It's Good for What Ails You -- and It's So Tasty, Too

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"Well, I'm your Vitavigavegivat Girl. Are you tired, run down, listless? Do you pop out at parties? Are you unpoopular? — Well, are you?"

Lucy (Lucille Ball)

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When I was a child, I loved watching I Love Lucy reruns with my father when I got home from school.

As I recall, the bus I rode to and from school each day typically deposited me at my home right around the time that I Love Lucy was starting in the afternoons. Dad was a college professor and seldom had a class that late in the day. He was usually home by the time the episode began, and I remember spending many pleasant afternoons with him in our living room watching the syndicated reruns of I Love Lucy.

I saw a lot of classic TV in that living room. Some of it was generated by I Love Lucy, and some of it was from other programs, but the episode that first aired on this night in 1952 was one of the most classic episodes in not only I Love Lucy's illustrious history but in the history of television in general. It was called "Lucy Does a TV Commercial," but it is better known as the Vitameatavegamin episode.

And it is, without a doubt, my favorite I Love Lucy episode even if it was first shown long before I was born. It lives on in reruns, no doubt gaining new fans with each showing.

It is my understanding that it was Lucille Ball's favorite episode, too, and why not? It was a very simple story based on an ongoing element of the series — Lucy's desire to be a star — and it gave Lucy a chance to do what she did best — physical comedy.

Now, there have been many physical comedians over the years. You can quickly run out of fingers and toes trying to count the physical comedians who have been on television or in the movies, but the list of the truly great physical comedians is considerably shorter — and Lucy is definitely on that list. Some would even put her at the top of that list. I would — even though I equally admire the work of the likes of Charlie Chaplin, Don Knotts, Dick Van Dyke, etc.

Lucy's character in I Love Lucy always saw Ricky (Desi Arnaz) as an obstacle to her objective, and that may well have had its roots in this episode. It was, after all, the first season of I Love Lucy, and the running jokes were still being defined. In this episode, Ricky was going to be on a TV special, and Lucy desperately wanted to be a part of it, but Ricky wouldn't allow it.

Then there was an opening for the pitch girl. At that time, TV commercials were frequently performed live on television, and the pitch girl for Ricky's show would be promoting a product called Vitameatavegamin. The pitch girl was supposed to take some, smile and remark about how tasty it was.

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Lucy was the one who showed up for the tryout, having manipulated things so the legitimate applicants didn't show up. In her tryout, believing the tonic was truly made of natural ingredients — and not realizing it was 23% alcohol and apparently tasted awful — Lucy took a big gulp and grimaced at the taste, managing to squeak out the words, "It's so tasty, too! Just like candy!"

But if Lucy didn't have a taste for alcohol when her tryout began, she quickly acquired one. After a few more takes, her speech was noticeably slurred, and the physical shtick was in charge of things, riding a wave of momentum all its own. The laughs got louder and louder.

In truth, everything in the episode was done to set up Lucy for her moments in the spotlight.

Everything Lucy did in that episode was funny — and it is still funny 65 years later. I never tire of watching it.

The Fashion Plate

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"What an inspired use of burlap!"

Lucy (Lucille Ball)

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On this night in 1956, Ricky (Desi Arnaz) and Lucy (Lucille Ball), along with Ricky's band and the Mertzes (William Frawley and Vivian Vance), were in Paris in an episode of I Love Lucy titled "Lucy Gets a Paris Gown." See, after attending a Paris fashion show, Lucy had made up her mind that she had to have a dress designed by a leading French designer (who apparently was fictional). Ricky said he wouldn't spend the money. After all, he had invested in a Don Loper original in Hollywood the previous year. (Loper was not fictional.)

Lucy went on a hunger strike and resolved not to eat again until Ricky got her the dress.

Lucy was faking the hunger strike, though, and Ethel was her supplier. Now, I know that Ethel was Lucy's accomplice in just about everything, but, even though their actions clearly were intended to benefit Lucy, there was usually some residual benefit for Ethel, too. In all the times I have seen that episode, I have never figured out what was in it for Ethel. It couldn't have been because she expected to get a dress, too. After all, Lucy might have succeeded in wearing Ricky down, but Fred would pinch a penny until it bled. There was no way he would spring for a Paris original for Ethel.

