late stepping onto it and it went down without
me. That sailor offered to help me meet up with the rest of the troupe,
and then he offered to take me on a tour of the ship. i went along gladly.
He led me through the guts of the ship. i had no idea where i
was going or how to get back to anyplace. At one point, he took me
outside on a lower deck. it was just a small terrace, but while we were
there, some helicopters were coming in for a landing. i asked if i could
take some pictures. He said, “You don’t have a flash on, do you?”
i told him i didn’t.
He said it would be okay, then. The flash, though, might blind the
pilots momentarily and cause a disaster.
i took the photos without the flash. When i turned to talk to my
escort again, he was gone. That time, he had literally disappeared.
When he reappeared a minute or two later, i asked where he went.
He told me he liked to be inside when the choppers come in. “Many
times,” he warned me, “they will miss and crash into the side of the ship.”
That was great news because our schedule called for us to be flying around in those things for the next ten days or so.
Then, that young sailor took me inside the ship and was very
proud that the
USS Guam
had the only photo development lab in the
fleet. He took me in to see it. There was a large photo dryer, a tumbler, almost like the cages that you see when they roll cards around
for a random prize drawing. inside it were hundreds of photos that
had been developed in the lab and were being dried. He took a few
out and showed them to me. They were all photos of crashed and
mangled helicopters, the very craft that i was to be flying around in
for the next ten days.
The sailor boasted that the ship also had a “7-11” on board.
“Would you like to see it?”
i told him, “Of course, i would.”
As he was leading me, i thought that i’d be seeing a large area on the
ship that housed a secret weapon, the “7-11,” whatever that was. i thought
it would be a sleek plane or a fancy rocket ship, or something like that.
When we arrived, he pointed proudly and said, “There it is.”
it was a small cubby hole of a store that sold candy, film, toothpaste, razors, or whatever. it was a 7-ll store.
Our first show was that evening. Frankly, i was not enthused. i was
afraid that Bob might be out of his element. He served well in World
War ii, Korea, and Viet nam, but i thought that the new generation
might not be impressed. Boy, was i wrong. The show was in the hanger
deck of the Guam, and again, military personnel crowded the floor and
also hung from every perch imaginable, and what an audience they
were. Bob’s monologue played beautifully. Everything we did in the
show was a smash. The military loved him and the feeling was mutual.
Working on the Mediterranean was difficult because all our travel

was by helicopter. We did all of the shows on various ships in the
fleet. Consequently, we had to get up early in the morning—usually
around 6:00 a.m.—in order to make the trip. We flew with our crew
and equipment to whatever ships we were working on that day.

Bob was not a morning person; he didn’t want to wake early. He
said, “Fly the equipment there, set up the stage, and then i’ll fly in for
the show.”

The navy said, “You can’t.”
Bob asked, “Why not?”
They explained, “Once we set up the stage on the deck of the ship,

Bob kept me writing, though. On one flight, i was seated on the
chopper across the aisle from where he was sitting next to Vic Damone. Bob motioned for me to come over. i went over, but i could
hardly hear him because of the noise of the helicopter. He grabbed
my writing pad and pencil and jotted down, “Get a new line for Vic.
The one he has now isn’t working.”

i jotted a note and handed the pad back to Bob. it read, “All my
jokes are working.”
He took the pad from me and wrote, “You’re lucky you are.”
Then, i wrote a gag on the pad and handed it back. He nodded “no.”
i tried another and handed it across the aisle. Again, it was rejected.
We did this a few more times. Finally, Bob asked for the pad and
pencil. He wrote a note and handed it back to me. it read, “Forget it.
Why are we busting our ass to make him a star?”
Bob and i laughed and Vic Damone sat there completely oblivious to what was going on.
