What better way to brighten the January blues than make a Lucille Ball house call? Say what? Okay, so this requires some explanation.

As everyone who reads the better blogs knows, last year was Lucille Ball’s Centennial, which was properly celebrated here at The Paley Center for Media with screenings of some of her less-well-known television appearances (The Don Ho Show, anyone?), as well as a gallery of her record number of TV Guide covers (LB by way of the artistry of Ronald Searle, Richard Amsel, Al Hirschfeld, and so forth). Well, it turns out this exhibit, along with a tape of Ball highlights that accompanied it (i.e. William Holden setting Lucy’s fake nose on fire—how can you go wrong with that?), were spotted by a nice lady by the name of Frances Vietta who, in turn, invited the culprits behind it all (okay, we admit it, we were responsible for the inclusion of Lucy’s guest spot on The Zsa Zsa Gabor Show) to give a talk about the First Lady of Television at a place called the Coffee House Club.

Which led to the inevitable question—what, do tell, is the Coffee House Club? According to their literature, it’s a private social club meeting each weekday for lunch and for dinners several evenings per month. Located in Manhattan on E. 44^th Street (across from the better known Harvard Club), it’s a relaxed and cozy place that decries the snobbery one might associate with such establishments. (Think of that stuffy club Fred Astaire made fun of at the beginning of Top Hat; well, this isn’t that). They have low enough standards, after all, to invite me and my colleague (and coauthor) James Sheridan to be speakers. Which benefited them tremendously, if I must say so myself; since James knows the ups, downs, highlights, and lowlights of Lucille Ball’s life and career like nobody I’ve ever met.

Armed with a DVD of clips from I Love Lucy, The Lucy Show, and Here’s Lucy (gee, nobody seemed to complain that we’d left Life with Lucy off the disc …); copies of our book, Lucille Ball FAQ (do not think of this as a plug, but a pivotal part of telling the story); and some background facts and stories on the lady and her legend, the crowd seemed adequately satisfied. Because of my disdain for giving presentations by reading information off index cards, this was basically unscripted and spontaneous, which I think the folks appreciated. James provided the interesting tidbits, while I did my best to appear charming and equally well-informed. (They bought it).

The audience asked some of the expected questions: Was Lucy a natural red-head? (Was anybody’s hair that naturally red? No, this was a dye job as the woman herself freely admitted.) Who was her husband after Desi Arnaz? (Most people know she had a second husband, they just often forget his identity, because the pairing of Lucy & Desi became as ingrained in the public’s mind as Romeo & Juliet, after all. For the record, he was comedian-turned-golfer … uh, I mean, comedian-turned-producer, Gary Morton). Some lady uncharitably wanted to know if the great Ball was … um, that frequently used word that rhymes with “ditch.” (We explained that the tough, ultra-professional on-set Lucille Ball could be pretty demanding, which went against her goofy, lovable “Lucy” image; and hence some people interpret such incongruities by using the “b” word … a most diplomatic reply, no?).

What pleased me most was hearing the audience’s reaction to the clips. I had wondered prior to the event if maybe they’d have seen these moments countless times and perhaps grown too familiar with them: Lucy and Ethel defeated by the candy factory conveyor belt; Lucy stomping grapes; the aforementioned William Holden/nose clip, et al. But you can’t underestimate funny and the folks were rolling with laughter at times. For sure, I myself still cracked up at that face Lucille makes the first time she tastes Vitameatavegamin, or the way she crumples when Van Johnson wakes up and catches her miming over his sleeping self for the benefit of her friend. The lady knew how to get laughs. That’s why she was chosen as the topic to entertain the Coffee House members that night; all these years later still provokes affection and smiles. (One audience member explained how she grew up in Canada during the 1950s and felt fortunate that of the two stations available to them at the time, one offered I Love Lucy).

After our talk, there were folks at the Coffee House asking if we’d repeat our presentation at other private dining clubs to which they belonged. We could work the whole circuit, I suppose. (“For a free meal and ample applause, we’ll bring Lucille Ball right to your door!”) But if so, we really must give credit to the lady who made this stuff so great in the first place. If you’ve ever tried setting your nose on fire, you know it’s not easy doing it so well.