Anyway, Ethel kept providing Lucy with food during her alleged strike.

Probably the biggest problem with faking a hunger strike is, at some point, it will become obvious that you have not been depriving yourself after all. Somehow, though, Lucy managed to look so gaunt by the third day of the strike that Ricky could bear it no longer and broke down, buying her a Paris original. But then he discovered that the strike had been a phony. Ethel had smuggled in a roast chicken that Lucy had hidden in a camera bag. When Ricky went to get the camera to take a picture of Lucy in her new dress, he discovered the chicken. He took the dress away with a renewed determination not to give in to Lucy's tactics again.

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Earlier in the episode, Ricky and Fred had mocked the Paris fashions, saying the dresses looked like potato sacks and the hats looked like feedbags.

Away from their wives, Ricky and Fred plotted to get even for the phony hunger strike by having dresses made from actual potato sacks with designer labels sewn inside. They would make up some story to explain to their wives why they had decided after all to give them these original dresses.

Oh, and the hats. Lucy's hat was a horse's feedbag and Ethel's was a champagne bucket.

Lucy and Ethel were skeptical. The outfits were strange — but they were Paris originals, or so they believed, and they wore them in public, reveling in the attention they were receiving from the patrons at the cafe, including the fictional French designer. Ricky and Fred could stand it no longer and confessed to their wives what they had done. Beyond humiliation, Lucy and Ethel wrapped themselves in a tablecloth as if covering their nakedness and retreated from the cafe.

Well, Ricky and Fred apologized for what they had done and agreed to give their wives genuine Paris originals. On their way to the dress shop, they stopped at the same cafe, and, while they were there, some models came strolling by wearing the same burlap outfits the girls had been given.

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Ricky and Fred saw an opening. They wouldn't have to buy Paris originals after all, they said, because the girls had the originals.

But the girls had to confess that they had burned those dresses as soon as they could.

When Edward G. Robinson Gave 'Em Something to Talk About

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"You know something, a woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke."

Arthur Ferguson Jones (Edward G. Robinson)

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I'm sorry to say that I had not heard of "The Whole Town's Talking," which premiered 80 years ago today, until a month or two ago. Then I watched it online, and I must say that it is one of the most underrated movies of all time.

It had a great cast — Edward G. Robinson, Jean Arthur and Lucille Ball in a small uncredited role. It was directed by John Ford. It was a great comedy, not exactly what you'd call a screwball comedy, although Arthur was very good in those. It was more a case of mistaken identity.

Robinson actually played two roles in the movie — mild–mannered clerk Arthur Ferguson Jones and a notorious killer. The resemblance was so strong that, after the initial mistake was clarified (in which the clerk had been detained on the suspicion that he was actually the notorious killer) and the police knew who he really was, they issued him a special pass instructing anyone who stopped him to let him go.

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Word got out about this special pass that he had been issued, and the notorious killer saw an opportunity to take advantage of his look–alike.

It was kind of a refreshing change. Robinson was mostly known for his gangster roles — and roles that, while not exactly of the gangster type, were rugged individualists. Arthur Ferguson Jones was, to use modern labels, a wimp, a wuss.

Now, "Killer" Mannion was precisely the kind of character everyone imagines when they think of Edward G. Robinson. Robinson probably could play that role in his sleep. For 1935 filmmaking technology, though, it was pretty impressive to see Robinson confronting Robinson on the big screen.

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Anyway, as I say, I wouldn't call this a screwball comedy — but I could call it a romantic comedy, given the sparks between Robinson and Arthur.

And Arthur's character, as she so often did in her movies, fell in love with her leading man. It usually made for a rather unconventional romance bristling with extraordinary obstacles. In this case, the obstacle was that her leading man happened to look like a notorious killer, public enemy #1 — yes, they actually used that phrase in the movie — and he posed quite a threat to their lives.

