Hello, I Might Not Be Going...

Groucho's play may be trying to tell us something about the last stage of his own life

Bob Hope Presents the Chrysler Theatre, "Time for Elizabeth"
OB: April 24, 1964, 8:30 p.m. EST, NBC
I was three months old when this show was first broadcast.

This is part of the Big Stars on the Small Screen Blogathon, hosted by Aurora at the How Sweet It Was blog.

Groucho Marx was always one of my favorite comedians, perhaps bordering on being a hero. So much so, and for so long, I once wrote a theme paper about him in high school and my English teacher Mrs. Handy gave me an A. I actually called it "Hooray for Captain Spaulding." Just after his death, a TV station in Huntsville, Alabama began rerunning You Bet Your Life late at night. I stayed up to watch it, much to the chagrin of my brother who just wanted to go to sleep and not be disturbed by some old comedian from 20 years ago. When Groucho died I was actually sadder about his passing than I was that we lost Elvis a few days earlier (and I still consider myself an Elvis fan), even though we clearly lost Elvis before his time and Groucho was nearly 87, feeble and perhaps no longer of sound mind.

The comedic persona Groucho chose for himself spoke to me: a smartass, whose job it was to protect the world from pretension. His movies put him in the middle of highbrow settings--a cruise ship, a university, a society party thrown for a famous explorer, the world of opera--and let him and his brothers, Harpo and Chico, completely wreck the place. What's really a sight to behold is when a bunch of pretentious people are bowing to his characters' wrongfully earned authority--the high society bigwigs saluting Captain Spaulding in "Animal Crackers," the university faculty bowing to President Wagstaff in "Horse Feathers," everyone when Groucho owns a failing luxury hotel in "The Cocoanuts"--and even as he insults them and sometimes even physically embarrasses them (ripping off toupees, etc.), they still kiss his ass. It made the musical numbers that much more potent, the abused ass-kissers singing backup and swaying in rhythm as Professor Wagstaff table dances and gives them all a 1930s era, code-friendly lapdance in "Horse Feathers." The "Hooray for Captain Spaulding/Hello I Must Be Going" sequence from "Animal Crackers" is an especially good and hilarious example of this, with Mrs. Rittenhouse (Margaret Dumont, one of the brothers' favorite straight women) being the recipient of so many of his machine-gunned insults. ("This insurance policy will take care of you in your old age, which should be along in a couple of weeks...")

Groucho and his brothers--piano-playing Chico, harpist and vocally silent slapstick artist Harpo and until 1933, "the normal one," Zeppo, often even the male romantic lead--must've been a sight to behold on the big screen in the Great Depression, when the upper crust made popular villains or butts of jokes. The brothers still made me smile and laugh even in the recession-wracked 1970s, when I discovered many of their movies on WTCG, Channel 17 in Atlanta.

To listen to Groucho throw out those great lines--most scripted, and some not--is to go on a nice, long, road trip of the English language, each of his scenes or speeches being one more ride in perhaps an entire theme park of wordplay. "Remember, gentlemen, we have to protect this woman's honor...which is probably more than she's ever done," he memorably said in my favorite of his movies, "Duck Soup" (again, to Margaret Dumont).

...and from "Animal Crackers":
"Let's get married...all of us."
"All of us?..Why, that's bigamy!"
"Yeah, and it's big of me, too!"

From the same movie, to a rich man who's financing he's seeking believe it or not: "What do you think of the traffic problem? What do you think of the marriage problem? What do you think of when you go home at night, you beast?"
(Outraged) "Well, I tell you, my--"
"I'd rather not discuss it further" (pointing at camera, and by extension, theater audience) "there are children present!"

By the late 1940s, the Marx Brothers movies were becoming less frequent, less successful and less funny. Groucho (and at one point, he and Chico) had made several attempts at radio. His most recent, Pabst Blue Ribbon Town, supposedly (according to Groucho) ended when the brewery held a party to celebrate a major anniversary and he got "Old Man Pabst" drunk...on Miller High Life. Groucho's radio career up to that point had been mostly been guest appearances on the shows of Rudy Vallee, Dinah Shore and Bing Crosby. Legend has it an ad-libbed appearance with Bob Hope inspired the idea that Groucho using a script was like "using a Cadillac to haul coal." That idea turned into his game show You Bet Your Life, first on radio, then on NBC television. The show was one of the first radio programs to be recorded in advance, so the conversations with contestants, who lined up for the honor to be Mrs. Ritttenhouse and get teased by Groucho (really, the whole point of the show, the quiz portion being a tacked-on afterthought) could be mined for their funniest--and cleanest, according to the censors--moments. It was also the first TV game show to be recorded (filmed, in those days) in advance, which is why they nearly all still exist. And it was the first game show to be syndicated in reruns, with the references to sponsor De Soto-Plymouth carefully edited and cropped out.

