Martin Short - I Must Say

I MUST SAY. Copyright 2014 by Martin Short. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

Excerpts from Jackie Rogers Jr.s $100,000 Jackpot Wad and Mens Olympic Synchronized Swimming 1984 NBC Studios, LLC. Distributed by Broadway Video Enterprises. Courtesy of Broadway Video Enterprises and NBC Studios, LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Short, Martin

I must say : my life as a humble comedy legend / Martin Short ; with David Kamp.First edition.

pages cm

1. Short, Martin 2. Television actors and actressesCanadaBiography. I. Kamp, David. II. Title.

PN2308.S53A3 2014

791.4502'8092dc23

[B]

2014028617

ISBN: 978-0-06-230952-5

EPub Edition NOVEMBER 2014 ISBN 9780062309532

14 15 16 17 18 OV/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

TO KATHERINE, OLIVER, AND HENRY

T o me, its a little daunting to determine who to acknowledge and thank when youre writing about your entire life: between the forceps and the stone, as Joni Mitchell once put it. Who do you exclude? The doctor who pulled you out seems pretty important. In my case, he later became a very successful plastic surgeon; what Leonardo was to canvas, Dr. Schleckman was to saggy neck skin. Of course, there are the myriad schoolteachers who guided and authors who inspired; too many to list. And Im thankful for the family I was blessed to be born intothe spectacular Shortsas well as the guidance, patience, and endless love of my three children, Katherine, Oliver, and Henry. For me, theres nothing more rewarding than getting a deep-tissue massage while glancing over and seeing one of your kids getting tutored in math.

More specific to this bookwhich Im anxious to readI cant thank enough my collaborator, David Kamp. His cleverness and craft kept the year or so that we worked together as fun, focused, and painless as a thing like this can be. When I get to work with a writer I admire, everything seems to fall into place. So I must also thank Dick Blasucci, Paul Flaherty, Michael Short, David Feldman, Jon Macks, and all the other brilliant writers with whom Ive been lucky enough to collaborate over the years.

Ive always enjoyed working by committee, and have always understood that life is just so much easier when you can get the honest opinions of people you trust. So I deeply thank my manager, Marc Gurvitz, as well as my agents, Stacy Mark and Mel Berger. And as far as the late Bernie Brillstein goes, not a day goes by in which I dont think of something he once said and burst out laughing.

At HarperCollins, bless you, David Hirshey, Kathy Schneider, Rachel Elinsky, Leah Wasielewski, Milan Bozic, and Sydney Pierce, and Emily Hirshey, for so seamlessly facilitating the journey of this memoir.

As far as the front and back covers of this book are concerned, photographer Sam Jones and his team of airbrushers are simply the best you can getand again, thanks, Sam, for the bike.

To my beloved friends, theres simply no life without you guys. Thanks for the advice and the love and the billion dinners and laughs. Without you all... Id look for new friends and get them.

Oh, dear, Im sure Im leaving people out. Again, its a horrible sort of list to have to come up with. Can you imagine? All right. Enough. Im at my cottage as I type. I think its time for a swim.

M.S., Snug Harbour, Summer 2014

I ts May 1977, and I am having an argument with the woman who will become my wife. Were not arguing about anything seriousNancy and I rarely do. But Ive been behaving rudely, or so Nancy thinks (though I think its the other way around), and the tension is real.

Why do you have to start suddenly screaming? she asks.

Im not remotely screaming. Youll know when I start screaming, I respond.

Oh, so you mean we need to bring out the Nixonesque recording devices to determine the truth around here?

Good, by all means, turn them on, cause Ill be proven right. And by the way, if I did raise my volume a decibel or two, why would that be my fault?

So you didnt raise your voice?

No, of course I did. But thats like complaining about a guy whos been pushed off a mountain and screams Ahhhhh! on the way down. Sure, hes screaming. But doesnt the person who gave him a shove bear some of the responsibility?

Okay, you know what? I dont want to talk to you anymore, Nancy says. I want to talk to Ed.

Ed is a character Ive been developing over the last few months onstage at the Second City in Toronto. He does not yet have his last name, Grimley.

Ed? she says, looking impatiently over my shoulder, past me, as if he might trip through the doorway of our apartment on Roxborough Street in Toronto. Ed, are you there?

I assume Eds posture: shoulders hunched, upper lip exposing the teeth. I certainly am, Miss Nancy.

Ed, whats Martys problem?

Oh, who can possibly know? Its just so sad, Miss Nancy, cause like hes, like, hes just so mentally jealous of you, I must say.

Jealous how, Ed?

Jealous of your beauty and wisdom and saddened by his own tragic limitations, and thats no lie.

Thank you, Ed.

Although his endowment has certainly been blessed by the lord.

Okay, Ed, thats enough.

Argument defused.

In my brief time as the conduit through which Ed channels himself, I have discovered two remarkable things about him. One: that he seems to be amusing to audiences, which is a relief, because Im still new at this improvisational comedy thing, having been more of a traditional theatrical performer up to this point in my career. Two: that Eds sweetness has a disarming effect on Nancy. When trouble arises, she calls out for Ed to moderate, and when he appears, all things calm down.

Hmmm, I think, what other magic powers might Ed hold?

Miss Nancy?

Yes, Ed?

My, you seem very fetching in that halter top, I must say. How I wish my fingers were scissors so I could snip those straps and release the hostages.

Go away, Ed! Were done here.

Well, if nothing else, I have now discovered a third thing about Ed: Nancy has absolutely no interest in having sex with him.

I joined Second City in March 1977. The troupe was midway through its winter-spring show, The Wizard of Ossington, and I was replacing John Candy, who had just departed.

One of the sketches in The Wizard of Ossington was called Sexist. The premise was simple: A male executive is interviewing two candidates for a job, a woman and a man. The woman is smart, competent, and qualified. The man is an idiot. Nevertheless, after questioning both candidates, the interviewer declares, Your credentials are so darn equal that I dont know how to decide. I cant make up my mind! The male candidate proposes that the matter be settled by arm wrestling. The interviewer agrees. Then the man pins down the womans arm, thereby winning the job. SCENE.