Stories and anecdotes from author’s two decades as a TV script writer for Bob Hope in the ’70s and ’80s.
Excerpt
THE DAY REAGAN DROPPED IN
By Robert L. Mills
In May 1987, Hope’s production crew was airlifted from Van Nuys Airport to Pope Air Force Base in Fayetteville, North Carolina aboard the personal plane of Gen. Dwayne Cassidy, the chief of the Air Force’s Military Airlift Command. There we would tape a 90-minute special celebrating both Hope’s eighty-fifth birthday and the seventy-fifth anniversary of the outfit that had transported him from base-to-base during his overseas Christmas tours during World War II, Korea and Vietnam.
Also on board sharing the general’s special VIP quarters that included a kitchen (complete with chef ) were Bob’s wife, Dolores; Lucille Ball (who would guest on the show), her husband Gary Morton, and the Hopes’ toy poodle, “Toby.” The pampered pooch was seldom left at home whenever they traveled together and, since Hope believed that neutering constituted cruel-and-unusual punishment, the catered-to canine had left his distinctive scent on some of the most expensive hotel suite curtains in the world, including his favorites in New York’s posh Waldorf Towers.
Hope would meet us at Pope after flying in from a personal-appearance tour on the eastern seaboard. Our guest stars, Glen Campbell, Barbara Mandrell, Don Johnson, Emanuel Lewis, Brooke Shields and Phylicia Rashad, were waiting to go to work. Over the next several days, we rehearsed the show that would be taped before a crowd of four thousand servicemen and their families, as well as soldiers from nearby Ft. Bragg. The monologue would be taped with the latest military hardware in the background to remind the viewers at home just how the Defense Department was spending their taxes, payback for their picking-up a substantial portion of the production costs.
The logistics of staging a show like this were complicated, but things had progressed smoothly and tape was ready to roll. That morning, Hope had read in the local paper that Ronald Reagan was flying back to Washington after delivering the commencement address at the University of Georgia. He said to our producer, James Lipton (who now hosts “Inside the Actor’s Studio” on Bravo), “Call the White House. Maybe we can get Ronnie to pop over and appear on our show.” Jim gulped hard. “Nice idea, but, gee, Bob, every segment is locked in and we start seating the audience in two hours.” Hope was not deterred. “We can always find an extra five minutes somewhere. Call.”
Hope was well aware of the impact a presidential visit would have on Pope and the infantry outfits. Lipton called the personal number that Hope gave him and was soon patched through to Air Force One, already airborne. The call was switched to the Winnebago in the main hanger that had been provided for Hope as a dressing room. As fellow writer Gene Perret and I sat on the fold-down couch across from him, the following conversation took place:
“Ron? Bob. Hey, we’re doing a little birthday thing
here at Pope Air Force Base and, Pope, it’s in
North Carolina. We thought you might take a quick
left turn and drop in. Be great, you know. I’ll have
the boys bang out something we can do together.
The whole thing shouldn’t take more than a half
hour, tops.”
There was a long pause as Hope listened to the most powerful leader in the free-world confer with his aides. Then he covered the receiver with his hand and mouthed the words: “He’ll do it.”
Like the comedy relief pitchers we were trained to be, Gene and I sprung into action. While Air Force One winged toward Pope, we’d bang out a page of dialogue for the two old veterans of the silver screen. After Hope okayed it, we’d call Reagan back so his secretary could type it up for him to memorize.
While Gene and I tapped away, the Secret Service was conferring with Lipton and the show’s co-producer Elliott Kozak. Reagan’s Boeing 707 would land and taxi directly to the stage. Within an hour, scores of agents descended on the area like a swarm of armed locusts in dark suits. Some of the same German shepherds that had “sanitized” Grand Rapids six years earlier (for our special opening the Gerald R. Ford Museum) sniffed their way through our production equipment. Metal detectors suddenly sprouted up everywhere to ensure that there would be no gate crashers. We were all instructed that once the president’s plane touched down, we weren’t to wander from our assigned areas under threat of sudden death by Uzi.
Here’s how it all worked back then. On any major flight, Air Force One was accompanied by an identical “decoy” plane carrying several hundred uniformed and plainclothes agents. Additionally, an unmarked C-130 troop carrier containing the armored presidential limo and specially armed escort vehicles completed the flotilla. As soon as the decision to detour to Pope had been made, these escort planes flew ahead to complete the last minute security arrangements which, in this case, must have been nervewracking. Reagan had already been the target of a would-be assassin, and they weren’t looking for a sequel.
As expected, the audience, having no inkling of the unscheduled stopover, literally erupted when the Gipper strode down that boarding ramp. He greeted Hope warmly, and the two old troupers did their one minute exchange. Total elapsed time from touchdown to departure was exactly thirty minutes as promised. Exciting stuff to be sure, all made possible because Hope could dial a president’s number and know there would be one at the other end of the line.
Copyright 2008 Robert L. Mills. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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