Trick-or-Treat: Paul Lynde, Halloween, and Blow
My articles can't all be about malfeasance in Ukraine or the plights of our planet's shivering, huddled masses. We need to laugh, too. Thus, I am honored to present the following.
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Dear Fans,
If, for some reason, your browser does not allow you to watch the embedded version of The Paul Lynde Halloween Special from 10/29/76 on this page, click here to view it on YouTube. Thank me later.
Not familiar with it? Too young to have seen it live while drinking Shasta and eating Jiffy Pop? Fear not. Life’s path has led you to this seminal moment.
One review published decades after the show was broadcast described it this way: “so bizarre and over-the-top in its acid-camp that it is almost impossible to believe anything of its kind could ever be shown on television.”
America was celebrating its bicentennial in 1976. Dorothy Hamill wowed at the Winter Olympics with her gold medal performance and fashionable hairdo. Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak launched Apple. Bruce Jenner won the decathlon at the Summer Olympics in Montreal. The first known outbreak of the Ebola virus occurred in Zaire, too!
And the original version of the song “Cocaine” (later made more famous by Eric Clapton’s rendition) was recorded by J.J. Cale. It described the atmosphere inside Manhattan discos, at suburban barbecues, and—clearly—whatever was taking place on the set for Lynde’s special.
Someone thought it was a good idea to assemble this cast of characters for the spectacle: Margaret Hamilton (the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz), comedian Tim Conway, Florence Henderson, the rock band Kiss, famous midget Billy Barty, Betty White, plus a cameo from the toothy Donny and Marie Osmond. Also featured: Roz Kelly, better known as Pinky Tuscadero from Happy Days (older sister on the show to Leather Tuscadero, played by singer/sexpot Suzi Quatro).
How coked-up must Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Ace Frehley, and Peter Criss have been at the time to agree to perform?
Let’s imagine this pitch to studio executives at ABC: We’re going to take the gayest—and most closeted—entertainer after Liberace and produce a one-hour special that includes a semi-trailer truck crashing through a wall, a musical number set to “Disco Baby,” comedy bits with Tim Conway and Billy Barty, plus Kiss singing “Detroit Rock City,” “King of the Nighttime World,” and “Beth.” Oh, and also, all of the scenes are going to last excruciatingly, and uncomfortably, long and everyone will be whacked out on drugs.
Green light.
But don’t let me bore you with paralysis by analysis. Watch the show and refer, as needed, to the liner notes (with timeline marks) and commentary below. If this does not earn me a Pulitzer Prize, well, I certainly don’t know what will!
Yours in journalistic integrity,
G.A. Cuddy
—
00:00 - 02:40
The show opens with a Christmas scene. It’s a Halloween special. Lynde is dressed as Santa Claus, but he’s soon in a bunny costume for Easter and then—suddenly—in a smoking jacket celebrating Valentine’s Day. We’re jumping all over the place here, but Hamilton is present and lucid enough to take the proper corrective measures. The laugh tracks, plus chuckling of the live studio audience, add to the ambience.
02:40 - 08:40
Lynde’s opening monologue. He’s wearing a tan shirt, a brown sweater, and a tan sport coat. He does not reek of Halloween, but his overtly sexual one-liners and double entendres are actually fathomable. Somehow, Hamilton is dressed—and announced—as his housekeeper. Less than three minutes into the scene, Lynde breaks into song. It’s already a lot to process, but the lyrics are about children and their costumes. This is 1976. Everyone is on drugs. “I’m just crazy for kids today” is one of the lines. Not helpful. Dancers in devil costumes spinning pitchforks appear. Hamilton enters the stage again and starts to croon. She’s not really singing. It’s weird. The dancers wrap Lynde with rope and place him into a trash can. Donny and Marie come out of nowhere to secure the lid. They don’t say or sing anything. Instead, they both give the “ok” sign. Soon, we get the first pyro: Lynde emerges from the can in tatters. They devoted six minutes to this. How many lines of coke were chopped during this intro? My guess is a lot.
