Paul Lynde - A Biography (15 page)

Chapter 10

Question from The Hollywood Squares:

When is it a good time to put your pantyhose in the microwave?

Paul:

When your house in surrounded by police.

“Order in this court!” the judge commanded on a warm Wednesday afternoon in August of 1974. The courtroom was standing room only for the state of Ohio vs. Paul Lynde. The humiliated actor stood grim-faced and frozen in trepidation, before the robed man who held the fate of his career in his hands.

According to
The Toledo Blade
newspaper, a radio show had broadcast that Paul was in trouble with the law. When the celebrity arrived at the municipal courthouse in Perrysburg, Ohio — just 130 miles from Mount Vernon — there were over one hundred fans waiting outside to see America’s favorite comedian. Some brought flowers to adorn him with, kids chanted “Uncle Arthur,” and many had brought their autograph books and cameras. They held out their pens and roses, as the somber comedian walked past in silence, avoiding all contact as he went through the courthouse door. For the first time ever, Ohio’s beloved star ignored the most important people to him in his life: his fans.

Paul had been starring that week in
Mother Is Engaged —
which he also performed in the past as
No Hard Feelings
 — in nearby Toledo’s playhouse at the time he was arrested. When he wasn’t playing center square, he was playing center stage as a Kenley player every summer for the past five years. He had been hired by a man born John Kremchek, who had changed his last name and was now known as John Kenley. John had performed in Vaudeville acts in the 1920s and eventually became a producer. He had a brilliant idea, knowing most of the people in states like Pennsylvania and Ohio would never get the chance to see Broadway shows in New York, he brought Broadway to them. The Kenley players’ slogan: “America’s Most Exciting Summer Theater.” John hired famous actors to star for each show, among them Ethel Merman, Martha Raye, Anita Bryant, Van Johnson, and Frankie Avalon. Paul became the most popular Kenley player in their history, breaking box office records as he performed for 84,000 ticket buyers.

Each summer, the star of
The Hollywood Squares,
and the most visible face on television, was the lead in these plays. It began in 1969, when Paul starred in
The Impossible Years.
The tour began in his home state, with their first stop in Warren, it continued to Dayton and then onto its capital, Columbus. From every corner of Ohio, fellow Buckeyes would travel to see their state’s biggest star. It was here where Paul began to get a glimpse of just how much his fellow Ohioans loved him. It mas mid-July and he had become upset when he saw that the show had been scheduled for the twentieth. The star of the show was well aware that “the show must go” as was the rule in show business, however, he thought there should be an exception that week. He just learned Apollo 11 was scheduled to land on the moon, the same night as the show. If that wasn’t enough of a reason, the fact that Neil Armstrong, who would be the first man to walk on the moon, was a native of Ohio.

Even Paul, who was intrigued about aircraft, wanted to watch the world event. He mentally prepared himself for a barren auditorium, but when the curtain opened, he looked out at a jam-packed house. Paul was even more astounded when he saw that people were standing along the walls. The ticket buyers were told earlier that it would be standing room only, but they didn’t mind — they just wanted to see Paul or, at the very least, hear his voice.

“It’s
Hollywood Squares,
that’s what fills those seats. And never, never in a thousand years would I have imagined that reaction from appearing on a daytime game show,” Paul told David Johnson of
After Dark
magazine. He would stay after every show, up to two hours some nights, posing with hundreds for pictures. He made sure he spelled every name correctly to whom he was giving the autograph for. He answered their questions and joked with the crowds, but he had a way of keeping everyone at arm’s length — just like he did with his closest friends — but he was truly sincere when he told his fans how much he appreciated their support, especially in his birth state. He was treated like a king by his fellow Ohioans, who purchased so many tickets that nearly every show had a sign posted “Sold Out.” He waited until the last fan faded from his view and the theater emptied. It was then that he would hit the town to celebrate the show’s success. This time it would land him in jail.