When the show ended in 1961, Groucho never wanted to leave the public light, and with that, came wildly varying degrees of success. Another You Bet Your Life-type show, Tell It to Groucho, lasted a single season; an attempt at a sitcom pilot starring Groucho, Harpo and Chico--Deputy Seraph, in which they would've portrayed angels visiting Earth, portending the fantasy sitcoms of the 1960s--fell apart due to Chico's health problems, discovered during the filming of the pilot. (Chico would die shortly thereafter, in 1961.) Harpo retired in 1963--reportedly, for the first time in show biz history, actually speaking out loud to thank his audience at his final nightclub performance--and died the following year.

So that left Groucho to guest appearances--often pleasant, as he demonstrated his walk to Dick Cavett and The Today Show's Hugh Downs, or that walk-on cameo he did on I Dream of Jeannie, and occasionally even triumphant, as he re-created some of his old movie routines with former co-star Margaret Dumont on ABC's The Hollywood Palace. And then there were the bad ones; where the running off at the mouth and getting his butt kissed served him so well in his 1930s movies and on You Bet Your Life, it made him come off as more of a "crazy old uncle" on shows like The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson, where he might overtalk some of the guests who came on after him. He just about ruined a week of The Hollywood Squares with his sudden inability to shut the hell up. In his book "Backstage with the Original Hollywood Square," host Peter Marshall theorized Marx just didn't get how to play the game and thought he needed to save the show from dead air. After taping the final of that week's shows, he shook hands with Marshall and said, "Son, the only time I'd like to see you again is socially."

So, it's in the mist of Groucho's "second guest star era" where we get a glimpse of a rather obscure play he co-wrote with Norman Krasna, "Time for Elizabeth." Although he didn't do it much, Groucho wasn't against the idea of taking chances with roles; once on General Electric Theater he even made a dramatic appearance, in a show called "The Holdout" that co-starred a young Dennis Hopper.

This particular appearance would be part of the 1963-67 anthology series, Bob Hope Presents the Chrysler Theatre. Hope would host the series, usually pre-empted a few times a season by his own variety special, but in only rare occasions would he act on-screen. It was part of Hope's unusual, wide-ranging agreement he usually made with his TV sponsor; in this era, it was the Chrysler Corporation. It would even go as far as to allow product placement in Hope's theatrical films of the era, like "Boy Did I Get a Wrong Number!" so all of the characters would be driving Chrysler products. (He earlier had a similar agreement with General Motors, which is why he, Lucille Ball and everyone else can be seen driving Buicks in 1960's "The Facts of Life.")

Bob Hope Presents the Chrysler Theatre came along at an interesting time for anthology shows: they were basically on the way out, despite being even better-produced than they were in the 1950s. Many of the 1950s shows were done live with smaller budgets, not shot on location like this one and Kraft Suspense Theater. But it's an important link in how anthology drama evolved from, say, Studio One in the 1950s to The ABC Movie of the Week in the 1970s.

Chrysler Theatre had a variety of shows of different genres, that NBC would even use years later to plug holes in its summer schedule--the comedy shows would have one title, the dramatic shows another, and Hope's wraparound segments would be long gone by then. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any of those segments for this show myself, so here's a shot of him as a gangster, in an October 1963 sketch from one of his variety specials.

