There was a long pause. “I’ll try, but—”
“Thank you.”
The opening scene of the pilot was filmed at Zuma Beach, thirty miles northwest of Los Angeles. The scene consisted of Larry, as an astronaut, stranded on a deserted island when his spacecraft malfunctions. He sees a bottle, uncorks it, and finds a genie inside. Since he has freed her, by the rules of the genie game, he is now her master. She blinks in a rescue ship and he thinks he has gotten rid of her, but she has no intention of leaving him.
The scene went well. The day went well and we were all pleased.
On the way back to the studio, in a company limousine, I got my first glimpse of Larry Hagman’s ambition. We had stopped at a red light next to a car full of tourists. Larry rolled down the window of the limousine and, in a loud voice, yelled out at them, “Someday you’ll all know who I am.”
Larry had some emotional problems to deal with. His mother was Mary Martin, a top Broadway star, with whom he had a difficult relationship. She had been busy with her career, so Larry was raised by his father, Ben, in Texas.
Some of the time he lived with his grandmother and traveled back and forth to New York, to visit his mother. He wanted to show his mother that he could also be a star. Someday you’ll all know who I am.
When the pilot was finished but had not yet aired, I received a call from Mary Martin. “Sidney, I would love to see the pilot. Is there any way you could arrange it?”
“Of course.”
I was on my way east to work on The Patty Duke Show, so I arranged for the pilot of Jeannie to be screened for her in New York.
In the projection room were Mary Martin, a few executives from Screen Gems, and John Mitchell, who was head of sales for Screen Gems.
Before the screening started, Mary Martin went up to John Mitchell, took his hand, and said, “I hear you’re the best salesman in the world.”
I could see John stand visibly taller.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Mary Martin went on. “They say that you’re a genius.”
John Mitchell tried not to blush.
“Screen Gems is very lucky to have you.”
He barely managed to stammer out the words “Thank you, Miss Martin.”
The screening began. When the show had ended, the lights came on. Mary Martin turned to John Mitchell and said, “Anybody could have sold that show.”
I watched John shrink.
Jeannie opened to mixed reviews. The critics were mostly dismissive, but the audience was not. The show had a loyal following from the beginning and it grew.
I decided to use guest stars on this show also. Farrah Fawcett did a segment, as well as Dick Van Patten, Richard Mulligan, Don Rickles, and Milton Berle.
I wrote a script about a fake fortune-teller, called “Bigger than a Bread Box and Better than a Genie.” I asked Jorja to play the part of a fortune-teller. It was in the spring and Natalie was coming to visit us.
Jorja said, “Why don’t you give Natalie a part in the show? She could play one of the characters in the séance scene.”
I laughed. “I think she’d enjoy that.”
When Natalie arrived, I asked, “How would you like to be on television?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” my mother said coolly.
“Jorja is going to star as a fortune-teller and you can be one of the characters in the séance scene.”
She nodded. “Fine.” She was very composed about her debut on national television.
I wrote a few lines for Natalie to read and left them with her. While I was working at the studio, Jorja rehearsed her in her part.
The next morning I auditioned Queenie Smith, a wonderful actress. I decided that she should have Natalie’s lines, so I wrote some new lines for Natalie and when I got home that evening, I gave them to her.
She read them and said, “No.”
I was puzzled. “No—what?”
“I can’t read these lines.”
“Why not?”