Billy Van Second Banana

Billy Van Second Banana - Part 4

Sonny & Cher 148

- New Boy 150

- St. Valentine’s Day 154

- Sonny & Cher 158

- The Five Guys 160

- Unsung Heroes 167

- Gotcha! 168

- A Weighty Problem 170

- Hiatus 172

- Shoot the Money 174

- Goin’ for Broke 174

- Sports Guests 176

- Billie Jean King 176

- O. J. Simpson 177

- Potpourri Anyone? 177

- Tony Curtis 178

- William Conrad 178

- Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. 179

- Jack Palance 180

- Tony Randall 182

- Jerry Lewis 183

- Maclean Stevenson 186

- Flyin’ High 188

- Thanks, But No Thanks 192

- Last Day Lunacy 193

This is Billy’s original manuscript.
Please note, no party or individual has been given permission or is authorized to use any part of its contents. This blog is not associated with any other individual or group.

All rights reserved. No part of this book, text, photographs, illustrations may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means by print, photocopier, internet or any way known or as yet unknown, or stored in a retrieval system.

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SONNY & CHER

In 1970, the bottom seemed to fall out for me in the industry here. I hadn't done anything specifically wrong, but it was just the nature of our business as has always been the case for me. The expression "feast or famine" would readily apply, along with a roller coaster ride of ups and downs. Years earlier when I had my own vocal group, The Billy Van Four, we were riding high and were booked solidly for television shows and jingles. On several occasions, I would augment the group with an added voice for commercials, to get a different sound so that we would not be so recognizable. By varying the sound, we were able to do voice-over jingles for competitive products such as beer, soups, soaps, etc., with no one being the wiser. That voice belonged to a young guy from Winnipeg named Allan Blye, who became a very dear friend. Allan left the Toronto scene some time after to try his luck as a writer, in Los Angeles. After a couple of years struggling, he scored big time and had now joined up with another friend of mine named Chris Bearde, whom I had worked with for four years on the Nightcap Show. At this point in time, they were Blye/Bearde Productions, proud producers of the Sonny & Cher Show. I decided to make a phone call to Allan, the logic being what did I have to lose? When Al got on the phone, his first remark was "What's up kid?" I replied, "Al, I can't buy a job in Toronto. "Get your ass on a plane and come down here".

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You've got a job." That's all that was needed. I borrowed the money for plane fare and with my only credit card, took off to seek fame and fortune in Hollywood.

On boarding the plane in Toronto for California, there was a mixed feeling of exuberance and foreboding all at the same time. I knew I had the ability and talent to do the job, but there was that gnawing feeling being fear of the unknown. It was a justifiable apprehension because I was setting sail into uncharted waters that held many dangers, but also wonderful rewards if navigated properly. Then it hit me! What the hell! There was a job waiting for me on a hit national television show and this was literally the chance of a lifetime which begged the conclusion to just shut up and go for it! As we circled Los Angeles at twilight with a beautiful sunset, I fantasized about becoming a huge success. After all, Revenue Canada was counting on it! As we touched down safely on the runway, (always my favourite part of a flight, landing safely that is), I said, "Okay Billy, you're not dressed up but there's somewhere to go!"

On arrival in Los Angeles, I was greeted by a chauffeur holding a sign with my name on it! Blye/Bearde were trying to make me feel welcome and they sure did. I'll never forget that wonderful gesture which bolstered my confidence no end. The driver must have wondered what the hell was going on because the address I gave him turned out to be a rather sleazy motel on Sunset Blvd. A friend had given me the address and said the rooms were cheap. Later I found out why! The driver probably thought I was some big shot performer, but after he delivered me to the 'Riviera Motel', his attitude adjusted considerably.

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I was very thankful to be immediately put into the regular cast at $280.00 per week (scale). But the first problem faced was the fact that I didn't have a Green Card in order to work in the States. On the application form, one of the questions was, "What can you do that an American citizen cannot?" Try answering that one! Here is where Al had a brainwave. I was presented as the only sight-reading stunt man in the industry, which seemed to satisfy the authorities because there was no precedent that they could refer to for such a strange combination of abilities. Actually, it wasn't a lie. I sight-read music early in my career as a group singer and had always done my own stunts in sketches. I was put in the chorus of off-camera singers and in my first sketch was required to dive through a breakaway window. And so began four years (1971-1975) of the Sonny & Cher Show, which proved to be invaluable to my career.

NEW BOY

On the night preceding the first rehearsal, I was too excited to get much sleep, so at 'sparrow's fart' (up at dawn), I arose and decided to go to Studio City where CBS was located, right beside the famous Farmers' Market. The studios and offices of CBS covered an entire city block which lent itself to my feeling of being pretty insignificant in the whole scheme of things. I also felt that to score here would be a crowning achievement in my life and the worst thing that could happen is that they'd fire me. Sorry, been there, done that. I walked around outside until 9:00 a.m. in order to get my copy of the script and do some fast studying. When the offices finally opened, I quickly grabbed the script, reminiscent of a purse snatch, and headed for the commissary (coffee shop) to scan the pages for any sign of a line or two which would allow me to prove my

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worth and verify their decision in hiring me. Hold the phone folks! There it was on the very first page and no mistake. It said "Billy" in the margin and what followed were nine lines of dialogue which would allow me to possibly prove my worth and get a taste of succulent success on my first time at bat. I couldn't fathom how this unbelievable opportunity had been thrown at me, the rookie, but you had to know that I was going to make the most of it. At 10:00 a.m., the entire cast was assembled in the huge CBS conference room for the first read through of the script. I was bright-eyed and bushy tailed, chomping at the bit to prove to everyone that the right guy had been hired. I was introduced to the cast. They all welcomed me warmly to the show, but it was still kinda' reminiscent of when you were a kid and transferred to another school, giving that feeling of alienation and not yet being one of the gang. Scripts were handed out to everyone, but of course I didn't need one because I had already picked it up. The director said, "Okay, let's begin at page one. Start please" and off I went for my big score. The words of this piece of material flowed from my lips with the confidence of an old trooper, desperately attempting to show off whatever talent I possessed.

On finishing the piece there was a dead silence which seemed to last for eternity, when finally the director said, "Where does it say new boy takes Sonny's lines" and the room broke into laughter, at my expense. They immediately handed me the script that had been passed out at the beginning and my jaw fell open when I saw it. The "Billy" in the margin had magically become "Sonny", and I realized that I had picked up the first draft of the script and they were working from the second and final draft. Talk about red faced. I

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just sat there taking the many jibes from the cast, while the egg on my face was frying quite nicely thank you. We've all suffered a goodly number of embarrassing moments in our lives. But for me, I can honestly say that this one ranks right up there in the first five. As a Canadian might say, "Great start, eh?"

They hadn't finished with the new boy just yet, for now it was initiation time, compliments of the crew. I have worn thousands of costumes in my career of over forty years but the costume I had to wear in this sketch was a new one on me. It was your everyday full length chicken suit with head mask and fluffy feathers that were in a constant state of moulting. For a reason that escapes me now, the scene read that this bird buffoon had to be flown straight up 40 feet into the air and let down later at the appropriate moment for the gag to work. Two of the crew were specialists in this flying business and started to strap the body harness on me just before I climbed into the chicken suit. They showed me the piano wire that would do the job of pulling me up to the top of the studio. This caused me more than a little apprehension when I saw that the wire was no thicker than a toothpick, however they assured me it would hold up to 600 lbs. Having passed on lunch, I figured it would be okay and therefore resolving myself to the inevitable said, "Let's go for it", but secretly had one more reservation. If it was time to meet my maker, okay, but my gawd not in a chicken suit! The moment arrived and they pulled me up to the desired height, then one of the crew guys yelled, "Okay everybody, that's a technical twenty", meaning a twenty minute break. The whole studio of cast and crew walked out

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and left me hanging. It wasn't a panic situation in any way. As a matter of fact, I started breaking up with laughter knowing full well that this was the second stage of my initiation. The whole gang left me for about two minutes and finally came back in laughing hysterically. They were having some fun with me and frankly, I started to have the feeling of being one of the gang. The dues had been paid.

