What is this unholy terror you have for the written word?

Despite being a prolific letter writer, Groucho Marx didn't write to his brothers often. There was little need to write letters as the brothers spoke to each other regularly, either in person or on the phone. It was a treat then to come across this post's letter, written by Groucho to his brother Chico, originally published in 1942 in a column for The Hollywood Reporter. (The column —Tales of Hoffman— was run by Groucho's friend Irving Hoffman, with Groucho being a regular contributor to Hoffman's column.) Written in Groucho's usual funny way, the letter was a reaction to Chico's failure to answer the letters Groucho had sent him. Considering the fact that Chico was no letter writer at all, it's quite possible that Groucho never received an answer to this letter either.

Incidentally, Groucho and Chico —the eldest of the Marx Brothers and Groucho's senior by three years— had a strained relationship, one that was "marked by jealousy and resentment" (according to Groucho biographer Hector Arce). Chico had been their mother's favourite, and while he had become a compulsive gambler by the age of nine and was always running into trouble, he usually got away with it. "[Groucho] was always trying to be the good son, while I was busy being the bad one", Chico once said, "yet Minnie always forgave me and loved me and was never that way with Grouch." Groucho was a natural-born worrier while Chico was the eternal optimist. In the end, it was Chico's optimism and his bold approach to life that had made the Marx Brothers move from the vaudeville circuit to Broadway and ultimately to Hollywood. (Groucho later recalled: "Harpo [the brother Groucho felt closest to] and I were always very timid. We didn't think we would ever be successful. But Chico was a gambler and he felt differently ... He gave us courage and confidence.")

Groucho (l) and his brother Chico on the set of  A Day at the Races (1937)

 

Dear Chico:

Our correspondence is becoming increasingly strained and I can only attribute it to the curious and mystifying ways you have of answering your mail. In the past three weeks I have written you three times. In return you have sent me a package of cheese, a small barrel of herring and a smoked tongue. These are eloquent answers—much stronger than words—but you must admit they are difficult to decode unless one has spent his early years as a delicatessen apprentice. What is this unholy terror you have for the written word? Were you once scared by a vowel or a consonant?

Words, in case you don’t know, are beautiful. Keats, Shelley and Conrad enriched and gladdened the whole world with words. Is it possible that your odd method of correspondence is more effective? Have you stumbled on something that will replace all the beautiful poems and love sonnets of the centuries? I only ask you this because I’ve heard it told that you conduct your romances in the same manner. It is well known that for years you left a trail of broken hearts and sawn-off shotguns from the Orpheum Theatre in Bangor to the Pantages Theatre in San Diego. Is delicatessen your secret weapon? Do you send soft cheese where others send orchids? When a love-sick girl sends you a perfume-scented note pleading for your kisses, I understand your answer is three slices of pumpernickel. I don’t say that this last present may not be just what she needs, but you must concede it’s a novel slant on a subject that has bewildered experts since Adam and Eve. Romeo was considered quite a lover in his day but I’m sure Juliet’s love for him would have wavered had it reeked so strongly of the pickle barrel. But then your views on love and life have always been unique and bizarre and I guess on you, it looks good.

Unless you answer this letter and I don’t mean with delicatessen, groceries or alphabet soup, but with plain words (the dictionary, by the way, is full of them) it will be necessary for me to reduce my correspondence to the same level and my answers in the future will consist of shoe-string potatoes, salamis and apple strudel.

Love and garlic from the Hebrew National, Woloshin’s, Levitoff’s, Isaac Gellis’s, Greenblatt’s and Rubin’s.

Yours,

Groucho 

Source: Groucho Marx and Other Short Stories and Tall Tales: Selected Writings of Groucho Marx (1993), by Groucho Marx, edited by Robert S. Bader. Letter originally published in the column Tales of Hoffman, Hollywood Reporter, 29 August 1942.

1937, Los Angeles - Chico and Groucho Marx in court for copyright infringement of a radio script, a case they eventually lost.

