Hollywood's Hot Hyphens

Last week four weary, bleary men sat at Art's Deli, resting from their rewrites of Rhoda. James Brooks turned to his fellow writer-producers, Allan Burns, David Davis and Lorenzo Mu sic. "Why open with the fruit salad?" he asked, blue-penciling the menu. "Let's get to the zinger -- we move the pastrami up, segue to the coleslaw, go for the laugh with the knockwurst."

His colleagues saw nothing unusual about the revisions; they had simply forgotten to turn off their brains. It is an occupational disease of the group. Ever since the creation of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, they have been Hollywood's hottest hyphens -- the trade term for writer-producers.

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None of the men bears a familiar face, but viewers would recognize Music's voice -- he is the unseen doorman, Carlton, on Rhoda. As for Brooks, his cackle can be heard in the audience of many MTM shows, breaking up at his own jokes. With two good reasons: the gags are hilarious and, more significant, they are worth about $1,000 per punch line. Not so long ago, Brooks' rates were far less inflationary. He broke in as a junior writer at Wolper Productions. "The senior documentary writers used to call the juniors 'the animals,' " he recalls. "When they were through with a telephone they'd toss it over their shoulders and let one of the animals hang it up for them. I ran from that place."

The animal never looked back. For years, he freelanced scripts for unpromising sitcoms. In 1969 he developed the concept for the classroom comedy-drama Room 222. The show's producer was Allan Burns, a veteran writer who had won his first Emmy. They became the creative cornerstones of MTM Enterprises and the most unlikely and profitable collaboration since Kaufman and Hart.Bearded and rumpled, Brooks, 35, gives the impression of a denim bedspread on its way to the Laundromat. Burns, 39, is resolutely Beverly Hills modish. Brooks is divorced and spends his off hours at a Malibu Beach house. Burns, the married father of three, is a tennis-playing resident of suburban Mandeville Canyon.

In 1970, Grant Tinker was seeking a new TV format for his wife. In the lineaments of the odd couple he thought he discerned the aura of "electronic Neil Simons." Tinker's instinct was infallible, his supervision minimal. Left to their own devices, the collaborators mixed their unique amalgam of chance and choice. Recalls Brooks: "We decided that a television station would be a perfect locale for Mary Tyler Moore because of the strong supporting characters you find in any newsroom." Adds Burns: "We chose Minnesota when one of the writers began talking about the strengths and weaknesses of the Vikings."

There were no weaknesses in MTM Enterprises, Inc. In four astonishing years the company has become a source and a scourge, amply rewarding the hyphens -- then urging them to top themselves with new and better shows. This year Brooks and Burns created two new comedies, Rhoda and Friends and Lovers, almost tripling their incomes (now more than $300,000 a year each) and their work loads.

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Still, after more than 170 MTM shows, the polish remains so high that viewers can see their own faces in the surface. The MTM touch has become synonymous with Midas' -- up to and including some of the unpleasant side effects. "We're working 18-hour days, six days a week," admits Burns, who is confident that for pressure and unreasonable hours, television is the worst busi ness in the world. The easiest show for the two is Mary's. "We know the characters so well," says Burns. "For opposite rea sons, the Paul Sand show is the most difficult. We are pleased with about four out of the twelve shows."

To relieve the pressure, Brooks employs unique measuring devices for jokes. A buzzer signifies lines with less than unanimous approval. A gag that breaks up their colleagues trig gers a music box that plays The Impossible Dream. From the sound of music issuing from the MTM offices, the dream gets more possible every day.

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