That Girl Loves Libraries: An Interview with Marlo Thomas

August 4, 2010

The author of five bestselling books, Marlo Thomas is most famous for her groundbreaking television comedy series That Girl and her equally pioneering recording for children Free to Be . . . You and Me. She is the winner of numerous awards, including four Emmys, a Golden Globe, a Grammy, and a Peabody, and she is an inductee into the Broadcasting Hall of Fame. Thomas is also the powerful national spokesperson for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. HarperCollins will publish her new book, Growing Up Laughing, a memoir about life as the daughter of comedian Danny Thomas, in September. American Libraries caught up with That Girl before her June 27 program at the American Library Association’s Annual Conference in Washington, D.C.

In the 1970s when you were starring on television in That Girl, were you aware of the influence that you were having on a whole generation of women?

I was because of the mail, the fact that young women were writing me and saying, “I’m 16 years old and I’m pregnant and I can’t tell my father. Where can I go?” “I’m 23 years old and married and have two children. I don’t have a job. My husband hits me. Where can I go?” And I was floored. I was doing a comedy show. I didn’t expect to get those kinds of questions. I thought they were going to ask, you know, “What do you use to wash your hair with and make it shiny?” I just wasn’t expecting it. But it really politicized me and made me realize that there were whole groups of women who had nowhere to go, and I wanted to be a part of helping them find a place to go. And I think that’s why I became such a strong feminist.

Was the same thing true of Free to Be . . . You and Me? Did you know the impact? Did you know the enduring quality?

No. I mean, it was just something that came from my wanting to do something for my niece. But what I’ve figured out through the years is that I must be a very average person, because whatever I like becomes popular—so obviously I’m thinking like everybody else! And I think that’s a good thing. I feel that I’m a woman of my time, you know?

Tell us about your new website.

It starts in September, and again, I’m feeling that women over 40 don’t have anybody to refer to. There’s nowhere to go on the web. And I want to know what women are thinking about. I want that to be on my website. I think there’s a wave in this country now, like there was a wave for That Girl, that something was happening in the country. Young girls were saying “I don’t want to be like my mother. I want to be a different kind of woman.” And when Free to Be . . . You and Me happened, it was just at a time when women like me were either having children or becoming aunts of children and saying, “Why are they reading this terrible stuff still about the prince who comes along and makes everything better?” And so I did it for my family, for my niece. There was a wave then, and each time these projects have hit the wave of a consciousness that was happening. I think that’s what’s going to happen with my new website. Women have nowhere to go to have a community. And that’s what I find exciting with this MarloThomas.com. People are going to have a place to go and vent and talk about their husbands and their kids and their elderly parents and what to do with your money and where to have a good vacation and what’s the best self‑tanner, and every other thing. I just think it’s another exciting wave.

Doesn’t it also seem as if there was a similar wave, in those days, of black literature, people looking for books about “people like me”? The same with gay literature; there was nothing, and now it’s mainstream.

Right. When we did Free to Be . . . You and Me, we said it’s all right to cry in “William Wants a Doll.” The network asked me to take those two things out, especially “William Wants a Doll.” They wanted “William Wants a Doll.” out; every boy in America will be a sissy. I said don’t be ridiculous. Every boy in America is going to cuddle a doll or a panda bear, what’s the difference? This is silly. But we kept it in; we would not take it out.

When your father died, it seemed that the whole world was sad for you, and you handled it with such dignity. You’ve said that growing up in a house full of laughter helped. How?

I think one of the great things about growing up with my father—because he was a wonderful comedian and he was a really funny guy—is that he encouraged it in his children. It wasn’t like we were his audience and he was the star comic, you know? He was our audience. And he would always say when we sat down at dinner, “Who’s heard a good joke? Tell us something funny.” He wanted us to tell him a joke, to get used to speaking up, and I think that’s why all three of us are not very shy at all, because he made it okay. He was not one of those people who said children should be seen and not heard. Remember that saying? No, he encouraged it, and so we would always laugh. We had family jokes. I remember one time my father told us a joke about this man who went to Russia and he said to his wife, “You know, in Russia they censor their mail. So when I write you, if it’s in black ink, everything I say is true. If it’s in red ink, it's not true.” So he goes off to Russia, and his wife gets a letter. And the letter says “Darling, Russia is so wonderful. It’s one of the most beautiful countries in the world. The people are so happy here. There’s plenty to eat. It’s just a beautiful, beautiful place to be and I can’t wait for you to come because they have everything here that they have in America, everything but red ink.” So she figured the whole thing was a lie. My family, we made that our code, and when my parents went away, they’d say, “How do you like the new nanny?” And we’d say, “She’s wonderful, red ink, red ink.” And then my mother would come in and explain. So that kind of bonding, you know, of the jokes with the personal life, was in our whole lives.

That gave you the confidence to be unafraid?

