ENCOUNTERING GROUCHO MARX

When I moved to Los Angeles in the early 1970's I found a job at Hunter’s Books Store in Beverly Hills (which is sadly no longer there-Hunter Books, not Beverly Hills). I would get a half hour for lunch and instead of eating I would walk the streets to see what celebrities I might see.

On one particular day I was at the corner of Little Santa Monica and Rodeo Drive and saw Groucho Marx walking through the crosswalk with a lovely young blonde girl, who I assumed was his nurse. (It had been reported earlier that week that Groucho had been ill).

Groucho was wearing a brown overcoat, a dark brown car, and under his arm he was carrying a small, toy stuffed gorilla. The gorilla was wearing a matching cap and had a cigar sticking out of it mouth, exactly like Groucho.

Seeing one of my idols, I rushed up to Mr. Marx, catching up to him in the middle of the crosswalk and blurted out “Groucho! How are you?”

To wit Mr Marx replied without missing a beat, “I’m fine, but not as good as my gorilla” and he kept walking, leaving me speechless and stunned in the middle of the crosswalk as the light changed, leaving me stranded. I was enamored with the notion of being insulted by the great Groucho Marx.

Several years later, I was working for National Screen Service. This was a company responsible for distributing publicity materials to theaters for motion pictures such as posters, lobby cards, and trailers. As fate would have it I took a

phone call from Erin Fleming; Groucho Marx’s assistant at the time. She was looking for photos from Marx Brothers movies for Groucho’s photo library.

She explained that author Richard Anobile who wrote or compiled the book “Why A Duck?” had photographed all of the photos in Groucho’s collection and copies of the photos were suddenly appearing in collector stores in Hollywood.

I found a few pictures in our warehouse, but out of curiosity I went around to some of the shops and discovered several behind-the-scenes and production photos that had been printed on brand new paper. I bought several of these and got in contact with Erin Fleming and told her what I found and she invited me up to the house on N. Hillcrest Drive in Beverly Hills.

Upon arriving, I realized this wasn’t her house but Groucho’s house. As I approached the door and prepared to ring the doorbell, the front door opened and actor Bud Cort came out, which was a bit startling. I went in and met Erin in the living room.

We sat there looking at the photos I had found at work as well as the several photos I had purchased in Hollywood. The reprints infuriated her. I was watching and listening to her and suddenly looked up and there was Groucho Marx.

I don’t know where he came from. I never heard him come in. It seemed like magic, like he had just appeared out of nowhere. And he was quite a sight. There he stood wearing sandals, argyle socks, olive drab Bermuda shorts, a Mickey Mouse T-shirt, and a pair of Mickey Mouse ears from Disneyland.

He was standing there silently studying the photo in his with no indication of recognition on his face. Erin looked up at him and very loudly (Groucho was very hard of hearing by then and to outsiders this may have sounded like she was shouting at him, which, of course, she was) asked what he thought of the picture.

“It’s a nice picture”, Groucho slurred. “That’s you and your brothers!” replied Erin Fleming. No sign of recognition came to Groucho’s face. The photo was a production still from one of the early Marx Brothers’ comedies. It had Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo in it and the once great wit didn’t recognize them.

I looked to Erin for some sign briefly, then looked up. As quietly as he had appeared, Groucho had vanished. It was a sad moment for me, seeing one of my idols and one of the great wits of the American theater, movies, and television in such a state.

Sadly, when Groucho passed away, it was stipulated in his will that any of his heir who contested the will would forfeit their inheritance. I believe it was Groucho’s son who convinced Bank of America to file a case against Erin Fleming, claiming that the ½ a million dollars and two houses he had left her were the result of fraud and abuse by Erin Fleming and she lost the case. I felt very sorry for her, for it was her efforts that prolonged the then 82 year old comedian’s life, especially arranging the now legendary 1972 one-man show “An Evening With Groucho Marx” held at Carnegie Hall.  When groucho stepped onto the stage he was greeted by a standing-room-only audience all wearing the novelty “Groucho Glasses”.

But then, how many ordinary people can say “I met Groucho Marx”?