The key to understanding Danny Aykroyd's personality it that it isn't just one personality but more closely resembles a comedy team, a whole group of guys out to have some laughs. "My parents have a photo of Dan when he was about three," remembers Danny's kid brother, Peter, who followed Big D to SNL as a writer and performer. "In the picture Dan is riding a small motorcycle, carrying a machine gun, and wearing a cowboy hat. In other words, even then he had at least three different personalities going at once."
Born in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, on July 1, 1952, Daniel Edward Aykroyd is the son of Samuel Cuthbert Peter Hugh Aykroyd, whose Canadian government career presently carries the title of Assistant Deputy Minister of Transport for Research and Development. Danny began a normal life by entering, and then getting kicked out of, St. Pius X Minor Preparatory Seminary in Ontario. Aykroyd then pulled himself together and graduated from a co-ed high school. He then graduated from Carleton University, majoring in criminology. He even went so far as to "work for the penitentiary service and write a thick manual on personnel placement for the Solicitor General's facility in Ottawa." In other words, he began a regular job and career. But Dan's eye was always on show business, even when he was in high school.
By his junior year in high school, Danny's class clowning had taken on a more serious aspect. He began by starting rock bands and eventually acting for the comedy troupe, Second City Television. Aykroyd's band, The Downtowners, developed quite a local reputation and Danny was pretty much a hometown celebrity while still in high school. It was his association with the Second City comedy troupe that finally got him to New York.
All of the stories one hears about Aykroyd can be broken down into two main categories: 1. those that are mostly true and, 2. those that aren't true at all. For example, it is true that Aykroyd's father, a candidate for World's Straightest Father, gave him an electric lawnmower as a gift. It is also true that Dan has had a number of part-time jobs from the age of 12, which have included: brakeman on a railway, warehouseman, dial reader on a runway load-testing unit (I almost got killed one night at Toronto airport," claims Aykroyd," when a DC-8 took off and grazed the station wagon I was riding out to the site in. Man, it was heavy"), and truck driver for the Royal Mail.
After about a decade of part-time jobs, Aykroyd and his buddy, Marc O'Hara, settled on a job they both knew they could handle: running an underground nightclub in Toronto called the Club 505. Danny calls it "the best joint there ever was in Canada." It was the money that Aykroyd made from the 505 that allowed him to adopt such as "I don't care" attitude toward working on Saturday Night. "I'd work at Second City at night and run the club from one A.A. on," reveals Aykroyd. "The Club 505 was completely furnished with old Forties-style couches and armchairs, and a barber's chair, all scavenged and scrounged. We slept in lofts above whatever crept on the floor at night. It bordered on serious squalor at times. Life was comfortable."
Aykroyd waltzes into the SNL rehearsal, 6 feet, 180 lbs. of meticulously unshaven bulk. Dressed in a black western shirt, loosened white tie, dark green corduroy jeans with one of those turquoise Cowboy buckles, and heavy motorcycle boots, Aykroyd still looks like the "three-character-at-a-time-minimum" multiple personality that he established as a child. Accept no less.
Aykroyd's office is a portrait of the inhabitant: something between a far-out-three-dimensional spaceship and the prop room from a war movie. Davey Wilson, SNL's director, observes: "Danny loves hardware, equipment: an old rifle, a cartridge belt...We did a sketch called 'Metal Detector' where we had a guy going through on of those airline security things and Danny went out and shopped--and I mean shopped--on his own. He went to one of those places on the Bowery and came back with every bolt, plate, and piece of metal he could find. Danny's office is surrounded with model plane kits and miniature tanks and crazy things like radio tubes. He's into," pronounces Wilson with a definitive headshake, "hardware."
