An Evening with Groucho...

It was a dark and stormy night...this much I remember. The rest is a little bit fuzzy...

It was in the winter, and I'm not quite sure which year, but it was a cold, frigid evening. The wind was blowing, shaking our fragile little house, buffeting the windows. A light snow was falling, making the sidewalks slick. The words "wind chill" were being bandied about on the local TV news. I think it was a Monday. I think it was late 1972 or early 1973. There was a new album out featuring Groucho Marx, and I wanted it. And like everything else in my life--then and now--when I want something, I want it NOW.

I somehow persuaded my mom to let me walk out to Tamaqua's new record store, the House of Wax, out past the hazardous "Five Points" intersection, on Broad Street, just minutes before it closed on a Monday night (stores in Tamaqua were open to 9:00pm on Mondays and Thursdays). Somehow I knew--either due to a previous trip there or what, I don't remember--that An Evening With Groucho was out there, gathering dust in one of the record bins, waiting for me to burst in--with the cold air steaming off me--to scoop it up and run home. Remembering the House of Wax, they couldn't have had more than one copy of it, and as record stores went, it was probably pretty pricey. Up until that point my record buying habits had been restricted to The Monkees, and some crazy precursor to 8-track tapes that my grandfather got me from Sears years before, which played some kind of Sears-only tape format on some kind of Sears-only tape player, which of course died within a few years. But I digress.

I made the not-so-long--but seemingly endless--walk out to the record store, through the biting cold and the falling snow. I was one of the few people out walking, and I was the only person in the store. I remember grabbing the one copy they had and taking it to the clerk, a snide teenager only a few years older than me, who had a reputation for impregnating a classmate who went to my church. "Why do you want this?" he asked. I was tempted to ask him why he schtupped whatshername, but I didn't. I took my prize, wrapped up in a plain brown paper bag and placed it inside my heavy winter coat to protect it from the elements. I walked home--against the wind--and slowly thawed my facial muscles why I listened to the soft, plaintive strains of Groucho's voice. On a record player. While playing a record. You remember records, don't you?

This was the third Groucho to me..."old Groucho." There was "movie Groucho" and "TV Groucho." They're both self-explanatory. And then there was this guy. In the early 70s, a whirlwind of dubious nature by the name of Erin Fleming blew into Groucho's life of quiet retirement. Erin did both good and horribly bad things for and to Groucho. One of the good things was she got Groucho up and out and involved in show biz again, with concert appearances, trips to colleges showing his old movies, guest slots on TV talk and variety shows, and book deals. And one of the bad things was she got Groucho up and out and involved in show biz again, because let's face it, Groucho wasn't always Groucho at these events. He was, quite frankly, old Groucho. At times, really old Groucho.

An Evening With Groucho was a 2-record set culled from a couple of Groucho's live appearances at Carnegie Hall in New York City. And as a rare courtesy (because as Groucho might have said, I'm rarely courteous), you can listen to the first record in its entirety by clicking on the player I've embedded below. It'll play all the way through once you hit the play arrow, but if you want to skip to the next track, click on the little right-facing double arrow on the left side of the bar. (I couldn't find a similar archive of the second record in the set...sorry, but if you want to download the whole album--both records--as MP3 files for your iPod, click here.) It runs about 40 minutes.

That's Marvin Hamlisch accompanying Groucho on the piano. Dick Cavett introduces him, and very soon, Erin Fleming shows up to sing some of the Margaret Dumont parts on the songs. It's a little painful to listen to...you can hear Groucho's age in his voice the minute he starts singing "Hello, I Must Be Going." Some of his reminiscences seem a little dotty, but once he gets into it, he really starts to sound like the one, the only, Groucho. I can't think of a better way to honor his memory on this, the anniversary of the day he died (31 years ago in 1977), than to present this little treat to you. An Evening With Groucho, to my knowledge, never made a reappearance on CD or is available on iTunes.

Groucho made a profound impression on my life. His irreverent outlook on things, his soft, melodious voice, his easy deflating of the pompous, over-wrought, and those desperately needing to be deflated, was always a breath of fresh air in my life. We're lucky to have things like his movies, TV shows, and even this small and slightly melancholy album, where he sits and talks and sings, a quiet old man on a stage, speaking to an eager audience hanging on his every word (and hoping desperately he won't keel over and die). Groucho left behind a lot for us to examine and enjoy, but we need far more Groucho in our lives these days, and sadly, he's not here to give it to us.

Comments

[Chris, a librarian]

Actually, the death of Marvin Hamlisch made me think of this album. Thanks for the post.

[Ben]

The album was available on cd, but is no longer in print, and sells for a small fortune.

I was lucky enough to have a father that raised me on the album. Both the vynil and the cd are now mine. Which, I both love and hate

[Kim]

Very cool, G, thanks! That was fun to listen to, reminded me of listening to an interesting and entertaining Uncle when I was a kid, if I had had an interesting and entertaining Uncle as a kid..

[pj boe]

Thanks for the nice article. While I have often
found myself more drawn to the mysterious,
elemenal, eternal, magic, almost psychic qualities of the Great
Harpo, I also dearly love the Grouch.

One point - you mention the movie Groucho,
the TV groucho, and the old Groucho. Don't
forget the RADIO Groucho - 'You Bet Your Life'
started in that medium years before it made it
to TV and, in my opinion are some of the best
episodes. At any rate, thanks for a good read.

pjb/

[Jack]

Thanks for the reminder, Gary. As a fellow Marxist, I often remember some odd looks when I brought Groucho up in conversation as a teen in the 70's. You know I still get funny looks when I bring up the Marx Brothers. Hmm, maybe it's just me. Nah, it's everyone else!
"Hello, I must be going..."