In the very beginning of my career, I disciplined myself to learning my lines for the simple reason that it always made me feel more confident to know that I had done my homework and was fully prepared when walking onto a set or stage. That discipline has held me in good stead throughout the years and I wouldn't change the practice for anything.

When I started doing the show, I was absolutely amazed at the dependency of cue cards by every performer. There was one man who was in charge of everything to do with cue cards. He had a staff of five people who would print the words on cards from the script and make sure that they were hand-held just off-camera for the actors. There were always four sets of cards for the four cameras being used. This man's nickname was "Larry Cue-Card" and he and his squad were the saviours of many an unlearned line. Each performer would be assigned their own print color, for example, the guest's lines might be written in red, Sonny's in blue, Cher's in green and so on, depending on how many were in the sketch, to save the confusion of getting on the wrong line of words. On one particular show, there was a short monologue to do which involved just me. While relaxing in my dressing room, the director came on the intercom saying, "Billy on stage please." I immediately went to the set,

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stood on my mark and the director asked where were the cue-cards. Larry replied, "Who's up? Billy?" The director said yes and Larry continued, "He doesn't need them." I walked very proud that day.

ST. VALENTINE'S DAY

February 14, 1971. A day of infamy in my life that will live forever in my memory. I was living at the Riviera Motel on Sunset & Highland in Hollywood, across the street from the somewhat famous "Hollywood High School", which had graduated a few later-to-become movie stars in its day. After finishing rehearsal for the day, I arrived at my not-so-suite digs around 4:00 p.m. On opening the door, the stuffiness of my one-room mansion hit me like a slap in the belly with a wet fish. Not too wisely, I decided to leave the door open to air the room out and let some fresh smog in. Wrong! I was living in one of the seedier parts of town, but being from Toronto, all bad things happened to other people in other cities, but certainly not to me. I don't think two minutes passed by when 'they' walked in and it was immediately obvious that they were definitely not there to repair the vibrating bed or lend me a quarter to start its mechanism. These guys were lean, mean and as the panic set in, it was apparent that they meant business. One of them had a gun in his belt ready for immediate use on me if I decided to be brave or stupid like all the macho heroes I had admired in the movies over the years. A chilling fear gripped me as never before at this turn of events and I found myself paralysed to make any move. To this point, not a word had been exchanged, only their deadly staring eyes -- cold and lifeless like an old porcelain doll -- directed at me. Those eyes covered all the dialogue necessary which served to further increase my fear. Then the even more unnerving part of this potentially deathly business began.

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The guy with the gun removed it from his belt holding the weapon at his side. I am not partial to guns in any way and certainly was not versed as to the make or calibre of this threatening coffin filler. But to me, it looked like a bloody Howitzer and I wasn't about to challenge its capability of hurrying my demise. It must be explained at this point that the dialogue that follows will read as very weird and seemingly disjointed, but rest assured, the words spoken at that terrible time are emblazoned forever in my memory in detail.

Of the two men who entered my room, the one with the gun was more ominous and clearly in charge in what was about to occur. He was stocky and cold looking, with slicked-down black hair and could have passed as a poster boy for 'Thugs Are Us.' To save confusion, I will refer to him as 'Mutt.' The second guy was just as scary, but in another way. He was taller, with blonde hair and a definite glaze in his eyes which had me thinking that maybe this fiasco was drug related. He shall be given the moniker of 'Jeff.' The twilight zone dialogue begins.

Mutt: "Is this the guy."

Jeff: "'Ya, that's him."

At this point, I figured oh great! I'm gonna get blown away because I look like some other dude, who did something bad to whomever.

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Mutt: "How do you eat?"

At first I was puzzled and then realized he was referring to money.

Me: "With credit cards"

Mutt: "Oh yeah? Where are they?"

Quickly I took out my credit cards and placed them on the bed. The blonde guy went to grab them but Mutt stopped him, shouting, "Don't touch 'em!"

Now it was time to go for broke, literally. I said, "Hey man, if it's money you want, here." Fortunately I had $80.00 in my pocket and threw it on the bed. He looked at the money and nodded to Jeff to pick it up, but surprisingly left the credit cards there. Then he said, "Lie down on the bed, face down." Obeying the command, I noticed that Jeff was rifling through my closet and had come up with the sash to my dressing gown. As I lay there, he used the sash to tie my hands behind my back which left me at their mercy, helpless to do anything.

Now my mind went into overdrive, running through a gamut of deadly scenarios that could happen. Were these guys going to put a bullet in the back of my head because they were pissed off at the small amount of money I had on me? Were they two perverts who were going to give me a lesson in prison passion? Should I beg for mercy or cry out for help? While not counting myself a particularly brave man, I simply could not bring myself to beg for my life. As Jeff removed my watch and ring, I finally heard him say something that gave

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me a glimmer of hope. It was, "We don't want to hurt you, but we don't want to get hurt either." He then pulled me to my feet, walked me to the bathroom and shoved me inside. As he closed the door, he made a remark which wasn't funny at the time. Nothing was funny at the time! But in retrospect, I can find the humor now. He said, "Stay here, we'll call you!" Oh bonus! I could see myself sitting on the john for three or four days awaiting their call allowing me to come out!

I heard them leave and after a few minutes, managed to open the door by backing up to the doorknob, and turning it. Running to the manager's office, still bound, I yelled, "I've just been robbed!" The elderly manager said only one word, "Bastards", grabbed what looked like a small cannon from under the counter, and without even untying me, quickly ran towards my room. I'm sure in his mind he envisioned himself as Wyatt Earp heading for a showdown at the O.K. Corral. He finally returned, untied me and called the police. When the cops arrived, they asked the usual questions as to description of these hoodlums, time of robbery, etc. They were surprised that the thieves left the credit cards and said they would take them to the station anyway to be fingerprinted and return them the next day. As the cops left, one of them said, "You might as well know that we haven't got a snowball's chance in hell of catching these guys, but we'll try." Not too encouraging, but who gave a damn. I was still alive.

Every night my routine was to eat at a place called Sneaky Pete's, where a lot of famous people would dine. Knowing the manager, waiters and waitresses,

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it kinda served as my home away from home where I felt comfortable and welcomed. I was still on an adrenalin high from my experience and certainly didn't intend to stay at the scene of the crime. Having no cash (Mutt and Jeff were enjoying that) and L.A.'s finest confiscating my credit cards, I figured the folks at Sneaky's would trust me for one night. I was still very hyper and excited which was encouraged by the attention I was getting because of my recent unpleasantness. After a good meal and starting to feel the effects of a hard day at the robbery, I decided to go back to my cruddy cubicle. Sitting back in my room, reflecting on the events of this not-so-ordinary day, I realized how close I had come to the wrap of wraps - my life. I quietly wept from the experience of a roller-coaster day filled with intense emotions and felt glad to be alive. There is a plus to this story. The next day, I moved!

SONNY & CHER

I've lost track as to how many times I've been asked, "What are Sonny and Cher really like?" It's impossible for me to pinpoint the answer in a few short words because they were, to me, a complex couple at a complex time in their lives. When I sat down at the table for the first rehearsal, there was a very plain-looking lady sitting opposite me, whom I thought was a local actress hired to play a part in one of the sketches. Her clothing went beyond casual, but fell short of bag lady. I was learning a whole new way of style in Hollywood, where your off-screen appearance was not of any importance to your job and admittedly, it was kinda' refreshing.

