I Love Lucy: The Untold Story (9 page)

WHEN I WAS WRITING
I LOVE LUCY,
the question that people asked me most often was,
“Where do you get your ideas?”
And I finally started answering them by saying, “Where did you get the idea to ask me that?” And that always stumped them.

When Bob and Madelyn and I would sit down every Monday morning to plot another
I Love Lucy
show out of thin air, we would sometimes look at one another after about a half hour of nothing and ask sarcastically, “Where
do
you get your ideas?” And that’s when we
really
wished we had the answer.

One of the first things that we discovered, after we had written just a few scripts, was that we were doing essentially the same story every week, with Lucy trying to get into Ricky’s act at the club. And so we started going in the direction of other, more normal domestic situations.

We were never trying to manufacture something funny. Instead, we were looking for a situation where Lucy’s and Ricky’s problems and differences of opinion were the same
ones that most of our audience had encountered. We called it “holding up the mirror.”

We knew that as long as we were playing around with things that everybody has lived through, we would have a captive audience who could understand and relate to the problems they were seeing on the
screen. They’d just be happy that this time it was happening to somebody else instead of to them. In my opinion, the funniest single line ever uttered on
I Love Lucy
was when Lucy summed up in an epigram what happens to a lot of marriages: “Since we said, ‘I do,’ there are so many things we don’t.” The line was not particularly funny in itself, but it gave viewers a sudden, deep insight into themselves—a shock, relieved by laughter.

We tried never to get too far away from basic human behavior. We composed a list of common problems that most viewers face: diet, money, noisy neighbors, business competition, and so on. Sometimes we’d go through the list until one of these topics provided a springboard for a script.

Of course, if you look hard enough, you can find humor even in the unlikeliest of situations. My favorite example involved Lester White, a veteran comedy writer for Bob Hope and others, who succumbed to cancer a few years ago at Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles. After lengthy treatment, Lester’s doctor finally visited him in his room one day and gave him the grim prognosis: the doctor could not predict how long Lester had to live—he could go at any moment.

“I’m sorry Les,” the doctor concluded. “All we can do is try to make you as comfortable as possible for your remaining time.”

After the doctor left, as Lester sat in his room contemplating his fate, a nurse entered to take his vital signs. This particular nurse happened to be extremely heavy; she must have weighed at least 300 pounds. Lester just stared at her as she moved around the room, busying herself with taking his temperature, checking his blood pressure, refilling his pitcher of ice water, fluffing his pillow. Her chores done, she stood at the foot of the bed and addressed Lester. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. White?”

Lester looked at the enormously fat nurse standing before him and said, “For God’s sake—don’t sing.”

•   •   •

In writing
I Love Lucy
we tried never to get too far away from basic human behavior.  We composed a list of common problems that most viewers face: diet, money, noisy neighbors, business competition, and so on.  And sometimes we would go through that list until one of the topics provided a springboard for a script.

Other story ideas would come from our personal experiences, including the “Passports” show, based on my mother’s passport troubles, and “Ricky Thinks He’s Getting Bald,” which grew out of my own experiments with baldness cures.

My wife, Es, used to hate the sloppy old clothes that I wore around the house. There was one particularly awful-looking pair of beat-up old tennis shoes that she kept asking me to throw away, and I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. She finally found a way to stop me from wearing them. She took one of the shoes from the closet and had it
bronzed.

We never actually had Lucy bronze Ricky’s shoes on
I Love Lucy.
But we did do a show called “Changing the Boys’ Wardrobe,” in which Lucy and Ethel get so fed up with Ricky’s and Fred’s worn-out old clothes that they sell them to a used clothing store.

Photo caption (next page):

Lucy asked me to join in this publicity shot for "Ricky Thinks He's Getting Bald," which was based on my own experience with losing my hair.

Another time, when Bob and Madelyn and I went to lunch together, Madelyn ordered a ham sandwich. And then Bob ordered veal chops. Before I could give the waiter my order, Madelyn said, “Wait a minute. That sounds good.
I’ll
have the veal chops.” And then as soon as I gave my order—for roast beef, Madelyn said, “Ooh, wait. Forget the veal chops—I’ll have the roast beef instead.”
That lunch inspired a segment of
My Favorite Husband
entitled “Liz Changes Her Mind,” in which Liz drives a waiter crazy by constantly changing her order:

MUSIC. 
(Bridge.)  

SOUND. 
(Restaurant noises establish and fade under.)

LIZ.  Oh, there they are.
(Up.)
Yoo hoo, Iris!  Mr. Atterbury!

GEORGE.  I hope they’re not angry about waiting. Hiya, folks.