To be fair, there was a kind of screwball, slapstick quality to the final minutes of the movie. At times, it resembled a human shell game. Which Edward G. Robinson was the mild–mannered clerk, and which one was the killer? Don't look away from the screen for even a second, or you might miss something important.

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Arthur, wrote Robinson, "was whimsical without being silly, unique without being nutty, a theatrical personality who was an untheatrical person. She was a delight to work with and to know."

Someone who may have benefited from working with and knowing the "quintessential comedic leading lady," as Turner Classic Movies' Robert Osborne called her, was Lucille Ball, whose memorable TV career almost certainly was influenced by Arthur.

To Tell the Truth

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"It is hard to believe that a man is telling the truth when you know that you would lie if you were in his place."

H.L. Mencken

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It's hard to tell the truth. Just ask any politician.

On this night 60 years ago, Lucille Ball's character in I Love Lucy found herself in the uncomfortable position of having to tell the absolute truth or else lose a bet with her husband (Desi Arnaz) and the Mertzes (William Frawley and Vivian Vance).

It was a great opportunity for Lucy to show everyone — once again — why she was the queen of comedy.

Ricky, Fred and Ethel were telling show business stories, and Lucy, who had none to tell, nevertheless felt compelled to invent stories about her own experience. When the others called her on it, she insisted that she had "never told a fib in my life." Ricky, Fred and Ethel cited examples of her deceptive statements, which she dismissed as "social" lies; she contended that those really didn't count.

And thus a bet was born. Lucy had to tell the truth for 24 hours. If she didn't, she lost the bet.

Ricky started out to make the bet alone but then Fred and Ethel wanted in on it — much to Lucy's dismay.

"My friends!" she said.

"Oh, it has't anything to do with friendship," Ethel replied. "It's just that there are so few sure ways of making a buck these days."

The minute the 24–hour clock began ticking, Ethel reminded Lucy that they were going to join some friends for bridge the next day.

"I can't spend the afternoon with three women and have to tell the truth," she protested — and then she almost blew it. "I'll call Caroline and tell her I'm sick!"

Anticipating a much quicker resolution of their bet than they had expected, Ricky, Fred and Ethel leaned forward to hear Lucy's end of the conversation. But she caught herself just in time.

The next day, Lucy managed to insult her companions by telling them what she really thought of things like the host's new furniture and the hat that the fourth bridge player was wearing. After Ethel explained about the bet, the other three decided to ask Lucy about personal things (age, weight, actual hair color), knowing that she was bound to tell the truth. Seemed a shame to waste such a golden opportunity.

And she surprised them by answering truthfully — "Thirty–three, 129 and mousey brown!"

Her disappointed companions sat down at the card table, and Lucy triumphantly observed, "It feels wonderful to tell the truth."

(In the interest of full disclosure, Lucy actually was 42 when she made this episode.)

Of course, Fred and Ricky were disappointed when they learned that the bridge game had failed to win the bet for them. And Fred and Ethel were insulted when Lucy said what she thought of some of their personality traits. But Ricky pointed out that they had forced Lucy to tell the truth because of the bet.

Ethel retorted that Lucy hadn't said anything about Ricky yet, and he said he wasn't afraid to hear his faults.

"I think you're the most handsome, the most wonderful, the cleverest and the most talented man in the whole world," she said. Ricky was pleased — until Lucy added, "You're hammy, you're stubborn and you're a coward."

Lucy explained that he was a coward because he was afraid to give her a chance to fulfill her show business ambitions.

To prove that wasn't true, Ricky told Lucy he was going to an audition for a TV show and invited her to join him. She accepted, and the Mertzes were incredulous.

"I know how they conduct these auditions," Ricky told them. Lucy would have to lie about her experience to get an audition, and they would win the bet.

If she didn't lie, she wouldn't get the audition.

But Lucy double–crossed them. She told the truth and was about to be dismissed when she wrangled a part in an audition for an Italian entertainer who didn't speak English. Lucy said she spoke Italian, which astonished everyone, but that, apparently, was a lie. The only times she said anything in Italian were when she was parroting him. Mostly, she just smiled and nodded whenever he said anything.