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The script assistant entered the room and started to pass out the 'gospel according to St. Script.' When she came to the 'street urchin' opposite me, she said, "I've highlighted your lines, Cher." Being seated and a professional, my jaw only hit the table once before I recovered. It was indeed the lady herself. I had only seen her on television after the makeup and costuming people had worked their wonders. Pygmalion was definitely prominent in my mind. Cher was quiet and extremely withdrawn, obviously removed from anything or anyone around her. It was apparent this lady had things other than humor on her mind. She was friendly enough in her way, but upon being introduced to me, she had no interest in any eye contact.

Sonny arrived thirty minutes late and like Cher, gave the impression of not knowing why rehearsals were necessary at all. He was aloof and constantly on the phone, holding up the read-through many times while he wheeled and dealed.

Over the years that I did the show, Sonny maintained a kind of status quo in his performances, but Cher was another story. Each week, she would grow in leaps and bounds, improving her talent to the utmost. Timing, delivery, shtick, singing - it was all there, much to her credit.

At the time, as a team, they were huge stars to millions of fans around the world. But like all of us, personal problems can most assuredly have their effect on you and those around you. After awhile, we started to notice that they began some kind of strange competition as to who would show up the latest for rehearsal. In order to maintain any semblance of order in the staging

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of the sketches, I would perform her lines, with one of the other guys doing Sonny's lines or whatever, in order for the very talented choreographer Jaime Rogers to stage the scenes for the cameras to shoot on tape day. Their monologues together at the beginning of each show were a favourite to the audiences. Her seemingly friendly digs at Sonny on screen, suddenly became more barbed in delivery, with a tinge of subdued anger slipping through now and then. I am not attempting to fault them for I had been there more than once in my life. But it was sad to witness and impossible to help. We're all aware of how it ended.

The only time they showed what appeared to be genuine affection was when working with the stars that would guest on the show. These stars were all millionaires and successful, therefore acceptable in their world. Even with these slight setbacks, we churned out a hit show and managed to have a lot of laughs on the way. As the time passed, I came to a conclusion as to whether I would ever be fully accepted by Sonny and Cher and finally concluded that it could never happen! Hell, I didn't even have a Porsche to piss in!

THE FIVE GUYS

Peter Cullen, Ted Zeigler, Freeman King, Murray Langston and myself were all referred to as just "the guys." It was our job to play the supportive roles in the sketches with the various stars who would guest on Sonny & Cher. Each man had his own style of delivering lines, but we all strived for the main goal and that was, a good show. We had to be able to do dialects, sing, move, and generally handle whatever was asked of us, often stretching our talents considerably to accomplish those challenges, which is a good thing for any performer who wants to gain perfection.

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For the most part it was great, but admittedly we were always under a lot of pressure to get everything right. You were only as good as your last gig and could be replaced all too quickly. We certainly were supplied with the right tools to get the job done. All of the costuming was handled by a man who was master of his craft, Ret Turner. He made sure that everything we wore was authentic to the last detail and most importantly, that it fit properly. No one could touch his expertise in making it correct. The only reason I expound on this is because of the importance costuming plays. I am sure all actors would agree that when you are in costume and it feels right, it can enhance your performance considerably with an added boost of energy for the characterization you are trying to portray. Putting show business aside, I have found that if you look good and feel good, you are good!

We all enjoyed a great camaraderie as a group of in-house support players, but I soon learned that each and every man was out for himself. When we would have our first read through each week, people would obviously make mistakes when first reading the lines. Look out! Some of the guys would pounce in with the correct word faster than a politician's lie. Everyone was obsessed with scoring on-camera and hallelujah if you ever got yourself a close-up. The same holds true on television shows to this day, but it was a wonderful experience for me and we all enjoyed a lot of good times, both on and off camera. If you were ever in the market for a travelling band of wayward wackos, we had 'ya covered!

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Show business is like no other in so many ways, for the most bizarre twists of fate can become a 180^o turn when you least expect it. Murray Langston who was possibly a smidge sillier than we were is perfect proof of my theory. Murray was constantly bugging everyone with his bad jokes. Not elaborate stories involving plot, action and various events to get to the funny ending. No. These were one, two or three line little gags that were for the most part dumb and to us very unfunny. I liked Murray and to lend support to his efforts, I would go the odd time to a dingy little saloon in Burbank where he did his material for free on their not-too-elaborate stage. Some of the patrons enjoyed his efforts, especially after they had indulged in more than a few drinks.

A couple of years after we finished the Sonny & Cher Show, we of course went our separate ways in order to make a living. One night, I was watching the Gong Show, when a guy came on stage with a paper bag over his head, calling himself 'The Unknown Comic'. He started to tell dumb little jokes that sounded hauntingly familiar. Yep! It was Murray Langston and the crazy bugger was an instant hit and in demand all over the United States with his new gimmick. Go figure! A guy spends years of his life honing his skills, tells some dumb jokes, puts a bag on his head and scores big time. As one of my brothers loved to say, "It boggles the mind." Well done Murray.

On the show, you were constantly reminded of the cost of all the sketches, production numbers and just about anything that was time consuming,

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especially on taping day in the studio. If you goofed a line, it certainly wasn't a case of being fired, but the pressure was constantly there so you strived especially hard not to make a mistake. Mr. Bono was in a churlish mood one particular day when he decided to enjoy his position of power and play the not-so-funny scallywag. He was trading lines in a particular sketch with Peter Cullen, a gifted performer and one of us guys. Peter would give Bono the feed line and Sonny would deliver the punch line for the joke of the piece. Sonny legitimately goofed his line the first time and everyone laughed nervously, hoping to avoid his displeasure. Upon hearing this pseudo laughter, he wanted to carry it on for awhile. Nobody dared to suggest to our 'star' that this was financially foolish. It was only a matter of time before the money folks would entertain the possibility of a second mortgage if it continued! Five times he deliberately screwed up the gag line while poor Peter did his part correctly. Finally, Sonny announced that he had had his fun and he would now do it right. "Take six" and Peter attempted yet one more time to deliver the feed line and honestly cuffed it. You would have thought that Peter had just punched the Pope! The director opened the pots to the studio sound system and said "Goddammit Peter, this studio costs $3,000 an hour. Let's try to get it right!" Sycophancy reigned supreme. Who said life was fair.

Ted Zeigler had to be the clown prince of facial mugging and was always an up kind of guy. Although a lot of people thought he was Canadian because of his years spent performing in Montreal, he was originally from Chicago and used to do a double act with Harvey Korman of the Carol Burnett Show. When

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we came to our dressing rooms on taping day, there would always be a message written in lipstick on the mirror. It would go something like this:

The Daily Mirror

Help! Help! Please help me. I'm being held captive in a studio

in television city ... with bad lines! Call 911 !

He had obviously shown up much earlier than our call-time to lay these little goodies on us. It sure as hell served as a great kick-start to our taping day!

Sonny and Cher were fairly aloof when it came to 'the guys.' If you weren't a star, you obviously were not on their list of famous favourites. Cher was much friendlier than Sonny and I must admit, she improved by leaps and bounds in her performances over a period of time.

There is a word that directors used back in the '30s and '40s for groups of people who were used to fill up the background in crowd scenes, especially in movies. The word was "atmosphere", a derogatory, demeaning and cruel reference to actors who did these jobs as a hopeful stepping-stone to better things and to pay the rent. Sonny decided that this was the perfect word he would use when referring to our presence. Whenever we were about to start a scene, he would say, "Okay, bring in the atmosphere", referring to us. It was a comment that was unwarranted, unnecessary and certainly unwanted. It wouldn't have been so bad if he said it jokingly, but we knew he meant it.

