WHATEVER HAPPENED
Milton BerUand Terry-Thomaaare after hidden
money in "H'e a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World."
, t ""1
1 r "s&.
TO MILTON BERLE ?
He may not be Mr. Television
any more, but he's stiJi
the same old Uncle Miltie:
brash, boastful,
bombastic and, despite it
all, oddly likable
By MARYA SAUNDERS
FOR YEARS, Milton Berle was the big
gest tv star in the country, filling
the screen with all the hammy razzle
dazzle it could hold. But, in 1955, Mr.
Television's ratings began to slip. Over
exposure was blamed. By 1956, Uncle
Miltie's reign had ended. .
What has "Public Energy No. 1" been up to
since his weekly show went off the air? To find
out, I visited him recently in New York.
"Off?" Berle growled at my first question.
"What do you mean, off? I've done the Kraft
series, the bowling series, personal appearances
on variety and dramatic shows, and lots of Berle
specials. I never went off!"
Then his face broke into a grin, and he said,
"Okay, doll, what do you want to know?"
"Well, in the summer of 1966, how long a va
cation did "
"Vacation? I've never taken a vacation. Never!
From 1948 to 1956, which is eight years, I did
30 shows a year; that's 240 hours, plus specials.
So I deserved a rest,"
"Did you take one?"
"No! Since '56, I've earned more than $600,000
a year. I've done 40 weeks a year in night clubs,
plus stage shows, movies, a record album, wrote
a novel, and was top banana of 'Top Banana' in
summer stock last season."
"Mr. Berle, what "
"Let me tell you something," he interrupted.
"No comedian lasted as long as I did on tele
vision. The track record is history: in 1951 I
signed the greatest contract ever given a per
former. NBC pays me $125,000 every year until
1981, and I don't have to work."
"Why is that?"
"In 1951, three years after I started the show,
I wanted to go on film. 'Well,' they said, 'we'd
rather have you "live," and so would the spon
sor.' So I said, 'Yeh, so where's the residuals
going to come from in 1970?' Those are addi
tional payments I'd get when a show is rerun.
So they said they'd compensate me for the loss
of residuals with a lifetime contract if I guar
anteed them 200 hours on the air. That 200 hours
was up in 1956. I played it out. Hence the money
continues and I don't have to work!"
"Great."
"You bet But I'm on call as a consultant. Also, -I'm
still exclusive to them."
"You can't work for another network?"
"Right. Unless I get written permission. That's
not easy; but if I'm determined, I get it. Sup
pose, however, someone wants me for a show I
don't want to do, but I don't want to make him
feel bad. I turn him over to NBC. They say very
sweetly (Berle imitated a very sweet NBC ex
ecutive), 'No, Mr. Berle's our property.'
"Doll, call Dave Tebet, my friend and a vice
president. He'll tell you about my contract."
"I believe you, Mr. Berle."
"You'll do as I say," he commanded. Then, in
stantly penitent: "You can call me Milton."
I CALLED THE VP, and he confirmed every word.
As a matter of fact, he sounded a bit like a
recording of Berle. Mr. Tebet added that since
1956 they've suggested 18 series which Berle
has turned down. "But," he said, "we're hoping
to get him on 'live' in 1964.!'
Berle leaned back. "You know, there was no
closer relationship before I got married than
myself and my mother." He sat up. "That's your
story : my mother. She started me in show busi
ness when I was four and traveled with me until
I got married at 33. The greatest gal that ever
lived, my mother. She had the desire for my
career and helped me and loved me. Difficult
thing to break, that silver cord."
Milton and his first wife, show girl Joyce
Mathews, adopted a daughter, Vickie, who is
now 18. The Berles were divorced after six years
of marriage. In 1953 he married Ruth Cosgrove,
a former press agent. In 1962, they adopted a
three-week-old baby, Billie Michael.
"Why," I asked, "did you adopt another?"
"Ruth and I tried to have a baby ; we couldn't,"
he told me. "You need a family when you are
married or you get selfish. Now we're more con
cerned about Billie than ourselves."
"Do you feel that having reared Vickie will
help you with Billie?" He shook his head.
"You mean you were the best father Vickie
could have?"
MTTEP, I'VE GIVEN my daughter everything.
X She speaks French, Italian, German, and
Spanish. She's returning from Switzerland soon,
and I'll send her to Smith or Finch College, I'm
going to give Billie all the advantages, too.
"You know," he smiled, "laymen only see one
side of this comedian. They see Berle as ag
gressive, brash, flippant, a wiseacre who heckles,
insults, interrupts. That's the image I built up
deliberately. But," he whispered, "there are
may I Bay this without being considered megalo
maniac or something?"
I nodded.
"There are two Milton Berles the performer
image and the Milton Berle who's talking to
you. You've got to tell the reader the truth,"
he said solemnly. "Show the differences that's
your story angle."
He leaped up. "Well, got to get dressed now,
doll. Say, when you write this up, mention my
new movie, 'It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.'
So long, doll."
Truthfully, there are two Milton Berles, but
it's hard to tell where the real one lets off and "
the performer begins.
Family Wtrfcly. Drrrmtxr I. IM1
IS