improvised.They switched roles. They wrote things down, typed them up, tried them again, changed them and fixed them. Tore the whole thing up twice. It was almost four o'clock. At four o'clock on the dot they walked into Bill Lee's office to read it to him. He laughed. He laughed harder. He congratulated himself with a grin that meant, I'm a smart son of a bitch for hiring these two. And he was. Two seasons later they were the hottest writers in television.
6
T HEIR NAMES on a project gave it "heat," made it a "go," a "green light," and soon they were writing and producing their own series, and garnering huge consulting fees to come in and doctor the shows of other writers. They had a certain style no one could equal, genuinely funny, with a touch of poignancy and humanity rare in television half-hour comedy, so everyone wanted their work. Fifteen years after the George Burns joke, their popularity was still happening. Their success had made them rich, enabled them to support all four of their aging parents, to travel during their time off and see the world.
The only thing neither of them had was that elusive commodity so idealized by the very industry in which they were thriving, romantic love. Though at some point each of them had tried for it. Ruthie fell hard for Sammy Karp, a black-haired blue-eyed wild-minded stand-up comic who wanted to be an actor. She met him one hotsummer L.A. night at the Improv, after his set, when she was standing at the bar with some other writers and Sammy came over to schmooze. When she congratulated him with a handshake for the good work he'd done, he kept holding on to her hand, looking meaningfully into her eyes. Then he said, "Ruth Zimmerman, I love your work. Let's do dinner."
They did dinner at La Famiglia, dinner at Adriano's, dinner at Musso's. Somehow it was understood that Ruthie was the one with money and Sammy was struggling, so she always picked up the tab. When
he
made it, she told herself, he would pay for the dinners. It was also what she told Shelly when he asked. In the week of her birthday she thanked Shelly but passed on his offer to throw a small party for her. Sammy, she explained, was taking her dancing at the Starlight Room at the top of the Beverly Hilton.
No man had ever taken her dancing. While a piano, bass, and drums played "Call Me Irresponsible," Ruthie and Sammy danced close with her arms around his neck and his arms around her waist the way she'd seen couples dance in high school when she'd stood by the punch bowl pretending not to be watching. She ached to have Sammy make love to her. And when he led her to the suite he'd reserved in her name she could barely wait until he unlocked the door to touch him, thanking heaven the champagne she'd just paid for was doing such a good job on her inhibitions.
She was hungry for him, starving for him, and the things they did in bed made her embarrassed the next morning. When she woke up alone in what she saw by the light of day and sobriety was a very grand suite, she walked naked around the room trying to reconstruct in her mind what she'd said and done. Probably she'd been a complete fool. But then she looked in the mirror and saw the Post-it he'd left on her naked breast that said
You're fabulous and I'll call you later
and felt gorgeous and sexy for the first time in her life.
That week Sammy called her at the office so often that she had to walk out of the casting sessions four different times to take his adoring phone calls. "How's it going, beautiful?" he would ask her, giving her the chance to babble on to him about the people who were reading for parts on the show. But it wasn't a coincidence that immediately after she told him that the part of the young leading man had been cast, his ardent interest in her seemed to end, because that was the night he didn't show up for their dinner date.
"Giving new meaning to the term 'stand-up comic,' " Ruthie told Shelly while she looked out the window one more time
6
T HEIR NAMES on a project gave it "heat," made it a "go," a "green light," and soon they were writing and producing their own series, and garnering huge consulting fees to come in and doctor the shows of other writers. They had a certain style no one could equal, genuinely funny, with a touch of poignancy and humanity rare in television half-hour comedy, so everyone wanted their work. Fifteen years after the George Burns joke, their popularity was still happening. Their success had made them rich, enabled them to support all four of their aging parents, to travel during their time off and see the world.
The only thing neither of them had was that elusive commodity so idealized by the very industry in which they were thriving, romantic love. Though at some point each of them had tried for it. Ruthie fell hard for Sammy Karp, a black-haired blue-eyed wild-minded stand-up comic who wanted to be an actor. She met him one hotsummer L.A. night at the Improv, after his set, when she was standing at the bar with some other writers and Sammy came over to schmooze. When she congratulated him with a handshake for the good work he'd done, he kept holding on to her hand, looking meaningfully into her eyes. Then he said, "Ruth Zimmerman, I love your work. Let's do dinner."
They did dinner at La Famiglia, dinner at Adriano's, dinner at Musso's. Somehow it was understood that Ruthie was the one with money and Sammy was struggling, so she always picked up the tab. When
he
made it, she told herself, he would pay for the dinners. It was also what she told Shelly when he asked. In the week of her birthday she thanked Shelly but passed on his offer to throw a small party for her. Sammy, she explained, was taking her dancing at the Starlight Room at the top of the Beverly Hilton.
No man had ever taken her dancing. While a piano, bass, and drums played "Call Me Irresponsible," Ruthie and Sammy danced close with her arms around his neck and his arms around her waist the way she'd seen couples dance in high school when she'd stood by the punch bowl pretending not to be watching. She ached to have Sammy make love to her. And when he led her to the suite he'd reserved in her name she could barely wait until he unlocked the door to touch him, thanking heaven the champagne she'd just paid for was doing such a good job on her inhibitions.
She was hungry for him, starving for him, and the things they did in bed made her embarrassed the next morning. When she woke up alone in what she saw by the light of day and sobriety was a very grand suite, she walked naked around the room trying to reconstruct in her mind what she'd said and done. Probably she'd been a complete fool. But then she looked in the mirror and saw the Post-it he'd left on her naked breast that said
You're fabulous and I'll call you later
and felt gorgeous and sexy for the first time in her life.
That week Sammy called her at the office so often that she had to walk out of the casting sessions four different times to take his adoring phone calls. "How's it going, beautiful?" he would ask her, giving her the chance to babble on to him about the people who were reading for parts on the show. But it wasn't a coincidence that immediately after she told him that the part of the young leading man had been cast, his ardent interest in her seemed to end, because that was the night he didn't show up for their dinner date.
"Giving new meaning to the term 'stand-up comic,' " Ruthie told Shelly while she looked out the window one more time
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