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Recently, Green Beret Captain Robert Marasco appeared on the show to justify his killing of a Vietnamese double agent. On another program, Fashion-Model Czarina Eileen Ford got into a ranting match with two other women over whether mannequins are sexually promiscuous (some are, some aren't). Author Luigi Barzini told of the time that Mussolini, accompanied by a phalanx of officials and journalists, was motoring through the countryside. Suddenly the caravan halted and Il Duce got out and walked to a wall, apparently to gaze at the scene. Everybody else respectfully went over to share the leader's bucolic vision, only to discover that Mussolini was simply relieving himself. Too late to retreat, the entourage followed protocol to a man.
Whether dealing with Barzini on Mussolini or Orson Welles on films, Cavett lavishes upon his best guests a combination of warmth, informed intelligence and swift wit. His thought process is like a Grimes light on a patrol car, turning incessantly, flashing quips and telling comments on all manner of subject matter. When Joe Namath said that a nude scene in his latest movie had been done in very good taste, Cavett commented, "I'm sorry to hear that," then brightly switched to something more lighthearted: "Have you ever been offered a bribe?" He asked Actress Sally Kellerman, who is 5 ft. 10½ in., how tall her husband is, and she placed her hand on her forehead, saying, "He comes about up to here." Cavett: "How often?" Cavett's summary of the Laotian invasion, during a discussion with TV Newsman Edwin Newman: "We're not widening the war, we're merely narrowing Asia." Then there are times when Cavett is just plain flummoxed. Not long ago, Guest Rock Hudson walked onstage, confessed amiably that he was a boring conversationalist and then proceeded to prove it. At one point, Cavett desperately started a sprightly game of twenty questions, but Rock couldn't get the hang of it.
The Terrible Incongruity
Such moments are infrequent. On a talk show that really lives or dies on the quality of the conversation, Cavett conducts the chatter at a brisk tempo and with a sense of timing and effortless whimsy that can fracture a guest as well as an audience. Once Norman Mailer teased Cavett about Rival David Frost. When Mailer rose a moment later, a book fell from his pocket. Quipped Cavett: "You dropped your copy of Dale Carnegie." Last week, after Cavett Idol Groucho Marx had trespassed repeatedly on Truman Capote's attempts to complete a sentence, Cavett asked Groucho: "Do you have the feeling Truman is dominating this conversation?" The rebuke silenced Groucho for only five seconds. Even when he is off the air, Cavett is on. To a waitress who brings him a well-prepared fish dish, he says: "My compliments to the ocean." Spotting Alec Guinness' name on a marquee, he instantly visualizes an apt anagram: GENUINE CLASS.