They Walk Alike, They Talk Alike...

Patty Duke co-starred with herself in a now-classic sitcom that belied her ugly off-screen life

The Patty Duke Show, "The Tycoons"
OB: January 15, 1964, 8 p.m. EST, ABC
I was one day old when this episode first aired.

Patty: Stick with me and you'll become a dynasty!
Cathy: Stick with you and I'll become a one-woman sweatshop!

Is it still possible to watch an old sitcom or family drama, if you know the child actors went through hell during, or after, the series? Can we really enjoy, say, Diff'rent Strokes knowing that Gary Coleman, Dana Plato and Todd Bridges had personal demons with whom they wrestled in ugly public ways? Knowing two of them died at a young age, and one from a suicide? Can we appreciate Eight is Enough knowing the drug-addled later lives in which some of the children from that show hit rock bottom?

It started out even uglier, once upon a time, as when Jackie Coogan ended a successful career as a child actor in silent films, only to find out his parents frittered away all of his money and one of the most famous faces in the world was starting out adult life destitute. There's now a law in California called the "Jackie Coogan Law" that calls for a child actor's earnings to be placed in a trust to keep that from happening again...not that it doesn't. (Coogan never fully recovered until he landed the role of Uncle Fester on The Addams Family...more than 30 years later.)

And then there's the case of Patty Duke.

Granted, she immediately started making her own decisions almost the split second she turned 18. But she also had a decent adult career, even became president of the Screen Actors Guild. But what many classic TV fans may not know, is that the girl who played the daughter and niece of "Poppo" and Natalie on The Patty Duke Show, and the troubled daughter of Captain Heller in "The Miracle Worker" on Broadway and in the movies, could in that time of life, only find a normal, grounded family...in a script. Her real life read like a sick, show biz baby boomer version of a Charles Dickens novel.

Her memory of her father was mostly of him propping her on a bar and having her recite "The Night Before Christmas" from memory, for which he would be rewarded with drinks. He eventually left the large Duke family, and was found dead years later in a flophouse.  Her unstable mother once brought all of the children into the main living room, turned on the gas and told everyone they were going to die. (The windows were still open, however.) She got into show business through her child-actor brother, who often did TV commercials as a way to help support the family.  Duke tells all of these stories in "Call Me Anna," her 1987 autobiography which recalls her troubled early life. She also tells of her bizarre, almost cult-like relationship with her managers, John and Ethel Ross, who acted as her personal dictators and spent her money on a lavish lifestyle for themselves. It began apparently with her white communion dress being arbitrarily dyed pink for an audition she ultimately didn't pass.

Duke recalled Ethel as scarily temperamental, especially when she drank (which was often), with her husband John being kinder and perhaps as afraid of Ethel as Patty herself was. Which, by the way was another thing: Anna Marie Duke was born with another name. She never chose to change it; the Rosses chose to change it for her. One day, while curling young Anna's hair, Ethel matter-of-factly said, "Okay, we've finally decided we're going to change your name. Anna Marie is dead. You're Patty now." This, Patty Duke said, left her with a life-long fear and obsession with death, to the point of having constant nightmares about it. The hair-curling itself was part of an ominous pattern; Duke recalled constantly being berated about her looks, for instance there was a constant complaint about how she couldn't wear a ponytail on camera because her nose was supposedly too big. At an age when girls' self-esteem was so fragile and often dictated how they feel about themselves for life, this kind of language was as brutal as physical child abuse.

The Rosses shopped her around to casting directors with a resume padded with false credits, and passed her off as six years old when she was eight. Duke recalls nothing she ever did was right, right down to the way she walked and talked and even brushed her teeth. Yet the Rosses eventually paid less attention to the other child actors they managed and focused on the more successful Patty, shepherding her through commercials for Beenie Weenies and Minute Maid Orange Juice, TV appearances on The Armstrong Circle Theater, The U.S. Steel Hour and The Hallmark Hall of Fame, and movies like "The Prince and the Pauper" and "The Goddess." On the daytime soap The Brighter Day, she was forced to work with a 104 degree temperature on live network TV and blew all of her lines.