Groucho's letter to Woody Allen

Groucho Marx and Woody Allen met in 1961 and struck up a friendship that lasted sixteen years. Forty-five years younger than Groucho, Allen was a big fan of his fellow comedian and often made references to Groucho and the Marx Brothers in his films. He once said that Groucho reminded him of "a Jewish uncle in [his] family, a wisecracking Jewish uncle with a sarcastic wit". In 1976, Groucho complimented Allen by saying that he was "the most important comic talent around".

After they became friends, Groucho and Allen fell out of touch for several years. At some point Allen had written Groucho a letter but never got an answer. Allen was offended by this and word about his hurt feelings eventually reached Groucho, who then wrote Allen a letter of apology. Shown below is Groucho's letter, written on 22 March 1967 and filled with his characteristic humour. The letter ended the silence between the two men and they remained friends until Groucho's death in 1977.

Dear WW:

Goodie Ace told some unemployed friend of mine that you were disappointed or annoyed or happy or drunk that I hadn't answered the letter you wrote me some years ago. You know, of course, there is no money in answering letters – unless they're letters of credit from Switzerland or the mafia. I write you reluctantly, for I know you are doing six things simultaneously – five including sex. I don't know where you get the time to correspond.

Your play, I trust, will still be running when I arrive in New York the first or second week in April. This must be terribly annoying to the critics who, if I remember correctly, said it wouldn't go because it was too funny. Since it's still running, they must be even more annoyed. This happened to my son's play, on which he collaborated with Bob Fisher. The moral is: don't write a comedy that makes an audience laugh.

This critic problem has been discussed ever since I was Bar Mitzvahed almost 100 years ago. I never told this to anyone, but I received two gifts when I emerged from childhood into what I imagine today is manhood. An uncle, who was then in the money, presented me with a pair of long black stockings, and an aunt, who was trying to make me, gave me a silver watch. Three days after I received these gifts, the watch disappeared.

The reason it was gone was that my brother Chico didn't shoot pool nearly as well as he thought he did. He hocked it at a pawnshop at 89th Street and Third Avenue. One day while wandering around aimlessly, I discovered it hanging in the window of the hock shop. Had not my initials been engraved on the back, I wouldn't have recognised it, for the sun had tarnished it so completely it was now coal black. The stockings, which I had worn for a week without ever having them washed, were now a mottled green. This was my total reward for surviving 13 years.

And that, briefly, is why I haven't written you for some time. I'm still wearing the stockings—they're not my stockings anymore, they're just parts of my leg.

You wrote that you were coming out here in February, and I, in a frenzy of excitement, purchased so much delicatessen that, had I kept it in cold cash instead of cold cuts, it would have taken care of my contribution to the United Jewish Welfare Fund for 1967 and '68.

I think I'll be at the St Regis hotel in New York. And for God's sake don't have any more success – it's driving me crazy. My best to you and your diminutive friend, little Dickie.

Groucho 

Via: The Guardian

 

Groucho Marx died on 19 August 1977, just three days after the death of Elvis Presley had shocked the world. While there was an abundance of tributes in the press for Elvis, the press paid little attention to Groucho's passing. The lack of coverage for his friend in Time Magazine (which devoted only one small paragraph to Groucho) led Woody Allen to write to the editor: "Is it my imagination, or were you guys a little skimpy with the Groucho Marx obituary?" 

The Marx Brothers' Duck Soup (1933) was a big influence on Woody Allen's films. Allen said in a 1976 interview that the film was "probably the best talking comedy ever made".

Send this minor masterpiece whizzing through the film exchanges of America

In December 1948, production wrapped on Irving Cummings' It's Only Money, a RKO comedy starring Jane Russell, Groucho Marx and Frank Sinatra. The film was not released right away, despite positive preview screenings and a fair amount of publicity in the film magazines. RKO boss Howard Hughes decided to put the film on the shelf, where it subsequently sat for three years. (Why Hughes chose not to release it remains unclear; it has been said that his intense dislike of Frank Sinatra —the men had a shared interest in Ava Gardner— may have been a motive.)