He positioned her in front of a board ringed with balloons, and suddenly Lucy realized he was a knife thrower.

She stood there for 10 throws before breaking down and confessing that she couldn't speak Italian.

"I'll pay the bet!" she told Ricky, who had a confession of his own. No knives were thrown. The balloons were popped by knife handles that came from the back.

Ricky told Lucy he would pay the bet, and Lucy dissolved into her trademark wailing cry.

By the way, an interesting side note here. When Lucy was answering the pre–audition questions about her experience, she claimed to have appeared "in 3D." The interviewer nodded and said, "Third dimension," and Lucy shook her head and said, "No, 3D."

The bewildered interviewer asked, "What is 3D if it isn't third dimension?"

"Our apartment," Lucy replied truthfully.

Until that time, the number on the Ricardos' door was 3B. For this episode, though — the one that dealt with honesty and deception — the number was changed to 3D.

Seems fitting, doesn't it?

What a Friend We Have in Ethel

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Mrs. Trumbull (Elizabeth Patterson): (reading the lease) 'It is expressly understood that at no time will children be allowed to live in said building.'

Ethel (Vivian Vance): Little Ricky!

Lucy (Lucille Ball): He's a children!

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In fact, the episode of I Love Lucy in which Little Ricky was born had been broadcast about three months before the episode "No Children Allowed" was first aired 60 years ago tonight.

If you have ever had children — or if you have merely known people who had children — you know how chaotic and just downright noisy the adjustment to an infant in the household can be.

And, in an apartment building, it is virtually impossible to keep such a development a secret.

I know that from firsthand experience. I have lived in apartments all my adult life, and I have always been aware when there were newborns in other apartments — even if those apartments were not next door to my own.

Consequently, it was just a little implausible that a fellow tenant would not have said something for three months — until Lucy had a particularly difficult night with Little Ricky.

It seemed the neighbor, Mrs. Trumbull (played by Elizabeth Patterson), had just discovered the child's presence. Mrs. Trumbull complained that Little Ricky's presence was a clear violation of the lease agreement. That always struck me as hard to accept. I mean, Mrs. Trumbull obviously was familiar with the terms of the lease. She knew what it said about children. And the audience was supposed to believe she raised no objection earlier? She didn't notice Lucy's belly swelling during her pregnancy? Come on!

Mrs. Trumbull threatened Ethel. If the Ricardos weren't evicted, she said, she and all the other tenants would leave. Even as a child, when I saw the episode for the first time, I was skeptical about that. I had neither seen nor heard anything that suggested Mrs. Trumbull had spoken to any of the other tenants, and I thought her threat was probably a lot of hot air.

Well, despite flaws in the story, "No Children Allowed" was a great character study, as the episodes in I Love Lucy often were. I'm sure they have inspired characters and story ideas for other TV shows.

There was the grumpy, sourpuss neighbor, of course — the antagonist. And there was the chagrined Lucy, who wanted only to care for her child and keep peace among the tenants.

And then there was Ethel (Vivian Vance).

Ethel was Lucy's friend as well as landlord, and she stood up to Mrs. Trumbull. She rushed to Lucy's defense, proclaiming that her friends meant more to her than any lease, and Lucy was suitably impressed. It was truly a noble moment.

The trouble was that Ethel wasn't content with that. She wanted everyone to know what she had done, and she began repeating the same story countless times.

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And, as grateful as Lucy was for Ethel's support, the whole thing began to wear on her. When Ricky first heard Ethel's tale, he could not contain his gratitude and admiration for what she had done.

"Wasn't Ethel wonderful?" he asked Lucy — and was amazed when she showed no enthusiasm.

"You don't sound very appreciative," he said, and Lucy protested that she was.

"I'm up to here with appreciation," she replied, holding one hand just below her chin, and she recited for Ricky the many times Ethel had repeated the story. "Ethel acts as if she discovered penicillin!"