Yes. And also somebody—I don't remember who—said “what is learned with laughter is learned well.” And it’s true. If you have a good time learning, you’ll remember.

You’ve done a great deal of work for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. What made you decide to use your celebrity to do this work?

I think for me and my family, it was given to us by our dad. From the very early days of growing up with my father, it wasn’t just St. Jude; my father felt like he was a member of the community, of the neighborhood. And I remember once I was driving with him in the car, and we passed these boys who were beating up on another little boy. I was about 8 or 9 years old, and these boys were like 13 or 14. And they were all beating up on one kid. And my father stopped the car, got out of the car, went over to these boys and pulled them apart and gave them a good talking‑to and sent them on their way. And my dad got back in the car and said, “I hate a bully.” That’s just who he was, you know? And my dad used to always say there are two kind of people in the world, those who stop at a traffic accident and those who just drive by. He was the kind who would stop, because somebody could be bleeding to death or dying there. And we read all the time about some woman yelling “Help! Help!” and nobody stops to help her. It’s just not in my family’s DNA. We’re very nosy people! You know, I saw a woman yank her little boy’s arm going across the street once, and it was just a little 3-year-old kid. I mean, she could have taken it right out of the socket. And I just very nicely said to her, “You know, his arm could come out of the socket if you pull it like that.” And she just looked at me. . . .

That’s risky these days. You are lucky she didn’t pop you.

I know. But I think you have to say something. I mean, you see people hitting on their children, it’s like “What are you doing? It’s just a little kid. They can’t take that force.” But anyway, to answer your question, I don’t even think it’s about being a celebrity, I think it’s the kind of family you are raised in that makes you believe that you are part of a community. And whether it’s the big community of sick children in the world or the little community of seeing two little, three little boys hit another little boy, it’s really kind of the same thing, in a way. You are either part of the community or you’re not a part of it, you know? And I think my dad taught us to be a part of it. And we’re very lucky that he gave us St. Jude. And even though he never told us that we were going to inherit it, I think it was just there in our hearts to be a part of it. And then once we went to it and hung out there and met the moms and the dads and the children and saw the science and what was happening, it just became irresistible. I mean, how do you not help? When I go there—I just came back last week, and I saw children who now have hair that were bald two years ago, the kids that are coming back for their six‑month checkup instead of their three‑month checkup. So they’re getting further and further away from the disease. It’s very exciting, it really is.

What have librarians done for you in your career?

With Free to Be . . . You and Me, it was really the librarians and the teachers who made it a success, as well as the sequel Free to Be a Family, because they introduced the children to it, they recommended it to them, just as they have to me all of my life, really brought me along and introduced me to big adventures and new people that I would not have thought of, so I think the librarians had a lot to do with the success of Free to Be, and the teachers who played it in the schools and sang with the kids, and there are so many good messages in Free to Be . . . You and Me, and if they are learned well because it’s fun, what is learned with laughter is learned well. And I think that’s what Free to Be You . . . and Me offered.

Do you have any personal recollections of experiences that you had in libraries, especially early in life?

Oh yes. The thing I most remember about libraries when I was a child—I grew up in Beverly Hills—is that I had a library card. And you know children don’t have credit cards, at least I didn’t as a little kid. So it was my only card; it was very important to me. I had a little wallet that had about a dollar and four cents in it and this library card. And I loved it. It made me feel very grown up, it was really a passage. And I would take out a book, and my mother was always very strict about “now look at the date, you have to know what date to take that book back.” And I always did. I always made it on time. It was a very big deal for me. I felt very responsible. I had a card, I had a date to take back the book back, and I read the book by that time. So that’s one of my warm memories, about my library card.

Has using the library and reading had an impact on how you developed as a writer and a performer?

My mother loved books, and so she bought me the Nancy Drew series, which I loved. One of my father’s friends gave me a subscription to the Fireside Theater, which sent a different play once a month, when I was about 12, because I wanted to be an actress. And that really opened up my whole life. I mean, reading Lillian Hellman and Arthur Miller. I had never read Clifford Odets. I had never read those kind of things before. I was about 12. And I always loved books and reading. I was an English lit major in college. My favorite course in school was comparative literature. I had never read Spanish authors, Spanish poets, and that was so exciting because I’m an American girl, you know, Clifford Odets and Nancy Drew. So the fact that there were several semesters of classes of comparative literature, I really loved that. We also had a wonderful Shakespeare class. In fact, our Shakespeare teacher was so good—his name was Dr. Frank Baxter—he had a television show in the afternoons where he discussed Shakespeare. I loved his class because he would bring in spears and pictures of the old Globe Theater and really got us involved. And he wouldn’t read to us, we’d all play parts and read Shakespeare. He’d bring costumes and pictures and slides. Just a great teacher. He was teaching us literature, but he was giving us a show.

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