This Time Together Read online

  She and her mother collaborated on a stage version of Ms. Burnett’s best-selling memoir “One More Time.” The resulting play, “Hollywood Arms,” is scheduled to have its world premiere in Chicago in April.

  Ms. Hamilton spoke publicly in the 1980’s about her struggles with addiction and her decision to go drug free.

  She starred as Maureen in the first national touring version of the musical “Rent,” had feature film credits and wrote and directed short films through the profit-sharing production company Namethkuf. She won “The Women in Film Award” at the 2001 Latino Film Festival for her short film “Lunchtime Thomas.”

  Ms. Hamilton is survived by two sisters, Erin and Jody Hamilton, and by Ms. Burnett. (New York Times)

  I didn’t want to get out of bed.

  I had the support of my family and friends and my dear husband, Brian, yet having the covers over my face gave me whatever small comfort I could find.

  Hal called. The play was set to open in Chicago at the Goodman Theatre in late April, and it wasn’t yet finished. It was time to get back to work.

  Still I stayed in bed, until Brian told me in no uncertain terms that I owed it to Carrie, I owed it to myself, and I owed it to Hal, who had nurtured and carried Hollywood Arms, Carrie, and me all this way.

  “It’s time to throw off the covers, Carol,” he said.

  Flying to Chicago to begin rehearsals, I held on to Brian’s hand, closed my eyes, and prayed. Carrie, let me know you’re with me. Give me a sign. I need you to help me through these next few weeks. I need your strength. Brian and I checked into the hotel room, where a huge bouquet was waiting for me: “Welcome to Chicago. See you tomorrow. Love, Hal.” It was a beautiful array of birds-of-paradise. I nearly fell over. Hal had no idea that was Carrie’s favorite flower—she even had one tattooed on her shoulder. This was definitely a sign.

  The next night, after the first rehearsal, Hal, Brian, and I went out to dinner at a lovely restaurant downtown. The maître d’ offered us a special brand of champagne as a welcome-to-Chicago gift. He showed us the label. There was a name on it: Louise. My mother’s name and Carrie’s middle name! I had what I needed to keep me going.

  Hollywood Arms went on to open on Broadway October 31, 2002, starring Linda Lavin (brilliant as Nanny), Michele Pawk (heartbreaking as Mama), and Frank Wood (so very touching as Daddy). It closed early in 2003, winning a Tony Award for the beautiful Michele. My baby and I had gone the distance, thanks to Hal.

  I quote John Simon’s final paragraph in his review of Hollywood Arms.

  But Hollywood Arms has yet another form of invaluable affection, that of Harold Prince for the characters and their story. You will never see more feelingful insight, more self-effacing love for their quirks, foibles, and kindnesses from a director for his stage children, big and small. If only this thoroughly endearing play and production could have been seen by Miss Burnett’s daughter and co-author, Carrie Hamilton, dead before even the Goodman Theatre premiere. One fervently hopes that the joy of such a true creation accompanied her on her final journey.

  Not surprisingly, perhaps, it was Carrie who best described what she left behind.

  Our legacy is really the lives we touch, the inspiration we give, altering someone’s plan—if even for a moment—and getting them to think, cry, laugh, argue. More than anything, we are remembered for our smiles; the ones we share with our closest and dearest, and the ones we bestow on a total stranger, who needed it RIGHT THEN, and God put you there to deliver.

  Carrie and the Fib

  There are times when I’m thinking about Carrie and a particularly funny story comes to mind, taking me back to when she was a little girl.

  We had caught Carrie in a fib. I don’t even remember what it was exactly, but Joe and I felt it was important to send her upstairs to her room right after dinner. It couldn’t have been much of a lie. She was only five, but we wanted to make sure it registered with her that fibbing was not a good thing.

  After a few minutes I knocked on the door and entered the bedroom she shared with Jody. We were alone. She was in her PJs and under the covers. She had been crying. I sat on the edge of the bed and bent over and kissed her, wiping the tears away.

  “Sweetheart, your daddy and I love you very much. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Uh-huh …”

  “We love you, but we don’t like what you did. Do you understand the difference?”

  She nodded. I moved closer. “Honey, you can always tell us the truth, no matter what, and we’ll still love you. That will never change.”

  She was staring at me. Hard. I moved even closer. Face-to-face.

