Chico Marx Quotes

“Frenchie watched all our performances from the middle of the house. He didn’t have to start any laughs, but he did meet some interesting people.
One matinee he sat next to a guy who kept shaking his head during the act. Frenchie asked him what his trouble was. The guy said he was feeling sorry for the boy on the stage, the one with the red curly hair who played on the harp.
Why did he feel sorry for him?
Why, because the poor boy couldn’t talk. He was a mute. And it was a crime and a shame to make a kid with an affliction like that work in vaudeville and make a fool of himself in front of the public.
Frenchie reassured him that it was all part of the act. Off the stage, Harpo could talk. He was perfectly normal. The stranger knew better. That kid up there was a mute. You could tell from the way he behaved.
Frenchie was getting hot under the collar. He was about to reveal who he was, when the guy said, “You wouldn’t like to make a little bet on it, would you, Mac?”
Indeed Frenchie would. “A dollar-even money?” the guy wanted to know. Frenchie considered this carefully. He was a wild pinochle player, but he was a very timid bettor. A dollar was a lot to gamble at even money. Frenchie shook his head. “I’ll give you two to one,” the guy said.
Frenchie thought: What would Chico say? Chico would say the price wasn’t right. Frenchie shook his head. The guy was pretty sure of himself now. He raised the odds again, and again. Finally Frenchie agreed they had a bet, at five to one. For a price like that he could take a chance.
“How are we going to prove it so you’ll know I’m right?” the guy asked, and Frenchie said they would go backstage after the show and talk to Harpo. “They won’t let us go backstage at the Palace,” the guy said, and Frenchie said, “Sure, why nod?” The two of them came into the dressing room after the show. “Hoppo,” said Frenchie, “I wand you to meed a frent of mine.” I shook hands with the stranger and said that any friend of my father’s was a friend of mine. The stranger laughed. He handed Frenchie a five-spot and said it was a dirty trick but it was worth it if I’d give him my autograph. Frenchie couldn’t understand why the fellow called it “a dirty trick.” It was a legal bet, they had shook hands on it, and he had won it fair and square.
Chico, when he heard the full story, was never prouder of his father.”
― Harpo Marx, Harpo Speaks!

“The only disagreeable thing about England, that trip, was the climate. It was chilly and damp when we got there and it kept getting chillier and damper. I never once got really warm, outdoors or in. Chico and I shared an apartment near the theatre, where the only heat came from an open coal grate. Our last night there was the coldest yet. As the last of our scuttle of coal was burning out, we decided the only way we could keep from freezing was to bundle up in all the clothes we had with us and stay up and play pinochle, instead of going to bed. But the chill came creeping through every layer of every shirt, sweater, suit, raincoat and overcoat we had on.
“What the hell,” said Chico. “We can’t die of pneumonia our last night here. That would be ungrateful, after all they’ve done for us.” So saying, he pulled a drawer out of the dresser, stomped on it and smashed it and threw the sticks in the fire. We played two hands of pinochle, then it got cold again.
We burned up the rest of the drawers, one by one. Then the bureau itself had to go. Next we threw on the chairs and played cards standing up. Before dawn the fire began to die again. We broke up the table and piled it on the fire and had to finish the pinochle game sitting on the floor.
We took off for the boat-train first thing in the morning, too early to wake up the landlord to tell him good-bye and thank him for a pleasant stay. But we left him a note, and enough dough to replace all the extra firewood we had burned. We left the note on the mantelpiece-which we hadn’t been able to rip from the wall, although, God knows, we tried.”
― Harpo Marx, Harpo Speaks!

“When I got back to New York I found I hadn’t lost the old touch. The first day in town, Chico and I took a stroll through Times Square and, having nothing better to do, decided to sell money to a policeman.
We stopped a friendly looking cop in front of Lindy’s and asked if he’d like to buy some used cash, cheap. He gave us a tolerant smile, winked, and walked on. We stopped him again. Chico flashed a dollar bill and said our special introductory offer was one buck for ninety cents. He gave the cop the dollar. The cop thought for a minute, rubbed the bill, then gave Chico ninety cents. Next we offered him a two-dollar bill for one-seventy. He bought the two-dollar bill.
It was obvious he was humoring us along until he could decide whether we were a couple of nuts or a team of con artists. It was also obvious that he liked the bargains he was getting. But by the time we offered him a five-spot for four-fifty, he was convinced that something fishy was going on. He said he was going to haul us both in, unless we told him what our racket was.
Chico shrugged and gave him a cheerful grin. “No racket, officer,” he said. “We just like to sell money, that’s all.”
The cop muttered that he was right in the first place-a couple of nuts. He got away from us as fast as he could.”
― Harpo Marx, Harpo Speaks!

“The man most responsible for the popularization of bridge, Ely Culbertson, came to Hollywood in early 1933 to make a series of short films at RKO. He quickly met some of the town’s best players. Lionel Barrymore threw a bridge party honoring Culbertson. Seen playing with him in a widely circulated newspaper photo of the event were Bebe Daniels, Joe Schenck, and Zeppo. At another table Chico played in a foursome with Mrs. Culbertson. Culbertson had made bridge big news by accepting challenges and generally beating everyone. When Zeppo and Chico challenged him, Culbertson accepted, and a pair of matches was set. Invitations were sent for a match at Paramount on February 22 and another at RKO the following day.
Then Culbertson had second thoughts—probably after playing with Zeppo and Chico at the Barrymore party. He claimed to have thought the Marx challenge was a joke, and he was astonished to learn they were serious about it. Chico was quoted in wire service stories saying, “We are disappointed that he withdrew. I have a new system that will beat Culbertson. I challenge him to a match with a $5,000 side wager.” Culbertson was not known to have turned down any other challengers, but he ducked the Marxes, who were among Hollywood’s best players.”
― Robert S. Bader, Zeppo: The Reluctant Marx Brother