It's Thursday afternoon, the first day of SNL rehearsals, and I'm standing near the stage, taking notes. Suddenly Aykroyd angles toward me like a curious tiger: "Hey," asks Danny, pointing at my collar, "where'd ya get the button?" I look down at my Blues Brothers pin, smile, and say, "From the press department. In fact, I just saw a whole shipment of them arrive marked 'DAN AYKROYD' and..."Aykroyd's eyes roll in his head, sure he's been robbed, as he screams, "Where is that weasel!!!! Did anybody here see Larry Gray?" But what I didn't tell him is that Larry Gray did him a favor by signing for that shipment. Otherwise the manager would have just taken them back. So I try to get through. "Hey, Danny," I correct. "Larry just signed for the buttons 'cause you weren't around..." Aykroyd is finger -pointing, angry at this point, and interrupts angrier than before: "You're darn right I wasn't around! Hey, it's just like these sleazy press people, but he won't succeed this time. I'll have my secretary track that guy down. And thank"--Dan winks as he angles toward his set--"for the tip." I head back to the Press Office to see what hornet's nest I've stuck my nose into. Larry Gray, the man in charge, takes it all casually and assures me, "Don't worry about it, Danny's like that"
Aykroyd really is like that--a non-stop stickler whose concern for minute detail is as much the source of his humor as it is the source of his abrasiveness. Both of these qualities are constants in Aykroyd's behavior. To give you an idea, this next incident happened only five minutes later. Aykroyd is playing the part of Nixon and the studio is ringing with laughter as Dan is scoring laughs with line after line, gesture after gesture. Aykroyd waddles, Nixon-style, over to his desk and begins to type a letter to the taxpayers when WHaaAAMMM!!! Danny slams the typewriter with his fists and screams, "This thing doesn't work." Al Franken, one of the writers on the skit, controls his initial impulse to beat Aykroyd to a pulp and makes the foolish mistake of trying diplomacy. "Dan, it's only a makeshift prop. We..." Aykroyd shoves the machine across the desk. "Props are important. This thing has got to work. How do you expect me to type a letter?" Franken has obviously been down this road before and soothingly continues, "Don't worry, Dan, we'll get one that works. Believe me, we'll have it before Saturday." Danny hasn't even heard Franken and continues his complaint: "You can't imagine how this throws my performance." Franken remains sympathetic. "No, you're right, Dan. But big Dan goes right on,"...and it's got to be electric, maybe an IBM with one of those little balls on it. Is there an electrical outlet around here somewhere? Even the patience of a saint would have been worn thin by now, and Franken finally lets fly: "Dan, do not worry, okay? I am quite sure that the NBC prop department is capable of turning up an electric typewriter. And if they can't, I'll bring mine--you can have mine! Now can we please continue? Aykroyd now feels he'll get the machine but continues the electrical outlout argument. A stickler.
Someone once said, "You can't judge a book by its cover." Not true. You look at Aykroyd in his motorcycle boots and black shirt then think about the parts he plays, especially the ones he writes: "Moth Masher," "Mel's Hide Heaven" (where you select your own cow at Mel's indoor, air-conditioned cattle range), Irwin Mainway and the "Super Bass-O-Matic" which lets you "blend an entire bass to the thickness you desire." The "Bass-O-Matic" skit is Aykroyd's all-time favorite. The guy is totally fascinating.
It is no surprise, in view of Danny's Beldar Conehead, that Aykroyd is interested in UFOs, psychic phenomenon, and the occult. "When Danny and I drive cross-country," explains John Belushi, "we always look for UFOs. I've gone up to his dead grandpa's farmhouse with him to wait for his ghost. Danny said he had seen him and I believe him. He said it started as a green glow."
Meanwhile, back at the rehearsal, Dan is being difficult again. Writer Alan Zwiebel has come up with a skit, "The Bad News Bees," that has the entire cast and crew cracking up at the rehearsals. Over 60 people laughing their heads off. But one guy is complaining about the script. Says Danny, "I can't say that, Alan. I mean, I 'll feel ridiculous if I say that." Davey Wilson, the director, finally convinces Danny that he should deliver the lines at dress rehearsal and, if the audience doesn't laugh, the lines will be pulled before showtime. Aykroyd agrees, finishes the skit, and heads for his dressing room. "Hey, Danny," I intercept, "I understand you've enlisted in the Army." Aykroyd breaks into a grin. "Yeah, Steven Spielberg's Army [in the movie 1941]. I play the part of a Motor Sergeant, Acting Tank Crew Commander. Machine guns and big bikes, VVvrrooo, vrrooo, vvvrrrooommm." And Danny roars off on a dream Harley-Davidson into an imaginary sunset.