After a night of drinking, Paul had driven his car to The Riverside apartment complex in Rossford, which was about six miles from the theater in Toledo. The
Toledo Blade
newspaper printed the story the next day. A policeman, who was patrolling the area, approached him to question what he was doing in the parking lot at two-thirty in the morning. Paul began shouting colorful words at the man in uniform. The policeman did not recognize the inebriated actor, who would not explain what he was doing there, so the policeman called for backup. Another officer arrived, but he could not get Paul quieted either, so they had to arrest him. Paul explained on the way to the station, that he was angry from an incident he had recently encountered with the Toledo police, but he never elaborated. He spent an hour behind bars and was released, but still had to appear in court.

Paul waited nervously as the judge looked over the charges on that court date. He could hear the loud whispering, and he cringed as he felt hundreds of eyes penetrating the back of his head. Now his favorable reputation would be scalded in his homeland, and he feared how this bad publicity would affect ticket sales. His boss, John, would not be happy. The magistrate studied the actor’s face, “How do you plead?” he asked. The buzzing throughout the courtroom hushed.

“No contest, your honor,” his lawyer answered for his client. Then the judge slapped his fellow Ohioan with a $100 fine. The charge: public intoxication. And the judge also added ten dollars for court fees. The star exited the courtroom in silence and hurried past the adorning crowd. The disenchanted fans faces fell when the star did not acknowledge even one of them.

That evening, back at the Masonic Auditorium in Toledo, the apprehensive actor went over his lines in the dressing room. It was two minutes to show time and he had prepared himself for lots of vacant seats and, no doubt, harassing hecklers that would come just to tear him to pieces. He held his breath as he walked on stage and was taken back when thundering applause and cheers surged from a full house. The fans were still there for him. Relief spilled out of him, and he gratefully poured every ounce of it into his performance. When Paul took his final bow for that evening, the adoration from the audience filled the auditorium and the star. His green eyes lit up as he gave a nod for their unconditional love. No hard feelings proved to be true for just about everyone in Ohio on that night.

When Paul returned to Toledo, one year later to perform again at the same theatre, the city had welcomed him with open arms, and almost every paper in his home state, as always, gave him rave reviews.

Paul continued as a Kenley player, going on to do
Plaza Suite
in 1971, with Renee Orin, who starred in
Plain and Fancy
among many other Broadway hits in the past. After each show, Paul told the audience, “Keep laughing always and love each other.” He played a father in
My Daughter is Rated X
in 1973, with Elizabeth Allen, who played his wife. Two years later, Paul performed with Alice Ghostley in
Stop Thief Stop.
He enjoyed this type of acting as this is what he went to college for and felt that was the only venue that allowed him to show his acting ability. When someone referred to him as a comedian, Paul quickly corrected them, “I’m an actor-comedian and there’s a difference.”

In 1974, John Kenley told George Anderson, of the
Pittsburgh Post Gazette,
that the salary of his actors were “astronomical.” He said, “Paul Lynde was the highest paid actor in the world.” Paul was paid $30,000 a week for summer tours, but took a cut in salary for John.

In between summer tours and
Squares,
Paul became a rat and loved it. Hanna-Barbera-Sagittarius Productions released the animated hit movie
Charlotte’s Web
that year
.
The cast of voices included Debbie Reynolds as Charlotte the spider, Henry Gibson as Wilbur the pig, Agnes Moorehead as the voice of the goose, and Paul Lynde for the voice of Templeton, the cynical rat. “Templeton is so meeean,” Paul told a reporter, and he loved playing a villain.

Paul also appeared in commercials for Manufacturers Hanover Bank as the nervous customer who is suspicious when all the bank tellers are so pleasant to him.

In 1975, Paul played the voice of
Huggo the Hippo.
The animated film did not do well in the box office, but it did not affect Paul’s popularity. The side-splitting zingers that he delivered on
The Hollywood Squares
continued to have its millions of viewers glued to their television sets. They were waiting and hoping that he would be called on, just so they could hear what shocking thing he would say next.