At the age of 13, the Rosses got her the part that made her famous: the young, insolent Helen Keller in the Broadway production of "The Miracle Worker." The busy Broadway schedule was used as the excuse for Patty to move in with the Rosses, visiting her own family only briefly on the weekends. During the week, at the Ross home, she wasn't allowed to have any privacy; her "bedroom" was actually a cot in a foyer where the Rosses' constantly ailing chihuahua also used the bathroom. In her book, Duke compares her mindset in this period of her life, to a coping mechanism by people in jail or mental institutions. At one point she was cut off in mid-sentence and told by Ethel Ross she wasn't allowed to have opinions. That wasn't a shut-up put-down, according to Duke, it was a rule to live by. "Nothing about me was good enough for these people," she recalled. "I felt as if they'd killed part of me, and in truth they had."

Her time in the play made her the toast of Broadway (and the youngest person to ever get her name above the title on the marquee), but the Rosses fought to keep her from knowing that. They wouldn't let her read the opening night reviews for "The Miracle Worker," for instance, even though they were nearly all raves. Still, her growing star was not something the Rosses could hide forever, as people began spotting her in restaurants and speaking to her, and celebrities like Cary Grant and Elizabeth Taylor came to visit her backstage.

It was during the filming of the movie version of that play, that her relationship with the Rosses took even sicker turns. First, the hard-drinking Ethel (who loved martinis and could finish a fifth of vodka in two days) began serving her virgin Bloody Marys, then started putting some alcohol in them. (Patty was already mixing drinks for the Rosses at the age of 13.) Then Ethel started taking phenobarbital, Stelazine, Thorazine, and Percodan, the latter up to eight times a week for her migraines, then started slipping them to Patty, saying "This one is the happy pill" and so forth. It was also during this time that John Ross (and on the first occasion, Ethel as well) tried to molest Patty. They all stayed in the same motel room--the Rosses on a bed, Patty on a cot--and on a long day by the pool, a sunburned, and banana-daquiri sozzled Patty (age 14) went to take a nap. John climbed in bed with her and started fondling her, while she pretended to sleep; Ethel was on the other side making similar moves. It ended when Patty threw up all over John.

Patty's appearance in the movie version of "The Miracle Worker" won her an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, the youngest woman to ever win an Oscar (until Tatum O'Neal in the 1970s). She went to the Oscars with the Rosses, who brought their dog but wouldn't let Patty bring her own mother. The Oscar win led to ABC snapping her up for a series, with the idea not even being developed before they signed her. It was a vehicle just for her and it set another record, this one standing to this day: she's still the youngest person in the history of U.S. television to get her first and last name into the title of a TV show...that name so callously forced onto her by the Rosses.

Shows featuring the classic nuclear family were on the downswing at this point; sure, The Donna Reed Show, The Adventures of Ozzie & Harriet and Hazel were still around. But the 1960s were mostly a time for single parent sitcoms like My Three Sons and The Lucy Show, and with exceptions like Please Don't Eat the Daisies, mostly husband-and-wife sitcoms were the likes of, say, The Munsters, The Addams Family and Bewitched. So when The Patty Duke Show went the normal husband-and-wife route, it was a departure from a current trend...not to mention, of course, a departure from Patty Duke's twisted, weird-from-Mars personal family life.

The idea developed around Patty Duke was meant to showcase two different parts of her personality and show off her acting range at the same time. Patty, who according to the theme song "only saw the sights a girl could see from Brooklyn Heights," lived with her parents Martin and Natalie, and her brother, named Ross after Patty's managers (and Duke avoided saying that name anymore than she had to, as she recalled later). Ross was played by Paul O'Keefe, who Duke later recalled worked so much that he wasn't around the set much, he was always rushing off to do "another toothpaste commercial." Duke also played her cousin Cathy, who was from Europe and had a generic European accent.

