Memoirs of a Muppets Writer: (You mean somebody actually writes that stuff?) (7 page)

OPEN TO A MASTER SHOT OF GORDON’S CAR PARKED IN FRONT OF 123 SESAME STREET. GORDON IS DRIVING. SUSAN IS NEXT TO HIM. MARIA IS IN THE BACK SEAT.

SFX: TIRE SPINNING ON ICE.

THE CAR IS STUCK IN A MOUND OF SNOW.

GORDON

Well, we’re stuck.

SUSAN & MARIA

Oh, no!

CUT TO SUPER GROVER FLYING THROUGH THE AIR.

SUPER GROVER

Stuck? This looks like a job for Super Grover!

INSERT SUPER GROVER INTRO

CUT TO CAR IN STREET. GROVER LANDS WITH A “THUD” IN A SNOW BANK. GORDON GETS OUT OF THE CAR.

SUPER GROVER

Never fear, Super Grover is here! Now, what is your problem, sir?

GORDON

We’re stuck.

SUPER GROVER

Stuck?

GORDON

Yeah. Stuck

SUPER GROVER

How do you mean, “stuck?”

GORDON

The-wheel-is-on-the-ice-the-ice-is-slippery-so-the-wheel-can’t-move-and-the-car-is-stuck… stuck.

SUPER GROVER

(BRIGHTLY) Of, course. Well, I know just what to do. Super Grover to the rescue!

GORDON

What will we do?

SUPER GROVER

It is very simple. We will just wait until Spring. Then, the weather will get warm. The ice will melt and you can drive your car.

GORDON

Grover…

SUPER GROVER

Super Grover.
Please,
I am in uniform.

GORDON

We can’t wait until spring for the ice to melt. That’s months away!

SUPER GROVER

Well, I have another idea.

GORDON

Let’s hear it.

(GORDON IS DIGGING AT THE SNOW WITH HIS HAND AND TRYING TO ASCERTAIN THE PROBLEM. HE IS NOT PAYING PARTICULAR ATTENTION TO GROVER.)

SUPER GROVER

I, Super Grover, will blow on the ice with my hot little breath, and that will melt the ice, and you can drive away.

GORDON

You just might have enough hot air to do it.

SUPER GROVER

Stand back! Ahhhhhhhhhh-wheeeeeeeee! (BLOWING ON THE ICE)

GORDON GOES BACK TO THE CAR.

SUPER GROVER

Hmmmmm. My super breath can’t melt the ice, either. I know, I’ll get something hotter to melt the ice.

EXIT GROVER

MARIA GETS OUT OF THE CAR. SUSAN GETS IN THE DRIVER’S SEAT.

GORDON

Okay. When I count three, you start driving and Maria and I will push the car off the ice. One … two … three…

GORDON AND MARIA PUSH THE CAR OFF THE ICE.

MARIA

Let’s go.

GORDON AND MARIA GET INTO THE CAR. SUSAN DRIVES OFF.

ENTER SUPER GROVER PULLING A GIGANTIC FIREPLACE.

SUPER GROVER

There. Now I will build a fire, and the fire will melt the ice, and Gordon can drive away in his car … (NOTICES FOR THE FIRST TIME THE CAR IS GONE) … It worked! I just brought in the fireplace and at its mere presence, the ice melted and Gordon has driven away already! No job is too difficult for Super Grover!

ENTER A MUPPET MAN

MAN

Hey! What are you doing with my fireplace!?

SUPER GROVER

Don’t bother me now, sir. I, Super Grover, am very busy rescuing people.

MAN

You must be some kind of nut!

SUPER GROVER

But you don’t understand, sir. See, my friend has this car and …

MAN CHASES GROVER AROUND THE FIREPLACE FOR A RAVE OFF.)

MUSIC BUTTON

FADE

Of course, not everything I wrote saw the light of day. Sometimes even after Jon had okayed a sketch, the Research Department would kill it on educational grounds. I lost a couple of real favorites that way.

In one piece, to teach the various climates in the United States, under the aegis of Natural Environment, I made Cookie Monster a weatherman, complete with a U.S. map and pointer. Cookie explained how it was snowing in Maine and raining in Alabama and very hot in Texas. But then, Cookie’s baser nature took over and he started to eat the map.