Paul reined over the television industry that decade, and was showered with awards. In 1972, he was rated “America’s Favorite Comedian” in the Photoplay Gold Medal awards poll and would win it again in 1979. He could hardly believe it when he won “Funniest Man of the Year” in 1975. “I was in total shock,” he said on the daytime talk show
Mid-day Live.
Carol Burnett had just won “Funniest Woman of the Year,” and when his name was announced, Paul gave her a bear hug on his way to the podium and said he almost crushed Carol Burnett to death. “She’s slender and they said her eyes came out of her head. I thought I heard bones crushing.” He was up against some of the most talented men television had ever known.

Twelve months later, 8,000 members of the American Guild of Variety Artists chose him as “Comedian of the Year.” Paul was especially proud of this one because the votes had come from his peers. At last, he was reaping what he had sowed so very long ago. He was again honored when the American Academy of Humor voted him Funniest Man in America in 1975. That same year he was ranked fifth in Weekly Variety’s “TV Q” popularity poll, in the category of “All male Performers not appearing in a Regular Television Series.” However, the trophy Paul still cherished the most came in 1970, from his alma mater, Northwestern University, where he was bestowed the Alumni Association Merit of Achievement Award. It was the highest honor ever given, and he was the only actor to ever receive it.

For two decades prior, Paul was ridden with anxiety about every aspect of his career. He worried he wasn’t funny and that his talent was not appreciated. Now he had to add a new concern to his pile. “The more famous I become the harder it is stay on top. You’re only as good as your last joke.”

Once, he went on
The Mike Douglas Show
carrying a huge book, and the host asked him, “Is that a Bible?”

Paul answered, “No, this is my list of fears.”

After Gabe Kaplan had presented Paul with the award for “Best male Comedy Star of the Year,” Jackie Gleason, who was also on stage, asked the winner, “How does it feel to be the funniest man of 1975?”

Paul answered, saying he didn’t want that kind of pressure. Then he said, “Love is giving and this award is love; and since I am the funniest man of 1975, I have the authority to give it to the funniest man ever.” Then he handed his trophy to Mr. Gleason.

Paul had admired and worked with
The Honeymooners
star on
The Jackie Gleason
show in the 1960s, where he played a talent scout. A year later, Gleason told a reporter that Lynde had surprised him with the award, and that he put it down during the show and somehow it got lost. (If Paul knew that, he would have been furious.)

Paul’s enduring fame would soon get him the call he had long awaited. Bill Asher was also known as the “The man who invented sitcoms,” and he was ready once again, to create a new one — and he wanted Paul to star in it. Bill always said Paul had enormous talent and always felt he should have his own series. Paul was thrilled, but he did not know what kind of show they should do. He told the
Pittsburgh Gazette
that he had called Lucille Ball, and she suggested he do a family show because it had potential to stay on the air for many years. Paul went with her advice and told Bill. Bill thought about
Howie,
a pilot they did ten years ago that never sold. Paul had played a lawyer who lived on Long Island with his wife. They have a brilliant son-in-law who doesn’t work and drives his father-in-law crazy when he moves in with them. That show had originally been scheduled to replace the
Dick Van Dyke Show,
which, in the first showing, did not get good ratings, but then it took off and became a long-running hit. Both Bill and Paul thought
Howie
would now have a real chance, so Bill dug out the old script and began tweaking it.

Bill would create, produce, and direct
The Paul Lynde Show.
He kept most of the format from
Howie.
The star of the new show headed to Burbank studios on Olive Street, where the rehearsals with his television family would take place. He starred as Paul Simms, a respected lawyer who was married to Martha, played by his attractive longtime friend Elizabeth Allen. Liz told reporters that Paul was her best friend.

The sitcom was filmed in front of a live audience. Paul and Martha Simms had two daughters, the youngest, Sally, was played by Pamelyn Ferdin and the older daughter, Barbara, was played by Jane Actman. Barbara was married to the genius Howie, played by John Calvin. Ben Stiller and Anne Meara would make several appearances as Howie’s parents. Howie, who has no money and no job, moves into the Simms’s home and agitates his father-in-law, Paul, so much that Paul needs a cocktail every night to keep from exploding.