Burnett - This Time Together: Laughter and Reflection

D uring the past few years, Ive zigzagged across the country appearing in various theaters performing Laughter and Reflection: A Conversation with Carol, Where the Audience Asks the Questions. Its just the audience and me. The evening lasts ninety minutes, beginning with seven minutes of old Q & A clips from our TV variety show to give the audience an idea of what the evening is going to be like. Then I come out onstage and ask for the lights to be bumped up, so I can see everyone.

Lights up.

Its always a little scary, because Im working without a safety net. There are no plants in the audience, because if the event feels pre-planned, it takes the fun out of it. The audience can tell its off the cuff, and through the years people have been pretty enthusiasticand arent at all shy about raising their hands. When I call on someone I never know what the question will be. I have to say, it keeps the ol gray matter ticking and the blood pumping.

However, through the years there have been questions that were asked over and over, which gives me a breather by allowing me to count on being able to tell some set stories. If these questions werent asked (for instance, if the audience was sitting on its hands), often I could bring up the subject myself and tell the story anyway. (Whew!)

What follows are some of these stories that Ive shared over the years in response to various questions. Some have to do with our gang on the variety show, embarrassing moments, famous people, not-so-famous people, family, and so on. Since Im not planning on doing too many more of these story evenings in the future, I figured Id write up my favorite stories for my grandkids and anybody else who might enjoy themwho might have some fun and laughs and maybe some nostalgic moments as well.

Many years ago, in 1986, I wrote a memoir called One More Time, which was couched as a letter to my three daughters, telling them all about my growing up in a dysfunctional yet loving family. That book didnt take my life beyond age twenty-six. This time Im emphasizing episodes and anecdotes that have brought me to the present time, although Ive also included a few stories from childhood that bear repeating.

Originally I began writing this book as a simple series of anecdotes, but as I got into it I found that I went into more detail than I usually do onstage. I also found myself writing about things that I havent talked about onstage but which resonate with me. Some of them are even serious. These thoughts and feelings just kind of poured out onto the page. They might not be as amusing as some of my other remembrances, but theyre memories Id like to share. So what follows is a kind of memoir peppered with anecdotes here and there. I hope you enjoy it.

Jimmy surprising me on our last show, 1978.
COPYRIGHT 1978 GUNTHER/MPTVIMAGES.COM

M y grandmother Nanny and I were at the picture show. I hadnt reached two digits yet in age because I distinctly remember my feet couldnt touch the floor of the movie house. Nanny and I were still living in San Antonio, Texas. My mama and daddy had gone ahead to California, where Nanny and I would later wind up.

The feature had just begun, and his face lit up the screen. I couldnt take my eyes off him. He was talking to a beautiful lady in a nightclub somewhere. Im not sure what the movie was. It didnt matter. He had a kind of crooked smile and spoke with a soft what kind of voice was it? A drawl? The camera followed him as he stood up. You could see how very long his legs were. I was sure his feet never had trouble reaching the floor. Skinny as a string bean, Nanny said. After the picture show, we went home to the old house, and I couldnt get the man in the movie out of my mind. He wasnt just an actor like all the others Id seen in picture shows. This man was different. He spoke to me. I tried to explain this to Nanny.

Nanny, I know that man.

What do you mean, you know him?

I just do. Hes my friend; we just havent met yet.

Thats nice, dear. Drink your Ovaltine and go to bed.

Years later in Hollywoodit was 1958, to be exactI received a call from film director Mervyn LeRoy. He had seen me in a couple of appearances on television and asked if I would meet with him. I was in my early twenties and just getting started, so naturally I was thrilled by his interest. He suggested that I come out to the Warner Bros. studios the next morning and meet him on the soundstage where he was shooting a movie.

Why dont you get here a little before lunch, so you can watch us shoot a scene?

Wow. I had never been on a real movie set. I owned one decent suit, one good pair of stockings, and one pair of re-soled high heels. My purse didnt match, but it was all I had. I took the bus to Burbank. The studio guard had my name on his list and pointed me toward the soundstage. I waited for the red light outside, which meant keep out, to stop spinning. It stopped, a bell rang, and I walked into a huge caverncameras, lights, cables on the floor, ceilings as tall as skyscrapers, and catwalks everywhere you looked. At the far end of the stage I saw a small set. It was up on a rolling platform about two feet off the ground. It was an officea desk, one chair, a filing cabinet, and a door. The stagehands were securing it under the spotlights.

Mr. LeRoy came over to me and introduced himself. Glad you could make it, Carol. We just have a small scene to do before we break. Shouldnt take long. He motioned me to a chair out of the way. Okay, lets go for one! An actor climbed up onto the set and took his place behind the desk.

Mr. LeRoy called out to another actor behind the set door. Ready, Jimmy?

All set back here, Merv.

The voice. I knew it immediately. Oh my Lord, Im in the same space as my idol.

Mr. LeRoy called, Action! and Jimmy Stewart walked through the door and presented a badge to the man at the desk. That was it. End of scene.