The show's premise, at a time when special effects were still in their childhood on television and even more rare in sitcoms (Uncle Martin's antennas on My Favorite Martian were actually a surprisingly big deal), meant Patty Duke had to work twice as hard as other child performers of the era...plus, she played the lead role in the show. That meant very long workdays, which meant it couldn't be shot in California. Under California law, child actors were limited to work four hours a day, so the show was shot in Manhattan, since New York state didn't have such a law.

Her TV parents included beloved character actor William Schallert as Martin Lane, a/k/a "Poppo," with whom Patty had a special relationship. In a 1963 Christmas themed episode he also played Cathy's father, Martin's twin brother, explaining how there were such a thing as "identical cousins." That means the young man who once appeared on an episode of Father Knows Best went on to play not one, not two, but three classic TV dads. (The third: Nancy's dad in the 1970s, on The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries.) His very  long list of TV guest star credits includes everything from Mr. and Mrs. North and Commander Cody, to True Blood and 2 Broke Girls. And he was also president of the Screen Actors Guild, and remained active ever since (including when his former TV daughter was president).

Martin's TV wife, Jean Byron, was born in Kentucky and raised in California. Her resume started out with B-movies, and eventually she landed a recurring role on The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, as Dr. Imogene Burkhart, a character named after her own real name. She made guest appearances here and there after the series ended.

The show opened every week with one of classic TV's most beloved "theme songs that explained the show's premise," as well as one of the kitschiest.

Actually, the show always had a "cold open" before each episode. And the one for the January 15, 1964 episode, "The Tycoons," opens with the identical cousins in their bedroom. Cathy is working a sewing machine; Patty is doing a crossword puzzle and talking about how she flunked sewing. "Why did they always have to use nervous needles?" She dubs Cathy's new cat-design, "Catnip."

The next day, Patty spots Cathy at school, wearing "Catnip," and isn't exactly subtle about her critique. "If you'd told me you needed money for a new dress, I would've loaned you some...won't it make you feel naked wearing something no one else has on?" She calls it "catastrophic" and says it's not what the "in-group" is wearing, and it likely mirrors Patty Duke's real-life feelings about her wardrobe on the show. "Not only did I hate those clothes, but they put my name on some and successfully merchandised them, so a lot of other poor girls were walking around with the same ugly clothes I had to wear," she later recalled. And the merchandising part is likely what's happening here.

Then their friend Mary says "That's a beautiful dress, where did you buy it?" and asks them to make one just like it, which Patty volunteers for $9.95 (the real-life price of the dress?). Another girl walks up, wants to know who sells them, Patty says "My partner and I, $9.95!" They start taking orders for "Catnip," even promising them as early as Monday; "My folks are taking me to Switzerland next week, could you send it over there?" "I'll send a note to our shipping department," Patty shoots back.  And so, even before the show's iconic opening credits, the new dress company is off and running.

Directed by TV veteran Alan Rafkin, this episode was written by one of the show's two creators, Sidney Sheldon--the same Sheldon who would later create I Dream of Jeannie and write romance novels. And it was he who pitched the idea of Patty Duke playing "identical cousins" to match two different parts of her personality...something that would stand out in Duke's mind years later.

After the first commercial break, we're already up to 43 orders, "...and that's just the first day, partner!" as Patty updates us. Then, in a conversation that could've been between Duke and her managers, Patty says,
"Stick with me and you'll become a dynasty!" to which Cathy responds, "Stick with you and I'll become a one-woman sweatshop!" Indeed, As Cathy points out it took her three days to make the original dress, and will take 129 days for the orders, Patty simply says, "Together we're going to build an empire!"

The two decide to go to Gregory Madison, said to be famous designer, for advice. His secretary tells him about the president and vice-president of the "Worldwide Dress Company" (apparently named after a request by one girl to send a dress to Switzerland), saying via telegram they're coming to visit at four o'clock. Madison, played by 1950s TV comedian and frequent game show panelist Robert Q. Lewis, stocks cigars in anticipation of the coming executives. (In 1964 that joke said as much about their gender as it did about their age.) When they show up, he does that famous double take everyone always did when they met the twin cousins.

