American-born, CR Green, now lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, where she writes mainly poetry. This year, at 77, she has been doing the Hagley Writers Institute’s year-long course. Her poetry has been published recently in Silver Birch Press and Poetry Distillery.

The Night I Met Groucho Marx

The night I met Groucho Marx happened because of my husband, Tom, when he was working on his Masters Degree in Los Angeles. He had gotten a job as the Stage Manager at a famous club in Hollywood called The Troubadour. His job included doing the lights and sound. This was the early 70s so Tom worked for a lot of amazing people during the rise of folk-rock music, including James Taylor and Carol King´s famous beginning of their Tapestry tours.

I would often go to work with Tom and sit in the light booth looking down at the performers. Tom even introduced me to Joni Mitchell one night. ¨Hi,¨ she said, ¨I´m Joan,¨ and held out her hand. Tom even gave me the job of running the spotlight for the week The Righteous Brothers were the big act. I loved wielding the power of the spotlight, following the performer, opening and closing the aperture. I would spotlight Bill Medley singing ¨You´ve Lost That Loving Feeling.” I could sense he loved the warmth of the spotlight and being in it. At the end of the week, he gave me an unexpected tip of $20! I was happy to do it for free.

A lot of famous people came through The Troubadour. Some not so famous, like a group called Randy Sparks and the Sky Dog Band. That was the week I met Groucho Marx. The audience was not large and I don’t know why Groucho was upstairs near Tom, the light booth, and the dressing rooms.  But, I remember climbing up the steps and a little old man, looking very much like my husband´s Jewish grandfather, was coming towards me accompanied by a younger woman.

I could see Tom, down the hall behind them, standing on his toes and pointing to Groucho, mouthing the words, ¨Candy, that´s Groucho Marx.¨

I had just read in the paper that Groucho´s son was worried about the relationship between Groucho and a young woman who was supposedly his caretaker. Groucho´s son was worried the young woman wanted Groucho to marry her. Groucho, another article reported, was worried about his daughter who was not married and living with her boyfriend.

As this couple, the old man and the young woman, drew closer I wanted to say something to him. But what?

Comedians, in my limited experience of being around them, are really not people who go around looking to tell you jokes. Offstage, Steve Martin, who performed at The Troubadour was a very quiet, serious man. Many comedians are high anxiety and find humor in their quirks, frailties and disabilities. But, I didn’t know that when I was in my twenties.

So, as Groucho approached, I was trying to think of something that would be funny to say to him. I was actually going to try to make Groucho Marx laugh!

All that came out of my mouth was, ¨Groucho Marx. Groucho Marx…I just…I just…I  just wanted to say Hello.¨

He stopped, lifted his unlit cigar to his mouth and said, ¨Well, say Hello.¨

Now that was funny, I thought. How did he do that? And what do I say next?

Groucho took a long look at my long, curly hair, my long skirt and colorful poncho and, with the cigar still close to his mouth, said, ¨What are you? One of these camp followers?¨

I knew he meant ¨Groupie.¨ But, again, I was trying to think of something that might make him laugh.

¨No,¨ I said, ¨I´m justa…I´m justa…I´m just married to the light man.¨

There was a perfect pause. A beat.

¨Married, huh?¨ Groucho said and lowered his cigar, ¨I didn’t know people got married these days.¨ And he turned away to pass by me.

In the silence, I watched as Groucho Marx, 80, and the young woman headed for the back stairway.

¨See Groucho,¨ I could hear the young woman saying, ¨See, Groucho, see. People do get married these days.¨ Then Groucho Marx disappeared down the stairs into the kitchen of The Troubadour and, I assumed, out into the alley in back of the club where all the most famous entered and exited.