RUDOLPH. 
(Fading in slightly.)
Hello, Liz.  ...Hello, George, Boy.

IRIS.  Hello, George.  ..Hello, Liz, Girl.

LIZ.  I’m sorry we’re late.  Well, let’s get some menus and order.  I wonder what’s good?

RUDOLPH.  Try the roast beef.  It was delicious.

LIZ.  You— You’ve eaten already?

IRIS.  No, he’s fooling.  Ha ha, Rudolph, now shut up!

RUDOLPH.  I’m
hungry.

LIZ.  Well, let’s get a waiter. Here comes one.
(Tries as he goes by.)
  Uh… may we have a—  Uh… Oh, well here’s another one.  Waiter, are you the - uh— Hmm.  Well, I’ll get this one.

RUDOLPH.  I’ll lay three to one.

LIZ. 
(Determined.)
Waiter, if you don’t mind we’d like…some…uh—

RUDOLPH.  Reminds me of an inscription I once saw on a waiter’s tombstone. It said, “St. Peter finally caught his eye.”

LIZ.  Well, here’s a waiter I won’t miss.  Waiter!

WAITER.  Yes?

LIZ.  We’d like some menus.

WAITER.  Well, let go of my tails and I’ll get you some! 
(Fading.)
   I’ll be right back.

LIZ.  Oh look, some people are leaving that table by the window.  If we move over there we can have a view while we’re eating.

GEORGE.  Remember what I told you, Liz. This table is fine.

LIZ.  Oh come on, George.  You’d like to move, wouldn’t you, Iris?

IRIS. 
(Doesn’t really.)
Well, I—

LIZ.  You’d like to, wouldn’t you, Mr. Atterbury?

RUDOLPH.             
(Same.)
Well, I—

LIZ.  See, George, it’s three to one.

GEORGE.  But our stuff is already here—

LIZ.  Well, we’ll take it with us —Iris, you carry the butter plates - Mr. Atterbury, the napkins, George, here, you take the water glasses and I’ll carry the silverware.  Hurry up!  Someone else is heading for it!

SOUND.  (Footsteps, jingle of silver and glassware.)

LIZ.  Good, we beat them!  Everybody pass the things around, now.

RUDOLPH.  Here’s a plate of water, Iris. Uh…hand me a glass of butter.

LIZ.  Has everyone everything they need?

GEORGE.  Yes. I have three knives.

IRIS.  I beat you. I have a full house. Three forks and a pair of spoons.

RUDOLPH.  You’d…uh – you’d better call the waiter.  He’s looking
under
the other table for us.

WAITER. 
(Off. Calls.)
Olly olly oxen free!

LIZ. 
(Calls.)
Oh, waiter! Waiter dear! Here we are.

WAITER.  
(Fading in.)
Oh, there you are.

LIZ.  Yeah, we’ll order over here.

WAITER.  Sorry, this isn’t my table.

LIZ.  Oh come on. Wait on us.

WAITER.  All right. Here’s the menus.

LIZ.  Let’s see.  Everything looks so good.  I’ll have the—ummmmmmm a ummmmmmm a—

WAITER.  Sorry, we’re all out of Ummmmmm a.

LIZ.  Very amusing.  I’ll have the roast beef.

WAITER.  One roast beef.

GEORGE.  What would you like, Iris?

IRIS.  I think I’ll try the lamb chops.

WAITER.  One lamb chops.

RUDOLPH.  George, what looks good to you?

LIZ.  Lamb chops? Oh that sounds good. They’re not fattening either.  Waiter, change mine to lamb chops, please.

WAITER.  Yes, Ma’am.  Two lamb chops.

LIZ.  That’s two for
each
of us.

WAITER.  Yes, Ma’am.

LIZ.  And I don’t want too much fat on ‘em but I’d like them thick.

WAITER.  Would you like me to trot the lamb by?  You can pick out the chops you want.

LIZ. 
(Huffy.)
Well!

GEORGE.  Liz, don’t make a scene.

RUDOLPH.  Well, go ahead, George. You order.

GEORGE.  I’d like the sirloin steak.

WAITER.  Yes, sir, one sirloin steak.  How would you like it?

GEORGE.  Rare—and thick and juicy.

WAITER.  Right—and you, sir?

RUDOLPH.  Well, I think I’ll have a nice—

LIZ. 
(Sweetly.)
Gee, George, you made the steak sound so tasty and-

WAITER. 
(Interrupting.)
How would you like it, Madam, well, medium, or rare?

LIZ.  Rare.

RUDOLPH. 
(Quickly.)
I’d like the pork chops.

WAITER.
 (Quickly.)
Yes, sir.
(Slower.)
Now what would you like to drink?