As the only writer on the trip, Bob wanted me with the cast wherever they went. We might do some last minute rehearsing or make
some quick script changes. it was humbling at times, especially when
we visited the other ships. When our helicopter landed on the deck of
a ship, there were always hundreds of sailors and marines waiting for
the doors to open so they could see Bob, George Kirby, Vic Damone,
Cathy Lee Crosby, Ann Jillian, Miss USA, Brooke Shields, and me.
Guess which one didn’t get mobbed.
i almost got pushed overboard several times in their rush to get to
the girls for autographs and pictures.
On the flight over, the USO gave all of us on the trip white satin
tennis jackets. They had an emblem on the breast and a giant caricature
of Bob Hope on the back with “Bob Hope USO Tour—7
^th
Fleet—Beirut, Lebanon” in red, white, and blue letters. i wore it everywhere because it identified me as part of the troupe and not military personnel.
One day, the cast was going to do a show that wasn’t being televised, so i didn’t have to go with them. i waited on the deck of the
USS
New Jersey
for the next helicopter back to the Guam. While i was waiting, a young marine, who was going to go back to the fighting in Beirut,
came over to me and asked, “Can i have my picture taken with you?”
i was thrilled. i said, “Sure you can. That’s why we’re here.”
He said, “Let me show my buddy how to operate the camera.”
He told another marine how to snap the photo. When he came
back to me, i put my arm around his shoulder and gave him a big smile.
He said, “no, no, no, man. Turn around.”
All he wanted was the back of my jacket.
On another day, Bob was late getting up to the deck after a show.
The navy told us that they would absolutely not fly the helicopters
after dark because it was too dangerous. So while the performers and
i waited for Bob to arrive, the helicopter took off without us.
The captain of the ship offered two suggestions: we could stay onboard overnight, or he would get a small craft to bring us back to the
Guam. We couldn’t stay overnight because we had an early departure
the next morning for that day’s show. We had to make the two-hour
journey by boat. The sea was rough that night, and they had no running lights because they made too great a target on the open sea. The
Mediterranean water looked pitch black. it was a rough journey.
The trip was even rougher when we got to the Guam. We docked
next to a floating dock outside the ship. The waves were at least fourfeet high, so at any one time, the dock and our boat could have been
as much as eight-feet away from one another. They had several sailors
helping us make the jump from boat to dock and then up the outside of
the carrier. i was concerned about the cast, but they all made it safely.
The last two people to make the transition were Bob and me. Bob
didn’t seem concerned. He just hummed, and when his turn came, he
stepped forward and the seas calmed. it was almost Biblical. The seas
ceased their turmoil and he walked casually across.
When i got there, the water raged again. Mercifully, the sailors
guided me safely across. When i reached the innards of the ship, a
sailor greeted me. He had a large poster of his ship, the
USS Guam.
He had gotten every cast member to sign it. He asked me, the last one
off, if i would sign it, too.
Again, i said, “Sure. That’s why we’re here.”
As i was preparing to sign it, he said, “What do you do on the show?”
i said proudly, “i’m the writer.”
He hesitated, and then said, “Sign it anyway.”
The logistics on that show were problematic. All of the equipment had to be transported back and forth with each show. Cue cards
especially were a burden. They had to be organized, tied up, and then
lugged from the helicopter landing pad to wherever the show was being performed. Bob also wanted them available for rehearsal, so they
often had to be packaged and carried up or down several decks before
each show and then back to the show venue.
Our last show of that tour was on the aircraft carrier,
USS John F.
Kennedy.
While the costumes were being hauled aboard, they simply disappeared. They were unloaded onto the ship, but they never
reached the stage. The ship’s personnel hunted for them, but they
couldn’t locate them.
We had no costumes for the numbers or for the sketches. Brooke
Shields came up with a very workable idea. The girls borrowed military jackets from the officers onboard and wore them over their leotards. The makeshift costumes looked quite becoming and very sexy.
They were used for the final cut of the show that aired on nBC.
i made every military jaunt with Bob after that 1983 trip to Beirut.