Someone who didn't like the picture being shelved was Groucho Marx. After performing with his brothers for decades, Groucho was working on his solo career and therefore eager to have It's Only Money released. In January 1951, two years after filming had ended, Groucho wrote to Howard Hughes and asked him to finally get "this minor masterpiece" off the shelf and into film theatres. It's not clear if Groucho's letter had anything to do with it but eleven months later the film was released. Hughes had given the picture a different title, though, i.e. Double Dynamite, apparently a reference to Russell's breasts. Due to Hughes' resentment towards Sinatra, Sinatra received third billing and his face didn't even appear on the film poster.

Double Dynamite was released in December 1951, receiving negative reviews and bad box-office results. Years later, Groucho said that with the film "[his] acting career almost went down the drain" while co-star Jane Russell dryly commented: "He [Sinatra] was playing a dumb little guy and I was playing a dumber little girl and it was a stupid picture, but we sang in it." (To watch and listen to the songs, click here for It's Only Money, sung by Sinatra and Groucho, and here for Kisses and Tears by Sinatra and Russell.)

In January 1951, Groucho wrote the following letter to Howard Hughes, perhaps later wishing he had never sent it.

January 23, 1951

Dear Mr. Hughes:

Between retooling for the war effort and dueling with Wald and Krasna, I presume you are a fairly busy man. However, I wonder if you could spare a few moments to release a picture that was made some years ago involving Jane Russell, Frank Sinatra and your correspondent. The name of the picture, if memory serves, is "It's Only Money". I never did see it but I have been told that at its various previews it was received with considerable enthusiasm.

I am not a young man any more, Mr. Hughes, and before I shuffle off this mortal coil if you could see your way clear to pry open your strong box and send this minor masterpiece whizzing through the film exchanges of America, you would not only have earned my undying gratitude but that of the United Nations, the popcorn dealers of America and three RKO stockholders who at the moment are trying to escape from the Mellon bank of Pittsburgh.

Sincerely,

Groucho Marx 

Source: The Groucho Letters: Letters from and to Groucho Marx (1967) 

Most of my pleasures today are vicarious

In the winter of 1959, Billy Wilder was on location in New York City shooting the exteriors for his film The Apartment (1960). While staying near the United Nations Headquarters, he got the idea to make a Cold War satire involving the U.N. and the Marx Brothers. Groucho Marx liked the idea and Wilder then wrote a 40-page treatment with writing buddy I.A.L. Diamond and gave the film the title A Day At The United Nations. The Marx Brothers were to play robbers who, after stealing suitcases full of diamonds from Tiffany's, are mistaken for the UN's Latvian delegation (read in detail here). 

The making of A Day At The United Nations was officially announced in the press in November 1960 but unfortunately the film never saw the light of day. Harpo suffered a heart attack and Chico died shortly thereafter, ruling out the possibility of another Marx Brothers film ever being made. Wilder did make his Cold War comedy eventually, i.e. One, Two, Three (1961) starring James Cagney.

In Cameron Crowe's Conversations with Wilder (1999), Wilder talked about the Marx Brothers and their aborted project. (Interestingly, in this interview Wilder mentions Zeppo as one of the four Marx Brothers to appear in the film, while Zeppo had already left the act in 1933.)