LIZ.  I’d like—

WAITER. 
(Interrupting.)
You order last!

IRIS.  Coffee.

RUDOLPH.  Coffee for me, too.

GEORGE.  Milk.

WAITER.  And what would you like, Madam?

LIZ. 
(Pause.)
...Pork chops, huh?

WAITER.  Oh no!

LIZ.  Would it be too much trouble to change my order?

WAITER. 
(Overboard.)
Why
no!
Whatever gave you
that
idea?

LIZ. 
(Archly.)
I think I’d like the pork chops.

WAITER.  Yes, ma’am.

LIZ.  Well, why don’t you write it down?

WAITER.  I wrote it down for
you
when
he
ordered it. Nyahh!

LIZ.  Nyahh!

WAITER.  Now let’s see if I’ve got this straight. Lamb chops for you, a steak for you, pork chops for you...and a new eraser for me.

IRIS. 
(Sheepish.)
Uh…you know, with all this talk about pork chops—they sound sort of—

WAITER.    Heugh.

RUDOLPH. You keep quiet, Iris. We’ve had enough changing of minds.

WAITER.  I’ll get your appetizers while you fight it out.

GEORGE.  What’s the matter with you, Liz?

LIZ.  Well I couldn’t help it, George. Everything everyone else ordered sounded so…ginger peachy!

RUDOLPH.  Fine thing! Everyone is staring at us.

LIZ.  Who is?

GEORGE.  That couple right there.

LIZ.  The ones eating fried chicken?

GEORGE.  Yes.

LIZ.  My! Doesn’t that chicken look good? I think I’ll—

RUDOLPH.  You wouldn’t dare!

GEORGE.  Yes, forget it.

LIZ.  Aw...who wants pork chops?

RUDOLPH.  You’ll eat them if I have to give them to you intravenously.

LIZ.  Some fun.  Go out to dinner and can’t even choose what you want to eat. I think it’s -a-a-a-
(Sneeze.)

GEORGE.  Bless you.  What’s the matter, you catching cold?

LIZ.  Yes, there’s a draft here from this window.

GEORGE.  Well here, change seats with me.

LIZ.  No, that won’t do any good.  There’s an empty table over behind those potted palms.

RUDOLPH.  Stand by for another troop movement!

GEORGE. 
(Firmly.)
Sit down, Liz. We’re staying here.

IRIS.  I’m afraid we’re making a scene.

LIZ.  Do you want me to catch my death of cold, George?  I’m not staying at this table.

WAITER.  
(Fading in.)
Here we are—shrimp cocktails all around.

GEORGE. 
(Starting about middle of last sentence.)
Don’t stand up, Liz, you’ll hit the waiter’s-

SOUND. 
(Liz hits tray full of dishes and large clatter of glass and china ensues.)

LIZ.  Now aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Sneaking up behind me and
hitting
me with a tray.

WAITER. 
(Superlative heuuuugh with triple exhaust extensions.)

MUSIC. 
(Bridge.)

The scene worked so well that when we transferred it to television, in “Lucy Changes Her Mind” we left it virtually intact, even to the point of casting the same actor, the marvelous Frank Nelson, as the harassed waiter:

LUCY. 
(After looking at the menu a moment.)
Well, I know what
I
want. Let’s get a waiter and order.
(A Waiter is just passing by.)
Oh, uh, waiter?
(As the waiter passes.)
  Waiter, we know what we want. Waiter? …He didn’t see me. …Oh waiter? Waiter, we’re ready to- Waiter? …I’ll get him when he comes back.

FRED.  I’ll lay you three to one.

(The waiter passes nearby the table, heading for the kitchen.)

LUCY.  Oh, uh, waiter?
(Very determined.)
Waiter, dear!
(The waiter has passed by now.)

ETHEL.  Nice try.

LUCY.  He gets by me again over my dead body.
(Lucy turns her chair to block the path between the tables, and sits with her arms folded across her chest. When she sees the waiter come out of the kitchen, Lucy stands up deliberately in his path. As he reaches the table and before he gets to Lucy, he stops, turns to Ricky, and pulls a pad and pencil out.)

WAITER. 
(Cheerily to Ethel, Ricky and Fred.)
Well, are we ready to order now?

LUCY.  Yes. We’re ready to order.
(The waiter, who is wearing very thick glasses, suddenly notices Lucy who is standing belligerently with her arms spread aside. She sits down.)
I’d like roast beef, please.

WAITER. One roast beef.

(The Maître D’ calls him from the other side of the room.)

MAITRE D.  Henry!