"Time for Elizabeth," the play by Marx and Krasna reportedly took years to write, with the two working on it bits and pieces at a time. (Accounts vary on exactly how long, but the shortest amount of time I saw described was seven years.) It premiered on Broadway in 1948 with Otto Krueger in the lead role; Groucho was tied up at the time with You Bet Your Life on the radio and filming the final Marx Brothers' film as a team, "Love Happy." The show bombed, closing after just eight performances. However, the pair did get a half million dollars for the screen rights, even though it was never filmed. Only in the late 1950s, when Groucho dusted it off to use as summer stock material and tweaked it here and there, did it ever reach any kind of success; many felt his ad-libs, and a long curtain call speech at the end of every show, were usually the highlights.
The play was adapted to television by Alex Gottlieb, known for "Hellzapoppin'" and working with Abbott and Costello. It was directed by Ezra Stone, radio's Henry Aldrich, who by the 1960s had made a name for himself as a director of shows like The Munsters. And sure enough, this show has a laughtrack. Of all the questions the hour long show (minus car commercials and Bob Hope's wraparounds) seems to want to answer, one of them appears to be, "What if Groucho Marx starred in a sitcom?" I don't know the differences between this version and the stage version--other than the stage version being a three-act play and considerably longer than the TV version, meaning a lot of material was cut out. But there are some things I can guess about.

Within just seconds of the opening, we get to meet perhaps the most un-Groucho like character Groucho has ever played: not a memorable name like Wagstaff or Hackenbush, but a plain name, Ed Davis, "General manager in charge of getting blamed for everything" (according to Marx' narration) at the Snowdrift Washing Machine company. While his usual movie characters found him in some high, unworthy position that he obviously BSed his way into, this one finds him, sadly, downtrodden, and unappreciated, but it's made clear, highly competent. We immediately hear him tell his tyrant of a boss, Mr. Schaeffer, that the person who screwed up his latest order is once again, "Your brother-in-law, Herman. Shall I fire him?"

We get a quick glimpse of Davis' wife, Kay (Kathryn Eames), which by the way, was the first name of Groucho's wife in the 1940s, when he co-wrote this play. You'll come to appreciate the irony of that shortly. The one-note boss (who exists mainly to get us to hate him and wish Davis out of that job) shows up long enough to bum a tranquilizer off Ed (who keeps a drawerful of them) and make Ed cancel his bridge game tomorrow night to have dinner with him and his wife. "That's the way I like to run things, like one big relaxed family," he says. Davis gets to present a gold watch to a man named McPherson (Cyril Delevanti, who often played roles like this one). After Walter calls McPherson "McFadden," then says "What's the difference?" we hear McPherson discuss what's next after 25 years in engineering. He and his wife had discussed retirement for years, and their plan to retire to Elizabeth, New Jersey, and finally decided it was "time for Elizabeth." He leaves Davis with a though from "The Rubyiat of Omar Khayyam": What does a wine-getter get, that's as good as the wine he has to sell?

Ed and Kay get to the restaurant for the news that their daughter's boyfriend is engaged. But the in-law-to-be, Richard, doesn't get to say much before Kay figures it out and congratulates Anne. "You're accepted, we don't take any chances," says Ed, surprising Anne who thought her parents would try to talk her out of marrying Richard. They only have a minute or so to celebrate before Walter Schaeffer calls at the restaurant and bawls Ed out for leaving work "in the middle of that afternoon." When Ed says he left at seven, Walter says "Your watch was wrong!" Back in Ed's office, Walter's upset a half-page newspaper ad for Snowdrift is just one page away from a full page ad for their fiercest competitor. Ed tells him Walter's brother-in-law Herman was responsible since Walter put him in charge of advertising a week earlier. Schaeffer denies writing the memo and says "I'm not in the habit of being called a liar!"

Ed's wife is in the office with him and gets to watch all the bawling out. After Walter storms out, Ed shows her the retirement ad he kept in his drawer, inviting retirees to Florida for the swordfishing. "Where did those last 30 years go? I never got a good look at them," he says, pointing to the model washing machine agitator in the corner of his office. The buzzer starts going off and Walter is now bawling out Ed for ordering 38 drinking fountains, demanding he get out of it and even tell a lie if he has to. "For thirty years I've dreamed for a moment like this one," Davis says, before he mockingly gets back onto the intercom and says "I don't want to tell them a lie, I signed for them and you're stuck for them!" Walter then storms back in and fires him.

"My pens, if you don't mind," Davis says, as he gathers his photos and personal effects. "...my wife and kids, if you don't mind...my liquor, which you probably do mind..." "You're fired!" Walter bellows a third time, his voice getting higher each time. "And you're monotonous!"retorts Ed. "Fired, after 28 years...hey, I have a gold watch coming!" Ed takes one, dropping it in model washing machine on the way out. Ed and Kay leave arm in arm, while Walter shakes his finger and says nothing, as if he's frustrated he can't fire him even more.

