On the flight, Archie drinks ginger ale and tells Marshall stories about bouncing around 1950s L.A. with Stan Freberg and Tina Louise, about Bob Clampett's bitter feud with Chuck Jones (Archie is Team Clampett), and about being paid by the Philip Morris company to babysit Desi Arnaz so he wouldn't cheat on Lucille Ball. He's a natural storyteller, funnier and more relaxed with Marshall than he often is, but every time the stories get anywhere risque or otherwise interesting he stops, chuckles to himself, and looks off into the middle distance.
("That Bob Crane, what a character, I tell you, he was so good on the radio" long unbroken stare at back of plane seat.)
Exactly.
Marshall will ask a lot of questions in a polite, interested way — like a friendly psychologist. He finds Archie extremely likable despite their professional not-quite-rivalry and strange power dynamic.
Marshall's limo heads up into the hills just as the sun's going down over the Pacific, setting the smoggy sky on fire with glorious coruscant oranges and reds. And as Marshall and Archie's stomachs dip as the Rolls hoves over the final incline to Marshall's gated compound, Marshall sees ... a little group of a half-dozen hippies (yes, even in 1973) camped out outside his gate. When they see the limo approach, a young couple wearing patchwork leathers, macrame, fringe, the works, point excitedly at the limo. "It's Dr. Red!" the girl hops up and down and points at the limo. They've evidently been waiting for you. Marshall, instructions to the driver? The remote to open the gate is in your hand.
Marshall instructs the driver to pull over, and he’ll get out to greet the hippies with namaste half-bows.
The boy and girl who were most vocal in their excitement at Marshall's arrival put their hands together in response. The four others seem a little younger, a little more subdued, a little quieter but they also seem to be two paired couples. "Dr. Redgrave, it's an honor. I'm Ethan, this is Jane, my old lady. My brother Stanley, his girl Ada, and over here are Will and Debra. We ... we heard you'd be in town and we wanted to come by and rap with you. We're ... well, we're seekers, and we're questioning our current setup. Do you have any time tonight?" Jane eagerly follows up with "We won't keep you up long, honest! We know you have to go on Carson tomorrow." Jane looks at Marshall and then at Ethan hopefully. Marshall, give me a Body Language roll.
Cool. So yeah, Marshall can tell they're holding something back... most likely they are really not supposed to be here, and not because of parents or anything like that, but because of whomever they're entangled with spiritually. You've seen this kind of young kid before: eager, friendly, open, spiritually-aware, and they're almost always involved somehow in someone who helped make them this way, and this is LA, there are communes and cults and churches taking in these kids all over the place.
Ethan and Jane look too old to be worried about parents, but the other four... they're probably between 16 and 19, the bunch of them.
“Far out man, far out. Yeah, why don’t we uh, go inside and we can hang by the pool, you can tell me what’s new and cool.”
The kids tromp through the front gate alongside the limo as it pulls up to the front door. A couple of the girls are even twirling medievally, Pippin-style. Despite these kids' secret concern, they absolutely radiate contagious joy. They're high on something. Probably life.
Archie wonders aloud (i.e., to Marshall) when these children last had a good square meal.
“Going to make them some ham and cheese sandwiches, Archie?” Marshall responds with a smirk.
The kids are excited about hanging out by Doc Red's pool. The younger ones, the two boys anyway, just sort of jump into the pool, clothes and all, while the two younger girls dip their toes in the shallow end. But Ethan and Jane turn a little more serious once they're out on the patio with Marshall.
Assuming there's no kitchen help here right now, Archie takes that as permission to make the kids sandwiches. (Which also gives Marshall a little time alone with them.)
Once the kids are at the pool, Marshall will duck inside and have his PA prepare two pitchers of lemonade. He is going to dose both pitchers with a mild sedative — nothing to knock them out but something that’ll make them suggestible. He tells his PA to keep these in the fridge and only bring them out if he gives the high sign.(edited)
Archie will have to make do with PBJ because Marshall is a vegetarian and doesn’t keep ham around.
Marshall can certainly do the dosing while Archie is, like, freshening up in the bathroom or something.