We traveled to the Persian Gulf a couple of times. We did a Peace Time
jaunt around the world in 1989. it was supposed to be Bob’s farewell to
the military, however, as we were coming home, trouble began brewing
in Kuwait. When we landed home, Bob said to me, “Don’t unpack.”
We were on our way to Saudi Arabia less than a month later.
it was a strange melding of attitudes and personalities when the
Bob Hope troupes visited service bases. The military was all discipline and leadership, yet nothing seemed to get done. Our gang was
ragtag, haphazard, seemingly aimless, yet the shows got on the stage
and on the air quite well.
The disparity was very apparent during our trip to Beirut. One
marine gentleman traveling with us was a weekend warrior and an executive at nBC. He prided himself on his military bearing. He could
just about tolerate our crew of ruffians.
One day after the show was done and the set was dismantled, we
were all milling about waiting for our helicopter to go back to our ship.
We were chatting away, laughing, and having a good time. That irritated
him. He wanted marine-like discipline. Finally, he took matters into
his own hands. While we were jawing away, he climbed up onto a box
and shouted in a powerful voice, “i want your full attention, please.”
Our babble stopped immediately.
He bellowed, “i want the following people to report to me, front
and center, on the double.” Then, he shouted out a bunch of names
from our cast.
When he was done, we all turned and resumed our chit-chat. no one
reported to him
on the double
or anyway else. He slunk down from his
soapbox and withdrew. We didn’t see much of him for the rest of the trip.
Everyone on those trips had a job to do, including writing, lighting, sound, cameras, and makeup. Whatever they were, the folks did
them well. it was an efficient show-producing squad. However, the
main job of the troupe was gathering souvenirs. We all tried to get
hats, jackets, patches, ashtrays, cigarette lighters, or whatever they
were offering.
Once, though, i wanted to abandon one guy who was souvenir
hunting. We had landed in Bahrain and it was unnerving to me. The
marines who flew us in were a bit apprehensive about our visit there,
and i was even more so. When we got off the C-141, people surrounded us with automatic weapons. They were non-English speaking foreign soldiers. i didn’t know whether they were protecting us
from harm or waiting for us to make a false move so they could cause
us harm. We were dispatched in small groups to helicopters. i kept
hoping that my name would be called quickly so that i could get away
from those guys. However, others kept going before me. Finally, i
was in the last group of about eight people, so i knew i had to be on
the next chopper.
An American marine was dispatching us and giving us our instructions. i just wanted him to talk quickly so we could move out to
the landing area, board our helicopter, and be on our way.
Just as we were about to leave, one of our group commented on
the patch the marine wore. “Can i get one of those?” he asked.
“Sure,” the marine said, “Wait here and i’ll go get some.”
Our marine left and i was sentenced to an even longer wait surrounded by those guys with the automatic guns. However, i did get
a nice patch.
Bahrain caused me other heartaches, too. it was a fascinating
place, known as the Las Vegas of the Middle East, but it was dangerous because its borders were so open. it was ripe for terrorists, and the
Bob Hope troupes were attractive targets for thugs. The military were
concerned about us during any visits there. During “Desert Shield,”
we were advised not to leave our hotel without armed escorts.
During one visit to Bahrain, we went on a shopping spree. Bob
was accompanied by the Commodore, and i was a few steps behind
him with the Captain of our ship. i noticed the Captain was uncomfortable in Bahrain, so again, i was even more so.
People from the military had warned us to be on our good behavior. We weren’t to take any pictures of people if they didn’t want them
taken. We weren’t to do anything illegal. The stories had it that they
cut off fingers or hands for thievery.
During our shopping tour, i had to go to the bathroom, but i
couldn’t locate a men’s room. not many people spoke English, so i
had trouble asking. The situation was becoming critical. i wondered
if they cut off hands for stealing, what they cut off for urinating in the
promenade. Finally, i saw a door that seemed to be a men’s rest room.
i went to it and found it was locked. i jiggled the door a bit, figuring
maybe it was only stuck. When i turned around, an armed guard had
a gun pointed at my nose. He marched me down to a nearby store,
spoke to the clerk, and he handed me a key to the men’s room. it
didn’t matter. After the gun incident, i didn’t have to go any more.