We had an idea of doing a Marx Brothers picture set against the background of the United Nations. They were the four representatives of a republic. And that is always good, because the Marx Brothers were at their best against a very serious, pompous background. They were very good in A Night at the Opera because it’s very pompous, the opera. They were also quite good at the race track in Day at the Races. But other things they did, they were not so good because there was nothing good to poke at. I wanted to do a Marx Brothers picture, but then Chico died, and Harpo was very, very unstable. But Groucho was a genius, absolutely a fabulous, fabulous man. They were at Metro. The movie would have been a combination of at least six of their top stars of the early sixties. Zeppo was the leading man. Zeppo as lead was incredible, absolutely incredible. When you went to see A Night at the Opera, you were not disappointed. [Irving] Thalberg was very smart, you know, because he treated it like a serious picture. [via]

And now the letter! Groucho Marx wrote to Billy Wilder on 13 December 1960 —in his typical Groucho way— with the last paragraph of his letter briefly touching upon the subject of their proposed film. (The rest of the letter mostly speaks of Groucho and Wilder exchanging newspaper articles and letters from esteemed screenwriter Nunnally Johnson.)

Source: icollector.com

Groucho Marx and the United Snakes of America

In 1953, the FBI was told by one of its confidential informants that Groucho Marx "contribute[d] heavily to the Communist Party". The Bureau subsequently started to investigate the comedian and during the next decade built a file on him containing numerous pages. The file included evidence of Groucho's pro-communist sympathies, e.g. a 1934 article in the Communist Party newspaper the Daily Worker, saying Groucho had called the communist support for the Scottsboro Boys an inspiration for "Soviet America"; Groucho's attendance at a benefit concert for Soviet war relief in the 1940s; his opposition of Franco's fascist, anti-communist government of Spain; and his membership of the Committee for the First Amendment, which protested the investigations into communism in Hollywood conducted by the HUAC (House Un-American Activities Committee). 

Despite the sizeable file, the FBI ultimately concluded that Groucho was not a member of the Communist Party. The HUAC reached the same conclusion and never even called Groucho to testify. They did, however, summon Jerry Fielding (Groucho's bandleader on the popular tv show You Bet Your Life) to testify in December 1953. Fielding later said that HUAC probably wanted him to name Groucho, but he had refused to name names and was consequently blacklisted. Pressured by his sponsors, Groucho eventually fired Fielding — a decision he would later call "one of the greatest regrets of [his] life".

Among the many documents that can be found in Groucho's FBI file are the following two letters, written by concerned US citizens to FBI director J. Edgar Hoover regarding Groucho's communist leanings. By the time the letters were written, on resp. 17 June 1960 and 23 October 1961, the FBI had already been investigating Groucho for years.

Transcript: 

Mr. J. Edgar Hoover

Federal Bureau of Investigation

Washington, D.C.

Dear Mr. Hoover:

I suggest that the TV entertainer Groucho Marks [sic] be investigated as being a Communist.

Last night on his program both my husband and I understood him to pronounce "The United States" as "The United Snakes".

In his book "Groucho and Me" he speaks quite affectionately of Charlie Chaplin, who is a well known Communist.

By the way, your own book "Masters of Deceit" is a masterpiece. I have bought a copy for myself and four or five copies as gifts. It is simply a wonderful book. Thank you for it. 

Please, Mr. Hoover, investigate Groucho Marks [sic]. 

Sincerely,

[redacted]

Transcript: 

Oct. 23, 1961

PERSONAL

Mr. J. Edgar Hoover

Department of the Federal Bureau of Investigation

Washington, D.C.

Dear Mr. Hoover:

As a loyal citizen of the United States, I am writing to you concerning the TV program entitled "Dupont Show of the Week" which was broadcast last night over NBC.

I am outraged by this show which appeared to be full of Communist propaganda - so much of it that I cannot begin to name it all. It was NOT funny. The Red stench was unmistakable. The program went out of the way to make the automobile industry in our country appear to be silly and the American people weak, incompetent and arrogant. 

As one example among too many to even mention, Groucho Marx said, in speaking of the American people, "They drove around in their ARROGANCE."

I understand that Groucho Marx has strong Red leanings and that he was a member of the Red Front called "Committee for the First Amendment" and that he signed Cablegram of allegiance to Stalin. Please write and let me know if this is correct and what other information I am entitled as a United States citizen to know concerning his Red affiliations, so I can speak with authority when discussing him.