Archie looks fruitlessly for cans of tuna fish ("I know he's a vegetarian but surely everyone eats tuna sandwiches?!") then gives up and asks the PA to fix the young people something or maybe make a run for burgers and fries. (Not sure whether pizza delivery is ubiquitous in 1973, it would be too exotic for Archie to think of it)
Well, with the PA out making a McDonald's run, that will leave Marshall with the two older kids. "Dr. Redgrave..." Ethan says, clearing his throat. "Dr. Redgrave, I saw you speak at UCLA a couple of years ago. I was a psych major. A junior. Jane and I had listened to your lectures on tape, read everything you'd written, and we were so excited to see you and... well, we wanted to bring you the Good News that day." Ethan smiles sort of sheepishly. "We thought you'd understand."
Marshall nods like he understands.
Jane says, "I'm so sure you would have understood, that your presence would have blessed us." Ethan adds, "You left very quickly that day, but it was fine. We had our own people to go back to. You see, Doctor, we believed, with all our heart, and soul, and mind..." Ethan sort of audibly gulps. "We believED," he puts emphasis on the past tense this time, "in Jesus Christ."
And in that moment it becomes clear to Marshall, and probably Archie, what the deal with these joyous late-model hippies is: they're Jesus Freaks. (Or at least they were.)
Marshall just lets him talk.
"It's more than that, though. You see, our pastor wanted us to make contact with you, to find you, to bring you in to speak with him. We didn't do right by him that day," Ethan says, his voice sort of shaking, "and that might have been the first time Jane and I thought something was off."
"But all our friends were in the church, all of us were just surrounded by Christ's love 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. We helped the poor, we got winos and drug addicts off the streets. We cleaned up our highways and busy streets. And eventually, our pastor sent us out into the world, married pairs only, two by two by two to spread the good word."
“Sorry to interrupt you ... Ethan, yes? But did you mention your pastor’s name?”
"We live out in Orange County. And so you have to know about Costa Mesa Calvary." Yep, the birthplace and hotbed of the Jesus Movement a couple of years ago.
The pastor there is Chuck Smith, an older pastor who saw the possibility of bringing young hippies into the fold. His charismatic right-hand man, Lonnie Frisbee, was the young fresh face who really got the Jesus Movement going among kids both in and out of Orange County.
“Hmm, yes, yes, I’m familiar, at least a bit. Anyway, sorry to sidetrack you Ethan. You were saying? What brings you to me?”
Jane says, "We need to leave, Dr. Redgrave. We need to leave because nothing seems right there anymore." The younger kids continue to splash and play in the pool, and Jane looks over at them meaningfully. "I don't want any more kids to get suckered into getting out onto the road and being spit at and laughed at and nearly killed by angry so-called Christians!"
Marshall nods. He is trying to seem utterly blank and receptive, real poker face, but is inwardly pretty confused.
Ethan says, "And we know it's not going to be easy to get many of the kids who've been in the church two, three years to leave. We're scared for them, and quite frankly we're scared for us, too."
“And why are you scared, Ethan?”
Ethan says flat out. "I'm trusting you with this information, sir, because I feel like I can trust you. I feel like you value free thought and inquiry and spiritual seeking from everything you've ever said in public. I'm scared because I think Pastor Smith is a low-down, dirty snake. I think he's stealing, and amassing wealth for himself and stealing from the poor, and..." Jane interrupts, clearly fed up with Ethan talking around the issue. "He arranges the marriages, Dr. Redgrave. He matches the kids together at 16 or 17 and says Christ intended them to be together for eternity and then sends them out onto the road to preach. And then when they come back, he has them... tell him everything about their married bliss."
(In some way, Ethan, while clearly intimidated and full of fool's courage, is reluctant to talk turkey; it's Jane who is able to speak on it, most likely because she has been the one who's been most hurt by this creep.)
(And while I know that Marshall doesn't, like, advertise that he does cult-busting or deprogramming, it's clear before things went really Weird that the Jesus Movement loved building bridges between religious traditions, mostly in an attempt to recruit kids who'd not found what they were looking for from Buddhism or the occult or the like. So when Ethan and Jane were still allowed to go to a secular university, of course they loved this new guru out there making a splash. So they thought of you when it comes to this weight they've been carrying around.)
Marshall sits back and folds his legs under him. “And why bring this information to me?”
"You do good work. You're in the newspapers and you have folks who swear by you and your skills in helping people be free of their baggage and hangups. You help them find their confidence. So we thought..." Ethan pauses. "We thought you could do that for the kids in our church. To help set them free."
Jane says, "Jane Fonda herself said she won the OSCAR because of you!"
“What does the Buddha say about freedom?”
“No man can free another. A man can only free himself.”
“I cannot free your friends or loved ones. They have to find their own path. That path might lead to me. Or elsewhere. But it is they who must find it.”