""It's all right for you to look at it, we've already applied for the patent," he's told, as the two sell him on the design while he makes his own suggestions.

By the time Martin comes home from work, he finds the sign for WWDC, guessing it stands for "women's white dresses cleaned" or "why worry desperate centipedes?"

Ross: She's going to be a typhoon!
Natalie: No dear, a typhoon is a big wind.
Martin: That's close enough.

As the WWDC holds its "executive meeting" in Martin's study, its executes guess they'll make $4 per dress. Patty's boyfriend Richard talks about $40,000 for 10,000 dresses and goofily goes on and on with his math. (He's played by actor Eddie Applegate, who in real life was ten years older than Duke and married.) Patty the tycoon exploits Cathy, the labor, by asking for ten more dresses to sell at a department store. "Zip! Zip! Zip! Good ol' American know-how!" Patty says before she goes to a movie. (The show was surprisingly good at character development and even "attitude," even if it was weak with dialogue.)

The two talk a buyer at Wanamaker's department store into a sale, despite their lack of manufacturing experience. "If you can guarantee delivery, I'll give you an order for one," the buyer says. Patty hoped for a larger order, so with a delivery date Friday, on a consignment basis, she agrees to make that two...gross

"Did she say two gross?" they say a few minutes later . When they realize one gross =144 dresses, they starrt freaking out, since they're due only three days away.

After ordering material and renting sewing machines, there's now a factory in Martin's study, mostly manned by the very customers who are buying them. (Try pulling that one off, American Apparel.)

Martin: Patty, are you sure you're ready to be the president of a company?
Natalie: Oh, don't be a big business pooper.

A man who's with the small business bureau shows up and take notes about operating on premises, employees, etc. "We wouldn't want them to feel neglected. They have a partner...Uncle Sam!" He hands out W-4 forms, unemployment, says need zoning and residential manufacturing waiver. Richard pops in, says he needs extra postage to send one to Switzerland, prompting the guy to say "And an export license!" As he leaves saying they'll be hearing from other departments, Martin mutters, "Small business pooper!"

In true sitcom fashion, in the next scene, the cousins talk about how it was all straightened out.

Cathy:It was wonderful of your father to straighten out all of that red tape for us.
Patty: It only took two lawyers, an accountant and a business manager...Gives you a feeling of power, doesn't it?
Cathy: Gives me a feeling of panic!

Just as they've ordered material for 300 more dresses, suddenly there's a girl at school taking orders for a new dress design that has a current boyfriend on it. Patty tries to tell them it's impractical, "What if you change boyfriends?" But it doesn't work and suddenly they have serious competition and waning interest in the cat design.

Martin comes home as Richard is walking around the living room full of packages, with a clipboard; Martin suggests they're counting their money and thinks he was wrong about this group. But the go-go capitalist Patty is suddenly singing a different tune. "Welcome to Bankrupt Manor. I'm possibly the youngest failure in America!" she says. The consigned dresses were returned, and they're stuck with 25 dresses and $150 in the hole. Martin, after telling Patty how proud he is of what she learned about business and responsbility, pays half and tells the girls they can slowly pay the other half back out of their allowance (wow, there's a lot of math in this episode), and they decide to donate the dresses to charity and spend their remaining assets ($1.25) on ice cream sodas.

The epilogue seemed a bit jarring; Patty invites Cathy to a movie but she's making a hat. Patty then thoughtfully says, "You know something?" as Cathy slowly says "Yes" and rips up the hat. Not put the hat down, mind you, but rip it up. Really? She can't just have a hobby?

