Featured in the Summer 2006 issue of dian, the Curves Magazine. |
Most of us know Marcia Wallace as the zany receptionist Carol on the '70s sitcom, The Bob NewhartShow. But this mother, widow, breast cancer survivor, and Curves member says laughter is what carries her through all of life's roles. stylist: deana anise/factory artists; hair & makeup: david michaud; left photo—courtesy of cbs/landov an interview with diane heavin You feel like you've known her your entire life. Maybe it's because she came into our living rooms every Saturday for six seasons in the pre-satellite '70s—so we all watched her. Maybe it's because she's the quintessential Midwestern girl next door, born in Creston , Iowa —so we could know her. Maybe it's because she's always been more funny than beautiful—so we want to know her. But the question is, what do we really know? Behind every public persona is a private life. And while Marcia herself says that she and her character on The Bob Newhart Show are quite similar, there is another Marcia Wallace. The Marcia whose father could never quite control his temper. The Marcia whose mother “really didn't like me all that much.” The Marcia who got the word she had breast cancer three days after her future husband, Dennis Hawley, asked her to marry him. The Marcia who lost her beloved Dennis to pancreatic cancer too fast and too soon, just six years after they were married. More sob story than sitcom, this, I think, is the life that informs the laughter, the sadness that adds pathos to Marcia's pratfalls. It's perhaps the vulnerability we sense in Carol Kester, maybe even the “Ha!” at the end of Edna Krabappel's sentences [the role Marcia voices on The Simpsons, left]. It's what makes Marcia's characters endure. Now 63, Marcia lives in Los Angeles —“on the fringes of about five ritzy areas,” she says, “but I missed all of them!”—and works the circuit at Curves Miracle Mile on Wilshire and Highland . After her brush with breast cancer, she had a lumpectomy and radiation, and the cancer never came back. Now a passionate advocate for breast cancer awareness, she travels the country, speaking of her experience. Marcia's chatty romp of an autobiography (a must-read, she says, for “anyone who has felt unloved and unattractive, been broke, experienced failure, been fat and thin and fat again, had a fire, had cancer and/or a nervous breakdown, and been widowed”) is titled Don't Look Back, We're Not Going That Way! But on a warm Los Angeles morning in February, Marcia was kind enough to set aside her own advice and look back a little—and laugh a lot—with me. diane: Most people remember you as Carol, sitting at the reception desk outside Bob's office. How did you come to occupy that famous '70s swivel chair? marcia: Well, I had great luck and great guts. I took off for New York City from the Midwest the day after I graduated from college. I weighed 240 pounds and had $120 in the bank. When people ask me now, “How do you break into show business?” I always say, “Well, first of all, your ready cash should at least equal your weight!” I got a job typing scripts during the day and did improv at night. One night, Dan Sullivan, who's now a big director but who was then a second-string drama critic for The New York Times, was literally looking for somewhere to come in out of the rain, and he stumbled onto my improv. He liked it and wrote about it. So then Paul Solomon, a producer guy from The Merv Griffin Show came down and saw me and hired me. I ended up doing 75 appearances on Merv. So one day, I get home and the phone is ringing. It's a woman named Ethel Wynant. She says, “I'm calling for Grant Tinker. Just a moment.” I couldn't believe it! The Grant Tinker, famous producer? He gets on and says, “Hello, this is Grant Tinker. We'd like you to be on The Bob Newhart Show.” Just like that. The legendary founder of CBS, Bill Paley, had seen me on The Merv Griffin Show, and apparently said, “Get me that redhead I saw on Merv.” And that was it. I didn't have to audition, because there was no written part. It was just me. So I became Carol. I sorta set the pace for the character. In a lot of ways, she and I were the same person. diane: Carol was groundbreaking in so many ways. marcia: She was different from most secretaries in sitcoms. She wasn't in love with her boss, for one. She wasn't ditzy. She wasn't super prim or a spinster. And she wasn't a buxom beauty, yet she had lots of romances, which I thought was wonderful. She was a nice person, a hard worker, and an optimist, and she was really good at her job. She also had a great sense of humor. diane: She sounds a lot like you. marcia: Well, I'm probably a bit more complicated than Carol, because my life isn't 22 minutes a week! Carol may be a little nicer than I. And, big difference, she met and married the man of her dreams a whole decade before I did! diane: How did you meet your husband? marcia: When I turned 40, I wanted to do something that scared me, something brave. And I had always wanted to sing on stage and get paid for it. Only problem was, I'm not a singer. But, somehow that year I got offered a musical with Jo Anne Worley, and I jumped at it. Dennis was the general manager of the hotel next door, and Jo Anne was on a mission to set me up. And let me tell you, her standards weren't that high. So by the time we met him, we thought, “Oh…but he's too cute.” But darned if he wasn't interested in me! I always say the great thing about