Robin Morgan, child actor, poet and feminist: "Feminist basics"
While still pregnant [with son Blake], I've had to do Merv Griffin's show, when another activist cancels from stage fright. This entails smiling grit-teethed while explaining the 'Basics' ("No, women don't want to be drafted. Actually, we'd like to end the draft for men, too. No, rape survivors don't 'ask for it'..."), only to have Griffin fixate on my belly, asking, "How can you be a genuine feminist if you've got a bun in the oven?" (New York, 1969)
From "Saturday's Child: A Memoir," by Robin Morgan (New York: W.W. Norton, 2001)
Abbie Hoffman, political activist: "Handling shirt-shock"
The flag shirt played a central role in my most heralded television appearance ... I was a guest on the Merv Griffin Show...
After introductions all around I said it was hot under the lights and would anybody mind if I took off my jacket?
"Go ahead," said mild-mannered Merv. Then I removed my jacket ... Merv tried to pretend he didn't notice I had just unfurled Old Glory.
Merv Griffin has these beautiful clear blue eyes, and as I talked to him I had the impression I could see right through his skull to an imaginary sky beyond. He decided to handle the shirt-shock with a little small talk. But eventually the topic turned from men's fashion to more serious matters. We had a little thrust and parry over the mandatory tough question, "How can you claim there's so much repression in America if you're allowed on my show?" I told him how I had just been given a thirty-day jail sentence, not for wearing the star-spangled shirt, but for the thoughts in my head... (New York, 1969)
"Soon to Be a Major Motion Picture," by Abbie Hoffman (G.P. Putnam's, 1980)
Miles Davis, jazz musician: "Stupid bullshit"
In 1970 I was asked to play on the televised Grammy Awards show. After I played, Merv Griffin, the host, ran up and grabbed me by the wrist and started talking all this stupid bullshit. Man, it was embarrassing. I started to knock the jive motherfucker out right there on television, live. He ran up talking this nonsense that most television talk show hosts say because they ain't got nothing else to say and don't know -- or care -- about what you're really doing. They just talk to take up space. I don't like that kind of bullshit and so after that I didn't go on too many of them talk shows... (Hollywood, 1970)
From "Miles: The Autobiography," by Miles Davis with Quincy Troupe (Simon & Schuster, 1989)
Jay Leno, talk show host: "Supportive"
Merv Griffin started having me on his show in the late seventies and was always very supportive. In fact, he was the first show I ever guest-hosted, just before I started guest-hosting for Johnny [Carson] in 1986... (Los Angeles)
From "Leading With My Chin," by Jay Leno with Bill Zehme (HarperCollins, 1996)
Judith Krantz, novelist: "Smooth as old satin"
The Merv Griffin Show booked me...
I'd never done a television interview before, but I decided not to wait in the green room and watch the first part of the show, since I was on last, but stay in the dressing room I'd been assigned ... When I got out on stage I was startled to hear the well-organized applause from the audience.
I just looked right into Merv's eyes for twelve minutes, never dropping or raising my gaze, so I wouldn't see a camera, and kept answering questions, feeling no nerves at all. None. Merv was a marvelously attentive listener and so easy to talk to, as smooth as old satin. He did TM [transcendental meditation] every day before the show started, which might well have explained his calm and openness. I was to do his show nineteen more times before, sadly, he decided he'd had enough of it and called it off after twenty-three years.
Merv held up the book ["Scruples"] himself -- every author adored Merv for that -- and told people to go out and buy it right away. Most interviewers will, at the best, allow a five-second shot of the book jacket lying on a table... (1978)
From "Sex and Shopping: The Confessions of a Nice Jewish Girl," by Judith Krantz (St. Martin's Press, 2000)
Cyndy Garvey, baseball wife and television talk show host: "Liked my talk"
That year, all the Los Angeles-based talk shows had us appear. It started with Merv Griffin; his show had invited Steve to be a guest. I went with him to the studio and watched in the wings as he was interviewed. For a few minutes, they talked baseball. The usual questions, Steve's usual answers. Griffin's smile seemed a little forced. He looked bored.
Then, craning his neck, he looked past Steve and right at me. "Say, Steve! Isn't that your pretty wife standing over there?"
What? "Sure is," said Steve, a bit startled by the sudden change in direction.
Griffin pointed at me and crooked a finger. "C'mon out. Cyndy! Let's take a look at you..."
During the commercial break, Merv patted my hand. "Hey, you know something?" he said, "You can talk." (1978)
From "The Secret Life of Cyndy Garvey," by Cynthia Garvey with Andy Meisler (Doubleday, 1989)
About the writer
Dana Cook is a Toronto freelance editor and literary ambulance chaser. His collage portraits of Marlon Brando, Johnny Carson, Saul Bellow and Hunter S. Thompson have appeared previously in Salon.
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