I guess it was when he proclaimed that, “Chicago is delicious!”, that we lost it. Research declared there was a possibility that somewhere some kids would think Cookie really had eaten Chicago, and the piece was bagged. I will admit I spent several days working on a sketch where Cookie really did eat Chicago but to no avail.

However, my all-time favorite
Sesame Street
reject was disqualified over a point of Theoretical Physics.

We had been told by the Research Department that there were two benefits to teaching the alphabet to a two-year-old. Firstly, the alphabet is an essential building block of education. But secondly, the approval and positive feedback that the child receives for reciting the alphabet reinforces his or her’s desire to learn.

It was in this light, I created the following: My premise was that if a kid got X amount of approval and reinforcement from reciting the alphabet to adults, imagine what results the following might have.

I started with the idea of creating a new department of
Sesame Street
called, Tips For Tots!. The piece required a corny opening with a theme song and a Tips for Tots logo. Then we cut to Big Bird in front of a blackboard. He is holding a piece of chalk.

BIG BIRD

And, now it’s time for Tips for Tots!

(BIG BIRD DRAWS ON THE BLACKBOARD IN COORDINATION WITH HIS DIALOGUE)

BIG BIRD

Okay, tots! You know this! This is the letter, “E,” right? “E?” And, these two lines, one on top of the other mean, “equal.” Can you say, “Equal?” Equal means, the same. And these are your old friends, the letter, “M.” And the letter, “C,” right? Okay. Let’s review. “E” equals, “M,” “C.” Right? “E” equals “M,” “C.” Now, we need a number. So, here’s the number, “2”. But here’s another new word, just like, “equals.” This little, and it has to be little, number, “2,” means, “squared”, kind of like the shape with four equal sides. Hey, there’s that word, “Equal,” again. So, let’s review. “E” equals “M,” “C,” squared. Try it again. “E” equals “M,” “C,” squared. Once more, “E” equals “M,” “C,” squared.

I turned this bit in to Jon Stone. Jon loved it and made one brilliant addition. He gave Big Bird the closing line: “And, when anyone asks you where you learned this, you tell them that you learned it on
Sesame Street.”

As I said, the Research Department rejected the piece, saying I really didn’t explain Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. I fired off a memo to Research asking them to explain the Theory to me and show me exactly where I went wrong. That was around 1975. I’m still waiting for an answer.

Chapter 8

The Greek’s

L
incoln Plaza is one of those made-up New York addresses like Avenue of the Americas, which all New Yorkers refer to as Sixth Avenue, its original name. (Hint: If you fly into New York and give a cab driver an address on “Avenue of the Americas,” you have a good chance of seeing Newark by moonlight. If you’re really unlucky, you could see the sun rise over Philadelphia.)

In reality, Lincoln Plaza is a triangular traffic island/park created where Broadway meets and crosses Columbus Avenue. West 63
^rd
Street forms the third side of the triangle. The ASCAP Building, which housed the
Sesame Street
offices, is on the east, Broadway, side of the Plaza.

On the west side of the triangle is Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, a 16-acre complex of theaters, performance spaces, rehearsal studios, classrooms and administration facilities that is the home of some of the most prestigious performing arts organizations in the country.

The Metropolitan Opera, the New York City Ballet, the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, The New York City Opera, Juilliard School of Music, the School of American Ballet and many other equally distinguished performing arts companies called Lincoln Center home. Many well known musicians, dancers, conductors and actors worked there on a regular basis.

However, on the south side of the Lincoln Center triangle, bordered by West 63
^rd
Street is the Empire Hotel. Because of its proximity to Lincoln Center, many touring performance arts companies stay at the Empire during their Lincoln Center engagements.

(I once stayed at the Empire for a week while I was in transit from Boston to New York. I was fortunate enough to have an opera company staying there at the same time. In case you’re wondering, it’s true, opera singers do sing in the shower. So, if you timed your shower right, you could be regally serenaded because their shower singing wafted through the drain pipes into every shower in the hotel.)

On the first floor of the Empire Hotel, across Broadway from the ASCAP Building was an undistinguished bar and restaurant called the Theatre Pub. It was known to its regulars as “The Greek’s” due to the nationality of the proprietor.

There were several well-known restaurants in the area like The Gingerman and O’Neil’s Balloon, where tourists went in vain search for celebrities. But the Greek’s was the local lunch hangout for many of the people who worked in and around Lincoln Center, probably because it had the cheapest martinis in the neighborhood.