We're used to Groucho machine-gunning disrespectful one-liners at people in authority left and right (or being in authority and then doing it), so it doesn't feel right seeing him bullied with such weak comebacks. No references to Walter's lack of a personality or of a life, and you'd think he'd had a gold mine of insults based on the incompetence of Walter's brother-in-law Herman, who we never get to meet. We're even happier to be rid of Walter at this point than Ed himself.

On the plane trip to Florida, Ed explains to Kay that the whole point of his job was to keep up appearances and a lifestyle. As he's being taken to his new home in Miami by realtor Horace Jasper, he's asked how close it is to the beach. "One short mile as the crow flies," he says. "When does the next crow leave?" Ed asks. The old Groucho isn't all over the place like in his movies; he just seems to peek out here and there. As they walk into the home, Horace tells Ed he's been nominated into the "Forevermore Association," which is another way of saying he wants to sell them cemetery plots. (I suspect this character, selling both retirement homes and burial plots, often to the same people, signifies the underlying theme of this episode: Groucho's real-life fear that retirement=death.) "We just moved in and he wants to bury us already...I'll let you know when we feel ourselves slipping," Ed says. He then throws a disc trying to help his wife across the threshold.

We then see a montage showing us where all of this is going: first, a swordfish dancefully jumping in and out of the ocean; with poor Ed bent over the side of the boat heaving his guts out; then making an attempt at gardening; then on a golf course, stuck in a sand trap, and after finally deciding to forget it and just take a stroke, having to dodge balls from other golfers playing through; then back to his garden, and a sign in the middle of it that says "grow." After all of that, we see him walk down the street, past a Snowdrift Washing Machine showroom.

We then see him having dinner with Kay and complaining about how sick he's become of carrots. Kay tells him carrots are good for him and helps him see in the dark. "If I want to see in the dark, I'll eat what a cat eats: mice," he says.

Ed: What did you do this morning?
Kay: I went down to the beach and watched the waves come in.
Ed: Were there many of them? What did you do then?
Kay: Watched them go back out again.
Ed: Well, you came out even on the day.

Another place where a good forensics investigator would've found Groucho's fingerprints on the script.

Groucho then goes to the post office to mail another letter to his daughter and son-in-law, and we see him bump into an attractive brunette, setting up a small plot diversion that could've been written out of the script and not missed. But it's not just any woman or any plot diversion: the actress seen here is none other than Groucho's real-life current wife, Eden Hartford Marx. She was obviously a lot younger than Groucho, a "trophy" wife, and she turns Ed's head in this scene. A minor plot point, but it was heavily promoted in NBC's publicity materials for this show, that the two would be working together and Eden would even be using her married name in the credits for the first time ever.

During this scene, Ed makes a phone call to his daughter and son-in-law, who is unemployed and still looking for a job. Ed suggests Richard join him in taking over the local Snowdrift franchise, since the owner is himself, moving to Montana.
The two make plans to move to Florida in two weeks and not tell their mother, since it's supposed to be a "surprise." Oddly, Anne says "I won't even tell her I'm going to have a baby!"

This next scene is my favorite, the bridge scene. It's the closest we see to the old Groucho, clearly annoyed with the people around him. This would've been a much better play had he been this way the whole time. Kay announces three guests are arriving to play bridge. Ed, a big bridge player back home, is excited to hear this. But the three players show up--Horace, and a couple of friends of his--and they, oddly enough, ask for weird juices, like papaya juice, sauerkraut juice and prune juice. "Wouldn't anybody be interested in a little scotch?" Ed asks. "Scotch what?" replies Amy, the one female guest. "Scotch juice!" says Ed. (That's Madge Blake as Amy, perhaps you remember her from Batman, Leave It to Beaver or The Real McCoys.) When everyone gets ready to sit down, one man says, "I don't play cards, only horseshoes." "We don't have any horses," Ed shoots back, recalling a pale echo of a line from "Horse Feathers."  Ed says he doesn't like to talk when he plays cards, so naturally, the non-playing man chats him up about Fargo, North Dakota.

