Hollywood Gays (29 page)

Q: Before that show, you had numerous failed pilots, didn’t you?

A:
Thank
you for reminding me. Oh, God, yes. Five of ‘em. I did them with Bill Asher (a producer-director) who did
I Love Lucy
and
Bewitched
. Oh, well.

Q: Did you have hopes of moving up from smaller parts in movies to comic leads?

A: For a while there. I mean if Don Knotts could star in movies,
anyone
could. I think comedy is pretty dead, for right now, except in television.

Q: I once read that Desi Arnaz almost cast you as a husband in
The Mothers-In-Law
. Whose—Eve Arden’s or Kaye Ballard’s?

A: I don’t know. There were preliminary negotiations. They stayed preliminary. But I’d have loved to do that show—oh, it’s a riot! It’s the only worthwhile thing poor Eve has done since
Our Miss Brooks
.

Q: Have you ever noticed how the Eve Arden character in all those movies is always treated as butch and unattractive and almost referred to as a man?

A: I don’t know much about Eve’s private life, but they
did
call her a man in one or two of those movies. Wasn’t it Mildred Pierce? Some guy tells her, “Too bad you’re not a woman...” Something like that. And Lucy has certainly made some disparaging remarks around town;
she’d
never play such a “masculine role.” (Arden’s younger husband Brooks West was bisexual.)

Q: Why would she do that?

A: I think it was jealousy. Or rivalry. For a time there,
Our Miss Brooks
was a real rival for Lucy. But let’s not get too negative, dear. Kaye Ballard. She discovered me, you know.

Q: She doesn’t seem old enough.

A: Oh, she’s been around. Kaye’s a man of the world. Anyway, she was touring with Ray Bolger in
Three to Make Ready
, and I was nuts about Kaye. I thought she was the funniest woman I’d ever seen. Then she came to see me, and eventually she took me back to New York with her. I got to meet the important people. Which is, unfortunately, important.

Q: Tell me a bit about your background. Ohio, right?

A: Yes, Ohio—Mount Vernon. I was one of six kids. In the middle, so I didn’t get spoiled as the eldest or coddled as the youngest. My father was a butcher. Of meat. Didn’t take to me much—the old buzzard!—and when I announced my intention to act, he hit the roof. I hit the road. I was very fat. I was a teenage Edward Arnold, whom you probably don’t remember. My mom thought food was love, and it was a pretty good substitute, I’ll admit. But I weighed 260 pounds during high school and college. Obviously, I could either become a monk, a lunatic, or become a comedian. I chose a combination of all three (snickers).

Q: So you really don’t have someone special in your life?

A: Oh, of
course
I do! You think I’m gonna tell the girls at
Girl Talk
? Yes. Yes, there is someone special.

Q: I’ve heard you have a preference for Orientals....

A: Now where on earth did you hear that? Outer Mongolia? Yes, well, Orientals are nice. When they’re handsome, they’re really handsome, and they tend to be gentle and introspective. I don’t really like shallow people. The worst thing of it is, nobody shallow
knows
they’re shallow. Somebody ought to
tell
them! So they could work on it.

Q: Do you know John Gielgud?

A: He’s a fan of mine, believe it or not! Anyway, he loved
Bye Bye Birdie
. He saw it ten times or something, and then he said, “It’s so delightful, so uplifting. Why they would send
My Fair Lady
to Moscow representing the American musical is beyond me.
This
is what they should’ve sent.” Isn’t that fabulous?!

Q: You’ve certainly been on everyone’s show—Carol Burnett, Dean Martin....

A: Yes, yes. But I always wanted to have my own show. Oh, but you know what was marvelous? Jack Benny sent me a note once, after I did Carol Burnett—she’s nice too. It was so complimentary, so lovely. But ya know, we could never have worked together. It wouldn’t work—too lavender, with two old queens together. It’s a shame, though.

Q: The official Benny biography is (wife) Mary Livingstone’s project....

A: Yes, the truth about
that
will be a long time coming. I mean the truth always does get out, even officially. But look how long it takes—look at Cole Porter.

Q: It takes longer when the individual was particularly popular.

A: God, yes.

Q: Let me throw some other comedians’ names at you, for reactions. No, you don’t have to brace yourself. Just say whatever you want to.

A: That’s what I’m afraid I’ll do.

Q: Bob Hope.

A: Bobs for jokes—in vain. Makes Eartha look modest, but without any of Eartha’s talent to back it up. He proves you don’t need talent to make it, even as a comedian. You just have to appeal to the masses on some level.

Q: Lenny Bruce.

A: Important. He was important to what we do, but his style was too crass for me.

Q: Beatrice Lillie.

A:
So
funny. Delightful and butch and feminine. It’s so awfully sad, how she became senile. God, if that ever happens to me, let them drive a stake through my heart!

Q: Phyllis Diller.

A: She’s lots of fun, but it wears thin, doesn’t it?

Q: George Burns.

A: He’s cute. But like he’s the first to say, his wife is the one who made him funny.

Q: Now who do you think is quite funny? Comedians, I mean.

A: Well...Richard Deacon is very amusing, in his deadpan way. He’s so one-note, you’d never
guess
about
him
. Stop me if I’m shocking you, sonny! But if you’ve hung around Hollywood, you’ve
heard
who’s gay—what else do they talk about at cocktail parties? Cock sizes and big deals. And who’s sleeping with who and why. It all boils down to sex and deals....What were we talking about?

Q: Who you think is funny.