Lucy tried to keep her distaste to herself, but finally she could take it no more and began reciting the story with Ethel — who was, of course, offended.

"You don't care how many tenants I lose," Ethel retorted, "but you get awfully excited if I tell a couple of people about it!"

"A couple of people?" Lucy asked incredulously. "Ethel, that scene has had more performances than South Pacific."

Patterson made her first — but far from last — appearance as Mrs. Trumbull in that episode. When the Ricardos and Mertzes got into a fight over Ethel's good deed — prompting Mrs. Trumbull to come to the rescue of the distraught baby — a recurring character was born.

Patterson was nearly 80 when "No Children Allowed" was first shown, but it was her second appearance on I Love Lucy. During the first season of the series, she played the wife of the justice of the peace who re–married the Ricardos in what, I am sure, she regarded as a one–time–only thing.

Her appearance as Mrs. Trumbull started a three–year run for her on I Love Lucy. Admittedly, in those days, there were fewer choices on TV so ratings tended to be higher.

Still, for the entirety of its run, I Love Lucy ranked in the top three television shows.

Talk about a great career break.

The More Things Change

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Today is Desi Arnaz Jr.'s 60th birthday.

I'm quite a few years younger than he is so I can't speak based on personal observation, but, from what I have heard, his must have been the most widely publicized birth ever.

Certainly it was the most widely publicized in TV history.

He was the son of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, the stars of the popular sitcom I Love Lucy, and his mother's pregnancy was written into the series' storyline in the 1952–1953 season.

Some of the series' best episodes — my personal favorite was the one in which Lucy hired an English tutor (Hans Conried) to improve the language skills of the adults who would influence her child's early years — came from this arrangement. But be the episodes great or mediocre, there was a lot of attention paid to Lucy's pregnancy in the series.

Anyway, the episode in which Lucy gave birth to her child had been taped nearly two months before. Coincidentally, it aired on the same day that Ball gave birth to her real son — about 12 hours after Desi Arnaz Jr. was born, as a matter of fact.

News didn't travel quite as fast in 1953 as it does in 2013. There was no internet, no cable TV, no texting. In fact, broadcast news was still in its infancy at the time, and television ownership wasn't nearly as pervasive in America as it is today.

Nevertheless, the word must have spread to a certain segment of the population, but I'm sure there were those who had no idea that Ball had given birth that day.

But the publicity about the episode in which Lucy gave birth attracted great ratings 60 years ago tonight. And, whether those who were watching knew that Lucy had given birth to her actual son earlier that day, everyone was told about it as the final credits rolled.

Dwight Eisenhower, the man who was idolized by millions for leading the Allied triumph in World War II, was sworn in as president the next day, but his TV ratings paled compared to Lucy's. He got about half as many viewers as Lucy did.

What does that tell me about America and its priorities then and now?

It tells me that things probably haven't changed that much.

The Century of Lucy

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"The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly and lie about your age."

Lucille Ball (1911–1989)

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Historians have called the 20th century "the American century" because of all the world–changing developments that took place here.

I think it could easily be called the century of Lucy.

Lucille Ball would have been 100 years old today, and I have to believe she is just about as popular now as she was in her lifetime. Good comedy never goes out of style or becomes obsolete, and Lucy is still making 'em laugh.

You could say that Lucy was an expert on comedy. She led some comedy workshops and worked with some of the most talented performers of her time — and she observed once that comedy was something that could not be taught. You either had it or you didn't.

It goes without saying that she had it.

It also goes without saying, I suppose, that there were many changes during Lucy's lifetime, but here is something that might put it all into some kind of perspective. The world in which Lucy was born had automobiles but no electric traffic lights. The first one was installed the day before her third birthday.

It is tempting to believe that Lucy was always the beloved figure that she is now — but it wasn't always easy. She faced many challenges in her life. She lost her father before her fourth birthday. For a time, she was cared for by her stepfather's parents.

There were several Lucys, actually. There was the Lucy who began acting in movies and radio when she was in her 20s and blossomed into a star in her 30s. There was the Lucy who was probably TV's biggest star when she was in her 40s. Then, in her 50s, 60s and 70s, she divided her time between television and the movies.

