During the last week of the Olsen and Johnson television series, I was talking to our scenic designer Freddy Fox and costume designer Paul Dupont.  They told me about a man named Max Liebman and said, “He’s looking for you.  Give him a call.”  “Who is he?,” I inquired.  “Producer of The Admiral Broadway Review.  He’s currently casting and putting together what could be the biggest variety series ever to be created for television.  Call him and go get the job.”

I took the number, gave Max Liebman a call, said, “I understand you’re looking for me.”  He said, “Yes, I’ve seen you on the Olsen and Johnson series, and I would like for you to come audition for me.  Please call me again the first week of February.”  Uhh, the first week in February?  That was three and a half months away!  I said, “I’ll call.”

The three and a half months dragged by.  With Olsen and Johnson, I played a vaudeville date at the Strand Theatre in New York City (11 days in November) and a strange booking at the Copa City Night Club in Miami (20 nights in December) with our troop augmented by the addition of  Stubby Kaye, Betty Reilly, The Salici Puppets and Mata and Hari.  I auditioned for several entrepreneurs: Stanley Raeburn, Moss Hart, Anderson Lawler, Vinton Freedley, Doug Coudy, and the producing team Katzell-Gordon-Gordon-&-Dietz (twice).  But nothing panned out.  Had to borrow $25 a week from my dad to make mortgage payments for a while.

Finally February arrived, I called Max Liebman.  He asked me to meet him at the Malin Studios on 52nd Street.  On February 9th, 1950, I found Malin Studios, went upstairs to a room filled with cigar smoke and paper cups.  Met Producer Max Liebman and his two writers Mel Tolkin and Lucille Kallen.  Irwin Kostal, with whom I had worked on Olsen and Johnson, was also there, sitting at the piano.

Mr. Liebman greeted me warmly, asked me to sing a ballad for him.  I sang a French-Canadian ballad called “Leetle Bateese.”  He said, “No, a ballad.  You know, a pretty popular song, a standard.”  Though I had no music with me, Irv accompanied me as I sang “East of the Sun” slowly, out of tempo.  Then Liebman said, “Fine.  Another song, please.”  I sang “Without a Song.”  He put down his cigar and said, “And now a rhythm song, please.”  I sang “East of the Sun” in a swinging four.  He nodded, said, “You sing well and I’d like for you to join us.  We go into rehearsal next Monday.  We’ll work Monday through Friday 10:00am to 6:00pm and all day Saturday.  The show will be on from 9:00 to 10:30 every Saturday night, the last hour and a half of what is to be called The Saturday Night Review.  The first hour will be a Jack Carter Show coming from Chicago.  We will run thirteen weeks, then take the summer off and begin again in the fall.  I can pay you $150 a week.  What do you say?”  I gulped, smiled, nodded and said, “I’ll be here.”  We shook hands and Max said, “Well, not here.  By then we’ll be in our new offices and rehearsal studios at 130 West 56th Street.  You better come there.”

I ran to the subway, tapped my feet all the way home on the subway and the bus, ran back to 86th Street in Jackson Heights.  I had a thirteen week job on a new television series to be called Your Show of Shows!