No doubt you have already thoroughly investigated Groucho Marx, but please also investigate the writer or writers of the TV script for the Dupont sponsored show.

Hoping to hear from you soon, I am

Sincerely and gratefully yours,

[redacted]

Both letters via Muckrock.

Groucho's letter to Peter Lorre

In the fall of 1961, Peter Lorre sent Groucho Marx a copy of Stuart Gilbert's James Joyce's Ulysses (1930), a study of Joyce's (often considered unreadable) novel. After receiving the book, Groucho wrote Lorre the following letter, saying that now he needed another book to explain Gilbert's study. In typical Groucho fashion, he then "confused" Stuart Gilbert with Gilbert Stuart, the artist who had painted the portrait of George Washington in 1796.

October 5, 1961

Dear Peter:  

It was very thoughtful of you to send me a book explaining James Joyce’s “Ulysses”. All I need now is another book explaining this study by Stuart Gilbert who, if memory serves, painted the celebrated picture of George Washington which hangs in the Metropolitan Museum. I realize that there is some two hundred years’ difference in their ages, but any man who can explain Joyce must be very old and very wise.

You disappeared rather mysteriously the other night, but I attribute this to your life of crime in the movies.

Best to you both.

Regards,

Groucho

Source: The Groucho Letters: Letters from and to Groucho Marx (1967) 

Groucho & Chaplin

Around 1912, Groucho Marx saw Charlie Chaplin for the first time in Winnipeg (Canada), then an important city on the Vaudeville circuit. Groucho happened to be passing by the Empress Theatre where Chaplin was playing and hearing roars of laughter he decided to go in. In his autobiography Groucho and Me (1959), Groucho recalled telling his brothers about seeing Chaplin for the first time: "I told them I had just seen a great comic. I described him . . . a slight man with a tiny moustache, a cane, a derby and a large pair of shoes. I then penguin-walked around the depot, imitating him as best I could. By the time I finished raving about his antics my brothers could hardly wait to see him." 

Doing a vaudeville tour themselves, Groucho and his brothers caught up with Chaplin in Vancouver a month later and met him backstage. In his autobiography, Groucho said that they became "real chummy" with Chaplin in the weeks that followed and even went to a "sporting house" together (according to Groucho, Chaplin was "terribly shy" back then). It wasn't until years later that Groucho ran into Chaplin again in Los Angeles, but by then Chaplin was already a star, having become the world's most famous comedian.

Above: July 1937- to celebrate the re-opening of the Beverly Hills Tennis Club, tennis players and new owners Fred Perry (far left) and Ellsworth Vines organised a match- a battle between Britain and the U.S- with Chaplin teaming up with Perry and Groucho with Vines.// Below: April 1972- Chaplin, who lived in Switzerland after being labelled a communist in the 1950's, was invited back to the U.S. to accept his honorary Academy Award. Here he is pictured with Groucho and Danny Kaye looking on (photo by Candice Bergen).

Groucho greatly admired Chaplin. While he was not in the habit of complimenting other comedians, Groucho said about Chaplin in the May 1936 issue of Motion Picture magazine: "I know now there will never be anyone like him. He's in a class by himself, just as he has always been", and again in his 1959 autobiography: "He's still the greatest comic figure that the movies, or any other medium, ever spawned". Chaplin also admired Groucho, wishing he could talk on screen like Groucho did.

During the 65 years of their acquaintanceship, Groucho and Chaplin saw each other perhaps a dozen or so times (according to Hector Arce, author of Groucho (1979)). One of the occasions where they had met was at dinner at the famous Chasen's restaurant in Hollywood on 4 September 1940. Groucho wrote a letter to his good friend Arthur Sheekman the next day, talking about his conversation with Chaplin. An excerpt from the letter is seen below (only the part that deals with Chaplin) with interesting remarks from Groucho such as "He's very odd. In some ways, he has no sense of humor at all [..]". Also, Groucho mentioned in his letter what I already mentioned above, i.e. that Chaplin envied him for talking so "swiftly" on the screen. Groucho later said it was the greatest compliment anyone had ever given him.