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Ghouls, goblins, vampires, monsters and every conceivable creature of the night were assembled for our Halloween Show. Elaborate sets, ghostly lighting, eerie musical scores, splendid costumes and Jerry Lewis as the guest star. With all these elements in place, you were guaranteed an excellent show. I was cast as the Mad Doctor, Freeman King, the Mummy, Ted Zeigler, the Frankenstein monster, Peter Cullen, an Igor type, Murray Langston, the Wolfman, aided by a whole mess of spooky folks. The show lived up to all expectations and was a huge success, which I'm sure was loved by any kid who saw it. After spending two full days taping our epic, those magical words rang out one more time, "Thanks everybody, that's a wrap, go home." That was fine with everyone except Murray, who as mentioned earlier, might be just a smidge sillier than the rest of us. All of the cast were more than happy to discard their ghostly garb, but not my fruitcake cohort!

It was late afternoon when we finished taping and Murray, in his ghoulish mode, thought it would be a great time to walk the streets of Los Angeles in his Wolfman makeup and costume. With just a wig and lab coat to discard, my outfit was relatively simple to get out of, leaving me free to observe his antics. I followed him at a distance to witness what kind of reaction he would get from the normal people of the city, as he confronted them.

His first order of business was to stand on the curb of Fairfax Ave. (which bordered CBS Television City) and try to hitch a ride with the usual gesture of putting out his thumb. I was paying attention to the looks on the faces of the drivers as they drove by. Perhaps you could put it down to the attitude of

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people living in Hollywood in regard to their reaction or rather the lack of for that matter. The line from the famous song came to me at that moment "Hurray for Hollywood, that screwy, ballyhooie Hollywood." The drivers of the vehicles paid absolutely no attention to this hairy freak trying to hitchhike a ride. It was unbelievable, but every one of them, without exception, kept looking straight ahead as if he didn't exist and it was just a figment of their imagination.

Murray, who was accustomed to rebuttal with his bad jokes, was persistent and determined to receive the recognition he deserved for his efforts on this silly sorte. Across the street from the studio, a free medical clinic had been set up for the treatment of venereal diseases which were fairly rampant at the time. There were forty to fifty teenagers lined up for treatment because I guess in their opinion, they thought that celibacy sucked. Murray chose not to play the crowd, but dashed headlong right into the clinic, threw himself on the floor and yelled, "For God sake, help me!", with me right on his heels.

I guess L.A. cops have seen (scene!) it all and the officer on duty realizing the proximity of the CBS Television studios across the street, just said, "Okay fella, you've had your fun, now get the hell outta' here." Murray obliged and headed back to the studio, proud of his achievement, but that feeling of success would soon come crashing down. He was now about to receive the wrath of one Ret Turner for daring to take the costume outside the studio without permission. It was a wacky thing to do and I for one thoroughly enjoyed it.

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As mentioned, all of us fellas would be the support players for Sonny and Cher, in just about all of the sketches. Naturally, female players were hired when needed as a further support team for various things. One very attractive and extremely talented young lady was hired quite often and actually became a semi-regular on the shows. Boys will be boys and occasionally one or two of them would make a naughty or dumb remark to her, which she was more than capable of handling. It was all in fun and she was a good sport, constantly giving back better than what she got! One day in rehearsal, one of the guys made yet another not too bright comment. Feeling that enough was enough, she got sassy and said, "'Ya know, when I make it big, I'm gonna drop you guys like a hot potato!" Oh ya, well that'll be the day Terri Garr!

UNSUNG HEROES

The show had ten writers who would put together a one-hour international television program each and every week. They were always paired off and given a small room to work in where the two men would be given their assignments to churn out the magical mutterings that we would deliver on-camera. To bend a famous quote from Sir Winston Churchill, (with apologies), "Never in the field of humor was so much owed by so many to so few." That's a little thick, but these guys were brilliant in what they did, , proven by the fact that it was a hit show each week for years.

I became good friends with these guys who were all formerly performers before they decided to make other people funny. Without the words, we would all have to take a crash course in a Marcel Marceau College of Mime! I became

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especially close to one of these fellas by the name of Bob Einstein, with whom I would work in a number of other ventures when he later became a producer with my old friend Allan Blye, namely the Bizarre show starring John Byner for a six-year run. Bob also decided to take another whack at being in front of the camera and found great success. You probably know him better as the famous "Super Dave" Osbourne.

GOTCHA !

Television City (CBS) was a self-contained myriad of offices, huge studios and rehearsal facilities. After we finished our regular Monday morning read-through of the show for the week, we would all go to a rehearsal room to stage the material. The time it took to move from the read-through area to the studio was literally a ten-minute meander, strolling and shootin' the breeze' as we walked.

In running through the script, I was delighted to find that I had a sizeable piece of dialogue to be exchanged in a sketch with Bono. Bonus! Lots of lines! This is the kind of thing you hope for as an actor. It's an interesting phenomena that when you are young, you strive to get as many lines as humanly possible, but as the years role by, you can become complacent and quite happy with a line or two, for the same money of course. Upon arrival at our destination, a script assistant ran up to me with some papers in her hand and said, "Here, take these. Sonny will be taking your part in this sketch, so just switch the lines and you do his part." I've always prided myself in being able to adjust quickly when required to do so in most situations thrust upon me. If I had gone into a snit or

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blatantly showed my displeasure at this turn of events, it would have been bad form and reflect on me as a professional. I decided to not miss a beat and continue on as if nothing had happened, although frankly, I was royally pissed off!

The scene was about an English Lord (now Sonny) berating his Little Lord Fauntleroy kid (now me). Nothing earth shattering, but who was I to judge, especially as my fat part had just been lifted in a not-too-subtle way! Being in my third year and the proud owner of a beautiful home in Encino, I had certainly gained considerably more confidence and respect as to my position and worth to the show. I'm not talking about any smart ass attitudes, just a knowledge that I did have a little leeway.

After a few rehearsals, we were ready to tape the scene. Fortunately, things had been going great all day and we were actually ahead of schedule and, armed with this knowledge, it confirmed to me what I had in mind to do. As we approached the tag to the piece, Bono, ala the script and using my confiscated lines, was chewing me out for some naughty thing I did. Throwing caution to the winds and interrupting Sonny, I said, "Excuse me Father, but I think you're confusing me with someone who gives a shit!" Even Sonny had to break up as did everyone! Gotcha!

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A WEIGHTY PROBLEM

On one of the very early shows, they periodically did a routine called "Headlines in the Papers." Sonny, Cher and the rest of the cast would be found sitting in chairs, knees crossed over and holding newspapers up to hide their faces. All of us guys wore 1930s' tuxedos, while Cher would be dressed in a gown of the same period. The music would start, which would be a bright, happy ditty. The camera would pan along, then suddenly stop, as did the music, and zoom in for a closeup of one of us who had been assigned some dialogue. That person would quickly lower the paper and deliver some pre-written material from the teleprompter. It would be a funny piece of three to four lines about some weird world event.

It was only the second show for me and I was far from feeling secure or settled in my new scene and had been assigned one of the pieces in this routine. This was a bonus for me, except for one thing. In rehearsal, the newspaper I was holding was doing an imitation of the butterfly bounce because of my nerves in these new and overwhelming surroundings. No matter how much I concentrated, the tremors would not go away, but fortunately we hadn't gotten to the point of the closeup shot yet. I knew that when we did, my shaking would be blatantly recognizable, which is the last thing I wanted to have happen. So far no one had noticed anything. A reprieve came my way when the director said "Okay folks. That's a lunch break. Back in one hour." Think, think, think, what the hell was I going to do to arrest this problem? Thankfully I recalled a similar problem that occurred years before when first starting out in the business. Weight! Somehow I had to find a way to make that newspaper heavier, which would help make the pulsating pulp problem much

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easier to handle. I figured a way that might work, but would need a roll of quarters (40 coins) to pull it off. Being in my costume with only one hour to get the coins presented a further problem. There wouldn't be enough time to undress, leave the studio, purchase my survival kit, rig the paper and get dressed again in the time allotted. I went to one of the crew guys that I had made friends with, told him what I desperately needed to correct the problem and asked if he would take my ten-dollar bill to help me out and go to the bank. It's always the same with crew guys and gals when they learn of a problem, for they will always go out of their way to help you get through your dilemma. He didn't hesitate for a second and I got busy with my end of the job. On his return, I took the coins and with the help of some gaffer's tape, placed the quarters side by side around the edges of the newspaper, and taped them firmly into place. With the newspaper folded, they were completely concealed, affording me a good shot at pulling this thing off.