08:40 - 15:18
Lynde and Hamilton are in some jalopy. She’s driving. Destination: “away from those pesky kids with their Halloween pranks.” But here’s a shocker: they’re actually heading to the home of Hamilton’s sister. It’s haunted. They let us know. And there’s a vulture named Rover to greet them by the front door, too. Lynde: “Hope his bark is worse than his peck.” (Someone got paid a lot of money to write that line in 1976!) A gong sounds. Billie Hayes, best known as Wilhelmina W. Witchiepoo from H.R. Pufnstuf, plays Hamilton’s sister. Don’t ask me how I know that. Hayes should have been awarded an Emmy for her performance. We’re almost eleven minutes into the show and she is only the third person to have addressed the audience. But wait! Lynde figures out that Hayes is really a witch and Hamilton, without CGI, transforms into her green-faced costume from The Wizard of Oz. At this point, I require cocaine. I now understand the need. Billy Barty enters the fray dressed as a butler. And get this: the little fucking midget kicks Lynde in the shins! Didn’t see that coming. The show is starting to heat up with appearances. It’s a bit overwhelming when Miss Halloween of 1976 shows up. It’s Betty White. Finally, a breakthrough, but also a dilemma: Miss Halloween was expecting a date with Paul Newman, or even Paul McCartney, and not Paul Lynde. It’s a Three’s Company moment. There has been a misunderstanding. The audience, real and fake, howls. Out of nowhere, like a person ratcheted up on blow forwarding through songs on an iPhone with sweaty palms, the sister witches offer Lynde three wishes. He wants to be a trucker driving an 18-wheeler. Did we know the term “lot lizard” in 1976? Unsure. We’re nearly 1/3 of the way into the special and it’s very confusing.
(Paul Lynde as Uncle Arthur in Bewitched. Of note, I crushed hard on Elizabeth Montgomery as a young boy. Hard.)
15:18 - 23:13
Lynde is dressed in a rhinestone laden, white, Elvis or Evel Knievel-like jumpsuit, hanging onto the rearview mirror of a semi. He’s wearing white gloves and silver boots. He starts talking on a CB radio with Tim Conway, who is also driving a big truck. The lingo is all trucker, all of the time, like “Convoy” by C.W. MCall. Not on stage: Kris Kristofferson and/or Ali McGraw. Conway lights a cigar and it explodes. He disappears. Lots of dangerous stunts in this special. Left alone without a fellow trucker to chat with on the CB, Lynde breaks into song. But Conway comes back into the scene—brace yourselves—as a different trucker! So much slapstick taking place. We then hit a rather implausible moment: as it turns out, during the course of their conversation, Lynde and Conway come to the startling conclusion they are dating the same girl. These Hollywood whiz kids really test our imaginations, no? The woman, Kinky Pinky, works at a diner. She’s a two-timer. Lynde becomes so incensed with the betrayal that he crashes his truck through the wall of the diner, but only after Conway rushes into the establishment to marry Kinky Pinky in an impromptu ceremony. It’s television history, folks. Lynde is not wearing a shirt under his jumpsuit. Like before, we have another dilemma/misunderstanding. The short-order chef (you’re welcome) comes out of the kitchen. It’s Barty, again. Relegated to another subservient role, again. But, fret not: the diminutive legend exhibits superhuman strength by pushing Lynde’s truck out of the diner! The applause is thunderous. Despite all of the confusion, we finally get to a happy ending: the über-gay Paul Lynde wins the heart of Kinky Pinky by handing her a wad of cash. Some startling realism, finally. It’s taken nearly eight minutes to get here.
23:13 - 24:40
Who doesn’t love a hoedown musical number with two big trucks in the background? Happy 200th Birthday, America! The final line spouted by Lynde, Conway, and Kinky Pinky: 10-4! This was the best 87 seconds of my life.
