Humor

ARI

Can you give some examples of lighter moments?

Mary Ann

Sure. In the late fifties, one afternoon Frank and I went to see Lust for Life, the Vincent Van Gogh movie with Kirk Douglas. And, of course, it included the gory episode of Van Gogh mutilating his ear. When we returned home, Ayn wanted to hear about the movie and especially about Frank’s response. “How was it?” she asked. And Frank said, with a smile, “Well, lend me your ear.” And she said, laughing irresistibly, some words to the effect that it was a gruesome remark. But she couldn’t stop laughing.

ARI

She liked his sense of humor?

Mary Ann

She loved his wit. Some of it’s in her novels. His humor was in the form of spontaneous comments, tailored to the situation. Here’s an instance of it: from time to time, Charles and I would call from Maryland just to say hello and see how they were doing. During the years when Ayn and Charles were stamp collecting, the conversation would always turn to stamps, and while they talked about stamps, Frank and I remained on the line as silent listeners. One time, Ayn and Charles talked for about twenty minutes. Finally, Ayn said, “Frank, are you and Mary Ann still on?” His response: “Oh, yes. But, we’re a little older.”

ARI

Did Miss Rand ever tell unphilosophical jokes?

Charles

Not to me. But she did tell a very funny story about a man in his hotel room, calling down to the desk to complain about his bags not being sent up. I remember only one line of a long monologue, all of which Ayn had memorized verbatim: “It’s damn seldom what happens to my luggage around here!” And she liked Professor Irwin Corey, the character on television who was advertised as the “world’s foremost authority.” He was the pretentious, befuddled professor-type, in words and in appearance. He would speak nonsense with great pomposity, such as his admonition, “We must circumvent the periphery!” That always tickled her.

Mary Ann

One night, Ayn, Frank, and I were discussing the difficulties of adults learning to speak a foreign language. I said to her, “I can teach you to speak American Indian in a minute.” And she answered immediately, with a note of challenge in her voice, “How?” I said nothing, I just looked at her and smiled. Frank got it right away and broke up. Then she caught on, laughing in a protesting sort of way. She was interested in the fact that Frank got it immediately, while it took her longer. She commented on the difference in the way each grew up. Humor was never a part of her upbringing; the atmosphere in her home was more formal. But Frank was typically American in his response to humor. She asked me for another example to see if he got it before she did.

ARI

What was it?

Mary Ann

More pseudo-Indian talk. I asked them to repeat after me, “O wah, tah nah, siam.” And to keep repeating it until they got it.

ARI

O wah, tah nah, siam?

Mary Ann

Yes. After a few repeats, Frank got it and bent over laughing. She had to do it a few more times; she did it in her head and out loud, and then she finally got it. She wanted to know where I learned it, and I explained that it was something I learned in childhood, something to get bullies and mean playmates to repeat. She said she would have to use it the next time she had a conversation with someone impervious to a rational argument!

Charles

One of her cats was an attractive mongrel which she named “Ali,” and which I took to be an allusion to Muhammad Ali, the prizefighter whom she admired because he was proud of his ability and made a point of saying so. That may well have been the case, but it was also a joke. I didn’t get it until she said, “Ali cat.”

And there is Frank’s classic comment on the Rockettes, the precision dancers at Radio City Music Hall: “If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all.”