meeting Mr. Right in your middle years is that you don't have to worry about him having a midlife crisis because you're it! Denny and I got married in 1986. I was 43. I had about 17 minutes of childbearing left. diane: In your book, you write that you struggled with infertility for some time. And yet, you're still able to be so naturally, contagiously funnyabout it. You joke about all your struggles, minor and major alike. marcia: You know, people tend to think that laughter trivializestragedy. But your body—and by that I mean your immune system—needs laughter just as much if not more when you're struggling as it does when you're sailing. Laughter, I believe, is healing. Comedy Cures According to the nonprofit ComedyCures Foundation, which aims to bring joy, laughter, and therapeutic humor programs to kids and adults living with illness, a good belly laugh does more than bring down the house. It relieves stress, elevates mood, boosts immunity, and distracts us from pain—the sort ComedyCures founder Saranne Rothberg herself felt when facing an early stage IV cancer diagnosis. (Rothberg later launched ComedyCures from her chemo chair.) To find out more about the healing power of laughter and ComedyCures, go to www.comedycures.com. Just need a laugh? Dial 1-888-HA-HA-HA-HA to access Rothberg's free 24-hour laugh line. diane: What makes you laugh? marcia: Mikey, my son, whom Denny and I adopted in 1988. He's very funny, a great mimic. He does an imitation of me that is so hilarious, because it's right on the nose: I'm a screamer. I lose it. And he does this imitation of me in the car, where I spill a soda and start going, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Then I say some horribly inappropriate words and then, “I hate my life!” And, finally, I scream, “Damn you, Dennis, you died!!” I mean, that is perfect. If you're funny and honest, I don't care what you say about me. And he is just right on! diane: Did your own ability to find the humor in tragedy make life work for you? marcia: Oh, from the start. Like many funny people, I had a rough childhood, fractious relationships with both parents. I remember feeling more than lonely and thinking I was the ugliest, fattest kid around. So I started making fun of myself—the ol' I'm-gonna-put-myself-down-before-anyone-else-can. I'd make faces, cross my eyes—it was all very self-deprecating. And while it never got me fully accepted, it got me attention. And people did enjoy me. And I think they still do. diane: It strikes me that Edna Krabappel,your Emmy-winning role on The Simpsons, is another Marcia Wallace. Then there's Marcia Wallace, author. MarciaWallace, advocate for breast cancer awareness…
diane: What do you mean by “healthy”? marcia: Well, I definitely should lose some weight. Food has always been my drug of choice—and you can absolutely see my struggle across 30 years of television. I've been fat, I've been thin, and I've been fat again. I was bulimic before it was ever talked about. But I joined Curves hoping to lose the 50 pounds I gained after Denny died. I just couldn't get food in my mouth fast enough then. Even though I am still a work in progress with my weight loss, I am definitely healthier because of Curves. My blood pressure has gone from high to normal, and I have tons more energy. diane: What drew you to us? marcia: I'm not a gym fan. Besides, going to a gym in LA, you could just slit your wrists. I mean, if you're going to compare yourself to women out here? It's just crazy… The difference at Curves is that while there are plenty of beautiful women at Curves, there are all kinds of women. There's a 90-year-old named Chickie at my Curves, for goodness sake! She's an inspiration to us all. I was also drawn to Curves because they provide such wonderful business opportunities for women like Miriam Bogan who started my Curves. I loved it from the first. diane: So, what kinds of things happen in your Curves? marcia: Well, some of the ladies need to exercise more and talk less! Also, I traveled to Connecticut and they had all this extra equipment, like those big balls and hand weights. I thought, “that's a no no! Diane wouldn't like those balls in this club!'' diane: I have to ask: Do you have a favorite joke? marcia: Joke telling is a totally different thing from a comic sensibility, which is what I have. I think funny, I talk funny, I see funny, I love funny. But it's not in the context of jokes. It's in stories, true stories. I was on stage waiting to give a speech on breast cancer awareness along with six oncologists and a nun. Quite a crew, let me tell you. And it was way too crowded. The nun asked if I could scoot down a bit. I said, “Sure, sister”—and I scooted right off the stage. I literally crashed in a heap on the floor. Ouch doesn't even begin to describe it. But now it's a story I love to tell. I open most of my speeches with it. It's taking something painful and doing it funny—the extended step on the banana… diane: When given the choice, you go for the funny. marcia: If I have the choice, honey, I go for the hilarious. I think it's important to face your demons and to allow yourself to be sad or mad or afraid if that's what you are. But I also can't imagine ever choosing to live that way. I choose hilarious.• “The great thing about meeting Mr. Right in your middle years is that you don't have to worry about him having a midlife crisis because you're it!”
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