24:40 - 29:00
Hamilton is reading Rosemary’s Baby. Hayes is reading The Exorcist. Lynde gets teleported into the scene. There’s a single dick joke that has hot dog, meat, and weanie all mentioned in the same sentence. Barty the Butler arrives to take food orders. The trio are famished! We are, officially, halfway through the show. And I just noticed something: there are no black people in this special. Or Hispanics. Or Asians. It’s equally troubling and heartwarming. Cue the fog machine: here comes Kiss! Lynde looks astonished. This lip-synched version of “Detroit Rock City” gives me a boner. Some of the amps explode at the end of the song. So many dangerous aspects of this Halloween spectacle. Only 21 minutes remaining? One of my life’s major disappointments has been the lack of a sequel.
29:00 - 34:40
Lynde and the witches are playing Monopoly. Like several times before in the show, he becomes dismayed and—this time—makes a wish to be in the Sahara Desert. His wish is granted and, immediately, he is in a sheikh’s tent wearing a stylish Arabic gown with Lady Cecily Westinghouse née Florence Henderson. Lynde has kidnapped her. Poor guy sure is unlucky in love to have to reach such depths. “Perhaps a glass of my hyena wine will melt your frosty heart,” says Lynde. He also mentions that he’s driven hundreds of concubines wild. Unlikely. Lynde makes a masturbation joke and appears to have an orgasm. They kiss. Am I watching From Here to Eternity? They kiss again. No tongue, lots of feigned moaning. Are these actors or amateur porn stars? Conway, now a member of the French Foreign Legion, arrives to save the day. How did he ever evolve from this to Dorf? Henderson exhibits her physical comedy genius by writhing on the floor. Unlike the other scenes, we finally get a happy ending: the sheikh and the abducted woman are in love.
(What is it with Mrs. Brady and gay dudes?)
34:40 - 41:06
Hamilton and Barty are back in the haunted house’s main room. Lynde returns: he’s donning his tan-on-brown outfit again, but this time with a festive orange sweater. Pinch me but it’s sure starting to feel like a real Halloween! Hayes reappears, too, for what will become one of the most phenomenal scenes in the history of television. There are more backup dancers. Lynde is now wearing a sparkling tuxedo with a black vest and orange dress shirt. The wardrobe department must have been exhausted. It also appears that the sisters have made a wish of their own: to have a party at the haunted house with a musical number. No description here can do this scene justice. Watch it. Please. I implore you. But it’s not complete until Florence Henderson starts singing “That Old Black Magic.” Standing ovation and not a dry eye in the place.
41:06 - 46:55
Less than ten minutes to go. Out comes Kiss. The director has a lot of ground to cover in a limited amount of time. Peter Criss sings “Beth” and I start to sob, again. One lingering question persists, however. Where the hell are Donny and Marie? After the song, we have some uneasy banter between Lynde, Hamilton, and Paul Stanley. Lynde offers this: “Just what I’ve always wanted, four kisses on the first date!” Oh, you sly one, you! Hamilton displays impeccable manners by introducing the members of the band by their first names. I wanted Gene Simmons to spit blood on Lynde’s face, but all the writers gave him was a throwaway line. Lynde demands one more wish. Surprise! It’s another lip-synch time burner! Kiss does “King of the Nighttime World,” which is one of my personal favorites. More pyro, smoke, and steam. Gene finally does something substantial by spewing fire. I don’t want the show to end.
46:55 - 48:40
The segue to genius. Each star is now dressed in formal wear. We have moved from one of America’s greatest rock bands to an ensemble performance of “Disco Baby.” Sadly, it’s just the abridged version. Kiss sit nearby and act disturbed, agitated. I feel empathy for them.
48:40 - 50:37
Lynde’s sign-off. What a total screw job for Donny and Marie. They weren’t even given dialogue or a musical number! We do get the benefit of a limited reprise of “Disco Baby” for the finale. Also, please pay special attention to the swaying dancers behind Lynde during his closing chat. This special should be mandatory viewing at every film school.
—
And just like that, the credits roll and the show ends. I need to find some sort of stimulant to pick me up, even temporarily, from my pestering malaise over not having bonus footage of Paul Lynde et al.
The world can be cruel.
(Ayyy…plus for Suzi Quatro!)