Ethan and Jane look at each other, and then at Marshall. They're a little nonplussed because despite all their hippie airs, they've been in a Christian cult for the past two years and the idea of freeing themselves seems next to impossible.
Marshall extends his hands out to them. “But I can free you.”
They immediately reach out their hands to him and bow their heads in prayer.
“I can free you because you have found your way to me. Through a supreme act of willpower and self-determination, you have dug deep into the well of yourself and in so doing found me. Not everyone can. Or does. Why?”
He pauses. “Because you’re special.”
“You’re special because you see through the gauze. You have looked around and said, ‘No, this feels wrong, there has to be more.’ And your pastors and your parents, they tell you there isn’t. There is just their big cars and two-bedroom homes and color TV and their crucified god. All those people, they mistake habits and ritual and possessions with security. But you know better. Deep down you know better.”
“The reason you found me is because you heard what I had to say, and what I have to say is this: you’re special. You can do more. You can be more. I can help you do that. Achieve your true potential. Be one of the special ones.”
“Search your heart and mind and talk with each other. If you want, you can stay here tonight and then come with me to my Mission in Sonoma tomorrow. I have a need for special people. They — you — are so rare, and so beautiful, and your talents would be well used.”
“Think on it.”
Then Marshall will just get up and go inside.
On the late morning of Thursday March 8, Archie is (I'm assuming) punctual to his meeting with Jack Ogilvie. Jack arrives, suntanned and Ray-Banned, his hair and sideburns a little longer, his midsection a little fatter than they were back in '67 when Archie left LA.
"Archie, you old son of a gun!" He approaches and instead of offering the handshake, he goes in for an authentic Aquarian LA hug. "You don't want to know what it took me to get an early lunch reservation here. Strings pulled. Secretaries cajoled. Pleading with Father Yod and his twelve disciples for a patio table for 2! Hope you're hungry for health food." Jack grins and takes his seat as the young attractive Source Family waitress hands Archie and Jack their menus with a gnomic smile (maybe conveying "get a load of this square" at Jack?) all her own.
Archie accepts the hug a little awkwardly, but greets Jack warmly, tells him again how sorry he was to hear about his divorce. Archie's fine with playing the square, of course; maybe even plays it up a little for Jack and the waitress as he struggles through the menu, trying to parse the difference between an Aware Salad and an "Israelian" ((is)Raëlian?). He certainly doesn't tell Jack he spent the night dosed on lemonade at Dr. Red's.
"My goodness," Archie says to Jack, "what would Bogie Boggartt think to see two of his old ad men ordering alfalfa sprouts for lunch?" Invoking an old school three-martini rib-eye steak kind of guy that Jack and Archie used to work for. And after the waitress leaves, he says something like, "Father Yod, you say? So many young people these days looking for gurus." But Archie doesn't have an agenda here other than catching up with Jack and enjoying his bean sprouts.
"Sure, a good chunk of the kids are still going out to the country, as they sang," Jack says while spearing a chunk of his salad with his fork. "But even that's growing stale for a lot of them. Fact is, the numbers we're seeing are showing that with the war winding down and the taste for rebellion growing more and more bitter, more and more of the kids want to get off the commune, move back to the suburbs, and settle down and have a family."
Jack heartily sips at his green smoothie, smiling at Archie. "But they'll always remember these past five years as the most important and meaningful of their lives." Having not had a chance in a long time to talk shop with his former partner, Jack is obviously relishing the chance to pick Archie's brain. "What did you think of the McCann Coke ad?"
"Are you kidding? It was genius! Fresh and youthful, but optimistic, you know, not angry? And contemporary, but still, it fits with what they've been doing for Coke for forty years: Coke is America, Coke is the Marshall Plan. Now it's: Coke is peace, Coke is racial harmony. Genius!" "I understand it cost McCann a quarter-of-a-million dollars, and the kids on set nearly killed Pete Wexler, but still, wow. A perfect spot."
Jack smiles indulgently, and then comes down hard; after asking Archie for his opinion on the seminal spot, he seems suddenly dismissive of it.