Kay opens the bidding with a one spade...then silence. It turns out none of these people have the first clues to their souls about how to play bridge and assumed Ed and Kay would teach them. Kay, gamely, just tries to go with it. "The first thing you'll notice is, we've dealt the cards," she says. "Well, we're off to a flying start!" Ed grouses. Then Kay explains, "Each player has 13 cards," and that doesn't go over well at all with the guests. "Thirteen? Why that's unlucky!" "Couldn't we make it 12?" She tries to explain about bidding and about the suits, so Horace says "I'll keep the ball rolling and say one spade." "But you can't say one spade, you have to have one spade!" Kay says back. "But I do have one spade!" says Horace, showing her all of his cards. Ed says, "I once had a dog one spayed...never ran away again!"

The attempt to explain signals is completely pointless, especially since the guests have clue about even the basic concept of subtlety. Ed has a few signals of his own: he goes to the door and motions for Kay to throw them out, gesturing wildly.  Then he decides he needs a good Scotch. "Mr. Davis, must you drink?...Have you ever seen the inside of a drunkard?" Amy asks. "No, let's have a look at it," he shoots back. Ed finally announces he just remembered he promised to visit a dying man. "I'm sorry your friend is dying," Amy says. "He's lucky!" Ed snaps. Horace, never missing a chance for a sale, reminds him of the specials they have, but Ed says his wife already plans to cremate him. "She's going to do it herself!"

Then we see the reappearance of the woman we now know as Vivian, or as Mrs. Real-Life Groucho. It turns out she knows Kay and has come to visit her, not knowing she's married to the nice man she bumped into at the post office and spilled ink on him. Vivian is fairly crass about her "business," which is apparently to collect rich old husbands and inherit their fortunes. "I landed three of my four husbands right off the pier here. The hotel lobbies are full of the old goats. All retired, all with money, all in the frame of mind that life owes them someone like me." This is especially awkward and uncomfortable to hear since Eden Hartford Marx likely married Groucho for that exact reason, but she says it here like she means it. She asks to borrow a handbag from Kay so she can coordinate what she's going to wear when she "bumps into him" again tomorrow. Do you need any other equipment?" Kay asks. "Oh, I have all the other equipment I need." Vivian says. Right then, Ed walks in holding his pants, asking Kay if she get the spots out--then runs behind a nearby curtain. "That's the lady from the post office!" he says. Vivian leaves without the no-longer-needed handbag. "What a magnificent creature, why don't we see more of that kind?" Ed asks, and Kay rewards him with a night on the couch.

After a commercial break, we see Ed now running the Snowdrift showroom, and trying to explain to Horace why there's yet another delay on some washing machines he ordered. He and Richard then get a telegram saying the machines will be delayed four more weeks, prompting the two to discuss the idea that Walter Schaeffer found out Ed was Richard's "silent partner" and started messing around with his orders. "Are you going to take this lying down?" Richard asks Ed. "That's a good idea, my back has been giving me trouble lately." The very next scene finds Ed sitting alone in the now-empty showroom as Richard comes to join him. Ed explains he borrowed up to his neck for the venture, and lost the other half of his savings on an orange grove that got infested by a navel insect. He comes home and talks to himself in the mirror about how much, or how little, he'll have after liquidation. "Well Davis, there's one thing they can't take away from you: you finally licked the income tax!"

Ed goes to see Mr. Gilbraltar about a job at a shoe store, since an opening just came up. He goes home to wait for the store owner's call. As he tells Kay and Anne about selling the store, the phone rings, and Kay answers. She tells Mr. Gilbraltar off about firing the clerk she liked so much and says, "I'll never step foot in your store again and neither will Mr. Davis," Ed says "You can say that again!"

Ann invites Ed and Kay to move to New York and live with her and Richard. She asks, "Dad, you're having money problems, aren't you?" "Well, I wouldn't say that, we're flat broke is all," he says back. Ed decides to swallow his pride and ask Walter Schaeffer, who is in town with his yacht, about getting his old job back. Kay begs him not to humiliate himself, but before Ed can even clear the door, Richard walks in and announces he's just punched Schaeffer in the nose, for holding up the machine to ruin their business. Thus, another of Ed's dreams evaporates. "I had my Elizabeth and didn't realize it," laments Ed of his now-gone Mad Men lifestyle. "..general manager of a big corporation. Dollar cigars, country clubs, and all in New York, what a city!"