  “It’s just that telling fibs or lies can only lead to bigger fibs and bigger lies and then things get worse and worse—and we don’t want that, now, do we?”

  Carrie hadn’t blinked or taken her eyes off me. I was really getting through to her. By this time we were nose to nose. I seized the opportunity to expand on the importance of honest communication, moving on to talk about how love could overcome any differences we might have. “Never be afraid to come and talk to us about anything. I promise Daddy and I will listen, and we will work it out, no matter what it is.”

  She was looking at me, mesmerized. This had been going on for several minutes and she was still drinking in what I was saying, with all her heart! I was so proud of myself and of how I was handling the situation that, I swear, in the back of my mind I heard violins. Somebody, somewhere, was about to present me with a medal for Mother of the Year.

  I finally finished, and asked Carrie if she had anything to ask me.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What, darling? Anything. Just ask.”

  “How many teeth do you have?”

  What’s Next?

  I’ve had a great run. I’ve had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, both professionally and personally. When I need inspiration, I think of Beverly Sills and do my best to emulate her, to concentrate on all the wonderful times I’ve had and continue to have, living my dreams to the fullest.

  My dear friend Mitzie Welch told me that when she’s going to sleep every night, she counts at least three Gratefuls for the day she has just lived through. It’s a pretty good idea.

  I’m happily married to Brian, for which I count a Grateful every day.

  I lost my beautiful Carrie, yet I was blessed to have had her light in my life. I feel her presence daily, and for that I count a Grateful, too.

  My Jody and Erin are loving and beautiful inside and out; two more Gratefuls.

  Erin is the mom of my grandsons, two smart and healthy boys, Zach and Dylan. Grateful and Grateful.

  My sister, Chrissy, and I are still very close. Grateful.

  Jody, grandson Zach, Erin, and grandson Dylan.

  COURTESY OF CAROL BURNETT

  I’m alive and healthy. Grateful.

  I still work doing the occasional guest shot on TV, a movie here and there, and the Q & A’s on the road—nothing taxing, and it suits me fine (even more Gratefuls).

  As for the career, sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about being young again and doing it all over. Then I bring myself up short when I realize how incredibly fortunate I was. What we had in the 1960s and 1970s couldn’t be duplicated on television today. Joe was a wonderful producer, and CBS put a tremendous amount of faith in us. These days, in my opinion, there’s too much network interference, and shows that don’t make it in the first couple of weeks are often cancelled before they have a chance to find an audience.

  Starting out today, would I really have been able to do all the musical TV specials with the amazing friends and talents with whom I had the thrill of working? Would a network support the idea of guest stars, dancers and singers, comedy sketches, elaborate sets, fifty costumes a week, and a full LIVE twenty-eight-piece orchestra? With real violins and drums and no synthesizers?

  The answer is no. No way could I find these opportunities today. Nothing like our show (and, I might add, all th
e other variety shows during that time) could ever see the light of day today. The networks just aren’t there for that kind of programming anymore. They won’t spend the money—and, given the profusion of cable competitors, they may not even have the money. And, sad to say, audiences won’t even know what they’re missing unless they look for the old variety show reruns late at night on some distant cable channel.

  So I add to my Gratefuls that my time happened when it did.

  And I’m grateful I can look back and say once more, “I’m so glad we had this time together.”

  Acknowledgments

  My thanks to Shaye Areheart, a publisher whose encouragement and smarts made this experience a joy.

  I would also like to thank my editor, Peter Guzzardi, for his guidance and TLC along the way.

  Copyright © 2010 by Mabel Cat, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Harmony Books, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  www.crownpublishing.com

  Harmony Books is a registered trademark and the Harmony Books colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  Grateful acknowledgment is made to Ken Welch for permission to reprint lyrics from “I Made a Fool of Myself Over John Foster Dulles,” words and music by Ken Welch, copyright © 1957 by Ben Bloom Music, copyright renewed 1985 by Ken Welch.

  Photograph copyright © Randee St. Nicholas.

  All photographs courtesy of Carol Burnett.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Burnett, Carol.

  This time together : laughter and reflection /

  Carol Burnett.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  1. Burnett, Carol. 2. Entertainers—United States—

  Biography. 3. Comedians—United States—Biography.

  I. Title.

  PN2287.B85A3 2010

  792.702′8092—dc22

  [B] 2009041090

  eISBN: 978-0-307-46120-9

  v3.0