September 5, 1940

Dear Sheek,

I'm working terribly hard and I don't like it. I really don't mind the work; it's just that when I work, I sleep badly; and it's insomnia rather than labor that makes me feel lousy.

Last night I had dinner with Chaplin at Dave Chasen's and he was in high humor- unusual for him. He told me, among other things, that he's not Jewish but wishes he were. He said he was part Scotch, English and Gypsy, but I think that he isn't quite sure what he is. He's very happy about his movie [The Great Dictator]. He ran it yesterday for the Breen Office - it runs over 13,000 feet and there wasn't a foot cut out of it. He thinks it will be a big hit. He's very odd. In some ways, he has no sense of humor at all and then again it's wonderful. He told me he hated the English but that he hoped they would win the war. He also hates Noel Coward and even refuses to see his playlets, which are now running at El Capitan.

At the finish of the meal, the most astonishing thing happened: he grabbed the check (for six; it came around $30*) and refused to let me have it. I was quite relieved, but luckily I'm sunburned and I don't think the white or my nervousness was discernible through the tan. He has a reputation for stinginess but I have always found him generous- not only with his money but with his praise. He thinks I'm wonderful and said that he envies my glibness and wishes he could talk as swiftly on the screen as I do. Well, enough of Chaplin and me!

[....]

[*According to the inflation calculator $30 in 1940 would now be $541.90]

Source: The Groucho Letters: Letters from and to Groucho Marx (1967)

Groucho Marx's advice to Jerry Lewis

The highly successful, decade-long partnership between Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis came to an end in 1956. The comedy duo starred together in 16 films, numerous nightclub shows, radio and television shows. But in July 1956 it all ended, with Martin and Lewis going their separate ways and quickly finding success on their own.

The break-up of Martin and Lewis, who were also friends, had been initiated by Martin who was tired of playing second fiddle to his partner. Martin was fed up with the films in which he played the dull romantic lead who sang a few songs, while Lewis got all the best scenes playing the funny guy. The final straw for Martin came in 1954 during the promotion of the film Living it Up, when Look magazine gave the duo a cover photo but cropped Martin out of it. Legally bound by contracts, the duo stayed together for two more years before finally splitting up. For the next 20 years, Martin and Lewis didn't speak to each other until their mutual friend Frank Sinatra arranged a surprise television reunion in 1976 (watch here). However, it wasn't until the death of Martin's son Dean Paul Jr. in 1987 that the two men made up. They continued to speak on and off until Martin's death in 1995.

Photo above: the only photo I could find of Groucho Marx and Jerry Lewis together-- here they are pictured with Judy Garland and Tony Martin (I don't know what the occasion was).


On 5 April 1954, after reading reports that Martin and Lewis were having problems and might even split up, a concerned Groucho Marx wrote the following letter to Jerry Lewis. Being part of a team himself and having experienced similar problems with his brothers, Groucho urged Lewis to sit down with Martin and talk things out. (Incidentally, Groucho's letter is surprisingly serious with none of the typical Groucho jokes.) Three weeks later, Lewis sent his reply assuring Groucho he would follow his advice. As mentioned above, it would take two more years before Martin and Lewis finally split up.

April 5, 1954

Dear Jerry:

I've been reading in columns that there is ill feeling between you boys and that there's even a likelihood that you might go your separate ways. I hope this isn't true for you are awfully good together, and show business needs you. I don't mean to imply that either of you couldn't make a living on his own. I am sure you could. But you do complement each other and that's one of the reasons you click so successfully. 

I am sure you have had disagreements and arguments, just as all teams, trios and quartets have had since the beginning of the theater. In the heat of working together there's inevitably a nervous tension and frequently it's during these moments that two high-strung temperaments will flare up and slash at each other. 

