The Day I Faxed My Pantyhose

There was a rhythm to those Tonight Show anniversary parties. At one time, these were held at the Bistro Garden, but when the guest list outgrew the restaurant, they were moved to some of SoCal's 4-star hotels.

The party would begin with drinks and tray-passed hors d'oeuvres in one hotel ballroom, with strolling performers from The Magic Castle entertaining us all with card tricks and sleight of hand.

I always thought this was a nice touch -- remember that Johnny started out as a magician.

I'm going to digress here: Our longtime art director, John Shrum, had also designed both the Magic Castle and the Mayfair Music Hall. I discovered this one Monday morning when I opened the Hollywood Reporter and discovered that he had died over the weekend. After attending a Museum of Broadcasting retrospective on TV comedy pioneer Ernie Kovacs, I discovered that John had also been the guy who had designed all of his sets. (I'm an inveterate credits watcher -- even now, although I no longer know anyone in the business, I make my poor daughter sit through to the very end of every movie we watch together.) And Johnny's Carnac routine was very similar to one done originally by Kovacs. Funny how you can trace the evolution of television, much like a family tree...

At the end of the cocktail hour, we would be ushered into another ballroom for a sitdown dinner, during which we would be serenaded by a jazz trio. There was a dance floor for those who were so inclined.

During dinner, there would be some speeches, a thank you from Johnny and a raffle. I remember the good-natured uproar when the winner of the grand prize -- which was a 7-day cruise -- turned out to be one of Johnny's sons.

Dinner would end with the appearance of a couple of women in Vegas show-girl garb, who would fling open the doors to the adjacent ballroom, where both a dessert buffet -- and casino gambling -- had been set up. At this point, the jazz trio in the main ballroom would be replaced by someone a little livelier -- like Billy and the Beaters or Jack Mack and the Heart Attack, which allowed those of us who lost all our chips pretty quickly to do some dancing of our own.

There was always a photographer present to record these events, and the highlight of these evenings was the opportunity to shake hands with Mr. C. In light of that, for the 25th anniversary, all of us in attendance received an engraved silver picture frame. The party guests would literally line up to have their photo taken with him.

My last year there, I thought I should tell him that I was the writers' assistant. "I know who you are," he said. But I don't think he did. Oh, I'm certain when we passed in the hallway, he recognized me as one of his employees -- but there was no way he knew who I was. And he never learned any of our names -- it was always "hi, babe." Even Fred de Cordova's assistant, who had been there for many years, was always called "babe."

And each year, vain person that I am, I found fault with the way I looked in the resulting photos. I never ordered one, which is one of more than a few regrets I have about the time I spent there. I still have the frame; it holds a picture of my husband and brother-in-law.

The only other piece of Tonight Show memorabilia I ever acquired came after one of the writers inserted my name into a monologue joke about the non-existent Tonight Show Christmas party:

"It was wild. Our writers' secretary, Donna, got so plastered that she faxed her pantyhose to Cleveland."

The following day, I begged Bob Lasky to give me the card, and I asked Johnny's assistant if he would autograph it for me, which he did.

I always intended to have it framed, but never got around to it. Today, I have no idea where it is.

Comments

[Laurie]

I left a comment when I saw this story over at Blog Clicker but maybe it didn't take. Another great story, by the way.

[Donna]

Thanks, Laurie. On Monday, this blog will return to its usual subject matter (trying to keep my sanity as a mom in L.A.) -- but right now, I'm using it to get all these memories out and done with...