It's Good to Be the King: The Seriously Funny Life of Mel Brooks (19 page)

•     •     •

Brooks was back in New York in the late fall of 1960. He had already recorded the first of the 2000 Year Old Man albums with Carl Reiner, but he had no concept yet of how successful it would become. Meanwhile, Mel had to find new living quarters, since neither his wife, Florence, nor his pal Speed Vogel desired him as a roommate. No matter how he tried to ignore the implications of their rejection of him, it was obviously a personal embarrassment for him not easily diverted and covered over by any of the usual Brooksian bravado.

Making the situation even more awkward for Brooks, by February 1961, he was in New York Supreme Court being questioned by Justice Vincent A. Lupiano about the state of his finances. Florence was then suing Mel for a legal separation and seeking temporary alimony of $1,000 per week from Mel to support herself and their three children. Brooks explained to the judge that TV industry trends had changed and comedy writers were no longer in great demand. (He noted that of his $87,000 gross income for 1960, only $40,100 had come from television work.) The trade paper
Variety
published an article about the breakup of the show business couple, noting that the plaintiff “charged Brooks committed adultery with ‘many women of various repute while in Hollywood.’” After hearing testimony from both parties, the court awarded Florence Brooks $400 a week in temporary alimony for the support of herself and their three children.

Mel Brooks and Florence Baum divorced on January 20, 1962. “We had married too young,” Mel assessed later of their domestic incompatibility. He frequently repeated the glib statement “I expected I would marry my mother and she expected she would marry her father.” He explained further, “It reached the point where it was irreparable, and the best thing to do for the entire family was to separate. It was done mutually.”

At first after the divorce, Mel saw his children frequently. (“For myself. I wasn’t doing anyone a favor. I had to see them.”) However, changes in his private life and career soon altered that situation and it was largely left to his ex-spouse to rear their three youngsters. By the mid-1970s, when Mel and Florence’s children were 18, 17, and 15, Brooks had enough distance from the painful reality of his broken marriage to acknowledge of his ex-wife, “I think she did a splendid job with the children. They’re healthy, terrific kids and it’s all due to their mother’s upbringing.” In 1975, he also admitted that “the thing that sickens my heart the most” was the physical distance that separated him from his children. “I live in California and my three children, who are of an age now to really be my friends on a more adult level, are living in New York and I can’t see them enough. We’re lucky if we see one another three times a year for a week or so at a time. It’s not enough. I really enjoy being with them. They’ve helped me with everything I’ve written. I bounce ideas off their good, young, supple minds and they say ‘bullshit’ or ‘sensational.’ They don’t think I’m a kook. They know I’m a serious human being who is a humorist.” Then, in typical Mel style, he sidetracked from revealing further uncomfortable honest feelings to the interviewer by resorting to a quip: “Think what a barren existence it would be without the constant asking for money and the sarcasm and the laughing at you.”

18
A Remarkable New Love

She [Anne Bancroft] understood, she laughed. She loved my mind.… [Then] finally, over time, my face, my body. First my mind, which was much more beautiful.

—Mel Brooks, 1993

I had never derived so much pleasure so quickly from being with another human being. Right away, I wanted him [Mel Brooks] to enjoy me as much as I enjoyed him.”

—Anne Bancroft, 1974

The failure of Mel Brooks’s collaboration with Jerry Lewis and his team on the screenplay of
The Ladies’ Man
had not soured Mel on moviemaking. Brooks had never outgrown his childhood love of the glamorous medium. He still cherished a firm belief that one day, somehow, he could be a legitimate part of the still exciting motion picture industry.

Actually, as far back as the mid-1950s, Brooks had been suggesting to Sid Caesar, his TV star friend and boss, that they should relocate to Tinseltown, where they could make great pictures together. Sid rejected his pals suggestion because NBC had just upped Caesar’s salary to induce him to star on
Caesar’s Hour.
Later in the decade—by which time Caesar’s TV career was sagging badly, Sid had ended his NBC network pact, and he was fumbling for a new career direction—Brooks again suggested they give Hollywood a try. Still Caesar said no. Somehow, Sid hoped to reestablish himself in the medium of television, which he knew best and in which he felt most comfortable. Therefore he remained based in his hometown of New York, as did Mel.