"Good stuff for 1971, absolutely, pitch-perfect. But the kids still had hope then. Over the past couple of quarters our focus groups have been targeting a few key emotional elements of the older end of the 18-29 demo, what they see as aspirational, what they want out of life in the Seventies. And the one word that's come up again and again and again is... 'RETURN.' They want to go back to a safer, calmer time in their lives. The Eisenhower childhoods that they raged against in college and on the pickets... all of a sudden it looks like the only stable spot in a lifetime of uncertainty." "We've got a few spots in the workshop right now leaning heavily into 1950s iconography: sock hops, greasers, hot rods, James Dean.... timeless Americana, like you're saying with Coke? But expressly appealing to these kids' childhoods and teenage years. There's even a motion picture or two in production right now that are basically just re-hashes of 1950s rebel movies. When I saw the data, I have to say: it seemed counterintuitive to me. How could these kids be nostalgic for just 16 years ago? But that disillusionment deep at the heart of this impulse... it's real. It's real and it's deep. You should read the tear-sheets, Archie, it's downright stunning. These kids, other than the wildest radicals and the most drugged-out kids on communes? They aren't angry anymore, they're just.... disappointed."
At first, Archie makes a joke of what Jack's saying: "So what are you pitching to clients: cowboy movies in outer space? Perry Como with electrified guitars? Maybe we can get CBS to greenlight a revival of Ransom Roundup!" But when Jack comes around to this idea of kids being disappointed, Archie takes him seriously. "Well... these young people have been fed a lot of promises." Looking at the waitress, thinking of the Jesus kids at Marshall's, among others. "Promises unkept."
"I've been saying this for years, Jack: these kids marching against the war, marching against Nixon, marching against who knows what? They're not angry because they hate America, they're angry because they love it. But they're kids, you know? They're impatient. They see things in black and white. We sold them on the American Dream... and now they're sore that the thing we sold them doesn't look like the picture on the box." "'Return' makes sense, I can see that. But is it healthy? What if you can't go home again? There's got to be a way to square the circle. Sell the kids on good old American values but find a way to make it all meaningful again. Give young people permission to love God, America, and apple pie. Not just because it's 'cool' but because it's true." "I know it sounds like I'm just saying 'old Coke in new bottles,' but it's more than that. Not 'return' so much as 'renewal' or 'revival.'" Archie holds out his hands like he's framing a billboard or a marquee: "MAKE AMERICA REAL AGAIN." Then he chuckles, shrugs. "Something like that. The fellow who nails it will make himself a million dollars."
Jack raises his eyebrow at this series of ideas. "God, Archie. I miss working with you, bouncing ideas off you. Maybe the state of the business and the past five years have made me too cynical. So is this the kind of thing you're working on up in San Francisco, then? Sitting in coffee klatches and group dynamics sessions with earnest Berkeley sociology grads at KQED, trying to get them to tap into a new vision of America, eh?" he says with a smirk. At the same time as Jack tacitly conceding that maybe Archie has a point, it seems clear from his slight change of subject that he is curious about the nature of Archie's work if he's leaving gems like that on the table at the Source Restaurant. "You're going to have a hell of an opportunity for that kind of thing in three years for the Bicentennial. I hear Dick is funding all kinds of arts and theater and media programs for the celebration."
"I'm not certain Nixon's the ideal vessel for that gospel, but it's the right idea." On the subject of San Francisco, Archie's delicately evasive. "Just trying to do some good, I suppose. In the ad game, it's 'always give the people what they want.' I guess what we're trying to do at Livermore is give the people some of what they need."
"And how are Melanie and the kids doing? I know it's been a few years now, but has everyone acclimated to the Bay Area all right?"
Segue into generic catching up talk about the family: San Francisco's great, unlike L.A. you can walk everywhere, the kids are a handful, all's well, etc. etc.
Dr. Red has sent his new acolytes north on a Greyhound, and after a morning by the pool is ready to head to Burbank to the taping of The Tonight Show. As I said, Archie will come with, if only as green room support. Marshall and Archie head into the green room and while Marshall will likely be separated out at some point to get his makeup and hair done, Ed McMahon stops by to say hello to all the guests. Joan Rivers isn't here yet, but Jonathan Winters is, and as introductions between the guests go around, Jonathan gives a keen cockeyed look to Archie (who's here with other hangers-on, agents and PAs and such). Jonathan does an exaggerated creep over to Archie, who's probably noshing on some green room crudités or something.
