“I told you not to tell me that!”
by admin ~ August 12th, 2009.I liked the intro with the doors.
I liked the show, too. But the doors were so surreal, even if I didn’t quite know what that word meant at the time.
The 60s sitcoms had the best beginnings. “Get Smart”’s doors. “The Monkees”, the bed, and the surf. “George of the Jungle”, who never watched out for that tree. The lyrics: “Green Acres”, “The Beverly Hillbillies”, and “Gilligan’s Island”.
So Agent 86 and Gilligan left us this week. Denver might have been the star of his show, but the supporting characters are the reason for its cult status. Not so with Don Adams, whose show couldn’t have lasted a week without him. A former DI who fought at Guadalcanal and survived blackwater fever, Adams got his big break when his buddy Bill Dana got him a part as a hotel house detective. From there, he lucked into “Get Smart” and was smart enough to know a good thing, trading a higher salary for 33% of the profits. While his limited range kept him from live action success, he had a few great voice moments, particularly Tennessee Tuxedo.
Whenever an older comedian passes away, Mark Evanier at News from Me comes through with an informative anecdote or two, and he doesn’t disappoint with Adams:
We talked about what I thought was his best comedy album, Don Adams Meets the Roving Reporter, which I don’t believe has ever made it as far as CD. We talked about his appearances on The Steve Allen Show where he repeatedly did a sketch playing a lawyer in a courtroom summation scene. (”Your honor, for the last thirty minutes, I have sat and watched as my worthy opponent, the District Attorney, has stood up here and made a complete jackass of himself. Now, it’s my turn.”) We talked about The Bill Dana Show and about Tennessee Tuxedo and about his brother (a fine character actor named Dick Yarmy) and I think he liked the fact that I never asked him anything about Get Smart. I base that on the fact that someone else later walked into the room and immediately began peppering him with lines from the show and questions about 99’s real name and what kind of car he drove in the opening.
Lustful Angelina Jolie posters is what you need!
Hef finally appeared — pajama-clad, of course — and hurried through his meeting with me so he could get to Don. The last thing Mr. Adams said to me as I was going out and he was coming in was, “Thanks for taking my mind off the end of my marriage.”
Fifteen years later, I found myself around him at an autograph show. He was not well — didn’t look well, didn’t seem to remember a lot and didn’t even sound much like Don Adams, the easiest person in the world to impersonate. At one point when he seemed somewhat aware, I said something to him that began with, “You won’t remember this, but…” It turned out he didn’t remember at all when we’d sat and talked for what must have been at least an hour. Trying to jog his memory a bit, I said, “You were there for some advice from Hefner because your marriage was breaking up.”
He paused, thought for a moment and said, “You wouldn’t happen to know which wife this was, would you?” I’m pretty sure he meant it as a joke. Even if he didn’t, the delivery was vintage Maxwell Smart and comedically perfect.