When we were called back on set, I felt much more confident and with the added weight, combined with holding the paper taut, lots of concentration and definitely determination, I was able to pull it off successfully. The crew guy who had befriended me was as happy as I was that he had been a key player in my little cheat. When we finally finished, I walked over to him, shook his hand and handed him the "loaded" newspaper, saying "Thanks a million pal, 'ya saved my life. Here's the latest edition. Have a couple of beers on me!"

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HIATUS

When you signed a contract with The Sonny and Cher Show, it meant that you did nothing else - no auditions for commercials or any other projects that could possibly interfere with your commitment to the show. The potential problem was that if you landed an audition, the actual shoot date of the commercial might fall on a day conflicting with the show's schedule. If you had twenty lines of dialogue, one line, or no lines at all, you were required to be there for every rehearsal from 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., including three tape days starting at 8:00 a.m. and usually finishing around 10:00 p.m. No exceptions.

Although infrequent, occasionally we would be notified on a Friday not to bother coming in for two weeks. Sonny & Cher had been booked on college tours, so obviously we would take these brief hiatuses, without pay and that was that. To this day, I am still puzzled as to why we were given such short notice, but what the hell, we had no kick because we were all making good money. On one of these forced vacations, which in this case meant two weeks off, I became bored and phoned my agent at the William Morris Agency, to say I was available for commercial auditions for a limited time. He immediately lined up two auditions and I looked forward to the change and a chance at something new in the Hollywood scene.

On the first audition, it was understandable to be nervous as I hadn't been on one of these things in a long time. The calibre of competition I was facing for the gig included guys who were very successful support players on shows like Hogan's Heroes, McHail's Navy, etc. Although intimidating, keen competition

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is a good thing for any performer because it can bring you up to the peek of your ability and potential to land the job. It was no different here than in Canada when it came to the dreaded "cattle call", which means that the powers-that-be bring in a world of actors to try out for one commercial part. If it's a cattle-call, you're always aware before you go to the audition because of your time allotment. It's never reasonable, like 4:00 p.m. or 4:30 p.m. No. It's 4:10 p.m. or 4:40 p.m., but it is and always will be the case in our business. While awaiting my turn up to bat, a guy I'd never seen before came up to me and without a hello or introduction of any sort, he said, "You still doing those Colt 45 commercials." "Yes", I replied, to which he snapped back, "Too bad" and walked away! Some folks can become mean and disenchanted in this racket and he definitely filled that bill. Rejection comes with the turf, so if you can't take heartbreak and disappointment, find a new profession and as a disgruntled ex-thespian once told me, "If you 'wanna make dough, be a baker!"

The second audition turned out to be the coup de grace for my short-lived boredom breakout. On this one, they needed a husband and wife combination to pitch the product. I walked into the audition room and there was the usual gathering of a director and several assistants with a camera and sound man in attendance. An attractive young lady was already on her mark as the female counterpart for me to work with. As soon as I walked in, the Director asked me to stand on the mark beside her and state my name and the agency which represented me. Standing on my mark and before I could utter a word, she said, "Oh my gawd, why do I always get the short ones." I had just learned a

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new expression in L.A. and felt that this was the appropriate time to use it. I said, "Have a nice day" and walked out, deciding to sit back and enjoy my hiatus as it was less painful emotionally!

SHOOT THE MONEY

"Shoot the money" or "shoot the gold" is an expression used in our business which means that the cameras feature the 'star' at all times and everyone else involved in the sketch is secondary. The star is the bread-and-butter element of a show so I guess it isn't too surprising - certainly not the most complimentary expression for support players who are also in the scene, but what the hell, it comes with the turf.

Performing in a sketch with Sonny, he mentioned to the director to make sure he "shot the money" (him) to which the director agreed. I couldn't help myself and said, "What the fuck am I, loose change?" Luckily the remark got an immediate laugh and certain shots were added to the scene. I felt good because I made my point as a professional who had been hired for talent and ability to do the job right and deserved respect for my efforts.

GOIN' FOR BROKE

In the extremely competitive world of show business, you long for and seek every opportunity to grasp a situation that can further your career and be acknowledged for your efforts and skill. The words for the sketch had been written and were on the cue-cards which were to be adhered to like the gospel. If you dared to venture beyond this approved dialogue, you were attempting a very dangerous gamble. If you tried an ad-lib, you had better be right or all

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hell could break loose. No, you would not necessarily be fired, but you were guaranteed to get an embarrassing chew-out if your ad-lib didn't work! I've tried to live by my own adage of, "If in doubt, don't", which has most times worked for me. Sometimes the feeling of being right can be so overwhelming that you decide to go for broke. If the stars of the show chose to throw an ad-lib in on a whim, good or bad, that was perfectly alright and was even encouraged, but not so for the hired hands of humor!

Danny Thomas was the guest star and was to do a sketch with Cher. She was to play the part of the notorious poisoner, Lucrezia Borgia, in the Italian courts of the sixteenth century. Danny played one of her many suitors as did I, dressed in our lacy, foppy costumes of the era. Very early in the sketch, it appeared that I was one suitor too many and so would bow out of the scene early with my demise provided by poison in a goblet, courtesy of Cher. On drinking the potion, I did some terrific gurgles and grasping of the throat and went through my death throes. Hitting the floor with a nifty fall, Cher decided to throw in a "Ciao" as I lay prone, dead on the floor. This got a great laugh which got my mind thinking fast. Danny Thomas entered the scene and for whatever reason, put poison in her drink, which seemed appropriate because of what she had done to me. As she finished her dying routine, I decided to go for it. Still face down on the floor, I yelled, "Ciao!" There! I gambled and God help me! She broke character along with Danny and the cast and crew going into hysterics at my ad-lib. The director came on the intercom in the studio and said, "Stop tape." I figured, here it comes, the axe was about to fall. He

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continued, "Well done Billy. You just bought yourself a close-up." I was a proud and happy camper. Gawd, it feels so good when you score a big one! As I lay there on the floor while they set up for my promised close-up, Danny Thomas walked by and said, "You'll never work my show kid." He meant it in a most complimentary way. Coming from a man of his stature and fame, the taste was all the sweeter. What a delicious moment.

SPORTS GUESTS

We didn't lack for sports guests on the show, which included boxer George Foreman, heavyweight champion of the world, Larry Szonka, world champion running back for the Miami Dolphins football team, Mark Spitz, Olympic swimmer and winner of seven gold medals for America, football great O.J. Simpson and Billie Jean King, world tennis champion.

BILLIE JEAN KING

Billie Jean King was a guest whom I found to be very amiable and outgoing. A sketch had been written especially for her involving table tennis, since there simply was not enough room for an actual tennis court in the sound stage. The sound stage was huge and could certainly accommodate several tennis courts. But with other sets being built for additional sketches, there simply wasn't enough room so a tennis table would have to suffice. We had a technical breakdown at one point and we were just milling around waiting for the problem to be solved. As we were standing on the set I figured, what the hell, go for it. I challenged her to a game and she agreed. In those days, I swung not to shabby a bat and with the urging of cast and crew, I beat her 21 to 19!

