I read the news today, oh my God.
John Lennon’s words came to mind on Tuesday as soon as I read the texts of my friend Marcy Carriker Smothers. The first was a photo of a guitar next to a fire and a Christmas poinsettia. The second included the news. “Beautiful and peaceful passage today at 1:40 p.m. We had a pleasant Christmas.
Tom Smothers had been in hospice care for months, so the news of his death brought a sigh, not a gasp. I thought of the lyrics of “Day in the Life” not because of the circumstances of his death – Tom was 86 and died of lung cancer – but because Lennon and Tom were close. During the Montreal recording of “Give Peace a Chance” in 1969, only two acoustic guitars strum. One is owned by Lennon; the other by Tom.
Tom came to the anti-war movement with sad good faith. His father was a West Pointer who said goodbye to his namesake son in 1940, before heading to the Pacific to defend freedom. He never came back.
Nothing funny about this origin story. Yet through music, Tom and his younger brother, Dick, found their way to comedy and created an act that immediately impressed “Tonight” show host Jack Paar, who said in 1961 : “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. but no one is going to steal it.
Six years later, the brothers launched “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour,” their flagship variety show that used comedy to satirize topics such as the Vietnam War, racial politics and drugs.
Despite the heavy topics, Tom came across as light and simple. During a question-and-answer session with the audience, a woman once asked, “Are you both married?”
“No ma’am. We’re just brothers,” Tom said.
In real life, Tom thought and felt deeply. He cared about social justice and the creative process. He worked on the details. The biggest contradiction was Tom’s onstage personality. A classic Smothers Brothers sketch would begin with the two singing a song until Tom interrupted or messed up the words so badly that Dick pulled the plug. This would lead to ironic observations or an argument that turns into a punchline. The brothers would then return to the song, giving the sketch a natural and satisfying finish. At heart it was a character comedy with Dick playing bass and straight guy and Tom playing guitar and crazy.
In a first episode, the brothers came out singing Maurice Chevalier’s hit “Louise” while wearing boater hats. They stopped to chat about French and romance, and Tom instantly pretended to be familiar. “Do you really know these wines and these French women? » Dick challenged Tom.
“Oh, I know all about that sort of thing.”
The audience laughed, doubting his claims.
Dick wasn’t about to let Tom get away with this. “What do you know about French wine? » he insisted.
“It gets you drunk,” Tom replied, nailing the punchline with exquisite timing.
In real life, Tom knew everything about wine. For decades, he owned and operated a vineyard in Sonoma that produced award-winning Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. At first he lived in a barn on the property, then later designed a main house with a huge stone fireplace and views in every direction so one could follow the sun throughout the day. If the spa could talk, it would tell spicy stories about parties from the 60s and 70s and would probably be the only one who could remember what happened.
At the time I visited the Smothers-Remick Ridge Ranch, the hot tub was a place for kids to splash around. I‘I first met Tom in 1988, when I was hired as a writer for the second life of the variety show. While working on the reboot, I roomed with associate producer, Marcy Carriker, who married Tom in 1990. Their two children – Bo and Riley Rose – played with my own two children. Marcy co-hosted a food and wine radio show with Guy Fieri, so dinner was always delicious. After the meal, Tom would sit by the fire and read a big novel.
It was a picture of domestic life that did not last. Bathing in wine country meant drinking a lot, and the more Tom drank, the less fun it became. Knowing how brilliant and generous he could be, I found it painful to see his behavior change. If this seems harsh, I mention it because the truth mattered to Tom. Marcy and I would take long walks to discuss the situation. We found a phrase that sums things up: “It’s complicated.”
Tom and Marcy separated 15 years ago but never divorced. And when Tom got sick, she was there for him with their children. “They were rocks,” Marcy texted me a few hours after his death. She told me that in the past few months, Tom had never been cared for by a stranger. She, Bo, Riley Rose and Marty Tryon, Tom’s former road manager, watched over him.
Tom therefore spent a pleasant New Year’s Eve and a beautiful Christmas day surrounded by his family. He slipped away the next afternoon. As always, exquisite timing.
I hope Tom is remembered. He last appeared on television thirty years ago, so, except for comedy fans, no one under 40 would have reason to recognize him. If you’re curious, there’s a clever 2002 documentary, “Smothered,” about the Brothers’ firing from CBS, and an excellent book by David Bianculli, “Dangerously Funny: The Uncensored History of the CBS Comedy Hour.” Smothers Brothers.” Both the film and the book reiterate what history has clearly shown: Tom was absolutely right that the war was stupid and that civil rights were worth fighting for. In his own way, he also defended freedom.
Or try sliding down a YouTube rabbit hole where you’ll stumble upon the early routines of Steve Martin, whom Tom hired as a writer before encouraging him to perform. I have never met an artist more respectful of the talents of others than Tom. He loved so many other artists, including Harry Belafonte, Harry Nilsson, Martin Mull and (Mama) Cass Elliot, who lights up one of my favorite sketches of the 1968-69 season.
The concept is simply that Elliot sings his hit “Dream a Little Dream” to Tom as he tries to fall asleep in a big brass bed. Tom doesn’t say a word but laughs a lot. The song is sweet, original, musical and funny. When you strip away the complications, Tom was all of those things.