"Excuse me," Winters says with that trademark gentle voice he puts on for one of his more retiring characters. "You wouldn't happen to be the gentleman who did the puppet show on KTLA a few years back?" As Archie and Jonathan shake hands, Winters wipes away a tear or two from his eye and says, while holding deep eye contact with Archie, "I need to tell you... my kids loved that show. Heck, I loved it too. It got me through some very difficult times, in fact, if you don't mind my saying so," his voice cracking. There's a pregnant silence and then Joan Rivers bursts into the green room doing schtick. "Jonathan, leave that man alone, don't worry, you don't have to be nice to him, he's not your shrink and he's not here to take you back to the funny farm." Jonathan quickly takes himself away from deep eye contact with Archie and laughs off Joan's (actually quite mean) opening line. "This one might, though," Joan says pointing at Marshall, "so watch out."
Archie is genuinely touched (and Winters has been around long enough that Archie knows who he is). He tells Winters how much he loved his old spots for Utica Club beer, the ones with the talking beer steins. Then he thanks him for remembering Ransom Roundup, and says, completely earnestly, "I'll be sure to pass your kind words on to Hobo Stan, the Dragon Lady, and the rest of the gang, the very next time I'm talking to them."
As Marshall gets ready in hair and makeup, one of Johnny's producers walks in to walk Marshall through the process. Marshall is third guest tonight, Jonathan and Joan will be on the couch with Ed. Johnny's going to want to talk about the recent case in San Francisco—he's very interested in that—along with the work you're doing with the Youth up in Sonoma. Be prepared for some pleasantries as well, but Johnny wants to make this all business because he is sincerely concerned about the youth of America.
The Tonight Show fanfare kicks into gear as Ed announces tonight's guests: "Frooooom Hollywood! The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson. This is Ed McMahon along with Doc Severinsen, and the NBC Orchestra, inviting you to join Johnny and his guests: Jonathan Winters, Joan Rivers, and from The Mission in Sonoma California, Dr. Marshall Redgrave. And now... heeeeeeeeeeeere's Johnny!"
Johnny's having a good night; it's a Thursday show so it's on that sweet spot in a typical week of Tonight Shows: he's good and warmed up by a week of shows but it's not Friday where Johnny's mind might already be on tennis. News events in Johnny's monologue include a nuclear test at the Nevada Test Site, Paul and Linda McCartney being fined £100 for growing marjiuana, and John Lindsay deciding not to run for Mayor of New York a third time. Slow news day, so there's more silly jokes in the monologue than usual. Both Johnny and Ed, Marshall can tell, look good and liquored up.
Finally, it's time for Dr. Red. Johnny's intro is very serious and goes something like this: "My next guest is an esteemed psychologist working in the Bay Area of California who was involved advising law enforcement in a recent shocking case up in San Francisco involving a disturbed veteran. He's now starting a program at his wine country retreat to help veterans reacclimate themselves to life at home. He's also a successful psychologist to the stars, with multiple recent Oscar winners crediting him with success in their professions. (Notably Johnny doesn't want to mention Jane Fonda by name to his nice middle American audience.) Will you please welcome to the show, Dr. Marshall Redgrave."
The band plays an up-tempo version of "Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)" by George Harrison.
Marshall will wave and namaste half-bow once or twice to the audience, then namaste half-bow to Johnny and Ed, but then will also extend his hand for regular handshakes. Big white smile. He's dressed slightly more conservatively than normal -- envision something that John Lennon would wear, colorful leisure suit, open collar shirt with wide lapels, no tie obviously, yellow tinted glasses, etc.
Handshakes all around and the band dies down, with Johnny saying as the orchestra fades, "Welcome to Los Angeles, Doctor. I understand you spend a lot of time here as well as in the Bay Area?"
"Thanks, Johnny. Oh and thanks for having me! I do spend quite a bit of time here in LA -- this might surprise you but there's a big demand for therapists down here." Polite laugh.
That gets a hearty chuckle from Ed, and a knowing glance from Johnny down the couch at Jonathan.
Johnny, with a wry smirk at the end: "Obviously, we won't ask you to break doctor-patient privilege but I bet you have some stories."
"Oh, a couple, a couple." Smile, polite chuckle.
"So Doctor, the reason you've been in the news lately was this case up in San Francisco, about a disturbed veteran making threats against the schools and finally, immolating himself in protest. I think all of us have to say that since the POWs have been coming back, this country has been, well, concerned about its veterans." Johnny has now shifted away from geniality and is deadly serious about this—a legacy of his generation, no doubt—but Marshall also notices that Johnny and his producers have never once said the word "Vietnam," as if the word itself is something to be ashamed of. Very interesting.
