There was an inherent danger in having an actor play two roles. If the audience could not distinguish which character was performing, the confusion could be fatal. In order to avoid this, we dressed Patty in casual attire and made Cathy’s clothes much more formal. To further insure that there would be no confusion, I gave Patty dialogue and actions suitable for a young, energetic extrovert, while I made Cathy reserved and proper.
When I saw the first day’s rushes, I knew that all our precautions had been unnecessary. Patty did not depend on the clothes or the dialogue. She became each character.
I was having a problem with the network. They had assigned an officious young man whom I’ll call Todd as the liaison for ABC. Every Monday morning he came into my office and his greeting was always the same. “I read your latest script. It stinks. You’re giving the network a disaster.”
The last straw came when we were on the scoring stage, recording the music for the first show.
The studio had hired the talented Academy Award-winning arranger and composer Sid Ramin. When the first music take was over, Sid and I were talking at one end of the stage. I looked over and saw Todd hurrying toward us. He stopped in front of Sid and said loudly, “Your music is the only good thing in this show.”
That afternoon I put in a call to an executive at the network.
By the following morning, Todd had disappeared from my life.
CHAPTER 30
When John Ross made the deal for Patty to star in the television series, he arranged to have himself put on the payroll as associate producer. Asked what his duties were, he was vague.
The producers said, “His job is to keep Patty happy and to stay out of everybody’s way.”
One day, Ross came into my office near tears. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “What’s happened?”
“Life magazine is coming to the studio today to cover the rehearsal.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
“No.” He was trying not to cry. “Now Life magazine is going to know that I don’t have a secretary.”
As the date approached for the first airing of The Patty Duke Show, we had a problem. Our producer-director, Bill Asher, was a man who liked to be simultaneously involved in several different projects. As a result, he was behind schedule on our show. None of the shows was completed.
Bill came to me and said, “Ed Scherick, the head of ABC, wants to take a look at our pilot show. I’m not sure which one he’ll like, ‘The French Teacher’ or ‘House Guest.’”
“The French Teacher” starred Jean-Pierre Aumont and the story involved Patty falling in love with him and making plans for her future as his wife. “House Guest” was about an eccentric rich aunt who moved into the Lane household and drove everyone crazy.
“I want you to run the two pictures for Scherick and let him pick out the one that he likes best.”
“Fine,” I agreed.
The following morning, we set up a running for Ed Scherick and several other executives from ABC. He had brought his wife and his sister and there were cordial introductions all around.
The lights dimmed and the screenings began. “The French Teacher” had not yet been edited or scored because Bill Asher was so busy, and several special effects were missing. “House Guest” had not yet been edited or scored and several special effects were missing. The overall effect was dreadful.
When the lights came up, Scherick got to his feet, glared at me, and said, “I don’t give a damn which one you put on first.” He and his entourage stormed out of the room.
I sat there, deflated. Maybe Todd had been right.
Our opening night premiere was upon us and we had to make a decision. Asher now worked day and night to complete the two shows. Since the network no longer cared about our show, we had to decide which episode to air first.
Things were so chaotic that on the opening night of The Patty Duke Show, “The French Teacher” played in the western half of the United States and “House Guest” played in the eastern half.
The Wednesday morning that the show was to air, I was walking through the studio lobby when Eddie Applegate came running in. He hurried over to the pay phone, felt in his pockets, and turned to me, in a panic.
“Do you have a dime?”
“Sure.” I took one out of my pocket. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to call the president of ABC.”
“The president of— Why, Eddie?”
“I just found out that the show I’m in is playing in the east and my folks are in the west.”
It took a moment for me to digest this. “You’re going to ask the president of ABC to switch the shows around, so that your folks can see you?”
“Yes.”
I put the dime back in my pocket. “Eddie, he may be busy with other things today. I would forget it.”
The reviews the following morning were generally favorable. Typical of those reviews was the Hollywood Reporter’s.
It read: “This could be it—the TV fun the teens and their parents have been waiting for . . . a captivating click.”
More importantly, the ratings were even stronger than we had hoped for. We were all thrilled.
The following day, Daily Variety carried a two-page ad from ABC. It read: “Nice girls finish first. We always knew that Patty Duke was going to be a hit.”
Right.
The shooting of The Patty Duke Show the first year was uneventful. I decided it would be fun to use some guest stars. The idea worked well. I wrote scripts around Frankie Avalon, Troy Donahue, Sal Mineo, and others.