when it’s funny,” and go into his room to take a nap. We would work on some material, and when it was ready we’d wake him up to review it. Phil was a great client to have because not only was he a regular on
The Ed Sullivan Show
, but he also had a radio show. We would write him routines and social commentary along the lines of Andy Rooney on
60 Minutes
. Our relationship with Phil Foster opened doors to other comedians, suchas Joey Bishop, a dead-pan somber-looking man who rarely seemed happy.
The day I went to have my first meeting with Joey Bishop, I handed him my diploma from Northwestern.
“What’s this?” he said.
“My college diploma,” I said. “I thought you would be impressed I have a writing degree.”
“Interesting. But write some jokes on the other side of it and then I’ll really be impressed.”
Joey was a big deal in comedy because he was a guest host on Jack Paar’s
The Tonight Show
. Phil convinced Joey that he should have his own writers for the show and that Fred and I would be perfect for the job. Joey agreed and paid us three hundred dollars a week, which we split. Suddenly, Fred and I were working as a television writing team for a comedian on
The Tonight Show
. Soon a man named Frank Cooper contacted us and said he wanted to represent us. Once you started making money back then, you didn’t need to look for an agent. Agents found you. That is still true today.
Writing material for Joey wasn’t an easy job. He was a comedian of few words and known as king of the deadpan. If a joke wasn’t working or didn’t get a laugh quickly, he would say “son of a gun,” which was his catchphrase. In the general scope of comedy, he was not as funny as Don Rickles and Jack Carter, but he was more connected. Stars like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin liked him and considered him a member of their Rat Pack. Joey’s style was unique. He liked to assume the part of the sullen Rat Pack comedian and often had the audiences overhear his jokes instead of hearing them dead-on. To achieve this, he would even perform with his back to the audience, playing his material directly to the band. What we found the most difficult to deal with was that he didn’t respect writers. He rarely introduced us formally. Among the staff of
The Tonight Show
, Fred and I were known as Joey’s Kids.
The first year we wrote for Joey whenever he substituted for Jack Paar, which was about seven times. The second year we signed with an agent who negotiated a deal for us to write for Jack Parr as well,full-time as staff writers. We joined Paul Keyes, Bob Howard, and Walter Kempley on the writing staff for
The Tonight Show
in 1960. We wrote about five pages of jokes each day, four days a week. Joey or Jack might use one or two of our jokes each day, and each time it felt like sweet victory to us. Jack was a paranoid yet dapper type with an obsessive curiosity about life. That’s what made him such a good talk-show host. We wrote jokes about being stuck in rush hour such as “Traffic was so heavy that I drove from Long Island to Manhattan in neutral.” Joey loved that joke and asked for more like it. Both he and Jack wanted material that appeared as if they had just thought of it spontaneously. One day Fred and I and the other three writers were standing in the hall talking. Jack saw us and looked annoyed. “Don’t bunch up,” he said. “I don’t want people to think I have so many writers.” Basically the comedians paid us to write funny material for them and remain anonymous.
One of the reasons the audience had an affinity for Jack was that he liked to tell stories about his family. However, one night his material backfired. He described how his daughter had just gotten her first training bra. His daughter, about twelve years old at the time, heard what he said and was mortified. That incident resonated with me. I vowed then and there that if I ever had children I would not embarrass them in public or on
The Ed Sullivan Show
, but he also had a radio show. We would write him routines and social commentary along the lines of Andy Rooney on
60 Minutes
. Our relationship with Phil Foster opened doors to other comedians, suchas Joey Bishop, a dead-pan somber-looking man who rarely seemed happy.
The day I went to have my first meeting with Joey Bishop, I handed him my diploma from Northwestern.
“What’s this?” he said.
“My college diploma,” I said. “I thought you would be impressed I have a writing degree.”
“Interesting. But write some jokes on the other side of it and then I’ll really be impressed.”
Joey was a big deal in comedy because he was a guest host on Jack Paar’s
The Tonight Show
. Phil convinced Joey that he should have his own writers for the show and that Fred and I would be perfect for the job. Joey agreed and paid us three hundred dollars a week, which we split. Suddenly, Fred and I were working as a television writing team for a comedian on
The Tonight Show
. Soon a man named Frank Cooper contacted us and said he wanted to represent us. Once you started making money back then, you didn’t need to look for an agent. Agents found you. That is still true today.
Writing material for Joey wasn’t an easy job. He was a comedian of few words and known as king of the deadpan. If a joke wasn’t working or didn’t get a laugh quickly, he would say “son of a gun,” which was his catchphrase. In the general scope of comedy, he was not as funny as Don Rickles and Jack Carter, but he was more connected. Stars like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin liked him and considered him a member of their Rat Pack. Joey’s style was unique. He liked to assume the part of the sullen Rat Pack comedian and often had the audiences overhear his jokes instead of hearing them dead-on. To achieve this, he would even perform with his back to the audience, playing his material directly to the band. What we found the most difficult to deal with was that he didn’t respect writers. He rarely introduced us formally. Among the staff of
The Tonight Show
, Fred and I were known as Joey’s Kids.
The first year we wrote for Joey whenever he substituted for Jack Paar, which was about seven times. The second year we signed with an agent who negotiated a deal for us to write for Jack Parr as well,full-time as staff writers. We joined Paul Keyes, Bob Howard, and Walter Kempley on the writing staff for
The Tonight Show
in 1960. We wrote about five pages of jokes each day, four days a week. Joey or Jack might use one or two of our jokes each day, and each time it felt like sweet victory to us. Jack was a paranoid yet dapper type with an obsessive curiosity about life. That’s what made him such a good talk-show host. We wrote jokes about being stuck in rush hour such as “Traffic was so heavy that I drove from Long Island to Manhattan in neutral.” Joey loved that joke and asked for more like it. Both he and Jack wanted material that appeared as if they had just thought of it spontaneously. One day Fred and I and the other three writers were standing in the hall talking. Jack saw us and looked annoyed. “Don’t bunch up,” he said. “I don’t want people to think I have so many writers.” Basically the comedians paid us to write funny material for them and remain anonymous.
One of the reasons the audience had an affinity for Jack was that he liked to tell stories about his family. However, one night his material backfired. He described how his daughter had just gotten her first training bra. His daughter, about twelve years old at the time, heard what he said and was mortified. That incident resonated with me. I vowed then and there that if I ever had children I would not embarrass them in public or on
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