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  • Frank Smith
    Groucho stories, even if you’ve heard them, are still good. Like the well-known story of his daughter and the restricted country club pool. Groucho: “But
    Message 1 of 1 , Feb 16, 2007
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      Groucho stories, even if you’ve heard them, are still
      good. Like the well-known story of his daughter and
      the restricted country club pool. Groucho: “But my
      daughter’s only half-Jewish. Can she go in up to her
      waist?”

      I have a particular fondness for the one I’m about to
      tell you, partly because I got it directly from
      Groucho. I may have told it in the 1982 documentary,
      “The Marx Brothers in a Nutshell.”

      The setting is vaudeville. The young Marx brothers had
      barely heard of movies and were rollicking around the
      country as big stage stars and enjoying the fruits of
      fame, one being its proven effectiveness as an
      aphrodisiac. “You know my brother’s name is often
      mispronounced,” Groucho would say. “My uncle [Al
      Shean] who named us all pronounced it Chicko because
      of my brother’s monumental success with ‘chicks.’ He
      was catnip to all women. And we were opposites in
      other ways, too.”

      They were playing somewhere in Iowa. One night while
      they were removing their makeup, there was a knock at
      the dressing room door and a middle-aged Jewish couple
      came in. After effusive compliments on the boys’ act,
      the husband said, “We know you boys are Jewish, and we
      thought you might like to come to our house on Friday
      night for a traditional Jewish dinner.” The invitation
      was accepted.

      On Wednesday, Groucho and Chico were out strolling,
      and Chico, with his genius for numbers (and lack of it
      for gambling), noticed a house address. He said,
      “Isn’t that the number of those nice people’s house?”
      It was, and it was the house. They decided to pay a
      call.

      They rang the bell and an attractive girl appeared. As
      luck (or something) would have it, there were the
      couple’s two pretty daughters. The parents were out.

      Groucho: “Thanks to Chico’s skills in this area, in
      two shakes of a lamb’s tail we were out of our clothes
      and in bed with the two daughters. Balancing Chico’s
      great luck in getting us there, his ill luck dealt the
      next card. The bedroom door opened and there were the
      parents.

      “Chico was more accustomed to this sort of predicament
      than I was, so I followed his example — which was
      grabbing up our clothes and high-tailing it out the
      window. Fortunately, we were on the ground floor. In
      any case, the penultimate thing the parents saw were
      our two buck-naked rear ends disappearing over the
      window sill. The ultimate thing they saw was Chico’s
      head reappearing momentarily, saying, ‘I hope this
      doesn’t affect Friday night.’”



      Frank Thomas Smith
      http://SouthernCrossReview.org



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