Shirley, I Jest!: A Storied Life (11 page)

The scene continued and I didn’t think about it until Boo Boo Kitty turned up in the next week’s show and then became a mainstay character. The reason I had called this precious stuffed animal Boo Boo Kitty was because my mother had a cat we called Boo Boo Kitty, and we all loved her so much. She, unlike Shirley’s Boo Boo Kitty, was black and white with beautiful green eyes. Shirley’s Boo Boo was all black with one plastic diamond-shaped red eye and I always thought of it as a “he.” My mother had two other cats that my sister and I had “given” her because she had a yard. They were named Charlotte and Simone. One day she received a notice from Animal Control that anyone having more than two cats would be fined. She called me to tell me this, but said not to worry because Boo Boo lived mostly across the street in the neighbor’s tree.

There was one problem with Boo Boo Kitty, the actor. Rennie, the prop master, couldn’t find a double. And since the writers were coming up with shows that included him, we needed a second one just in case anything was to happen to our original. He searched high and low and never found a match, and Boo Boo Kitty was ceremoniously locked away each night after the show. Rennie sweated bullets protecting the precious commodity like a mother bear would her cub. Over the years the search continued with no luck.

Then one day, years after the show had ended, I was at an autograph convention when two ladies came sauntering up to me, each holding a Boo Boo Kitty. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I told them the story of the search and asked them where on earth they got them. They told me that they were attached to pajama bags that were sold at JC Penney in the 1960s. I asked if I could buy one from them and their answer was a polite but definite “no.”

They loved their Boo Boo Kitties just like I did.

Eight

The Mirthful Mouse

The audience at the L.A. Improv had grown more than restless. They were actually trying to stop me from going on stage. Someone even reached out and tried to grab my arm, to hold me back, but I kept going.

A girl shouted at me, “Sit down, this guy’s dangerous!”

She was referring to the ever-obnoxious Tony Clifton who was on stage challenging me: “Come on, lady. Be a man! Come up here and let’s settle this face-to-face!”

Truth be known, I wanted to make a hasty retreat and hightail it back to my apartment and hide under the coffee table, but it was too late for that. I had to stay committed. I shouted back in a horrible French accent (as we had rehearsed): “You are a repulsive and eedious leetle man!”

“Shut up and sit down,” another person from the audience barked at me.

But I soldiered on, inching my way onto the stage against massive audience protest. Obviously they weren’t getting it. I started wondering how I had let Andy Kaufman talk me into this. Did I really believe it would be funny and make people laugh? At this moment in time all we were accomplishing was agitating the ten o’clock audience at the Improv.

It all started about a year earlier, on practically the very same spot; it was the second season of
Laverne & Shirley
. Penny and I had been asked by the Improv if we would come to the club and have our picture taken for Budd Friedman, the club’s owner. Penny and I considered it a great compliment to have our picture taken with him. The photo would hang on the celebrity wall of the club. We posed for the picture and mingled for a while. I was tired and wanted to get home. I said my good-byes and as I was going out the front door onto Melrose Avenue, I saw a lone figure standing on the sidewalk. I recognized him immediately—it was Andy Kauffman. It would have been pretty hard for me
not
to recognize him. I was a
huge
fan. And he was wearing the same ill-fitting sports jacket he wore on
Saturday Night Live
! I went up to him to introduce myself.

“Hi!” I said. “I’m Cindy!”

“Hi, I’m Andy!”

“I know, I love you!” I blurted out impulsively.

“I mean I love how you think, your timing. You make me laugh out loud! And I have a greater appreciation of Elvis Presley because of you!”

He looked at me, puzzled, blinked his sparkly brown eyes, and said, “Thank you,” and asked me for a ride home. So began my friendship and adventures with Andy Kauffman!

Andy lived in an apartment in Hollywood. He was a Buddhist, a strict vegetarian, and didn’t drive. On occasion we would go to my mother’s house in Reseda for dinner. Even though her health doctrine included the belief that everybody needed red meat at least once a week, she was more than happy to cook him a vegetarian dinner.

Carol lived with my mother at this time and she was also a big fan of Andy’s. She was especially fond of his “Mighty Mouse” because when she was a little girl she was in love with Mighty Mouse and determined to marry him! I was to be her maid of honor.

Andy meditated on the twenty-five-minute drive to Reseda. If he wasn’t done with his meditation by the time we arrived, I would simply leave him in the car and go inside. When he was finished he would come inside and join my mother, my sister, and me. The first time this occurred my mother asked where he was. I told her he was in the car finishing his meditation. My mother, my sister, and I went to the front window that looked out over the driveway and watched him for a minute. The front porch light cast an almost angelic glow on him as he sat there eyes closed, floating in some other world.

“I hope he hurries,” my mother lamented. “I can’t keep his brown rice and tofu warm forever!”

