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Margaret Dumont and The House Dick
Margaret Dumont and The House Dick
Margaret Dumont was the classiest lady who ever graced the silver screen...all the more so because she had to maintain her poise in the face of the 4 most demented comedians of all time. Groucho always claimed she didn't understand the jokes, which I find hard to believe given that she was a classic "straight man" which is the hardest kind of comedy. She didn't deserve the way they treated her on occasion but nobody else would have been able to survive it in such a regal manner.
This is a story about Miss Dumont. It's point is to explicate her relationship with the Marx Brothers and the way it effected her performances. It's not very complimentary to the Brothers, particularly in contemporary terms. On the other hand...it's hilarious.
The following excerpt is from Groucho © 1979 by Hector Arce. It's out of print but Amazon Books was able to find me a good used copy at a very reasonable price. It is (and not just in my opinion) the best Groucho Biography.
The House Detective
(The Marx Brothers and Margaret Dumont on Tour)
(Margaret Dumont, Margaret Irving (the other dowager in Animal Crackers) and Ms. Irving's mother are returning to the hotel after the show:
As they got into the elevator of the Indianapolis hotel they were staying one night, they ran into Groucho. Wearing a tailored grey suit and without his mustache, he looked like a successful traveling salesman. He nodded to the three women, but didn't speak.
All four got off on the fifth floor, where their rooms were. Halfway down the corridor, a moose of a house detective stood against the wall, looking skeptically into an open door.
As the group passed him, Groucho asked, "What's going on here?"
Inside the room was a group of four men playing cards. The detective said, "I'm watching these men to make sure nothing happens."
Groucho bristled. "Now look. It's very strange. You're so strict in some things and lax in others."
"What do you mean?" the cop asked, his temper rising.
"Here are four guys playing a very innocent game," Groucho said. "There are no women that I can see. They're not drinking. There's no loud talk. And you treat them like criminals. And yet you'll harbor the best-known hustler this side of the Atlantic Ocean."
"What did you say?"
"The best-known hustler this side of the Atlantic Ocean. She's known on every boat between here and Europe."
By now the detective's ears were wiggling. The three women had gone to their rooms.
"Now look," Groucho said, "I have a suite in this hotel - my family and I - and I don't intend to stay in a hotel that harbors a woman of that character."
"Who is she?"
"Didn't you notice the three women in the hall just now?" Groucho asked. "She was the one in the middle, in the fur coat."
"She doesn't look like a hustler to me," the detective said.
"You haven't been around much," Groucho said. These women look like queens. If you don't believe me, why don't you check with the Marx Brothers? They're staying here too."
"Marx Brothers?" the detective said. "Never heard of 'em."
"Then believe me. If that woman is still here tomorrow, I for one am going to check out."
The detective left the card game and camped outside Margaret Dumont's door until morning.
(The next night)
(The ladies) got off on the fifth floor and proceeded to their rooms. The detective was present, casting fish eyes at Miss Dumont.
"Good Evening," she said.
The cop was silent.
"It's certainly a wonderful thing," she went on, "to get into a hotel where you can get a good night's rest."
The detective kept his silence his look distinctly unfriendly. Miss Dumont, it was apparent to Maggie Irving, was getting a touch nervous.
"I've been all over, you know," Miss Dumont rattled on, "Europe and all. This is one of the quietest and nicest places I've ever seen. It certainly shows that you know how to run a place."
The detective's expression didn't change.
Miss Dumont fumbled for her key, while Miss Irving and her mother looked on. The cop still hadn't said a word.
Miss Dumont managed to get the door open. Out walked Groucho in his stage makeup, wearing pajamas and carrying a douche bag.
"You sneak!" he snapped at Miss Dumont, "I don't know why I put up with this."
She flushed red with embarrassment. Turning to the detective, she fluttered, "Well, that's Groucho. He does these things." Her eyes started to water. "It just hurts me terribly."
Groucho, by this time, had pressed the elevator button and asked to be taken to the eighth floor. The elevator operator, seeing a man in his pajamas and carrying a douche bag, became suspicious. "There's something wrong here," he told Groucho. "I have to get the detective." He closed the elevator door without letting Groucho on and rode down to the lobby, where the house detective usually sat.
As Miss Dumont opened the door, the detective noticed a man lying on the bed in his shorts, reading the Racing Form, an Italian hat over his black wig. "Oh," Chico said, as he got up. "You got another guy. Well, I'll be back in half an hour." He passed Groucho in the hall. The elevator operator, having failed to find the house dick in the lobby, closed the door on Chico and went to get the housekeeper.
Now milling in the hall outside the open door were Groucho, Chico, Miss Irving, her mother, and several other hotel guests who had been drawn by the commotion. The closet door then opened and out walked a
bare-chested Zeppo, a hotel towel wrapped around his middle, his thighs wrapped in paper laundry bags. He said to Miss Dumont, "Just because I'm the youngest, you take my money, but you never get around to me."
Miss Dumont turned to the detective. "Now that's Zeppo. He's right. He is the youngest. They're making him do these things. You know, there are four of them."
For the first time the detective spoke. "Where's the other one?"
"I don't know," Miss Dumont wailed, "and I don't care. I'm so unhappy I just want to go away." She cried and packed at the same time.
"I'll find him," the detective said. He could hear water running in the adjacent bathroom. He opened the door to see a man in a red wig with a bow tie wrapped around his neck, sitting in the claw-footed, bubble-filled tub.
"You can't stay in here," the detective said. Harpo shook his head and smiled.
"You gotta get out of here," the detective repeated. Harpo shook his head again.
The hotel employee went to the tub, reached down and picked Harpo up. Though naked, he was sporting the latest sartorial touch. The four-in-hand tied around his penis had a Windsor knot.
Miss Dumont was in the lobby, tears streaming down here face as she checked out. The housekeeper was mopping up the damage upstairs and instructing other hotel employees to wrap blankets around the naked people milling around.
Several hotel guests, recognizing the brothers, were quite vocal about "show business rubbish."
The detective was thus informed who the Marx Brothers were, the practical joke was explained, and everyone retired to their rooms.
The next morning, Groucho found Maggie at the railroad station, where she had spent the rest of the night waiting for the first train back to New York. She took one look at him and burst into tears.
"Ah Maggie," he said soothingly. "Don't be mad. You know we'd never do anything to hurt you."
Miss Dumont allowed herself to be mollified. She needed the work.
"Maggie, bless her heart," Margaret Irving said, "she would quit the show every night of her life, and they'd coax her back. She couldn't get wise to these boys and the treatment she was getting. Because of
them she got thrown out of so many hotels. I told her, 'Don't resent it. Tell them to do it some more and that you love it.' But she could never bring herself to say that."
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