Editor’s note: summer is a good time to finally crack open those books you’ve been meaning to read all year. Contributor Maurice Tougas gets things started with his review of Desi Arnaz, The Man Who Invented Television (Simon and Schuster),
Lucille Ball – just Lucy to her millions of fans – has rightfully been elevated to TV icon status in the 36 years since her death. Less well known is the man who did as much as the redhead herself in creating the legend that is Lucy, her husband and driving force behind I Love Lucy, Desi Arnaz.
Author Todd S. Purdum gives Arnaz his due with his captivating biography, Desi Arnaz, The Man Who Invented Television.
Desi Arnaz was born into a well-to-do Cuban family. Life was good until, in 1933, one of many revolutions rocked the island nation, forcing Desi and his father to flee to Florida. Desi was a natural entertainer and combined with his slightly exotic look (particularly for white bread America) and infectious charisma, he became a nightclub and B-level movie star. His big hit in the nightclubs was mildly spicy Cuban music, and the conga dance.
Lucille Ball was also a mid-level movie star. The two met on the set of the 1940 film “Too Many Girls” (the story of Desi’s life, as it would turn out). In short order they married. It was a fiery marriage. Desi was on the road with his band, and, exercising his rights as a Cuban male as he saw it, was not afraid to play the field. Lucy’s film career was floundering, and she was getting old (mid-30s, ancient by female standards). She teamed with producer Jess Oppenheimer and writers Madelyn Pugh and Bob Carroll on a radio series called My Favorite Wife. With, at Ball’s insistance, Arnaz re-cast as the hubby, the radio series basically became I Love Lucy when it shifted to the emerging media of television.
Television in the early 1950s was an infant medium, looked down upon by its powerful big brother, the movies. TV shows were almost all live on the East Coast and filmed off TV screens in a process called kinescope. The film was processed and replayed for the West Coast later, resulting in programs that looked like they were “seen through cheesecloth” as one exec put it. Displaying his entertainment smarts, Arnaz insisted that the show be recorded on film, giving everyone in the country a chance to see I Love Lucy in movie quality. This resulted in a massive rethink of how to film a TV comedy. Three cameras were required to film what was essentially a 25-minute stage play. Entirely new ways of filming were developed by legendary cinematographer Karl Freund, who filmed the seminal German sci-fi classic “Metropolis.” (Author Purdum incorrectly credits Freund with directing the Bela Lugosi classic “Dracula” in 1931; Freund filmed it, Tod Browning directed it.) It’s safe to say without Freund’s cinematic genius, I Love Lucy would never have happened.
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Besides creating the template for all three-camera, studio audience sitcoms to follow, Arnaz changed the industry in another key way. When CBS balked at covering the film costs (estimated at an extra $5000 per episode), Arnaz struck a deal. He paid the difference but insisted on retaining the rights to the I Love Lucy shows after the first showing. Reruns did not exist at the time – programs aired and then disappeared – but Arnaz insisted on owning the negatives. CBS, not seeing the future, let him have his way, and a cornerstone of the TV industry, syndication, was born.
Many viewers remember the heart-shaped I Love Lucy opening titles from decades or reruns, The original network run of I Love Lucy, however, was sponsored by cigarette giant Philip Morris. Those opening credits were animated (by Hanna-Barbera, creators of Tom and Jerry) showing stick figures of Lucy and Desi scampering across a cigarette package.
After the first episode premiered in the fall of 1951 the top exec at Philip Morris hated it and wanted to dump the series. The entertainment press, however, went nuts. A Variety critic wrote: “For here is a film with all the Grade A qualities of major studio production, attaining a depth and visual values that pertain to the theatre presentation, yet encompassing the desired intimacy for TV.”
More importantly, America loved the show and its stars Lucy and Desi. By season 3, it was a cultural institution. Everybody watched Lucy, in numbers unheard of today. Desilu reaped the benefits with merchandize sales, and Lucy and Desi were rolling in it.
Under Desi’s guidance, the Desilu Studio became a TV powerhouse; its most famous non-comedy show was The Untouchables. At its peak, Desilu bought RKO Studios, the company that made films such as “King Kong” and, coincidentally, the aforementioned “Too Many Girls.”
Lucy and Desi loved each other intensely, but Desi could not resist playing the field. (Desi couldn’t understand Lucy’s anger at his philandering. “What is she so upset about?” Purdum quotes Desi as saying. “They’re just hookers!”) In time, the marriage dissolved as Desi’s alcoholism destroyed his career. Lucy took over Desilu Studios, while Desi tried his hand at other ventures. Nothing, of course, matched the success of I Love Lucy.
Purdum found a heartbreaking letter written by Desi late in life, which says: “In the last few years I have gone from the guy who you seemed to be madly in love with, respected, admired, understood and loved to have sex with, to a guy whom you told you don’t love anymore, had no respect for, were ashamed of, did not understand and only occasionally submitted to have limited versions of sex with … I have gone from the Penthouse at the Chateau Marmont to the cellar of your sister’s house … “
Desi died of lung cancer at age 69 in 1986.
Underestimated because of his often-mocked accent, Arnaz is an important figure in the history of TV for his innovations, and as a pioneering Latin TV star in an era where TV was exclusively white. Purdum’s concise, readable book gives Desi Arnaz his due.