During our walk through the shopping center, we lost Bob and the
Commodore. We were scheduled to go to a party at the U.S. Ambassador’s house that evening, so i suggested to the Captain that we get
our driver and go right to the party. The Captain didn’t know where
the Ambassador’s house was. He didn’t know where our driver was, either. Fortunately, our driver, who was probably more bodyguard than
driver, knew where we were. He drove us to the Ambassador’s house
and we enjoyed a very elegant party. nevertheless, i wanted to leave.
After the party, i was in the first car to the waiting C-141. Bob
was already on board. As i passed him, he called me over. “How’d
you like that palace, huh?”
i said, “it was gorgeous.”
“And a nice party, too,” Bob said.
i said, “Yeah, it was great. There was only one problem.”
“What’s that?” Bob asked.
Behind my back i pulled my hand up into the sleeve of my jacket.
i held the “handless” sleeve out to Bob and said, “You steal one lousy
ashtray.”
Bob fell out of his seat and started banging his hand on the floor
laughing. it was the biggest reaction i ever got from the boss.
On many of those trips, we moved around quickly and did several
shows a day. We also crossed over time zones. The rules of thumb
were that if someone gave us something to eat, we ate it; if we had a
chance to sleep, we took it.
We were never sure how much sleep we would get. We had a lot
of work to do and we were always on a tight schedule, but we also
were never sure what sort of sleeping arrangements we’d have. One
night, we had a luxurious, comfortable room. The next night, we had
a cot, and sometimes, not even that.
Even when we had comfortable accommodations, we couldn’t
count on a good night’s sleep. in Berlin, i was quartered in a three-room
suite that was reserved for generals. it was beautiful. it had a lovely
shower stall and a complimentary bar. i showered, had a cocktail or
two, and then settled down in a most comfortable bed for a solid evening of rest. At two o’clock, the phone rang. it was Mrs. Hope. She was
watching the Kentucky Derby, which because of the time difference,
aired at that hour in Berlin, and she wanted to know if i was watching it.
“no,” i said.
“Well you just won it,” she said. That year, a jockey named Craig Perret was astride the winning horse. it was good fortune for Craig Perret,
but bad fortune for Gene Perret. i never did get back to sleep that night.
Coming back from Beirut, the base served us breakfast before we
left at about three o’clock in the morning. On the plane, the cooks
prepared some scrambled eggs and bacon for us. When we landed at
Lajes Field in the Azores, they had breakfast waiting for us. Our first
stop after that was Fort Dix in new Jersey, where they had breakfast
planned for us. We had four breakfasts on our way home.
On one trip, i sat in the body of the C-141 because the ViP section on that craft was tiny. My seatmate was a hardworking soul, who
did the publicity for the tour. He was constantly writing on his laptop
and rushing out to have the copy sent by whatever means to wherever
he sent it. i know he was doing a bang-up job, but he was also a pest
as far as i was concerned. Every time i dozed off, he’d wake me up by
climbing over me. i wasn’t getting much rest at all.
On our flight home, our roles were reversed. All his publicity
work was done, but i still had writing to do for radio shows and interviews that Bob was to perform wherever we stopped.
That gentleman rolled up in several blankets and went sound asleep,
and he stayed asleep for a long time. i sat on the aisle, he was by the wall,
and there was an empty seat between us. At one point, he and his blankets fell over onto the empty seat. i couldn’t see his face because of the
blankets and i couldn’t see if he was breathing. i thought he had died.
i wanted to pull the blankets away and see if he was alive. Then i
thought that because he had worked hard on that trip, he deserved his
rest. if he was deceased, there was no helping him, and if he was alive
but asleep, he should just sleep. He woke, eventually.