Old Moderately

Want success as a TV variety show star? Relax.

Perry Como and Andy Williams proved the rule, though their effortlessness had to be rehearsed. To produce a 60-minute program, Como tapes for as much as two days, Williams for up to eleven hours. Now both of them are being outrelaxed by a competitor so genuinely casual that he can't be bothered with a real rehearsal or even a retake. As a result, The Dean Martin Show is hoisting itself ever higher in the ratings and is the closest thing on the air to the free and easy spontaneity of old-fashioned live television.

Host Martin is a slightly blue rhinestone-in-the-rough, fortunately set in an afterhours time slot (10-11 p.m., E.S.T.) when the youngsters are in bed and he need play nobody but himself. Como and Williams, he says, are for "the milk-and-cookies crowd. This is my show." His fans include Henry Miller and a satisfying 38% of the big-city Nielsen sample. As Actor Anthony Quinn analyzes Dino's appeal, "All of us seem to be plagued by responsibility, hemmed in by convention. Dean is the symbol of the guy who can go on, get drunk, have no responsibilities."

Tense Spaghetti. With more than a hint of envy, a writer of another series observes: "Dean does everything he shouldn't do, but on him it's funny." He squints blatantly at the prompter cards, purposely blows lines. He ignores taboos to snigger at his own gags, bravo his own songs. "This kid's come a long way," he says of himself. "I'd have him back, but he's too expensive." Week after week, he repeats the same business: lobbing a cigarette butt into the air like a grenade, then holding his ears as if waiting for the explosion; or stumbling drunkenly over to the piano to croon a few bars like "It's June in January/ 'cause I'm in Australia."

The I-don't-care, be-yourself air helps make the program an even more sought-after showcase for visiting stars than the "guest villain" spot on Batman. Comedian Bill Cosby was delighted to do a guest bit when he found he could go to a football game on taping day (Sunday) instead of rehearsing. For the first time in her career, Lucille Ball found herself able to nap before going on. "You know," she told Dean, "you make cooked spaghetti look tense." Returning the favor, Martin took a guest spot with Lucy, disgustedly found himself spending four times as long rehearsing a 20-minute part as he does headlining his own show.

Like Benny. Last week, for instance, taping the final effort of the season (to be aired April 21), Dean gunned his Dual Ghia into the parking lot of NBC studios in Burbank at noon. He spent the first hour or so goofing around with his musical director. At 1 p.m., the dancers and Guest Stars Liberace, Comedienne Dorothy Loudon and Tanya the Elephant were brought together for the first time. It was not exactly a dry run with Dean. For one thing, Dean didn't bother to take part; for another, he was breaking out the dressing-room bottle and splashing himself a tall Scotch and water. Then came dress rehearsals, the cue for Martin's second Scotch and a gagging, ragging appearance onstage. Then dinner break and another Scotch. "We'd rather have him do it only once and have it fresh," says Director Greg Garrison. And after dinner, he did it--once and fresh.

Martin's ever-present highball glass reinforces the general impression that he appears on-camera half gassed. But, as his bartender and his best friends know, Dean Martin is no more an out-of-control toper than Jack Benny is a 39-year-old tightwad. Dino on-camera affects a skinful for the same reason that Jack affects the skinflint. Martin's matchless comic timing, the testimony of his neighbors on Beverly Hills' Mountain Drive, his easy coping with a fast-moving life, all suggest a man who uses booze rather than letting it use him. He shoots enough golf to stay in the low 70s, enough films to make the top ten grossing actors every year. He sells more single records than any other crooner, stood 55 places ahead of Friend Frank Sinatra in 1965. Dean also earns about as much money as Sinatra--$1,000,000 a year--and nearly as much as before the 1956 bust-up with Jerry Lewis that was supposed to send him back to the mill in Steubenville, Ohio. Dean Martin drinks moderately. But he can't help quipping, "I keep a case of Moderately in my dressing room."

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