WAITER.  Yes, pardon me. Just a second, I’ll be back in a moment.
(He goes off to talk with the Maitre D’.)

RICKY.  Honey, that’s the first time I ever heard you make your mind and order
(Ricky snaps his fingers.)
, just like that.

LUCY.  Well, I happened to know what I wanted. Look, honey, there’s an empty table back there by the window. Let’s move back there.

RICKY.  Honey, what’s wrong with
this
table?

LUCY.  Oh, but look, we have that nice view while we’re eating. Come on.

(Lucy gets up.)

ETHEL. Oh, now Lucy—

RICKY.  Honey now wait a minute. We got the silverware, the water and everything…

LUCY.  Oh, take the silverware with us…
(She scoops up some silverware.)
Come on.

FRED. This is silly—

RICKY.  Come on.

(Lucy takes the silverware over to the other table and puts it down, then waves away another approaching party.)
Oh, this table is taken. I’m sorry.

OFFSTAGE VOICE.  I’m terribly sorry.

LUCY.  Come on.
(She motions her group over, they come straggling over carrying silverware, glasses, etc… and put it down on the table.)
There we are. See how much nicer it is over here.  
(They sit down. She straightens all the silverware around, divides it.)
There. Now has everybody got everything they need?

ETHEL. I’ve got three knives.
(She holds them up.)

FRED.  I beat you. I got a full house. Three forks and a pair of spoons.
(The waiter comes back to the table they left and looks around.)

ETHEL. Give me a fork, Fred. I’ll give you a knife.

RICKY.  I got nothin’.

ETHEL. Give me a spoon, Fred, huh?

RICKY.  Okay, okay. I got it.

LUCY.  How’s that? Is that it?

FRED.  Fine.

RICKY.  Fine.

(The waiter is looking for them at their old table.)

LUCY. 
(Calling.)
Pssst. Psssst, Henry.

WAITER.  Oh,
there
you are.
(The waiter sees them and comes over. He has his pad and pencil ready.)
Now, uh, where were we.

FRED. 
(Pointing to the other table.)
We were over there.

ETHEL.  Never mind.

LUCY.  I ordered roast beef.

WAITER.  One roast beef.
(He writes it down.)

RICKY.  What would you like, Ethel?

ETHEL.  I think I’ll have the lamb chops.

WAITER.  One lamb chops.
(He writes it down.)

FRED.  What looks good to you, Rick?

RICKY.  Well, I-

LUCY.  Lamb chops, huh ? Gee that sounds good. They’re not fattening, either. 
(To waiter.)
Would you mind changing my order to lamb chops?

(The waiter erases on his pad and writes again.)

WAITER. 
Two
lamb chops.

LUCY.  That’s two for
each
of us.

WAITER. 
(Contemptuous.)
Yes
.

LUCY.  And I don’t want too much fat on mine but I would like them extra-thick.

WAITER.  Maybe you’d like to have me trot the lamb by and you can
pick out
the chops you want.

LUCY. 
(Huffy.)
Well!

RICKY.  Lucy,
please
?

FRED.  Go ahead, Rick, order something.

RICKY.  Sirloin steak.

(Waiter writes.)

WAITER.  Yes, sir. How would you like it?

RICKY.  Rare—thick and juicy.

WAITER.  Yes, sir.
(To Fred.)
And you, sir?

FRED.  Well, now lemme see. I believe I’m gonna try the —

LUCY.  Sirloin steak, huh?

WAITER.  How would you like it, Madam, well, medium, or rare?

LUCY.  Rare.

FRED. 
(Quickly.)
Pork chops!

WAITER.
(Quickly.)
Yessir!
(He writes on the pad.)
Now, what would you all like to drink?

LUCY.  Well, I think—

WAITER. 
(Interrupting.)
You
order last!

ETHEL.  Um, coffee for me.

FRED.  I’ll have coffee, too.

WAITER.  Two coffee.

RICKY.  Milk.

WAITER.  Milk.
(To Lucy.) Now,
Madam, what would you like?

LUCY. 
(Pause.)
...Pork chops, huh?
…
Would it be too much bother to change my order to pork chops?

WAITER. 
(Overboard.)
Why
no,
Madam! Whatever gave you
that
idea?

LUCY.  I think I’d like two pork chops, please.

WAITER.  Very well.

LUCY.  Why don’t you write it down?

WAITER.  I already did when
he
ordered it! … Now, let’s see if I’ve got this straight…Lamb chops for you….
(He uses his pencil to point.)
Sirloin steak for you..pork chops for you..pork chops for you… and a new eraser for me.

ETHEL. 
(Sheepishly.)
You know, with all this talk about pork chops—I think…

WAITER.  Yeesh!