There may be nothing to the rumors of your separation. However, if there is any ill feeling or bitterness between you, it will eventually affect your work. If that feeling does exist, sit down calmly together, alone --when I say alone, I mean no agents, no family, no one but you two-- sit down alone, and talk it out.

Cordially,

Groucho 

__________

April 28, 1954

Dear Groucho:

I want you to know how very thrilled I was to receive your very nice note. It is most gratifying and heartwarming to know that a guy as busy as yourself cares enough about my problem to take the time to sit down and write. Believe me, I deeply appreciate your interest along with realizing the sagacity of your words, and have every intention of following your advice. I want to assure you that I will do the right thing in this matter.

Please convey to your family my warmest personal regards and again my many thanks for your letter. I hope some day soon I will see you so I can thank you in person. Until then, I will close with "the secret word-- is thanks." 

Sincerely,

Jerry 

__________

On  23 January 1962, Groucho wrote Jerry another letter referring to the advice he had given eight years earlier:

Do you remember some years ago when I wrote you and Dino a joint letter pleading with you not to go your separate ways? I said the separation would mean disaster for both of you. Since then you have made $18,000,000 (net) and Dino, I imagine, has made about the same. Therefore I will abstain from giving you any more advice.

Source: The Groucho Letters: Letters from and to Groucho Marx (1967) 

Professionally, we were brothers long before you were

In 1945, Warner Brothers heard about the Marx Brothers' plans to make a film called A Night in Casablanca which was to be a parody of their classic Casablanca (1942). To make sure that this parody (complete with a lead character named 'Humphrey Bogus') was not violating Warners' rights, the studio's legal department got in touch with the Marx Brothers asking for information on their upcoming film. The inquiry from Warners set Groucho Marx thinking, and he soon came up with a clever plan for a publicity stunt. While Warners had simply inquired about the film's storyline, Groucho claimed that the studio had threatened to sue the Marx Brothers for using the word 'Casablanca' in their film title. The correspondence that ensued between Groucho and the studio is now legendary (I must say I'd never heard of it before) and gave Groucho the free publicity he wanted.

Groucho's first letter to Warner Brothers, which was his response to a "long, ominous legal document" the studio had never written, is shown below (or rather an early draft). The letter is simply hilarious and without a doubt the funniest I have posted so far. Also shown below are excerpts from Groucho's two subsequent letters (in transcript only) which he had sent after the studio kept insisting on knowing the details of the story. As Groucho's answers were getting more bizarre, Warners finally gave up and Groucho never heard from their legal department again. In the end, director Archie Mayo decided not to turn A Night in Casablanca (1946) into a parody of Casablanca, but rather into a parody of the genre.

Images via: letters of note
(original source: library of congress; the letter was donated to the library by Groucho Marx himself)

Transcript:

Dear Warner Brothers:

Apparently there is more than one way of conquering a city and holding it as your own. For example, up to the time that we contemplated making a picture, I had no idea that the City of Casablanca belonged to Warner Brothers.

However, it was only a few days after our announcement appeared that we received a long, ominous legal document, warning us not to use the name "Casablanca".

It seems that in 1471, Ferdinand Balboa Warner, the great-great grandfather of Harry and Jack, while looking for a short cut to the city of Burbank, had stumbled on the shores of Africa and, raising his alpenstock, which he later turned in for a hundred shares of the common, he named it Casablanca.

I just can't understand your attitude. Even if they plan on re-releasing the picture, I am sure that the average movie fan could learn to distinguish between Ingrid Bergman and Harpo. I don't know if I could, but I certainly would like to try.