Eventually, it added up to one of the longest careers in show business history — not too shabby for a girl who became America's most popular TV star playing a wannabe actress.

She was one of those women who always looked younger than she was — and appeared to do so effortlessly, although it must have been harder for her to achieve as she aged. Few people probably knew that she was in her 40s when I Love Lucy was the top–rated TV show in America.

She was almost 40 when she had her first child, Lucie, in 1951, about three months before the debut of I Love Lucy. Her second child, Desi Arnaz Jr., was born a year and a half later, after the show was a bona fide hit.

In fact, Lucy's pregnancy was written into the script, and the pre–recorded episode in which her character gave birth to a boy aired on the very day she gave birth to her real–life son.

There were many elements of Lucy's life that she worked into her show. Lucy's marriage to her co–star, Desi Arnaz Sr., for example, was a rich source of material for the Lucy–Ricky relationship on I Love Lucy — although, in reality, it was a sensitive subject. Not because of the mixed–race aspect but because Lucy was actually six years older than Desi.

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In those days, marriages between older women and younger men were not socially acceptable.

(There was an age discrepancy in my own family — between my mother's parents — that my parents didn't discover until both of my grandparents were deceased. The difference between them was only a little more than a year, but all their lives they claimed to have been born in the same year, whittling the difference to only a couple of months, which was socially excusable.)

Until they were outed, Lucy and Desi split the difference and told people they were both born in 1914.

Although the age disparity wasn't nearly as significant in the Lucy–Desi relationship as it is in some modern ones, the concept of cougar is far more acceptable now than it was in 1951. And, as I say, they had to be "outed" at the time.

Later in her life, Lucy spoke of how she missed the old studio system and felt that she owed a lot to it — because she didn't think she had much talent. I disagree. Her comedic gifts, as I say, are still making people laugh nearly a quarter of a century after her death. That's staying power.

I'm always interested in which I Love Lucy episodes are fan favorites. I believe you can learn a lot about someone simply by finding out which I Love Lucy he/she thinks was the best. There are so many options.

I've heard folks name the one where Lucy kept trying to tell Ricky she was pregnant. Or the one where Lucy and Ethel got jobs in a candy factory. Of course, there were many episodes that featured cameo appearances by the entertainers of the day when the Ricardos and the Mertzes went to California.

I guess my personal favorite, as I mentioned here a few months ago, was "Vitameatavegamin," but there were so many great episodes in that series that, as soon as I think of one I really like, I'm sure to think of two or three more that I think are equal to the first one.

If you are a Lucy fan, you'll have some opportunities to see her comic brilliance this weekend. In honor of her centennial, a weekend–long marathon of I Love Lucy episodes will be shown on The Hallmark Channel. And there are bound to be more. Check your local listings.

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Lucy is remembered as one of TV's early superstars; her movies are seldom mentioned in conversations about her career. However, if you'd rather see her movies on her birthday, Turner Classic Movies will be showing them as part of its annual "Summer Under the Stars" celebration — with today dedicated to Lucy on the big screen. And TCM has some good ones lined up. This morning, you can see Ball with Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn in "Without Love." This afternoon, you can see Lucy and Desi in "The Long, Long Trailer." Tonight, you can see Lucy with Hepburn and Ginger Rogers in "Stage Door."

And there are several others on today's schedule as well. You just really can't go wrong with Lucy.

Speaking of Lucy's movie career, I think it would be a mistake to think that all of Lucy's talents were in comedy. A few years after I Love Lucy went off the air, Frank Sinatra wanted her to appear with him in "The Manchurian Candidate," but director John Frankenheimer wanted Angela Lansbury.

The future star of Murder, She Wrote got the part, and she was rewarded for her work with an Oscar nomination. But it is intriguing to speculate what Lucy might have done with the role of the manipulative Mrs. Iselin.

She might have won.

Vitameatavegamin

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To succeed in comedy on television, I believe it is necessary to excel at physical comedy.

