by Brandie Ashe
Starlet O’Hara: “What brings you to Terra?”
Rat Butler: “You, you vixen, you. Starlet, I love you. That–that–that gown is gorgeous!”
Starlet O’Hara: “Thank you. I saw it in the window and I just couldn’t resist it.”
Arguably the most memorable sketch from The Carol Burnett Show, “Went With the Wind” remains a masterpiece of parody, hitting one hilarious beat after another with nary a misstep. And really, it all comes down to a single moment: the audacious, fantastic visual of Burnett, in that Bob Mackie-designed drapery dress, nonchalantly walking down the staircase with the curtain rod resting pertly on her shoulders.
It was this sketch that first introduced me to the show, long after its initial run ended in 1978. The show was one of my mother’s favorites, and this bit was one she particularly loved. In fact, several years ago, Mom made her own Starlet O’Hara curtain dress for a Halloween costume party, and it was an absolute hit. Even forty years later, “Went With the Wind”–and the brilliant show that spawned that sketch–remain beloved institutions of pop culture.
Carol Burnett was a star long before she exercised a contract option with CBS that granted her an Emmy-winning, self-named variety series in 1967. A novelty song called “I Made a Fool of Myself Over John Foster Dulles” made her a household name in 1957, and in the wake of that success, she appeared on several television series and scored a starring role on Broadway in the 1959 musical Once Upon a Mattress, which landed her a Tony nomination. Her mentor and dear friend, the legendary comedienne Lucille Ball, offered to cast her in a starring role in a sitcom produced by her studio, Desilu, but Burnett declined in favor of creating a musical variety show that would allow her a certain amount of freedom of format. She gathered a cast that included funny folks like Harvey Korman, Lyle Waggoner, Tim Conway, and even the great Dick Van Dyke at one point. Rounding out the cast was the young woman that Carol herself had become a mentor to, Vicki Lawrence. And together, they made comedy magic.
Burnett was made to host this type of show. A warm, quick-witted, and genuinely hilarious character herself, Burnett invited the audience in and asked them to check their troubles at the door and just sit back and enjoy the proceedings. Her frequent opening question-and-answer segments with the audience were unusual in that they were unscripted and could occasionally go off the rails, but in the end, these bits were some of the absolute funniest, especially when the audience’s queries would get a little … weird, pushing Carol into the role of incredulous straightwoman for a moment.
Audience member: “What kind of soap do they use to clean the floor?”
Carol (laughs uproariously): “I think that’s a little personal!” (to offstage) “You wanna tell the lady what it is?” (to audience member) “Do you have a vinyl floor at home you wanna clean, is that it? Yeah? Where is it? In the bathroom, or the kitchen?”
Audience member: “All over.”
Carol: “All over! You have vinyl all over your house?”
Audience member: “Just on the floor.”
Carol: “Just on the–” (Carol bends at the waist, laughing hysterically) “I love you!” (wipes tears from her eyes) “She–she says, ‘Just on the floor!’”
As beloved as Burnett was by the audience, she was just as respected by her costars. She was not a diva-type performer, hoarding all the good jokes for herself; she made sure to spread the wealth to her costars, allowing every performer in the ensemble to shine. That goodwill was shared by the rest of the crew; for instance, in the case of Vicki Lawrence, the entire cast essentially came together to assist and guide the inexperienced young actress, and Lawrence credited Harvey Korman especially with helping her figure out the lay of the land on set.
The show featured a number of recurring sketches, including their parodic take on soap operas, “As the Stomach Turns”; “Mr. Tudball and Mrs. Wiggins,” featuring a frustrated businessman and his ditsy secretary (played by Conway and Burnett); and “The Family,” which eventually was spun-off into its own series called Mama’s Family, which ran from 1983-1990, starring Lawrence as the fiesty titular “Mama,” Thelma. But aside from those familiar recurring bits, in watching any given episode of The Carol Burnett Show, there are certain hallmark moments you find yourself looking for and anticipating with great pleasure: Carol busting out her famed Tarzan yell; the appearances of the iconic Charwoman (outside of her animated opening appearance, that is); the spot-on classic movie parodies (Burnett as “Nora Desmond” = perfection); and, of course, Tim Conway going out of his way to make his costars, particularly Harvey Korman, crack and break character laughing at his antics. In fact, years later, Conway claimed that Korman once laughed so hard (during the instant-classic “Dentist” bit) that he actually peed his pants.
Now that’s comedy.
When I watch The Carol Burnett Show, I always think of my mother–now, more than ever, since we lost her unexpectedly last year. There’s a bittersweet tinge to rewatching my favorite sketches now, because I remember watching and laughing along with many of them with her. And “Went With the Wind” especially will always hold a place in my heart for its association with my mom.
After she passed away, it fell to me to clean out her closet and donate her clothes to charity. Toward the back of her closet, neatly folded in a plastic bag, I found her Halloween costume–the green velvet curtain dress that she’d made herself years ago, stitched together with neat, uniform strokes. I sat down on the floor of the closet, overwhelmed by memories. And then I pulled out my phone, Googled a video of the sketch, and watched “Went With the Wind” with Mom one more time, because it just felt right.
