Groucho Marx Is Still King At Milking A Laugh

He was a very funny man. Maybe the funniest.

To an author: "From the moment I picked up your book until I laid it down I was convulsed with laughter. Some day I intend reading it."

Groucho Marx, who died 20 years ago this week, could tell a story. He could crack wise. He could deflate the most overblown of egos. He could take a pratfall. He could leer. He could raise his eyebrows (even if they were made of mostly grease pencil). He even walked funny, with a forward-leaning, loose-limbed lope that made him look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame trying to steal a base.

And he could pun. Oh, how he could pun.

To a woman from Sweden now living in the United States: "Why did you leave Sweden to come to America? Did you have a Swedeheart over here?"

Dies a bitter man

Like Elvis Presley, who preceded him into the Great Beyond by three days, Groucho's last years were a sordid mess: He'd become a bitter, confused old man whose fans were put off - to put it mildly - by published interviews filled with profanity and viciousness. Too feeble to manage his affairs, he became embroiled in a bitter battle between his companion (a woman half a century younger) and his son. The court battle would drag on for years, long after Groucho was dead.

Seductress: "I didn't know you were a lawyer. You're awfully shy for a lawyer."

Groucho: "You bet I'm shy. I'm a shyster lawyer."

Even in death, the man had little peace: Someone stole his ashes from a Los Angeles-area cemetery (they were later returned).

Unlike Elvis, Groucho in no way died before his time. He was 86 and had outlived all but one of his famous brothers (the youngest, Zeppo, would die two years later).

By the end, Groucho had been performing for more than six decades, excelling in just about every field of entertainment that existed during his lifetime. The Marx Brothers - wordsmith Groucho, silent Harpo, accented Chico and straight-man Zeppo - were Kings of Broadway. When talking pictures came in, they put their act on film and produced works that were nothing short of comic masterpieces; anyone who can keep a straight face during "Duck Soup" or "A Night at the Opera" lacks either a sense of humor or a pulse.

After World War II, with the brothers no longer performing together, Groucho turned up on radio as a game show host. Using a deceptively simple format - Groucho would chat with the contestants for a bit, then ask them questions so they could win money - he became a hit once again.

Even more than the movies, "You Bet Your Life" cemented Groucho's reputation for having a rapier wit. On film, he would often be speaking lines written by others; on the radio, it was almost all ad-libbing. The results were often outrageous.

Interviewing Mrs. Story, who, with her husband, had 22 kids - the largest family in America at the time:

Groucho: "Why do you have so many children? That's a big responsibility and a big burden."

Story: "Well, because I love my children and I think that's our purpose here on Earth, and I love my husband."

Groucho: "I love my cigar, too, but I take it out of my mouth once in a while."

The formula worked even better on television, where viewers could see Groucho's eyes light up when a contestant would feed him an inadvertent straight line. If anything, TV only enhanced Groucho's image: Audiences could see he wasn't reading off a script, could see the twinkle in his eye that let everyone know he was only kidding.

Even better, audiences could now see his reactions, which were sometimes as funny as the words that caused them. Among his peers, only Jack Benny was more adept at milking a laugh than Groucho.

Talking with a contestant about what makes people attractive:

Contestant: "It's what's upstairs that counts."

Groucho: "Well, I have something upstairs. My upstairs maid. And that's not easy, because I only have a one-story house. And the one story you're not going to hear is about my upstairs maid."

By the time "You Bet Your Life" went off the air in 1961, Groucho had no worlds left to conquer. He'd continue popping up over the years, often in the unlikeliest of places - such as an episode of "I Dream of Jeannie," grabbing Barbara Eden in a bear hug. Or an interview with Dick Cavett, where the host told the story of Groucho, his young daughter in tow, being turned away at an exclusive swimming club that didn't allow Jews on the premises.

Groucho: "Since my daughter's only half-Jewish, can she go in up to her knees?"