Now, personally, I appreciate the good writing that some of the really great comedies have in common — but it takes a talented performer to coax genuine laughter from the audience.

You know what I mean. There are laughs that are little more than polite titters that practically scream "I know I'm supposed to laugh at this part and I feel obligated to do so, but I just don't feel it."

And then there are the belly laughs, the I–couldn't–keep–from–laughing–if–you–held–a–gun–to–my–head kind of laughs. More often than not, these laughs are evoked by good physical comedy.

The really great ones make it look effortless. But, as Johnny Carson once observed to someone who bombed while filling in for him during his vacation, it ain't as easy as it looks.

It does help, though, if the story has an established joke that can be exaggerated in some way. On May 5, 1952, that rare combination of material and talent occurred in a memorable way on I Love Lucy.

The show was nearing the end of its first season. It had been established early in the series that Lucy (Lucille Ball) wanted to break into show business and believed that Ricky (Desi Arnaz) was actively trying to prevent her from doing so.

By the evening of May 5, 1952, audiences needed no reminders. They were prepared for what they would see.

Well, maybe not.

What they saw was a truly remarkable example of physical comedy. In its way, I think, it was every bit as impressive as the extraordinary physical comedy routines of some of the stars of the silent film era (i.e., Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin) or the great mimes (i.e., Marcel Marceau) — or Lucy's TV contemporaries (i.e., Dick Van Dyke).

In the 1950s — and beyond — commercial spots often were done live from the TV studio. In the context of this story, Lucy's assignment was to do a TV commercial for a health tonic called "Vitameatavegamin," a product that contained "vitamins, meat, vegetables and minerals" — but Lucy didn't know it was also 23% alcohol.

And that — along with a repeated sales pitch that was virtually flawless in the rehearsals but got increasingly out of hand as the alcohol in the product began to take effect — was what that night 59 years ago was about. But not entirely.

The early part of the script was really used to set up Lucy's monologue, and the last part tried valiantly to tie together all the loose ends, but that half hour was really all about Lucy and her gift for physical comedy ...

... that so natural, involuntary shudder when she swallowed a spoonful of tonic that was "tasty ... just like candy" or when, clearly intoxicated, she kept observing that "it's hot in here."

If you ever doubted that Lucy was the best, watch the attached clip.

Why They Loved Lucy

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Recently, I overheard a teenager wondering what was so great about Lucille Ball?

I've been thinking about that, and it just so happens that today is the anniversary of a classic episode from I Love Lucy that really makes my point for me. But I'm going to elaborate on it, anyway.

Last month, I wrote about the "jumping the shark" episode on Happy Days and pointed out that TV producers who want to give a fading TV series a jump start will often resort to bizarre plots. In the case of Happy Days, it was an episode where Fonzie, wearing his trademark leather jacket, jumped a shark on water skis while the Happy Days gang was on the West Coast.

It wasn't really new in the 1970s, though. Even in January 1955, TV producers were doing that, and, as iconic as I Love Lucy has become, its producers were trying to shake things up a little.

In the episode that aired on this night in 1955, the Ricardos and the Mertzes made their "First Stop" on their cross–country trip from New York to Los Angeles, where Ricky was to appear in a film version of the Don Juan story.

After spending a long day on the road, the four were tired, and they stopped at a run–down place for some food and a bed. But the food was nothing special — and overpriced at that — and the beds weren't any better.

And that is what makes "First Stop" an episode that so delightfully illustrates how great Lucy was. No one could do physical comedy as well as she could.

"First Stop" was kind of a challenge for Lucy and the gang. I've been told it was the first time they left their studio — their comfort zone — for a shoot.

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Lucy made everyone around her better.

Like the exchange she had with Ethel after watching Ethel put Fred to bed in the sunken mattress. "You do that every night?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah," Ethel replied, "but it took years of practice."

It was just good, honest humor.

Backwards and in High Heels

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Whenever I hear the name Ginger Rogers, I am instantly reminded of Ann Richards' keynote address to the Democratic National Convention in 1988.