...In addition to the six-day, in-office workload that is visible on these daily routine sheets, there is homework. This includes reading, writing, rewriting, memorizing lines, considering costumes and stage directions, and any other little details. The winner of the "Final Details" contest is Dan Aykroyd, who bubbles with requests for every kind of prop and costume before anyone else. Aykroyd is an incredibly driven person with intensity coming out of his ears. Even in the early read-throughs, while everyone else is hearing the lines, many of which will end up being changed or dropped, Aykroyd is concerned with his delivery and facial expressions. As SNL writer Michael O'Donoghue observes: "Most comedians or actors will try characters out on you from time to time to see if they work, but with Danny they just seem to leap out of nowhere. It's utterly startling because you think he can do anything: he can just make it up, fully realized, on the spot."
By Friday, Studio 8H has been successfully transformed from a large, empty space into a framework of evolving sets: Nixon's study, Julia Child's kitchen, an Army surplus store, and a Greek restaurant complete with griddle. Aykroyd turns to the prop man and raises an eyebrow as he points at the gas griddle. "You sure this thing won't blow up?" Satisfied with the response, Danny strikes a match and immediately fires up the grill, an extra matchstick clamped in his jaw. "Howd'ya like 'em?" whispers Aykroyd to a cameraman, as Danny delivers a tray of cheeseburgers to the crew and the skit winds down.
At the other end of the studio, Dan Aykroyd is busy describing his new dress. Danny is rehearsing a skit he also wrote, "Julia Child's Kitchen." As in most of the pieces Dan writes, the action is fast, and funny. Also, something will probably die or be maimed. It could be a fish, as in his infamous "Bass-O-Matic"," a couple of cows ("Mel's Hide Haven") or bunny rabbits ("The Bunny Hut"), but something's gotta go. In this skit he's Julia Child, the gourmet chef. While making a cut to produce perfect chicken parts, Danny slices off his prop rubber thumb. But something isn't up to Aykroyd's standards.
The prop people come over to discuss the various methods of making blood shoot out of the fake thumb. The idea of a bag of blood in the thumb is mentioned. Danny shakes his head. "Nah. Not enough blood. There's got to be blood shooting out all over the place." The prop man and Aykroyd go over the various possibilities and suddenly you see Dan's eyes light up. "That sounds like the one." Dan winks as the prop man scurries away with another design mission...
Costumes are still getting their final touches and Aykroyd is having his typical let's-get-this-perfect hard time as he adjusts his Julia Child wig. The new prop on his fake thumb is a long, rubber tubing that runs down his sleeve, out the bottom of his dress to a little pump filled with stage blood. As Danny screams "YyyYowwchH!! I've cut the dickens out of my finger!" the prop man activates a stream of blood that gets progressively larger. It begins as a noticeable trickle, then increases to a steady flow, and ends up shooting cascades of blood into the air. Julia, or Danny, ends up dying in a pool of blood that could fill an average-sized tub. Ayrkoyd gestures with a "thumbs-up," announcing "Hey, that thing works great." He turns to the video crew with yet another request: "Listen, I'd like to see that performance. Could you save that tape and let me go over it a few times?"
Belushi is walking around, mumbling aloud. In a few minutes he'll be doing his first run-through of a "Weekend Update" spot on Christmas. It goes like this: the only thing John wanted for Christmas was a pony. He was so excited about it, he couldn't even sleep. He even had a name picked out and had even saved all of the food he could have eaten for his new pony. He woke up on Christmas morning with his pony ride all mapped out in his head but when he got downstairs and looked under the tree, he snarles, "Ya know what I got? A sweater. And it didn't even fit. So I gave it to my brother, who I hate. And I hate Christmas. This year if I don't get a pony I want a shotgun..." Aykroyd is watching the rehearsal very seriously. He observes: "That man is great. What a performance. Insane. Criminally insane." Danny has an extremely refined voice, deep and dignified. it is, however, in startling contrast to his bee outfit.