“Sammy, have you ever watched I Dream of Jeannie?”
“All the time. I love it.”
“Would you be interested in doing an episode?”
“I’m in,” he said. “Call my agent.”
The next morning, I called his agent. “Sammy wants to do I Dream of Jeannie,” I said. “Can we set it up?”
“Sure. How much are you paying?”
“A thousand dollars. That’s all we pay our guest stars.”
I heard a snort. “You must be kidding. Sammy tips his manicurist that much. Forget it.”
“Call Sammy.”
One hour later, the phone rang. “When do you want him?”
Sammy did the show and was wonderful.
We also used Michael Ansara, Barbara’s husband, in the show as the Blue Djinn.
Groucho Marx called me. “It’s too bad you don’t have an eye for talent. I know a guy who would be great for the show. He’s young and handsome and brilliant.”
“Who did you have in mind, Groucho?” I asked.
“Who else? Me.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?”
A week later I wrote an episode for Groucho called “The Greatest Invention in the World.” As usual, he was dazzling.
One night, when Mary was in a play at school, Jorja and I were going to see her. I asked Groucho if he would like to come with us, and to my surprise, he said yes.
After the show, Mary had some of her classmates back to our house. They were fascinated by Groucho. One of my fondest memories is of Groucho Marx sitting in a chair in our den, with the boys and girls sitting in a circle on the floor, listening to him talk to them about show business.
The first year of Jeannie had been very successful and the merchandising was tremendous. There were Jeannie dolls and Jeannie bottles. Jeannie even had her own magazine, The Blink. The fan mail was enormous, but nearly all of it went to Barbara Eden. Larry could barely conceal his anger.
Jeannie was going fairly smoothly, but I was constantly putting out fires. Meanwhile, there were big emotional problems on the set of The Patty Duke Show. Patty had reached the point where she refused to let the Rosses control her. There was constant friction among the three of them.
One evening, they had a heated argument and Patty moved out of the house and found an apartment. Harry Falk flew to California and he and Patty were married. That was the end of the Rosses’ power over Patty.
But on the set, the conflicts continued, and it finally got so bad that at the end of the year, even though the ratings were satisfactory, the network decided to cancel the show.
In 1967, during the second season of Jeannie, I was nominated for an Emmy. At the awards ceremony, I met Charles Schulz, who was also nominated for writing Charlie Brown. I was a big fan of his and his friend, Charlie Brown. Charles and I started talking, and he turned out to be a warm and wonderful pixie. He said that he was a fan of Jeannie.
I mentioned to Charles that I had a favorite Peanuts cartoon, where Snoopy is at his typewriter, typing: His was a story that had to be told. There is a panel of Snoopy vainly thinking. Then he types, Well, maybe not, and throws the paper away.
Shortly after the Emmys, a package arrived from Charles. It was the original strip, signed to me. I still have it hanging in my office.
Incidentally, neither of us won that year.
In September of 1967, I received an alarming phone call from Cedars Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles. Otto had had a major heart attack. Outside his hospital room, the doctor told me that there was very little chance that Otto could live. I went inside and stood at his bed. He was pale and I sensed that his vitality had gone. I was wrong.
He motioned for me to come closer, and when I leaned over him, he said, “I gave Richard my car. I could have sold it to him.”
Those were his last words to me.
During the fourth season of Jeannie, the show that followed us was an enormous hit. It was a one-hour show called Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In. I called Mort Werner, the head of NBC, and suggested that for one night, we combine the two shows. I would write a Jeannie script, using the Laugh-In characters, and immediately after that, I would have the Jeannie cast appear on Laugh-In. Mort thought it was a good idea.