What neither party appreciated—or was willing to concede—was that the era of live television based in New York was fast becoming a thing of the past. Already, huge TV production facilities had sprung up in Los Angeles, and most of the industry was now based on the West Coast, where nearly every show was being taped or filmed for on-air distribution.

For Mel’s part, he remained reluctant to leave the excitement and comforting familiarity of New York City life. He had so many ties to the metropolis: his mother and brothers; his three youngsters, who lived with Florence, his estranged wife; and, of course, his wide assortment of (show business) cronies and acquaintances. Thus, in early 1961, Brooks was still hanging on in Manhattan, frenetically networking with friends and past associates for possible writing assignments to keep himself afloat financially.

•     •     •

One of Mel Brooks’s many acquaintances from the good ol’
Your Show of Shows
days was Charles Strouse. The latter, about two years younger than Brooks, was also Jewish and had been born in New York. After Strouse graduated from the Eastman School of Music, he studied with the esteemed composer Aaron Copland and the elite French music teacher Nadia Boulanger. Later, Strouse became a piano player for dance bands. Sometimes, he had worked as a rehearsal pianist for
Your Show of Shows
while waiting for one of his song compositions to catch on with theater producers and/or the public. In late 1960, Charles had enjoyed a solid Broadway success with
Bye Bye Birdie.
For this hit musical he provided the music, and his writing partner, Lee Adams (another friend and former coworker of Mel’s), wrote lyrics for the show’s songs. Even in these recent years of Strouse’s growing recognition, he earned extra money as a rehearsal pianist. Not long ago one of his gigs had been at the Actors Studio, where he’d worked with the film, television, and stage actress Anne Bancroft, who was practicing her presentation of song numbers. She wanted to prove her performing versatility and indulge her penchant for singing.

One day while Mel was visiting Charles Strouse at his apartment, Bancroft dropped by for a few minutes to discuss song rehearsal matters. After Anne chatted with Strouse, she swept out of the room. Even from that brief glimpse of the classy two-time Tony Award winner, Brooks was entranced by her natural beauty and exuberance. Thereafter, Mel—by now separated from but not yet divorced from Florence—pestered Charles to arrange a real introduction between him and the tantalizing Miss Bancroft.

Strouse did not think this was such a wonderful idea. He knew Mel fairly well, and Anne less well. However, his intuition suggested that these two seemingly disparate individuals were
not
likely to hit it off. As it was, she was far more successful in her career than Mel had been in his to date. Her achievements included a wide range of impressive performances, especially on stage and on TV. On the other hand, Brooks was a formerly well-employed TV comedy writer whose recent bid for a place in the show business sun was his recent album (2000
Years with Carl Reiner & Mel Brooks
), which had yet to prove itself a winner. Mel was prone to a crude sense of humor and was happiest when he was the full center of attention—no matter what outlandish zaniness was required of him to grab the spotlight.

Physically, Anne was a good inch or two taller than Mel. This brunette with Mediterranean features boasted a pleasing profile and a fine figure. In contrast, Brooks was neither handsome nor well built. Bancroft was Italian Catholic and Brooks was Jewish. It was hard to envision these two as either a love couple or even good friends.

•     •     •

One day—February 5, 1961—Strouse decided once and for all to end Brooks’s constant pestering of him to arrange a meeting with Anne Bancroft. That cold winter day, as Strouse, Lee Adams, and Mel Brooks walked briskly along a crowded Manhattan Street, Charles suggested they stop by the Ziegfeld Theater, where singer Perry Como was rehearsing for one of his upcoming TV shows. The trio entered the theater, and, as Strouse knew, Bancroft was there to rehearse her guest spot on Como’s program. As the three men arrived, Anne was on stage rehearsing a song number, “Married I Can Always Get.”

Brooks found it hard to contain his enthusiasm now that he was once again in Bancroft’s presence. When the number ended, he and the others applauded enthusiastically—Mel loudest of all. Without waiting for Strouse to make a formal introduction, the determined Brooks boldly rushed up on stage, marched over to the actress, and said jauntily, “Hey, Anne Bancroft; I’m Mel Brooks.”