Marshall nods, immediately going somewhat somber. "Yes, yes that was a really unfortunate incident. I wish it hadn't gotten so much press -- I mean, obviously I understand why it did it, given the circumstances -- but, uh, things like that, they don't help people's perceptions of our boys who've served in the, uh, southwest -- a lot of them with a good deal of honor -- and who might be having troubles readjusting to civilian life." Marshall is trying to project an aura of empathy and genuineness.
"They say that the POWs especially left this country in 1966, '67, and they're coming back six years later and it's like the whole world has changed while they've been gone. It's fascinating, in a way, but it also must be incredibly difficult for them."
"Oh absolutely, you've really hit the nail on the head there, Johnny, I mean so much has changed here even in the span of the past five years -- imagine falling asleep in '66 and waking up today? Gas prices alone would probably send you into shock."
"So obviously this case ended tragically, but you were involved with the FBI and San Francisco PD in helping identify the suspect in this case. So you've seen what the war has done to these boys... what can be done to help them?"
"It's a complex problem. Plus, you know, every man is different -- their experiences abroad have all been different. People need a bit more empathy for them, first off, I'd say. You know, they're not crazy -- a term I hate to use, you know, but there you have it -- they're generally not dangerous, they're still your brothers and sons and uncles. But they can become dangerous if we don't help them."
Pause for a beat. "So how do we help them? A difficult question." Marshall crosses his legs and puts his hands beneath his chin in a teepee shape. "In my practice I have found great success in just talking to them. You know, really listening to them. Has anyone here in this country really sat down with a veteran they know and asked how they are feeling, how they're doing? That for me is the first step."
"There's a lot of ways for people to realize their true, uh, true human potential, to fix the damage that's been done to them and become their best selves. I have my own way of doing that, but it's not the only way."
Marshall seems done with that answer.
He also doesn't want to take up too much oxygen, he knows he's not the star here.
"And this would be the program at your retreat in Sonoma?"
"Partly, yes. You know, honestly Johnny, it's still something I'm thinking about -- after what happened in San Francisco, especially -- how to help these men. I may wind up setting up a special clinic for them in Sonoma, I mean if I don't, who will, right? We all have our parts to play in dealing with this, uh ... well, I don't want to say 'crisis' but 'problem.'"
"I think a lot of us—myself included—think of modern psychiatric treatment, especially here in California, in terms of encounter groups, and group hugs, you know, punching pillows and the like." Jonathan interrupts briefly to say, "I ended up eating mine. I was on so many medications, it looked like a big marshmallah," bringing some (probably) much-needed levity to the proceedings.
Marshall laughs good naturedly.
"Well, I mean that's the sort of the thing that gets into people's heads because it seems so far out, right? But really most psychiatric treatment is pretty humdrum. Not to say that some of the more, um, out there practices don't have their place."
"Anyway, you'd be doing a lot more peaceful meditation up at the Mission than punching -- or eating -- any pillows, if you wanted to swing by, Jonathan." White smile, knee-slap.
"Ah, meditation," Johnny finds something to hang his hat on, "so there is an Eastern flavor to your treatments, then."
Grin. "Oh, definitely -- no denying it. The benefits of meditation are well documented. I think there's a lot we in the medical field can learn from certain east Asian practices."
"So having a cross-legged sit-down in a Zen garden listening to singing bowls works equally well for both recovering vets and for Hollywood stars?"
"That's a great question, Johnny. Of course everyone reacts to treatment differently, different things work for different people. But I'd say that everyone -- all of us -- has the same potential to actualize themselves -- to harness their true inner strength and come out the other side a better, healthier version of themselves. Y'know, I have this saying: you're one of the special ones. And I believe it! You, Jonathan, Joan, Ed here -- everyone in this audience -- you're all special -- because you all have the potential to do more, to see more clearly, to reach out and take what you want."
Pause, faux-abashed grin. "But there I go, sounding like a quack."
There is a pregnant pause on-set while everyone on the dais and even the band and the studio audience kind of take that in. Johnny is left speechless for a moment, then says, "You know, here I was, going to ask you to diagnose everyone sitting next to you on the couch, and you go and spring that on us," Johnny says while smiling broadly, getting a smattering of laughter from the audience and a dutiful (but not very sincere) chuckle from Ed. Jonathan Winters is absolutely rapt with Marshall at this point; the studio lights show that Ed's eyes are a little watery. Only Joan sits, stone-faced, her mouth tight and pinched.
Marshall will laugh, white-tooth smile, cast a glance at Ed and Jonathan and Joan. If Johnny has nothing else for him he's happy to sign off here and maybe get invited to an after party before catching a flight back to Sonoma.