I Love Lucy: The Untold Story by Jess Oppenheimer, Gregg Oppenheimer Page A
Authors: Jess Oppenheimer, Gregg Oppenheimer
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writing every show until the fifth year, when I added Bob Schiller, top right, and Bob Weiskopf, second from left, to our writing staff.
Bob and Madelyn always did a wonderful job with the script. But I made it a point, no matter how good their draft was, to redictate the entire thing from beginning to end, because that way each of the characters consistently spoke the same way each week. It didn’t have to be me, necessarily, as long as it was filtered through one person’s senses. But I felt that I knew best the mood and feel of our previous shows, and that I could bring it all into line so that nothing sounded too different or out of character.
To me, a situation comedy series is much like visiting a friend’s family. You don’t know what they are going to say, but you know how each person is going to react in a situation and how each of them talks. The more consistency there is, the more comfortable you are, and the more you can enjoy everything that happens. So, rightly or wrongly, the show sounded the same each time because it funneled through me.
I did this for another reason as well. Redictating the script from start to finish made me intimately familiar with everything in it. If a question arose at any time during the production of that episode, I knew the reason everything was in there—every line, every piece of business. So if someone wanted to make a change, I would immediately know if we couldn’t do it because of something that had happened earlier. There has to be one person with that sort of overview.
I remember one time that Bob and Madelyn gave me their draft and I felt it was so good, and I was so tired, that I said, “That’s just the way I would do it. I’m going to turn it into mimeo without any changes.” So at the first reading with the actors, questions naturally arose, and I was completely lost. I didn’t have any of the answers. I had no idea why a certain line was in there, or a bit of business. Scared me half to death. I never did it again.
But even though we always got along great, Bob and Madelyn thought that I loused up all their scripts. One time, after they complained bitterly to me, I said, “There’s a good and logical reason for everything I do, everything I change. On the next script, I’ll keep a journal of the reasons for all of my changes.”
It took me a lot of time, but I thought it was worth it. When we sat down the following Monday, I asked them if they had read my revision. They had. “Okay,” I said, “I’m going to show you line by line the reason for every change.” Frankly, I thought I had done a pretty masterful job. And when I was done, I asked them, “Now, don’t you agree that each of the changes was for a good reason?” “No,” they replied. “We still think you screwed the whole thing up.”
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Photo caption (next page):
The fourth annual Emmy Awards banquet in 1952. Accepting his second Emmy for excellence in comedy, Red Skelton remarked: “Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve given it to the wrong redhead. I don’t deserve this. It should go to Lucille Ball.” The entire audience rose to its feet, cheering Lucy.
Straight to the Top
O N M ARCH 2, 1952, Desi turned thirty-five years old, and we gave him a big birthday party. In the middle of the festivities he took me aside, and he asked me again to let him have the executive producer credit. Well, his timing was excellent. My duties as producer and head writer had me so utterly exhausted that I had actually considered quitting the show. At that moment, the prospect of having Desi take over some of my responsibilities on the business end of things sounded attractive. What’s more, Lucy had come to see me only a few days earlier, asking me to let Desi have executive producer credit as a personal favor to her, in order to help keep the peace in their marriage.
When Desi assured me that his credit would have no effect whatsoever on my authority
Bob and Madelyn always did a wonderful job with the script. But I made it a point, no matter how good their draft was, to redictate the entire thing from beginning to end, because that way each of the characters consistently spoke the same way each week. It didn’t have to be me, necessarily, as long as it was filtered through one person’s senses. But I felt that I knew best the mood and feel of our previous shows, and that I could bring it all into line so that nothing sounded too different or out of character.
To me, a situation comedy series is much like visiting a friend’s family. You don’t know what they are going to say, but you know how each person is going to react in a situation and how each of them talks. The more consistency there is, the more comfortable you are, and the more you can enjoy everything that happens. So, rightly or wrongly, the show sounded the same each time because it funneled through me.
I did this for another reason as well. Redictating the script from start to finish made me intimately familiar with everything in it. If a question arose at any time during the production of that episode, I knew the reason everything was in there—every line, every piece of business. So if someone wanted to make a change, I would immediately know if we couldn’t do it because of something that had happened earlier. There has to be one person with that sort of overview.
I remember one time that Bob and Madelyn gave me their draft and I felt it was so good, and I was so tired, that I said, “That’s just the way I would do it. I’m going to turn it into mimeo without any changes.” So at the first reading with the actors, questions naturally arose, and I was completely lost. I didn’t have any of the answers. I had no idea why a certain line was in there, or a bit of business. Scared me half to death. I never did it again.
But even though we always got along great, Bob and Madelyn thought that I loused up all their scripts. One time, after they complained bitterly to me, I said, “There’s a good and logical reason for everything I do, everything I change. On the next script, I’ll keep a journal of the reasons for all of my changes.”
It took me a lot of time, but I thought it was worth it. When we sat down the following Monday, I asked them if they had read my revision. They had. “Okay,” I said, “I’m going to show you line by line the reason for every change.” Frankly, I thought I had done a pretty masterful job. And when I was done, I asked them, “Now, don’t you agree that each of the changes was for a good reason?” “No,” they replied. “We still think you screwed the whole thing up.”
----
Photo caption (next page):
The fourth annual Emmy Awards banquet in 1952. Accepting his second Emmy for excellence in comedy, Red Skelton remarked: “Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve given it to the wrong redhead. I don’t deserve this. It should go to Lucille Ball.” The entire audience rose to its feet, cheering Lucy.
Straight to the Top
O N M ARCH 2, 1952, Desi turned thirty-five years old, and we gave him a big birthday party. In the middle of the festivities he took me aside, and he asked me again to let him have the executive producer credit. Well, his timing was excellent. My duties as producer and head writer had me so utterly exhausted that I had actually considered quitting the show. At that moment, the prospect of having Desi take over some of my responsibilities on the business end of things sounded attractive. What’s more, Lucy had come to see me only a few days earlier, asking me to let Desi have executive producer credit as a personal favor to her, in order to help keep the peace in their marriage.
When Desi assured me that his credit would have no effect whatsoever on my authority
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