The entire series was like this--Patty was always the one wanting to make a quick buck (or hatch a wild scheme) while poor Cathy was the classy, European-accented Ethel to Patty's Lucy. (Duke says character wise, she adored Cathy but disliked Patty.) The show churned out three seasons' worth of episodes a lot like this one--the attitude, and situations, make the whole show. I remember seeing a really funny one featuring future Hill Street Blues star Daniel J. Travanti as a star football player who falls for Cathy, and takes on her interests in art and poetry. It makes him suddenly sensitive and causes the team's fortunes to nosedive.

But playing both lead characters wasn't enough, apparently, for poor Patty Duke...she also had to record several songs (two of which actually made the top ten) and do commercials for the show's sponsor, Breck.

Patty Duke turned 18 during the series' third season, and pretty much became a woman by the time the series ended. She developed a crush on one of the show's second directors, Harry Falk, and they eventually dated, then married. And that gave her the golden opportunity to break away from the Rosses. It was ugly--they swore she'd never work again--but it happened, and Duke no longer had to face the hellish lifestyle of being their surrogate abused child. But when the two got married, Duke also found out they'd squandered a vast majority of her earnings over the years, from "The Miracle Worker" and The Patty Duke Show. The Coogan Law, being local only to California, couldn't help her in New York.

In 1966, when ABC and United Artists negotiated for a fourth season, ABC (like the other two broadcast networks) was switching its entire prime time lineup to color, and informed UA of this. UA, however, said no, they'd stick to black and white. Duke has said this was likely a negotiating ploy on UA's part that failed miserably, and the show was cancelled as a result, despite still respectable ratings. (Another ABC show cancelled that same year: The Addams Family, starring Duke's future third husband, John Astin.) This freed Duke to make new career choices, however sometimes questionable (like her turn as an aspiring pop star in the movie "Valley of the Dolls"). She won an Emmy in 1970 but her meandering acceptance speech lead numerous people to question whether she was drunk or on drugs. Duke herself didn't know the answer until something happened in the early 1980s that totally redefined her whole life and everything we thought we knew about her: she was diagnosed as being manic-depressive, or as we call it now, bipolar. This explained a lot: her Emmy speech, for instance, was likely a manic episode. And when she got the diagnosis, it did, indeed, cross her mind that Sidney Sheldon once told her Patty and Cathy were modeled after two different parts of her personality.

Duke finally got all of this--the child abuse, exploitative behavior, her mental illness, the misery at the hands of the now-dead Rosses--off her chest in her 1987 autobiography "Call Me Anna," in which she called Patty and Cathy Lane "two halves that didn't equal a whole." She even re-enacted some difficult moments in her life when her book was made into a TV movie. But she also came to peace with those "two halves" when she reprised the characters in a 1999 made for TV reunion movie, "The Patty Duke Show: Still Rockin' in Brooklyn Heights," for CBS. (By then, the fact that the entire regular cast was still alive was a rarity, even more rare that they all agreed to appear in the movie.)

One final thought: child actors may be treated better now than they were back in the 1960s (and for all I know, they may not) but Duke's awful, off-screen story, still wasn't typical even for that era. Even the show's crew, who knew they were filming in New York to grind out longer work days not permissible under California child labor laws, had no idea of the abuse, the sausage grinder of a life at the hands of two managers who wanted as a child of her own, just so they could squeeze money out of her. Meanwhile, other child actors at the time had different experiences. Ronny Howard, for instance, was encouraged to have friends and an otherwise normal childhood when he played Opie on The Andy Griffith Show, so his performances would be grounded in reality. They even allowed him to go out for Little League in the greater Los Angeles area, even planning the show's shooting schedule around his practices and games. That might have happened with Patty Duke...if the Rosses had allowed her anything resembling a personal life.

Today, when you see those reruns, it may be tough to enjoy the show's wacky situations and corny dialogue when you realize the living hell Patty Duke was put through to make it. When you watch them now, pay attention to the special talents and tortured smile of Anna Marie Duke, who managed to find two well fleshed out characters at a time when she was strictly forbidden to even try to find herself.