A: I’m sorry, I just think the sisters
are
funnier. Outsiders develop humor as a defense, but they also think funnier. If you’re on the inside, you can
afford
to be more shallow. Why do you think most of the comedians and also the composers are gay or Jewish? It’s a defense, a refuge— laughter and music. So, to round off this list, I have to say another deadpan character actor, Richard Haydn. I mean he’s best known as that gay old uncle in
The Sound of Music
, but he’s done a million and one things. Oh, of course: and Billy De Wolfe. Now, he was on Doris’s TV series, and he was priceless! He’s done drag and everything.

Q: Other than your drag turn in
Glass Bottom Boat
, do you have any partiality to drag?

A: No, no. Not really. It gets a guaranteed laugh, and I love that, but no. Women’s clothes are so
tedious
. Not to mention the hair and makeup. They’re crazy to put up with it. I guess men just don’t like women the way they already look. Besides, the only transvestite I know is a married man—not gay—and he does it so he can make it with his wife. He can’t, otherwise.

Q: On
Hollywood Squares
, your quips are often quite risqué, sometimes daringly gay. Is your sexual image a big concern to you?

A: As long as I can work, I’m okay. And they like this quirky persona I’ve got. If they call me nellie, okay, so long as they call me. You’d have to be a moron not to guess that I’m not a heterosexual, by my age. Best of all, the young people love me. They’re my biggest audience. That’s extremely comforting to a young man in his early 50s.

Q: How big a concern is aging?

A: For a man, it’s big. For a comic—a comedian, a droll—not so big. Not big at all, professionally. But ya know, it’s the quality of life that’s important, and at my age I can honestly say that. Today I’m thin, successful, I’m far more confident...I’m happy, as I said before, and I truly meant it. I think, regardless of whether you’re a celebrity or not, if you can honestly say that the recent years you’ve lived through have been the best so far, then you
are
doing
some
thing right!

* * *

Before I departed, Lynde—who didn’t ask me to call him Paul—volunteered, “If you want to talk more, I’m available most of this week.” He said it in an eagerly social rather than a professionally perfunctory way, so that evening I called and arranged to lunch together the next day. I had more than enough material for a standard
Talk
profile and decided to take him to the Brown Derby at Hollywood and Vine.

“We’ll go someplace
nice
,” I hinted on the phone.

“Ya mean,” his voice indicated a head-waggle, “Hamburger Hamlet instead of McDonald’s?”

“
Even
nicer than that.”

The following day, he was visibly surprised and pleased (as I hoped I’d been in front of Richard Deacon). “Oh, this is
ritzy
,” he murmured, sliding into a booth. “And it’s not even my birthday—thank
God!”

When the waiter inquired if we cared for drinks, Paul turned to me: “What are you gonna do?”

“Coffee for me, please.”

“Coffee for me, too,” he said. Nor had we imbibed anything alcoholic at his home, so if he did have a drinking problem, he hid it well. Naturally, I wondered how much of Paul’s
bonhomie
was due to my being a journalist and whether he’d act very differently if I were a coworker, an old friend, or a new beau. I would never know.

The sheltering booth provided cushioned privacy, and the guest supplied a cheery intimacy, more at ease and quicker to make eye contact than in his habitual surroundings. The aged waiter seldom came by, even to replenish the coffee, but I didn’t miss him or the caffeine, for I had a more refreshing stimulant. Again, I wondered if others weren’t too harsh in their judgment of Paul or whether he was an accomplished actor.

Wherever the truth lay, hopefully he had at least half as good a time as I did. I’m sure it was fun being Paul Lynde—as Richard had guessed—for it was certainly fun watching and listening to him. A transcript can only suggest the peppery performance of the funny man in the red leather booth.

* * *

Q: You have the reputation of a connoisseur of the grape. Would that be red or white wine?

A: Uh, sonny, not to put too fine a point on it, but I don’t have a big partiality to liquor.

Q: I didn’t say you did, Mr. Lynde. But I’ve heard you go to gay bars....

A: Oh, I don’t go there to drink. Well, (waggles his head) maybe the odd Shirley Temple. I go to get an eyeful.

Q: Would you perchance call yourself a swinger?

A: No, perchance. I’m just a big square at heart! I like my home best. My friends. A lifelong relationship would be ducky, but (pinches self) who’s dreaming?

Q: I’m surprised you call yourself a square.

A: Well, that’s my defense against having a wild image. A gay image, yes. Wild or booze-ridden, no. Unless you’ve read something I should know about?

Q: Not at all. Do you socialize much with Hollywood folk?

A: The A-list? (Sarcastically.) Boo-hoo.
Those
invitations don’t come my way anymore. When you’re new to town, with a hit or two under your belt, they invite you to the superstar parties, but they stop as soon as they peg you as
support
. A-list means bankable stars, bankable directors, bankable writers....

Q: And bankers?

A: Only bankable ones! No, they’re stupid, those hostesses. The average actor, doesn’t matter how big his b.o. is—box office—is
shy
. Little Miss Wallflower. Or he has a chip on his shoulder that it took him all of three years to reach the top. Actors are drab, petty people, most of ‘em. Comedians are funny, right? By definition! And entertaining. But instead of inviting
us
to liven up their moronic parties, they invite the box-office yokels and the Method people who sit in corners. Even in
this
weirdsville town, a room can only have four corners.

Q: Did you ever go to a party and meet one of your film idols?

A: Ya mean (waggles) like Clara Bow?

Q: I’m sure she was even before your time.

A:
Well!
(Does a Jack Benny take.) Since we’re dishing idol gossip, I once met Cary Grant. Lust at first sight! This was the previous decade, y’understand.
Very
previous. I’d worked with him. In his movie, anyway. Being a mere comic—a
droll
—I didn’t have access to his actual person, but at that party, we got to shake hands, and he complimented my work! Nearly fainted.

Q: You or him?

A:
Me
. I shook hands with the man and thought, “Well, this is the closest I’ll ever get to sexual intercourse with you.”