Stories About Merv Griffin and His Show That You'll Read Nowhere Else (Unless They Link to Me)

I'm really going to miss Merv Griffin (died Sunday of prostate cancer at 82). He was truly one of those once-in-a-lifetime characters, and having worked with him directly I can tell you with some certainty that there weren't two Mervs. He was more or less the same in private as in public, though you know he had to be a major hard-nose in things of business given how well he did (snaring a cool $250 million in his sale of the shows he created, "Wheel of Fortune" and "Jeopardy!", to Coca-Cola in 1986 and retaining a profit stake at the same time).

But it wasn't the businessman that most made Merv stand out. It was his infectious lust for life and all it offered. The guy worked -- with monumental success -- until practically his dying day because it was fun for him. If it hadn't been, he'd have chucked it, because Merv was all about having a good time. No one I've ever met seemed to love the journey more than did Merv. He didn't earn a fortune and hoard it looking to collect more, slaving 16 hours a day at a desk. No, he bought a yacht and sailed the world, bought a racehorse and hung at the track, bought the Beverly Hilton and turned it cool again, spent quality time with friends, did it right. That's what I'll take away. Merv didn't allow success to consume him; instead, he consumed it.

Here are some stories from the inside that I've been saving up for the better part of 20 years. E-mail them to all your friends.

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Merv loved nothing better than a good challenge, and one day while I was working at "The Merv Griffin Show" the subject of what you can't say on TV was raised. I forget how, but I believe it was Merv himself who concocted the idea of trying to scatter some profane words throughout a show without anyone really noticing. Without citing specifics, he promised to utter five such words on the next broadcast and see if he could get away with not being censored or having to do a wrap-around -- and sure enough, he nailed it, to the great glee of those of us watching the taping from the sound booth.

Yes, Merv delivered the offending words so seamlessly, and with such flawless context, that it simply sounded as if he were mispronouncing other intended words rather than the ones on the table. To this day, no one aside from show staffers -- and now, you -- know that Merv ever did this. It was a mischievous side you never much heard about. But back in the mid-1980s when Merv did it, the days before cable and less stringent language regulations, it was pretty cool.

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USA Today technology reporter Jefferson Graham likes to tell the story about the time he was interviewing Merv in his production offices and being shown around the joint, with Merv pausing to point out all of the photographs of him sharing the stage with various luminaries and towering figures of his time (JFK, Sir Laurence Olivier, etc.).

"Yes, here I am with John Kennedy...And here I am with Frank Sinatra...And here's Elizabeth Taylor...And Marty King..."

"Marty King?" asked Graham, puzzled.

"Oh yes, Martin Luther King Jr.," Merv replied with nary an ounce of irony.

Yes, when you were in Merv's lair, you were simply one of the gang -- even if you happened to be the most dynamic and influential civil rights leader of your time.

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The last public appearance of Orson Welles happened on "The Merv Griffin Show" during a taping the night of October 9, 1985. Welles was in fine form, agreeing to discuss the past in a way he rarely had before. It was a great interview, and after it Welles' limousine took him to dine at Ma Maison restaurant, carted him home -- and he died early the next morning in his sleep.

What's noteworthy is that the event inspired tremendous guilt in the show staff, which the morning of the taping had been mecilessly poking fun at Welles for his tremendous girth, slow gait and deliberate manner. It also was learned that the driver of the limo picking up Welles from the show screwed up and waited in the wrong spot, making Welles walk an additional 100 unnecessary yards or so.

The following morning, after the announcement of Welles' death, the show staff was mortified, feeling that they somehow had been partly responsible for the great man's demise and guilt-ridden over their immature comments of the morning before. Merv himself was said to feel especially badly even though he wasn't in on the meeting commentary. But from that day forward, Welles was spoken of only in the most reverential of tones around the office.

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Then there was the show where the nutball (but Oscar-winning) actress Shelley Winters was to be featured. It was made clear by her people that Miss Winters was greatly pressed for time and wouldn't be able to stay a second longer than her segment. She insisted that she be the first guest out and that her limousine driver stay parked by the stage door exit, with the car door open and the engine running so as to more quickly whisk her immediately to wherever it was Winters had to be so urgently.

So the show begins. Shelley does her segment and as it nears conclusion, Merv says, "Well, I know you have to rush off, Shelley, so..."

"What? No I don't," Winters answered. "Why do you want me to go, Merv? Can't I stay?"

"Well of course, Shelley, of course!" Merv assured.

Not only does Shelley stick around for the entire show; she accompanies Merv back to his dressing room and proceeds to chat him up for another 90 minutes. Meanwhile, throughout, the poor limo driver is waiting there, the door open, the engine running.

In a meeting shortly after the show, Merv said, "Oh my God! I couldn't believe it. I never thought I was gonna get rid of her. She wouldn't leave! I finally had to tell her they were locking up the building or she'd have slept over."

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Bishop Desmond Tutu was the guest one night on the show, and during the taping it was my job to make sure the Bishop was comfortable and relaxed in the Green Room before his segment with Merv. It was part of the talent coordinator gig: shmooze the guests as if they were visiting your home. So I made sure he had a beverage and the obligatory package of nuts.

The taping starts, and it's time to change the channel on the Green Room TV set to the closed-circuit feed of the show. I'd noticed that Bishop Tutu was intently watching the live World Series telecast that was on that night.

"Oh no, please, don't change the channel!" the Bishop pleased.

"But the taping has started, sir. Don't you want to see the show?" I asked.

"No, actually," Bishop Tutu replied matter-of-factly. "I would much rather watch the game. May I please?"

I nodded and handed the Bishop the remote. This was between he, God -- and Merv.

Comments

[T2]

Ha! Ha! Sad about Merv - but these are priceless stories. I also had a good laugh last night watching the "Merv Griffin" episode of Seinfeld. It's always been one of my favorites, but I watched it sort of as an homage to the spirit of Merv. I'd love to see Nick @ Nite or TV Land start running old reruns of Merv's show(s). That would be appointment TV to be sure.