After mentioning that she was following in Barbara Jordan's footsteps ("two women in 160 years is about par for the course"), Richards asserted that women could come through if given a chance. "After all, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels."

I later learned that comic strip artist Bob Thaves originated the line several years earlier in his comic strip, Frank and Ernest. But that doesn't change the fact that I always think of Richards when I think of that line — and I always think of that line when I hear the name of Ginger Rogers.

Before Richards' speech, the mention of Ginger Rogers' name brought back memories of my film appreciation class in college. I thoroughly enjoyed that class. It met for two hours twice a week, and the instructor showed us a lot of classic movies that semester. One of those movies was the first Rogers–Astaire film I ever saw, "Top Hat," which, after having seen some other Rogers–Astaire movies since my college days, I would say is one of the two best films those two ever made (the other being "The Gay Divorcee").

I've seen some of the movies Rogers made without Astaire, and I will agree with anyone who says she was talented, an excellent dancer, an amusing comedienne. I must admit, though, that I'm not really sure why Rogers was chosen to be Turner Classic Movies' Star of the Month for this particular month. It isn't her birthday (her birthday was in July), and next month actually will be 15 years since her death.

Nevertheless, TCM has been showing her movies on Wednesdays this month, and there are some good ones on the schedule tonight. Not necessarily her best, but worth your time.

• At 7 p.m. (Central), you can see "Vivacious Lady" from 1938. Jimmy Stewart co–starred in the romantic comedy about a botany professor who marries a nightclub singer.


• At 8:45 p.m. (Central), you can see "Bachelor Mother" from 1939. Rogers was a department store salesgirl in that one, a single working girl who led a somewhat unassuming life until discovering a baby on her doorstep. Rogers turned in a sensitive performance at a time when an unmarried woman and a baby was a much more controversial premise for a movie than it is today.


• Then, at 10:15 p.m. (Central), you can see "Stage Door" from 1937. It's the story of a theatrical community, and the cast features Katharine Hepburn, Lucille Ball, Eve Arden and Ann Miller. None of those actresses were nominated for an Oscar, but the film was nominated for Best Picture, Best Director and Best Screenplay.


• Finally, at midnight (Central), you can see "Having Wonderful Time" from 1938. Rogers plays a typist who goes to a camp as a summer getaway — in part to get away from a boyfriend in whom she is no longer interested. She is paired, once again, with Ball and Arden, neither of whom has much to work with but both do what they can with what they're given. It should be an enjoyable way to finish the evening.

Those films should set the table nicely for Rogers' only Oscar–winning performance, "Kitty Foyle," which will be shown next week.

Remembering Lucy

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Twenty years ago today, Lucille Ball passed away at the age of 77. It was about a week after she had a dissecting aortic aneurysm, which led to an eight–hour operation that was considered successful, but her aorta ruptured in a second spot eight days later and she died soon after.

It's not my purpose here to dwell on the circumstances surrounding the death of one of the greatest comediennes ever to appear on American television but rather to reflect on her great talent.

So, today, I would like to share with my readers one of my all–time favorite sketches from the "I Love Lucy" TV series. I refer to Lucy's performance in "Lucy Does a TV Commercial," which first aired nearly 57 years ago — on May 5, 1952.

Lucy's fans each have their favorite episodes, and there were certainly many great ones to choose from in that landmark series. This one, in which Lucy makes a commercial for a "health" product called "Vitameatavegamin," has long been my favorite. The product is supposed to have everything in it — meat, vitamins, vegetables, minerals — and it's laced with 23% alcohol.

Watch it and enjoy Lucy's genius at physical comedy. Few, if any, could match her, and I doubt we will ever see anyone like her again.

(Incidentally, though, April 26 has been a day of significant loss for the entertainment industry. Irene Ryan, who played Granny on "The Beverly Hillbillies," died on this day in 1973. Count Basie died on April 26, 1984. Actor Broderick Crawford died two years later. Actor Mason Adams died on this date in 2005. And Jack Valenti, a long–time president of the Motion Picture Association of America [MPAA] and the creator of the MPAA's film rating system, passed away on this date two years ago.)