We always had great fun when Andy came over. He taught us parlor games, we’d have sing-alongs, and he even tried to get my mother to participate. He was like a great camp counselor, leading us in song, games, and festivities. I wish my father would have been alive. He would have enjoyed him so much.

We spent a Christmas at my mother’s. I gave everybody hoodies as Christmas presents. Andy really liked his hoodie; at times he substituted it for his ill-fitting sports jacket! He even wore it on
Saturday Night Live
.

Rehearsals and shooting on
Laverne & Shirley
were consuming all of my time. My free time was very limited. Andy didn’t understand the grueling schedule and pressure I was under. This was before he started playing Latka on
Taxi
. One time he had caught a cold and asked me to grocery shop for him, which I did. On my way to the studio, I dropped off the bag of groceries at his apartment. Standing at his door, he asked me if I would come back later to drive him to pick up his prescription. I told him I couldn’t because rehearsal was going to run late. He pitched a little fit telling me he didn’t understand why I had to be at work so much. I tried my best to explain, but it fell on deaf ears. I was going to be late! I had to rush, leaving him there, wearing his hoodie over his pajamas, Kleenex up to his nose in one hand, the grocery bag filled with bananas, vegetable soup, crackers, and juice in the other. He was not a happy camper when I left. Later when he was doing
Taxi
at Paramount, he came over to the
Laverne & Shirley
soundstage where I was rehearsing. He asked if he could speak to me for a minute.

I said, “Sure.”

We stepped off to the side and he said, “Cindy, I want to apologize to you for that time I got upset with you for having to rush off to rehearsal. I understand now why you had to go, and how difficult it all is.”

Laverne & Shirley
was on hiatus and I found myself in New York. Andy was there as well taping
Saturday Night Live
. He called to say he was booked for the 10:00 p.m. set at Catch a Rising Star, a popular comedy club in Manhattan. He asked me if I would help him.

I didn’t hesitate, I simply responded, “I would love to. What do you need me to do?”

He asked me if I could go-go dance. I said, “Yeah, sure, I can go-go dance. What do you need? The hitchhike? The jerk? The swim?”

He said, “All of them! And when it’s our turn to go on stage, you go as far up-stage as you can, keep your back to the audience, and your head down. And when I say to the audience, ‘I suppose you want me to sing,’ that’ll be your cue to cross down-stage and stand to my left, slightly behind me. And when I start to sing, you start to go-go dance. OK?”

“OK!”
Oh, this is gonna be fun
, I thought! He didn’t tell me anything else and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. I wanted to be surprised! I was thrilled to perform with him.

We arrived at the club, which had about thirty people in the audience, all down front. Andy’s popularity was not quite at a high point; he wasn’t exactly a household name yet. When Andy was introduced and we went on stage, I noticed he had a book in his hand. There was only a smattering of applause. I could see this audience had been drinking—a lot! Their faces were red and shiny! I thought,
hmm, this could go south, fast.

I took my place up-stage, back to the audience, head bowed. There’s silence for a beat. Andy clears his throat. And then he begins to read. He begins reading
The Great Gatsby
. He reads in quiet tones with subdued passion. I’m thinking,
He’s a very good actor!
He reads on, emphasizing the drama of the text. I start to hear grumbling from the audience. But Andy is not fazed. He continues. More grumbling. They’re getting agitated and I’m sweating through my outfit!
He is pokin’ the beehive now
, I thought!

A mantra of shouting begins.

“Get off the stage! Get off the stage!”

Undaunted, Andy reads on.

“Come on, man, really, get off the stage! Get off the stage!” Booing ensues.

Andy shouts back at them, “You people don’t like literature?”

“No!”

He slams the book closed. “OK,” Andy says. “I suppose you want entertainment!”

“Yeah!”

“I suppose you want jokes!”

“Yeah!”

“I suppose you want me to sing!”

“Yeah!”

This is my cue. I cross downstage and stand behind Andy, slightly to his left. I get a look at the crowd that has settled down somewhat. I can’t say they were ugly, but they weren’t pretty! And yes, they were drunk! I’m thinking,
Here it comes, he’s gonna sing, I’m gonna dance, and then let’s get outta here
.

Andy begins to sing. He begins to sing the title song from the musical
Oklahoma!
What? I have no time to process this. I immediately start doing the jerk and move onto the twist, the hitchhike, and then the swim. Andy takes a stance with his chest puffed out, hands on hips and performs the song with the verve I’m certain Rodgers and Hammerstein had intended! The crowd is stymied! Silenced! Sort of like you would imagine a courtroom to be if someone shouts,
I did it, I did it!
Ramon is innocent!

Andy sang the entire song, and I used up all my best go-go moves. At one point I even did the backstroke. When it was over he bowed, I bowed. There was another smattering of applause, but mostly the audience was stunned. They didn’t know what to make of it! And you know what, even though it was a thrill to perform with Andy, it would have been equally as thrilling for me to sit in that audience and be entertained by him.