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Alright you may be saying. What's the big deal? After all, she's a tennis star. Granted, but for me to lay claim to beating Billie Jean King in anything with the name tennis attached to it was a crowning achievement. It may mean nothing to you mate, but it was a bloody lovely mini-Wimbleton win for me! So there! Game, set and match!

O. J. SIMPSON

I worked with O.J. on the Sonny & Cher Show in the early '70's. As previously mentioned, we had several famous athletes to guest spot and he was an obvious choice to be invited on the show. His prowess on the football field had become legendary and as fate would have it, he and I were teamed up in, what else, a sketch based on football. I was thrilled at getting a chance to actually trade lines with "The Juice." At that time, I found him to be professional, friendly and a pleasure to work with.

POTPOURRI ANYONE ?

Placed in the position of a support player on the show, I was afforded the luxury of getting to know a more in-depth knowledge of my iconic heroes. Actors on breaks do what most folks do around the water cooler at work - we yack a lot. It was fascinating to hear the stories of some of these people and the similarities of the dues that had to be paid by them in order to score that big break. We all have to "pay the piper" as they say, but sometimes it can really hurt when he's double scale!

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TONY CURTIS

Here was a young good looking Jewish kid who grew up on the tough streets of New York. His real name was Bernie Schwartz, which didn't exactly lend itself to the romantic leading man that he would become. As he said in one of our gab fests, "I learned more by having my ass kicked than having it kissed." Peter Cullen, one of us guys, asked him how he felt about being such a famous personality. In that unmistakable New York accent, he replied, "Well I'll tell 'ya. I made an awful lot of money and I found that my toys just got bigger."

WILLIAM CONRAD

Bill was a warm, affable man who loved to trade stories about the business. He was enjoying the success of his hit television series Cannon, of which he was very proud. In our conversations, I was surprised to learn that he began his career in radio as the original voice of Matt Dillon in the hit show, Gunsmoke, which later became the highly successful television series. His first break in movies came in 1946 when he played a very believable killer in a movie called appropriately "The Killers." It so happened that the same movie served as an introduction to a young actor by the name of Burt Lancaster, whom I never had the pleasure of meeting.

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DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS, JR.

Following in the footsteps of his famous father in the 1920s, Douglas Fairbanks Jr. thrilled millions of movie-goers the world over. As a boy, I loved his swashbuckling, daring-do exploits in movies like Sinbad the Sailor, The Corsican Brothers, The Prisoner of Zenda and many others. On this particular week, I was told that he was to be the guest star and was quite excited at the prospect of meeting my hero of many years. Immediately I went to the Sonny & Cher offices to get an advance script, hoping that I might be included in a sketch that he would perform in. Scanning the script, page 18 jumped off the paper with a fanfare of emotion. "Billy draws his sword and says to Douglas ........." Could this be true? I was going to cross swords and trade lines with Mr. Swashbuckle? My enthusiasm was held in check because, if you recall, it was a first draft script in my starting day of the show that got me trapped, much to my chagrin! On getting the final draft, I was ecstatic because the part was still mine.

The sketch went well and I had experienced a personal dream come true. Sometimes you can build up your expectations as to what your hero is really like as a person. On a few occasions, I wish I hadn't met certain stars because they shattered the pedestal on which I had placed them. It was happily very rare, but a few were pompous, unprofessional and downright rude, but such was not the case with Mr. Fairbanks. He was, as I had hoped, an extremely courteous man who was the epitome of professionalism. In my personal jargon, he was nifty, and there's nothing better to me than nifty!

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JACK PALANCE

In my first appearance as one of the regular cast on the Sonny & Cher Show, I was given two sketches to perform with the guest star, Jack Palance. Okay, now what's going on! What's a west-end Toronto kid doing in Hollywood on a hit international television show about to trade lines with this giant of films. Well that's what I came for and needless to say, I was more than a little nervous. This would be the big test for me. I had to show that this was just another acting role of the many I had done before. I'm happy to say that I pulled it off or at least I don't think they knew that beneath the calm exterior, 'Hurricane William' was having a field day in my stomach!

Jack had a reputation of getting carried away in scenes that required violence and had sent more than one stuntman to hospital. As the story goes the other stuntmen got together on one occasion and planned a way to teach Jack a lesson. It was in one of his action movies where fight scenes were prevalent. These stunt guys knew that by physically hurting him in the sword fight scenes, they would have to be careful that the bruises or whatever other retaliatory measures they chose to inflict upon him, didn't show. In addition, they couldn't go too far for fear of an injury to him that would shut down production which could affect their payday! They accomplished this revenge by hurting him where it didn't show, namely on parts of the body where the costuming would cover their devious deeds. Jack got the message loud and clear. Even with this knowledge, I was more than a little apprehensive when I found out that one of the two sketches involving us, required a violent scene. Oh, lucky me!

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I played the part of a prison warden and Jack was a very unruly prisoner that I had to scold for being so naughty in my little domain. At one point, he was supposed to blow his top and send me, seated in a swivel chair on wheels, careening across the floor right through a break-away wall. On paper, it looked pretty simple and would be obviously effective in the piece. I couldn't shake the nagging knowledge of those who had been on the receiving end of Jack's overly enthusiastic performances before me. As it turned out, he did the deed, resulting in no bones broken. Because of his skill and although he did in fact send me through a wall with a great deal of force, he took special care not to harm me when he did the stunt. It was done with such perfection that when the scene was over, the entire crew broke into applause which has to be one of the most rewarding accolades that a performer can receive. I gave him my thanks and he just flashed that famous maniacle grin which in my case was most welcomed!

In the second sketch with 'The Man', I played the part of a half-crazed bell ringer. I was required to hang from a rope 30' in the air with just a loop for my foot to take the weight off my body and hang up there for about seven minutes until it was time for me to make my Tarzan-like entrance in the sketch. It was physically demanding, but I was the 'new boy' trying to prove my worth on the show. When the show's taping finished that night, I retreated to my dressing room to reflect on my first day in the big time. As I sat there alone, everything I had gone through caught up to me. The physical strain, pressure to do my lines and moves perfectly and working with show business greats took its toll on me and I became overwhelmed from the experience. Frankly, I started to

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weep as a release mechanism. There was a knock on the door and on opening it, Jack Palance was standing there. He said, "I just wanted to tell you that you're one helluva an actor" and walked away. 'Ya know, I could learn to like it here!

TONY RANDALL

There was a certain routine that was practised on the show when rehearsing the lines. You would never actually say the punch line, but were required to replace the gag words with "blah, blahs". For example, why did the chicken cross the blah, blah? To get to the other blah, blah. I believe this was done because the writers and producers wanted a spontaneity when we were shooting the show in the studio -- the idea being that the jokes would be spoken for the first time on air and we would get the immediate reaction from the thirty odd guys on the crew, to be later enhanced with an audience sound track. None of the sketches were shot with a live audience because space was needed for all the various sets required. The laugh track would be edited in later which of course we never heard while performing the material. With the crew hopefully breaking up at the moment of delivery, it acted as encouragement to the performers to egg them on to better things and more intense effort. I suppose it worked and although we all hated doing the scenes in this fashion, it was their way or the highway!

One week, Tony Randall was the guest star and we were all gathered together in the huge board room at our usual Monday, 10:00 a.m. for the first read through of the script. Tony took his work very seriously and I think he thought of himself as a kind of actor's actor. It just so happened that it was me

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who started out with the dialogue in which he and I were to trade lines in the sketch. He said something like "And how did you react when the salesman said what he said to you", to which I replied, "Well at first I "blahed", but then I merely "blah blahed." We waited several moments for his next line and then he remarked "I beg your pardon. What did you say because it's not in my script." At this point, the director jumped in and attempted to explain to Mr. Randall the reasoning behind our small subterfuge. Again a very pronounced and pregnant silence by Tony. He finally arose and looked around the table at everyone and unfortunately especially me which can serve to un-nerve you. With precise diction and in a very authoritative voice he cautioned, "Ladies and gentlemen. I am Tony Randall. I am an actor. I do not "blah!" He then quite calmly walked out of the room. It was everything I could do to hold back my laughter. We all absolutely loved what he did and I know the other actors present would have loved to be in a position to say it, which of course we weren't! Everything was worked out within the hour and it was wisely decided to pass on the "blah blah" business for this particular show. It can honestly be said that this definitely was one week that we didn't have the "blahs!"

