Hal Linden: Smart, sweet, but no schmaltz
If you think the world of Hal Linden begins and ends with Barney Miller, then think again. Yes, the much-loved '70s TV series that made him a star is probably the most prominent peak of Linden's career, but it's far from being the only one.
The 78-year-old performer is in Toronto rehearsing for the Harold Green Jewish Theatre's production of Tuesdays With Morrie, which starts previews May 8 at the Winter Garden Theatre but, in the course of a far-ranging conversation conducted at The Senator over a breakfast of bagels and lox, he lifted the curtain on his long and varied life.
He was born in the Bronx and grew up under the care of a father who was "a real music lover and served as the patriarch for our extended family. There was my brother and me, as well as eight male cousins, and all but two of us wound up as professional musicians." Linden was the youngest and the clarinet was his instrument of choice. He studied dutifully until puberty started moving his thoughts to the fair sex. "I learned that more girls went to dances than to concerts," Linden says with a laugh, "so I switched to the saxophone and adopted Benny Goodman as my idol."
After that, it was a short leap to becoming the vocalist in front of the band and – after a stint in the military – he began auditioning for Broadway shows. At first, Linden's luck wasn't that great. Oh, he got jobs, but some of them were in classic turkeys that didn't even leave the rehearsal hall or closed on the road. As he rattles off titles like Pleasure Dome and Strip for Action, it's easy to see why the shows never made it.
But then came Bells Are Ringing, the hit musical starring Judy Holliday. Linden's girlfriend at the time – Frances Martin, who he has been married to since 1958 – was a dancer in the show when the job of understudy to male lead Sidney Chaplin came open. This was a particularly sensitive posting, because, as Linden vividly recalls, "Judy and Sidney were having a thing at the time and it got pretty volatile on occasion. They hired me on a Monday and, by Sunday, Sidney was announcing, `I'm not going on stage with her!' and I had to spring into action."
He hadn't even had time to learn the staging for the show's hit song, "Just In Time," so he sang it into Holliday's ear as she gently but firmly pushed his shoulder so that he faced the audience instead. "She was the most generous actress I ever met," he says fondly, "and one of the most brilliant, saddled with the impression that she was a dumb blonde," thanks to her star-making role in Born Yesterday.
Linden continued in Broadway musicals, finally breaking through to stardom and a Tony Award with The Rothschilds. But then – as it always does – Los Angeles beckoned and, before too long, he found himself as the star of a police-station sitcom called Barney Miller. To this day, Linden is proud of his work on that show. "We never walked away from a shoot saying, `We'll do better next week.' Every single episode was executed as perfectly as we could do it. The actors around me were the best. And the scripts? Unbeatable."
After Miller went off the air in 1982, Linden tried other sitcoms but none really clicked. He's philosophical about the whole process. "Who knows why something succeeds or fails? It's not like anyone ever sets out to deliberately do a bad TV show but, sometimes, that's just the way it works out."
The stage has always remained Linden's first love, which is why he's in Toronto in Tuesdays With Morrie, based on the Mitch Alboim book about the wisdom the author received from weekly visits with his dying former teacher. "I didn't like the original book," Linden says with rare candor. "I thought it was sentimental, maudlin, self-aware. Morrie was so full of folksy wisdom that I wouldn't want to be in his presence too long."
But when he read the stage script, he changed his mind completely. "Everything has much more humour. We get all the points obliquely. You don't have to sew it on a sampler and put it up on the wall." What does he think the play is trying to say? "Live fully," is his immediate response. "Take life and fill it up with all you can. Commit to it and, when you go, you'll go smiling.
"I don't fear death," Linden says thoughtfully. "I'm not a heavily religious person and I don't really believe in hell, but I've done enough good things in my life, just in case. I have four children who – wonder of wonders! – all still talk to me, and eight grandchildren who are always happy to see me. That's the best."
And when it comes time for Linden to leave this world, he would like to do it like his brother Bernie did a year and a half ago. "It was Yom Kippur," Linden says with a gentle smile, "and he was playing the viola in the synagogue. He died, literally, in the middle of a note.
"You want that ending? I'll take it any day."
- The Star.com - Saurday, April 25, 2009 by Richard OUZOUNIAN, theater critic.