Then Schaeffer suddenly shows up (along with his wife Lil, played by Eleanor Audley), and thanks Richard for punching him in the nose, which apparently gave him some sort of personality transplant. He finally breaks down and admits his brother-in-law Herman is ruining the business. "What you and I built over 28 years, he's ruining overnight!" he tells Ed. "I didn't think it would take him that long!" Ed says back. Schaeffer says he never held up the machines; it turns out no one ever got any, since due to Herman's mismanagement, they never left the factory. Schaeffer says he's ready to plead on his knees if necessary for Ed to come back and this time, be treated well; Ed gets a 15 year contract out of the deal, and presumably another chance at the Snowdrift Washing Machine company to make him miserable.

So, that's how it works out, Schaeffer buys the Davis' Florida home, and sells them the yacht so they can take it back to New York. Then Schaeffer tries to take his wife, Lil, across the threshhold, with the same bad luck Ed had. Ed hands Walter his doctor's business card and says he's a very good man.
Then  Groucho puts on his skipper's cap, stops at the door and says, "Tell him Groucho sent you!" Then the laughtrack plays applause as Ed Davis walks away from his Florida home for the last time.

"Tell him Groucho sent you!" was how he ended You Bet Your Life for years, and became his TV catch phrase. "Friends, be sure to visit your De Soto-Plymouth Dealer tomorrow, and tell him Groucho sent you!" This is a nice treat for Groucho fans. It could be a reference to the fact De Soto-Plymouth were both divisions of Chrysler, which is sponsoring this broadcast as well (De Soto having folded back in 1961). Or it could just be that Groucho was so ready for this show and this role to be over, he couldn't wait for the script to end, or to even get out of the room, before he dropped the Ed Davis character like a bad habit.

Surely, no one could go into this show seriously expecting to see Groucho singing and dancing and jumping all over the place, 1930s style, or machine-gunning insults left and right. Just being a curmudgeon would've helped. In fact, one of the problems was that Groucho was too nice. Another was that his cutting wit was kind of dull by now. We were used to razors; we were now getting what you use to spread butter. "I'm not much of a joiner" is a lame line anyway; it's cringeworthy coming from the man who once said "I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member." We didn't expect those lines every time Groucho orders a beer in a restaurant but we did expect better.

Groucho was 73 when he filmed this show. He went on Social Security just two years earlier; when he was 65 he was still hosting You Bet Your Life. He often told the story of his brother, Harpo, applying for Social Security. The clerk, with no clue to her soul that she was hearing the voice of a man who left millions literally wondering what he sounded like, asked him his name, and he just gave his real name, Arthur Marx. She asked him how many days he worked the previous year, and he said one day. Then she asked how much money he made, and he said "Five thousand dollars." He had filmed a milk commercial. Those were the kinds of things that were going through Groucho's head as he continued to pick up an occasional gig here and there.

Groucho would try as much as he could to stay in the public eye in the last 13 years of his life after this show. Sadly, those weren't always good years. Sure, he had his triumphs, like his "Night with Groucho" at Carnegie Hall, but also had his misery. His old, emaciated self appearing on the network and local news, amid allegations he was being mistreated and physically abused by his companion, Erin Fleming, following his divorce from Eden--was likely not what he had in mind when he chose not to retire.

In some sort of way, Groucho appears to be telling us something: he would be miserable if he ever stopped working, and he would be miserable if he were "fired" and cast aside in retirement. Only it wouldn't be Schaeffer firing him over some order fouled up by his brother-in-law, it would be the public. Perhaps that's why he kept talking so much on The Tonight Show or The Hollywood Squares: he was afraid each appearance might be his last, and wanted to hold the floor as long as he could. He'd stay a week or two, he'd stay a summer through, and he was telling you...he won't be going.

Availability: this and two other episodes of Bob Hope Presents the Chrysler Theatre are on Youtube, and I'm not getting my hopes up to ever see this series on DVD. However, a number of other Marx Brothers rarites can also be found on Youtube: "The Holdout," "Silent Panic" (Harpo's one serious role) and "The Great Jewel Heist" (a slapstick comedy starring the three brothers the last time they'd work on camera together), all episodes of General Electric Theater.

Next time on this channel: The Bullwinkle Show.