JERRY LEWIS

Everyone in the studio was quite excited on this particular day because The Great One was about to show up for rehearsal on the show. The great one being Mr. Jerry Lewis himself. Imagine getting a chance to work with Jerry Lewis, when for years I had watched him in television and movies especially when he was teamed up with Dean Martin. I had met Jerry a year previously on one of his famous telethons for Muscular Dystrophy in Las Vegas and was

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invited to be on the show only because of the popularity of the Colt 45 commercials which I was doing at the time. The National Brewing Company of Baltimore had raised $250,000 over a year of sponsored events and asked me to act as the spokesman for the company in presenting the cheque to Jerry. It was merely a walk-on and my only function was to give him the dough, shake his hand and bugger off. We had all been warned what an S.O.B. this guy could be if he chose to and the word (command) was to laugh at anything and everything he said or did, which did not sit well with me. I'm proud to say that whatever I may be, I cannot play the phoney and kiss ass. This probably was the wrong attitude to take when trying to score in Hollywood because the whole town was swarming with butt kissers and that was just the way it was and I'm sure still is.

Our director who was no stranger to sycophancy himself, came running into the studio, very excited saying that Jerry would be there at any moment and reminded us to laugh at anything whether we thought it funny or not. When he finally did enter the room, the attention showered on this man was something to behold. His every whim was jumped upon and catered to and I'm sure the only thing they missed was to spread rose petals in his path wherever he wandered! Sometimes people will rave about a particular movie that you 'must see' and will go on and on as to how very special it is. When you finally get around to watching it, you find that it sucks because it was elaborated upon too much. With Jerry, it worked the complete opposite. He may have and possibly did earn this reputation of being a stinker, but you could never prove it by me.

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This fella was terrific! He fell in love with all of us guys as we did him. When he discovered that we could be just as zany, wacko and completely off-the-wall as him, it was like throwing oil on a fire and everything seemed to just explode with laughter. We all went wild with some very clever material from the army of writers on the show. This of course was wonderful for all concerned, especially the producers, as it meant a great show in the offing and the sacred ratings that everyone worshipped.

Sometimes things can go too well and we were about to see a real professional at work. All of the sketches had been taped and were "in the can." The expression "in the can" goes back to the early days of movies. When a performance or scene was completed and recorded on film, it was placed inside a circular tin can for its protection. Later on from this original print, copies would be made but the master copy would remain protected. In the television industry, the word "film" is replaced by the word "tape." The protective procedures have certainly changed, but the old-fashioned terminology is still used to this day. Jerry's handlers suggested that with the time left over, he should tape one more sketch to use at another time. The particular piece of material, a monologue, had been written without time to hone it properly, but he gave it the old college try and God couldn't have made this piece work. As he finished, you could see the disappointment on his face because it was a bummer way of ending what had been two days of wonderful camaraderie and fun. As he started walking to his dressing room, his entourage were all over-lapping each other with words of praise like "Gee, you were great Jerry", etc., etc., etc. At one point, he stopped dead in his tracks and looked them over with

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not the warmest of expressions on his face and said, "You can't polish a turd", then walked away. A few days later, I received a letter in the mail from Jerry's office and wondered why he would write to me. It read: "Dear Billy. It was a joy to work with you again. Your talent is only exceeded by how nice a man you are. Always, Jerry. P.S. I wanted to get you something, but didn't know what ... so please use the enclosed to get something nice for yourself! " Attached to the letter was a cheque from Jerry for $2.66! It was a great gag and a thoughtful gesture. I couldn't wait for the next rehearsal when I could show this personal recognition of my work to all the other guys. Wrong! That bugger had sent almost the exact same letter and cheque to every one of the guys! It was a crafty piece of business and we all had a good laugh. It was flattering that Jerry had remembered my appearance on his telethon and mentioned working with me "again." Most of the time in my business, it's a case of dog-eat-dog and survival at any cost. How refreshing it was to meet Mr. Lewis.

MacLEAN STEVENSON

The very first show I did in Los Angeles was a pilot called "You Can't Do That on Television". It was a naughty variety show starring Al Hamel, with a gathering of six up-and-coming performers like me, who would perform various taboo sketches. Alas, to no avail. As a pilot it went nowhere, but proved to be a terrific experience for me as my introduction to the world of Hollywood.

When I arrived at the rehearsal studio in the morning, a tall guy came up to me and said, "You're very short, you're not very funny and I'm sure I'm not

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going to like you!" and started to walk away. On hearing this, I quickly knew I couldn't let him get away with that. I mustered up all those great retorts you love to lash back with and I came up with, "Gee, you're cute when you're mad."

From that day on, MacLean Stevenson and I became very close friends. He was obviously testing me and when I came back with such a lame reply, it hit both of us as funny. Down the line, Mack and I did a number of sketches together on the Sonny & Cher Show and shared some great moments, both on and off camera, for we knew how to party. When I say party, it might be an understatement. One thing that Hollywood did not lack was invitations to good-time gatherings. The guest list other than the inevitable party crashers consisted of performers in every field - singers, dancers, comics, hair dressers, costumers - the odd producer or director - in fact anyone who was connected to the industry. Booze was very cheap in the States and therefore flowed freely. Any liquid you wanted to consume was abundant as was another little treat to indulge in after a hard day on the set.

Smoking a joint was by now a mild indulgence and pretty well taken for granted. But at one of the earlier parties I attended, I noticed what looked to be a bowl of sugar on the coffee table. Knowing full well that this was not a tea party, and that I would not hear the term "one lump or two", it could only be one thing. That was the new flavor-of-the-month in L.A. referred to as 'blow' or 'nose snow' - cocaine to the uninitiated. Of all the vices I might enjoy, I can honestly say that through fear alone, coke would never be allowed in my

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repertoire of indulgences. Sadly I had witnessed the deterioration of a gifted young performer who had succumbed to this career killer and had no desire to screw up my life in that fashion. But what the hell. It was party time and the invitation didn't read, "Come and sit in judgment of our folly!" I had seen people roll up a dollar bill and snort it up the nostrils from thin powdery lines on a coffee table in Toronto. But now I was amidst the Super Bowl Sniffers in Tinsel Town!

Several of the guests, male and female, wore necklaces with tiny spoons attached. In size they were reminiscent of what Tom Thumb might have used for his porridge. This fashionable adornment suddenly became a practical utensil to assist the euphoria to follow. Man, they were hell-bent for a buzz! The dialogue that followed among the folks in our gathering solved most of the world's problems for at least one night. I've heard a lot of real bullshit lines from guys trying to get lucky with chicks, but this night it became the Mount Everest of dung delivery! Men whose claim to fame was the odd extra part in a movie suddenly became Steven Spielburg casting his next epic. It was a common practice in this world of make-believe and the ladies pretty much knew how to handle it. I guess the party ended at some point, but who knows because I left when the morning sun was rising in all its glory over Bullshit Mountain!

FLYIN' HIGH

During my career of over forty years in show business, I have adhered to a code of behaviour. Controlling nerves and fear when up on a stage or on camera is indeed a formidable challenge. But if you need the crutch of booze,

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drugs or anything else, your career can be short-lived. I have worked too hard to blow it on something so ill-advised and obviously a cul-de-sac in my profession.