•     •     •

Anne Bancroft was born Anna Maria Louisa Italiano on September 17, 1931, in the Bronx, New York. She was the second of three daughters of Michael and Mildred (DiNapoli) Italiano. Her father was a dress pattern maker, and her mother helped the close-knit family stay afloat during the Depression by working at Macy’s department store as a telephone operator. As a child, Anna was a ball of energy who happily entertained loved ones at family picnics and gladly gave impromptu song performances in the neighborhood. Later, she recalled, “I was the personality kid. When I wasn’t sick, I was singing.”

Having been richly pampered by her adoring family, Anna found it difficult to adjust to the regimented academic life at school. One area, however, in which Anna shone at school was in performing snappy song numbers. Her teachers were so impressed with her verve that she was often shepherded from one classroom to another to demonstrate her song-and-dance skills for her peers. Mrs. Italiano took notice of Anna’s special gifts as a performer and decided the plucky girl should have tap dance lessons, even though money was very scarce in the household. Anna began classes, and soon became so devoted to her terpsichorean studies and her desire to transform herself into a lithe ballerina that she lost her appetite for eating. This upset her mother, who withdrew her child from the strict training. As Anna grew older, she maintained her interest in performing at school, at church, and at neighborhood functions. By now, she was developing into a striking young woman.

It was actually a family friend who launched Anna’s show business career. He worked at a tiny radio station in Peekskill, a little town about 40 miles north of the Bronx. He happened to mention that his station was having difficulty in filling a gap in its Saturday morning broadcast schedule. Anna jumped in and suggested that she and her pals could put together a program of condensed dramatizations that would fill up the 15-minute time slot. Before long, Anna and her group—who named themselves the Radcliffe Radio Players—were performing on air each weekend. The newcomer decided she needed a fancier name for her radio work. She grandly billed herself as Anne St. Raymond.

By the time Anna reached her senior year at Christopher Columbus High School, her passion for drama had turned into a strong desire to become a lab technician. She envisioned gaining fame within the medical field. Then the young woman developed a powerful crush on a classmate with whom she had been in school plays. He mentioned that he intended to enroll in the American Academy of Dramatic Arts after graduation. In a flash, Anna decided that this institution was her destiny and she begged her parents to let her attend the Manhattan acting school. The ever-obliging Mrs. Italiano found the funds to pay for her girl’s tuition at the American Academy.

Anna graduated from high school on an accelerated program. Now she found herself the youngest member of the entering class at the American Academy. She also discovered that, at the last minute, her boyfriend had chosen not to matriculate at the school. To help pay for her classes, Anna held a variety of jobs (including working at local drugstores and giving English lessons to the exotic Peruvian singer Yma Sumac, a talent who became famous for her amazing five-octave range).

A few weeks before completing her intensive studies at the American Academy, Anna was in a school rehearsal hall preparing a scene. One of her teachers (Frances Fuller) happened to wander into the room and was deeply impressed by the student’s performance. Fuller referred the pupil to her husband (Worthington Miner), the creator/director of the TV drama anthology series
Studio One.
Anna made her debut on the live program on April 17, 1950, and acquitted herself well in her dramatic role. She was now billing herself as Anne Marno. This appearance led to several other TV assignments, including a recurring role on the popular comedy series
The Goldbergs.
By 1951, Anne was not only a busy television performer (and receiving good notices), but she had acquired a new boyfriend. He was actor John Ericson, another graduate of the American Academy. The tall, handsome talent had gained prominence in the film
Teresa
and was then appearing on Broadway in the hit drama
Stalag 1
7.

During the summer of 1951, an East Coast representative of Twentieth Century-Fox Pictures asked Anne if she would make a screen test with a young actor they were considering signing. She said yes. Ironically, the studio decided against Anne’s coplayer but wanted to hire her. At age 19, her professional future seemed secure. She agreed with Ericson that when his New York play run was over, he would join her in Los Angeles and they would wed. (Unfortunately, during their time apart, John fell in love with another woman. By the time Ericson came to Hollywood in 1953 under an MGM contract, he had married his new girlfriend.)