Tuesday, February 26, 2013
I was a bit taken aback that Hadley begins his reflections by sayin' that he was a fan of Jerry Lewis, but that said, he goes on to extoll the many and varied venerable virtues of our one and only Dino, includin' Hadley's confession of how much our Dino offered huge comfort and support to his mother durin' a major illness she faced in the mid sixties.....a wonderful tribute to the transformin' power of our most beloved Dino!
Mr. Hadley's poetic prose is well matched with a stunnin' number of fabulous Dino-vids that Mitchell shares with his readership. It will certainly be worth your time to soak in each and every delightful Dino-thought that Mr. Hadley offers as well as those great vid moments from the great Dino-show.
Likes dudes, it is truly delightful in this very very special month of Dino-amore to finds such an amorin' tribute scribed by in-the-know TV reviewer Mr. Mitchell Hadley..summed up in two of his best turned Dino-phrases....
"Dean Martin was an entertainer worth appreciating," and "Ah, Deano - there'll never be another one like him." And, likes the "Hollywood Palace" Dino-tale that Hadley relates in certainly worth the price of admission for this whole Dino-effort...it's one that this Dino-holic likes had never ever heard before!
ilovedinomartin sends out our kudos to Mr. Mitchell Hadley of ""It's About TV!" for such wonderfully wise words on our King of Cool...certain to lead many into deeper, purer, and truer devotion to our main man. To checks this out in it's original format, simply clicks on the tag of this Dino-gram. Dino-lovin' and Dino-loved, DMP
The Dean Martin Show (1965-1974)
Posted by Mitchell Hadley
I don’t know whether or not that letter would have reached Dean, or if it would have meant anything to him if it did. It’s a moot point now, of course; both he and my mother have been dead for many years. But it did teach me a couple of things: first, you should never hesitate to let someone know when they’ve made an impact in your life. The people you think are most inaccessible may well be the ones who most need to hear from you. And second, that Dean Martin was an entertainer worth appreciating.
At one point in 1967, Dean Martin was the highest paid entertainer in show business. His show had just been renewed by NBC for not one but three years, at a cost (to the network) of $34 million. Added to the $5 million that Dean was already making*, the man they called the “King of Cool” was sitting pretty.
*$750,000 each for three movies (not including his share of the profits), $825,000 for his records, $150,000 for three weeks at the Sands Hotel, and $2 million for the past season of the show.
The Dean Martin Show began in 1965, and Martin’s easygoing style made the show an instant success. In retrospect Dean seems a natural for his own variety show. There was only one problem - doing a weekly series would be too much like work. "I only left the house four times last year and made a million dollars," Dean joked, and between the movies and the records, who needed work? William Harbach, producer of ABC’s Hollywood Palace, tells Kliph Nesteroff a wonderful story about trying to get Martin to host an episode of Palace (prior to the NBC series) that illustrates precisely Deano’s style, and the appeal it had for viewers:
One of the guys that Nick [Vanoff, Harbach's partner on Palace] and I wanted on the show because he belonged on the show was Dean Martin. He didn't want to do it. We asked him several times. He always said no. Finally I said to Nick, "What if we ask him twenty minutes before the taping?" All he has to do is go to the dressing room, put on his dinner jacket and look at the cue cards to see if he wants anything changed. He'll just do the show and go right back to the golf course. No rehearsal, just bang. We asked him and he said, "Yeah, I'll do that if I don't have to do any goddamn rehearsal."
When NBC approached Martin for a weekly series, he exhibited the same lack of interest. Still, they pressed, so he gave them his terms. He knew they'd never accept them - he wanted a lot of money, and only wanted to show up for the actual taping - no rehearsal. They said yes anyway. He told his family, "They went for it. So now I have to do it."
There's no question that Martin's laid-back attitude was one of the show's major selling points. It was Dean the way people wanted to see him - dressed in a tux with a red pocket hanky, cigarette in one hand, drink in the other, so relaxed you wondered how he could stand up. Martin didn't put on airs, and that's why people loved him. He'd enter the show running down stairs, or sliding down a pole, making it all look cool. He was just himself - to be anyone else would have required too much work.
But really - you don't want to read someone writing about Dean Martin. Not when you can actually watch him, right?
This skit with Jonathan Winters is one of my favorites; it's a great example of how Dean's lack of rehearsal made the show that much funnier. Of course, nobody could really prepare for Jonathan Winters.
Here's a similar sketch from a few years later. Look at how Martin replies to Winters' "I just buried my brother" line - he has this wonderful "Did I just say that?" reaction. That's what made Dean Martin cool.*
*Notice how Dean's always playing himself in these bits? He doesn't bother to change into something that might be more "suitable" for the sketch. I mean, when was the last time you sat next to someone in an airplane wearing a tux?
And here's Bob Newhart, reprising one of his famous monologues with Dean as his foil. I don't know about you, but I've never had someone that well-dressed wait on me in a department store.
Don't think that it was all just comedy, though: Martin had some of the business' greatest entertainers as guests. Here he is with the great Ella Fitzgerald.
And another medley - this one with Bing Crosby.
One of the highlights of each show was his banter with longtime accompanies Ken Lane.
Of course, things weren't always as they appeared:
And it's also true you never knew just who might show up.
The Dean Martin Show ran until 1974 - when the very format of variety shows was on life support. By then the "Celebrity Roast" feature had taken over, and it was in that format that the show would continue, as a series of specials, for another few years. I prefer to forget about those years; you don't see the real Dean there. By then his drunk act had become dominant, almost forced. The easy charm of the early days was gone, and soon Dean would be as well.
The decade of the 60s, for all its fame, is difficult to pigeonhole. It began as a continuation of the 50s, in style and substance, and at the moment it seemed poised to morph into something new – modern, streamlined, space-aged – it all came to an end on a street in Dallas. By the end of the decade it had become something else entirely, a cultural French Revolution, awash in libertines and protestors and druggies, which would continue into the early part of the 70s.
One could say, then, that the identity of the 60s rests between two bookend decades, beginning like the 50s and ending like the 70s, with perhaps two or three years in the middle which it could call its own. In that sense, you could argue that 1965 was the model year of the 60s, the year that the decade might, under other circumstances, have most resembled. The drive to the moon was in full swing, the surging tumult hadn’t yet boiled over, the war still garnered widespread support.
It was then that Dean Martin’s show premiered, and I would suggest it serves as the perfect bridge to connect the times. Watching the show’s progression through the years, one sees sideburns grow longer while skirts grow shorter, pop standards mixing with rock (and more than one artist painfully trying to remain relevant), and the devil-may-care attitude of the Rat Pack sliding into the hedonistic end of the decade. We can see it all, the end of one era and the beginning of another.
When Martin hosted the Hollywood Palace back in June of 1964 he made a comment that, I think, illustrates his ability to live in both these eras. Introducing the Rolling Stones, a group he may or may not have ever heard of, he commented that "I've been rolled while I was stoned myself." He could just as easily have said that in 1974, and he would have been just as much at home saying it.
Ah, Deano - there'll never be another one like him.