You claim you own Casablanca and that no one else can use that name without their permission. What about Warner Brothers-- do you own that too? You probably have the right to use the name Warner, but what about Brothers? Professionally, we were brothers long before you were. When Vitaphone was still a gleam in the inventor's eye, we were touring the sticks as the Marx Brothers and even before us, there had been other brothers-- the Smith Brothers; the Brothers Karamazoff; Dan Brouthers, an outfielder with Detroit, and "Brother, can you spare a dime? " This was originally "Brothers, can you spare a dime?" but this was spreading a dime pretty thin so they threw out one brother, gave all the money to the other brother and whittled it down to "Brother, can you spare a dime?"

The younger Warner Brother calls himself Jack. Does he claim that, too? It's not an original name-- it was used long before he was born. Offhand, I can think of two Jacks-- there was Jack of "Jack and the Beanstalk" , and Jack, the Ripper, who cut quite a figure in his day. As for Harry, the older brother, he probably signs his checks, sure in the belief that he is the first Harry of all time and that all other Harrys are impostors. Offhand, I can think of two Harrys that preceded him. There was Lighthorse Harry of Revolutionary fame and a Harry Applebaum who lived on the corner of Ninety-third street and Lexington Avenue. Applebaum wasn't very well known-- I've almost forgotten what he looked like-- the last I heard of him, he was selling neckties at Weber and Heilbroner; but I'll never forget his mother, she made the best apple strudle in Yorkville.

We now come to the Burbank studio. This is what the Warner Brothers call their place. Old man Burbank is gone. Perhaps you remember him-- he was a great man in a garden, he was the wizard who crossed all those fruits and vegetables until he had the poor plants in such a confused and nervous state, that they never were sure whether they were supposed to come in on a meat platter or the dessert dish.

This is just conjecture, of course, but, who knows-- perhaps Burbank survivors aren't too happy over the fact that a plant that grinds out pictures settled in their town, appropriated Burbank's name and uses it as a front for their films.

It is even possible that the Burbank family is prouder of the potato produced by the old man than they are of the fact that from this town emerged "Casablanca" or even "Gold Diggers of 1931". 

This all seems to add up to a pretty bitter tirade but I don't mean it to. I love Warners-- some of my best friends are Warner Brothers. It is even possible that I am doing them an injustice and that they themselves know nothing at all about this dog-in-the-Wanger attitude. It wouldn't surprise me at all to discover that the heads of Warners' legal department know nothing about this dispute for I am acquainted with many of them and they are fine fellows with curly black hair, double-breasted suits and a love of their fellow man that out-Saroyans "Dr. Gillespie". I have a hunch that this attempt to prevent us from using the title is the scheme of some ferret-faced shyster serving an apprenticeship in their legal department. I know the type-- hot out of law school, hungry for success and too ambitious to follow the natural laws of promotion, this bar sinister probably needled Warners' attorneys, most of whom are fine fellows with curly black hair, double-breasted suits, etc., in attempting to enjoin us.

Well, he won't get away with it! We'll fight him to the highest court! No pasty-faced legal adventurer is going to cause bad blood between the Warners and the Marxes. We are all brothers under the skin and we'll remain friends till the last reel of "A Night in Casablanca" goes tumbling over the spool.

Jack Warner (left) and Harry Warner, the oldest of the four Warner Brothers

Below you'll find part of Groucho's second and third letter to Warner Brothers, who were still anxious to know what the film was really about.

Dear Warners:

There isn’t much I can tell you about the story. In it I play a Doctor of Divinity who ministers to the natives and, as a sideline, hawks can openers and pea jackets to the savages along the gold Coast of Africa.

When I first meet Chico, he is working in a saloon, selling sponges to barflies who are unable to carry their liquor. Harpo is an Arabian caddie who lives in a small Grecian urn on the outskirts of the city.

______

Dear Brothers:

Since I last wrote you, I regret to say there have been some changes in the plot of our new picture, “A Night in Casablanca.” In the new version I play Bordello, the sweetheart of Humphrey Bogart. Harpo and Chico are itinerant rug peddlers who are weary of laying rugs and enter a monastery just for a lark. This is a good joke on them, as there hasn’t been a lark in the place for fifteen years.

[via: all movie talk]