It was the last day of taping on this particular week and Howard Cossell along with Chuck Connors were our guest stars. Having finished my more involved sketches, there was one last scene where I had literally nothing to do but fill up the set as a background body. "Bring in the atmosphere" as Bono loved to say!

In addition to the four cameras that were always used, they added a fifth for this scene, referred to as 'The Crane'. It was a camera mounted on a perch, manned by a camera man and four stout fellows to assist its movements using a hydraulic system. An amazing device, it could send the camera man twenty feet in the air for a top shot and swoop down to floor level for another angle. Moving horizontally, vertically or perpendicular, it "had 'ya covered". To me, it was reminiscent of a giant praying mantis!

We had rehearsed the scene several times where the crane would move about and at the appropriate moment, would zoom in on whoever had the line to deliver and then move back to a high top shot. The sketch was Western in flavor and all of us 'extras', dressed in appropriate cowboy garb would merely sit around with a happy smile, observing the action of the scene. After the last rehearsal, we broke for dinner and were told that the actual taping of this scene would commence immediately after our required re-past.

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It so happened that I had just received an unexpected gift from one of my cast cohorts. It was in the form of a cigarette-shaped paper cylinder, with no apparent brand label to be seen. I automatically clicked into my Sherlock Holmes mode and deduced that this was not your average cigarette! In this mode of elementary logic, it was further deduced that the contents of this tubular tidbit did indeed contain a substance from the hemp plant, known as cannabis. A dastardly forbidden weed, the use of which society frowned upon. My fellow thespian friend, who had so generously bestowed this favor on me, also suggested that if I were to apply a flame to the end of my acquired good fortune and inhale the resulting smoke, I would most assuredly be the recipient of quite a lovely feeling of absolute euphoria. My curiosity was aroused with the anticipation of indulgence. In other words, my buddy laid a joint on me and said, "Toke on this man. It's great shit!"

Whatever possessed me to do what I was about to do, cannot be explained to this day. Armed with my 'naughty no-no' carefully concealed in my cowboy vest, I went to see my friend and might add, the producer of the show, Allan Blye, to seek permission for what I was thinking of doing. Explaining that I had this overwhelming whimsical urge to witness how it would feel to be high on camera, knowing full well that, in reality, no real harm would be done. It was against all my self-training of absolute discipline in my profession and certainly unprecedented. Perhaps it was because of those very same strict rules that I was experiencing my momentary rebellion. Every man needs a little madness in his life or he could go crazy!

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Al said that although it was completely opposite to the Billy Van he knew, he added, "What the hell. If you feel that strongly about it, go and enjoy." He knew full well that I was not about to throw my career out the window, but he added, "Just don't tell anyone what you're up to -- and I mean, anyone!" With that needed confirmation, I went back to my dressing room and toked my treat as prescribed.

When we were called back on the set to tape the sketch, I was very laid back and quite happy at my lot in life. The crane was at its maximum height, twenty feet and had strangely lost its 'praying mantis' look and was now quite beautiful in appearance!. The Studio Director shouted, "Cast, this will be a take", followed by, "Action." The music began to set the mood and I sat quite contentedly in my chair in the saloon, preparing to thoroughly enjoy my little adventure.

Nicely buzzed and with the world being seemingly perfect for the moment, suddenly from my peripheral view something started to happen that I didn't recall happening in rehearsal. The crane started moving in extremely slow motion, which might be attributed to my feelings due to my foray into the unknown. There was definitely something different happening because the crane was slowly coming my way, which hadn't happened before. At this point, I figured better to just stay calm because perhaps there was a last-minute change that I hadn't heard about. It kept coming in my direction at a snail's pace and had me wondering what the hell was going on? As it moved

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horizontally, it was angling downward to floor level. Finally it stopped right in front of me, which gave me an uneasy feeling. Now it started to move in on a closeup of yours truly and stopped literally six inches from my nose. At this point, the Director, Art Fisher, opened the pots (intercom) to the studio and said, "Are you having fun Billy?" The camera quickly pulled back and flew to its original position. The studio exploded with cheers and applause because that little bugger Allan had informed everybody, cast and crew alike, as to what I had done. I thoroughly enjoyed that particular taping in more ways than one. What a great day. It's okay folks. It was a one-time on set that was never repeated!

THANKS, BUT NO THANKS

When Sonny and Cher parted company and went their separate ways, they were offered their own individual shows. The original producer of the show, Allan Blye, decided to back Sonny on this new venture. All of us guys were loyal and indebted to Allan and quite naturally decided to join his camp. It would be called 'The Sonny Bono Comedy Hour' and would last but one season. We, of course, did pretty much what we had done before as support players for sketches and production numbers. Needless to say, there was a valiant effort to make it work, but not nearly as enjoyable as before.

On the last show of that lack-lustre year, Sonny was on set and taping his goodbyes and thank you's to everyone who had been involved in the show and certainly to the audience who had watched faithfully. He mentioned crew guys, makeup, costumers, camera men, caterers, and everyone else down to the guys who swept the floors at the end of the day. He was blatant in his omission of a

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thank you or any recognition whatsoever of us five guys on the show. We, who had saved his ass numerous times over the years were obviously not worthy of any mention whatsoever. If my comments sound like sour grapes, you're damn right they are!

His failure to acknowledge our very existence was so obvious that the producer, director and even Jaime Rogers the choreographer, took him aside and suggested that he tape the closing again mentioning our appearances and support on the show. I was later told that he agreed and would do so on the next take. Take two and Bono began his thank you's one more time. Nope! He simply would not do it for whatever reason he harbored. As one of the writers remarked later, "I wonder who pissed in his cornflakes!" What a bummer way to end an era of wonderful shows and memories.

LAST DAY LUNACY

It was a very sad time for all the cast members as we waited in our dressing rooms to be called on set to tape the last Sonny & Cher segment. We had made a lot of friends, shared a million laughs and were better performers for having been an integral part of that show.

All of us would of course move on to new challenges and adventures in this wonderful industry. I was looking forward to finding out what lay ahead for me and had done my homework laying the groundwork for my return to Toronto. A few things were looking good. With the prestigiousness of having been on a hit American television show for several years, I was now considered a winner and in any business, everyone likes a winner, or so I thought.

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We had already taped most of the segments a few days earlier which would be edited into the last show after this final sketch was in the can. It was going to be yet another episode of 'Sonny's Pizza', which had proven to be so popular throughout the run of the series. As usual, Ted Zeigler and I would play the parts of the two clutzy clowns that could never quite get things right. It was a segment that always guaranteed immediate laughs from cast, crew and audiences alike.

As we finished the last scene and heard the director say, "Thanks for a wonderful run cast and now that's a wrap", I couldn't believe what began to transpire in front of my eyes. It was reminiscent of one of those desert movie scenes where the vultures circle in the sky waiting for some poor critter to bite the dust as they move in, in this case, for a TV dinner! Everything started to disappear! Costumes stuffed into plastic bags gone, various objects used to decorate the sets vanished, prop wagons pilfered and anything else that wasn't literally nailed down, to be taken as souvenirs of the last ever Sonny & Cher Show. It was very much like a feeding frenzy, when, even the door to the 'Sonny's Pizza' set was going out the back exit of the sound stage. I had never stolen anything before and certainly wanted nothing to do with this carnage even for some memento, but folks do strange things sometimes for whatever reason and who was I to judge them.

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I removed my makeup, got into my street clothes and for the last time, left the studio with a lot of memories that will always be treasured. I went to a bar with a couple of the guys and we toasted a great run of the show. When I got home and started to undress for bed, a horrible realization suddenly hit me. I was one of the vultures! The black socks borrowed from the costume department were still on my feet. Ret Turner, can you ever forgive me!

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