It was also a prime location for girl watching. Sooner or later, every female dancer from Lincoln Center passed by the Greek’s picture window on her way to Capezio, the dancers’ outfitter that was located next door. In fact, every spring the Greek’s regulars celebrated Coat Day - the first warm day of the season when the dancers shed their bulky winter coats. (Lest this sound sexist, I can tell you from personal experience that every dancer I’ve ever met is a shameless exhibitionist.)

George Balanchine, famed choreographer of the New York City Ballet, had a standing reservation every day for lunch. The writing staffs of The
Electric
Company and (when in the office)
Sesame Street
also lunched there. Jon Stone regularly held
Sesame Street
writers’ meetings at the Greek’s. So, it was not unusual to have a writer occupying every bar stool in the place.

The first time I lunched at The Greek’s and saw this, it occurred to me that in a bar full of comedy writers, if I was going to relate something funny that had happened to me the night before, it had better be
really
funny.

During my first week on the job, I found myself sitting next to Tom Whedon and Jim Thurman, senior writers on The
Electric Company.
Jim was relating a story about playing touch football with Hitler, his 600-pound pet pig. I sat in respectful silence. Eventually, their conversation got around to writing, which I suspect was strictly for my benefit.

“You know what Jon Stone told me was the most important thing about writing?” Tom asked Jim.

At the sound of Jon’s name, my ears immediately pricked up. I sure wanted to hear what Jon Stone thought was the most important thing about writing.

“No,” answered Jim. “What did Jon Stone say was the most important thing about writing?”

Now, I’m really listening.

“Well,” said Tom, stretching it out, but eventually getting to, “Jon said the most important thing about writing is the “X” key and the “M” key.” These, of course, were the days when writers still worked on typewriters.

“Why?”, Jim asked.

“Well,” said Tom. After another long, drawn out preamble he finally got to the point. “Jon said to me, ‘I’ll tell you the most important thing about writing. You know when you write a line that you don’t like and you want to delete it? Most writers back up and just type XXXXXXX over it. But if you do that sometimes people can
still
read it. However, if you type XMXMXMXM over it they can never make it out.”

This writing advice ranks right up there with what Mel Brooks said was the hardest thing about writing. “It’s the “M”s and the “N”s. One has two hills and the other has three hills and I can never remember which is which.”

Shortly after I joined
Sesame Street,
construction started on a new skyscraper in the neighborhood. When that happened, lunch time at the Greek’s was about 50/50 writers and hard hats. Then, a national touring ballet company came to Lincoln Center for a run and the dancers all stayed at the Empire. Now the lunch crowd at the Greek’s was made up of equal parts writers, hard hats and ballet dancers.

You might think that this could be an explosive combination of people in the same bar. After all, this was 1973, the Vietnam era. Many of the construction guys sported American flags on their hard hats. Many of the writers, myself included, were bearded long hairs, and some of the male dancers were obviously gay.

But you don’t know New York hard hats. After all, this was Lincoln Center, hallowed temple to the performing arts. Let’s show a little sensitivity here. These guys may be hard hats, but that doesn’t mean they’re
gauche.
The point was driven home one day when a gravelly voice with a thick Brooklyn accent inquired from one end of the bar to the other, “Hey Vinny! Did you know that Bruce here danced the second lead in
L’Apresmidi du Fawn
in Paris last season?”

Chapter 9

The Instigator

O
ne of the great techniques that Jon Stone created for
Sesame Street
was taking classic comedy routines from movies and vaudeville and reinterpreting them for our young audience. This time-honored material was perfect for the show. It was broad. It was visual. And, it was universally funny. We scoured old vaudeville and Buster Keaton scripts. And, if there was a Marx Brothers’ film on television, whatever the hour, we watched it.

One of the most memorable
Sesame Street
pieces from that era was Sonia Manzano, the fine actress who plays Maria on the show, duplicating the classic mirror scene from the Marx Brothers film,
Duck Soup.
In it, a double tries to convince Groucho that a mirror hasn’t been broken by duplicating every move that Groucho makes and
almost
getting away with it. Sonia, in baggy pants, Groucho glasses and moustache, executed it perfectly.

The
Instigator
was inspired by another classic comedy routine.

The only other thing you have to realize about this piece is that in 1974, there was a hot (for
Sesame Street
) romance between teenagers Maria and David.