Andy and his friend and writing partner, Bob Zmuda, were working on a new character, a nightclub entertainer named Tony Clifton. Tony Clifton involved makeup, a phony nose, costuming, and a hideous chauvinistic attitude. Simply put, he was a rotten character all the way around. Andy loved playing him and could not be dissuaded, no matter who protested. One weekend Andy was performing a Sunday night set at the Improv in L.A. And he was going to have “Tony” perform. He was coming over to my house Friday night, and we were going to spend the weekend together just having fun. I’ve described this experience the best way I can.

At this point I had never seen the character of Tony Clifton, I’d only heard of him from Bob and Andy. Andy informs me that he’s staying in character the
entire
weekend, so he’ll be ready for the Sunday night show. I don’t think too much about this until Bob drops him off. When I opened the door, the first thing I noticed was Bob sitting in his car, in the driveway waiting to see my reaction. I looked at Andy. He stood there gazing down at me looking like a member of the Rat Pack gone mad! The suit he was wearing was horrendous! He was carrying a briefcase and a cheap-looking garment bag. He had a malevolent look about him. I must have reacted to this in the way they intended, because Bob waved at me and laughed as he drove off!

Andy pushed me aside and said he needed a drink.

I said, “You don’t drink and besides I don’t have any liquor here.”

He says, “Yeah, well next time, take care of that!”

He’s speaking in a manner I had never heard before. He rattles off a list of things that will be required for his stay. He hands me the garment bag and demands that I press his other suit and hang it up so it will be ready for Sunday night. He’s going so fast I can’t catch up to him.

I tell him, “Cut it out, Andy! I thought we were going to dinner and to see a movie?”

He asks me who Andy is and tells me, “I’m spending the weekend with you, baby, not this Andy!”

He informs me he doesn’t want dinner and a movie, he wants to go somewhere where there are “women and booze!”

“Come on, Andy,” I tell him. “I don’t find any of this funny!”

He peers in my bedroom and asks me, “Where are
you
going to sleep?”

I warn him. ”Andy, stop!”

He says, “Again, with this Andy, is that some jerk you’re seeing on the side?”

“Stop it, Andy!”

“There’s that name again.” He continues marching around my apartment checking everything out. At one point he sees my cat, Chang, and insists he wants “that thing” kept in the bathroom, “so he can’t look me in the eye!”

I tell him for the last time, “Cut. It. Out!” He chuckles at me. Now I’ve had it! I grab his hair at the temple and when I know I have a firm grip, I start pulling.

“I don’t like doing this and I need you to stop immediately, whoever you are!”

He pinches my cheek. I pull his hair harder. My cat makes a mad dash for the bedroom to hide.

Andy won’t break character and now he’s laughing at me, mocking me in an odious manner.

“You women are all alike. You think you’re strong, but you’re not!”

“Really?”

I yank his hair even harder pulling his head toward the floor. I get his head to the floor. He lets out a yelp, and starts laughing and finally breaks character.

“OK, OK, I give! Let go!”

“Really?” I ask, maintaining my grip.

“Really!” he says.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me!”

“Prove it! Be Elvis!”

“OK! OK!” he says. I let go and without missing a beat he pops up, looks me in the eyes, and says, “Well, hello, little lady!”

An hour later Elvis and I went to dinner and saw a movie!

Before Andy, I never really appreciated Elvis Presley as much as other people did. When I was in junior high, a contest was held: Elvis Presley or Roy Orbison.
Who was the better singer
? I voted for Roy Orbison. Roy Orbison’s voice made me feel, at thirteen, like I was living in a beautiful, romantic dream. But now, Andy made me understand. Somehow when Andy transformed into Elvis, I got it! I understood the majesty of Elvis Presley.

Andy told me one time he found himself in Las Vegas in an elevator with Elvis Presley. Elvis recognized him and said, “I understand you impersonate me!”

Andy said, “Yes I do!”

So Elvis asked Andy to do just that right there, impersonate him. I forget which song Andy told me he sang to Elvis as Elvis, but when he was done, Elvis told Andy, “Yeah! That’s good! You’re really good!”

Andy took that as a sincere compliment.

I’m not sure where this falls in the order of things, but I believe it was just around the time he started playing the character of Latka on
Taxi
. We were playing around, improvising. He started taunting me as Tony Clifton. I started shouting back at him, as an even-more obnoxious character. An in-your-face, brassy French woman! Anyone who has seen the first season of
Laverne & Shirley
, when I tried matching Penny’s Bronx accent, knows I’m miserable at it. I don’t have the ear for accents. I sounded like Maurice Chevalier hopped up on cold medication. It made us laugh. These two characters, going at it! Tony Clifton being challenged by this French woman! Of course, Andy wanted to try it out on a crowd.