Luciano: Galesburg helped the Marx Brothers make a name for themselves

Doubled-over in laughter, stage and screen spectators had never seen anything else like it, a societal-skewering circus jumbling mayhem and malaprops, song and slapstick.

The verbal and theatrical gymnastics sprang from the lips and legs of funny brothers Julius, Leonard, Arthur, Milton and Herbert — still renown as Groucho, Chico, Harpo, Gummo and Zeppo. Those were no mere nicknames; modern Madison Avenue would call it branding, for The Marx Brothers’ whimsical monickers sparked curiosity, fans and fame.

But the nicknames arose not from any extensive marketing strategy but in a moment of off-the-cuff silliness — by a second-rate vaudeville comedian during a backroom poker game in Galesburg.

When? Sources waiver between 1914 and 1916. In the 1973 memoir “The Groucho Phile,” the most famous brother points to May 15, 1914. Still, Groucho sometimes played fast and loose with facts. The 2003 book “Monkey Business: The Lives and Legends of the Marx Brothers,” laughs off the reliability of the date, deeming it “as good a day for legends as any.”

But there’s no quibble over Galesburg as the site of the crucial comic christening. Three theaters are considered as potential sites: the Gaiety, the Orpheum or the Auditorium. Most historical hints point to the latter, or perhaps to the nearby Union Hotel, where the act often stayed.

At the time, Galesburg was a vaudeville mainstay, and an easy jaunt from the adopted Marx home. Though the family hailed from New York City, Minnie Marx — the brothers’ go-get-’em mother and manager — thought Chicago would make for a better travel hub. In 1909, they moved to the South Side of the Windy City.

Around that time, the act — which included a line-up of various singers and jokesters — became headlined by The Four Marx Brothers. Later, in talkies, the brothers would develop distinct personalities: Groucho, as the maniacal ringleader, Chico as the fast-talking schemer and Harpo as the silent clown.

But at the onset of 1914, the plain-name brothers — at the time, Leonard, Arthur, Julius and Milton — were simply struggling to write gags and make a buck, along the way doing anything to drum up publicity. That May, the act stopped in Galesburg for a week. On May 17, according to the Galesburg Register Mail, the Marx troupe engaged the Knox College baseball team to an exhibition game that featured more antics than athleticism. The buffoonery drew a large crowd, in part thanks to “a throng of scantily dressed … chorus girls/cheerleaders” on the Marx side, according to the Galesburg paper.

By the score of the game, won by Knox 14-1, the brothers Marx left town as losers. Yet they took along names that would grace marquees for decades.

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On the fateful night — whatever the date might be — the Four Marx Brothers were playing poker in a backroom in Galesburg. Occupying a fifth chair was Art Fisher, a member of the traveling ensemble whose fame — then as now— was nearly nil. He was billed as a “monologist,” a vague term that in Fisher’s case indicated jokes, singing and mimicry.

Despite mediocre talent, Fisher boasted a peculiar quality. In “The Marx Bros. Scrapbook,” published in 1974, Groucho recalls of Fisher, “He was in the habit of giving people nicknames, and they stuck.”

As far as Fisher’s muse at the card game, two pop-culture elements likely came into play. “Knocko the Monk,” a comic strip with monkey-like characters whose names reflected their traits, such as Henpecko the Monk, Sherlocko the Monk and Groucho the Monk. From that, a national fad spread: friends would give each other nicknames by adding “o” to the end of a word intrinsic to their personality; for instance, if someone often acted loony, he might be dubbed “Crazyo.”

At the Galesburg poker game, Fisher shuffled the cards to begin a new hand. He offered no explanations as he proceeded to deal out cards and names, but the scene (as described by corroborating sources) went something like this.

n “First, a card for Harpo.” That one was obvious. Arthur had learned to play the harp on his own.

n “Now, a card for Chico.” Leonard loved and chased the ladies. At the time, women were called “chickens,” later shortened to “chicks.” At first, he was billed as “Chicko.” Yet at one stop, a playbill typesetter left off the “k” in his name, and “Chico” stuck. Though the brothers stayed with the old pronunciation, reporters and fans would call him “Cheek-o.”

n “Here’s a card for Groucho.” Why this name for Julius? Good question, three answers. One would be the “Groucho the Monk” character. Another would be the groucho bag, a small purse that many travelers (including tightwad Julius) wore around the neck to guard money. The last would be a reference to Julius’ oft-dour demeanor.

n “Lastly, here’s a card for Gummo.” Milton wore gumshoes — rubber-soled shoes also known as galoshes — to fend off dampness that he blamed for frequent colds. Harpo later offered another possibility for the nickname: Gummo liked to sneak up on people, like a gumshoe detective.

The brothers called each other by the new nicknames as they left Galesburg in their quest to hit the big time. The next year marked the only time all five brothers shared the same stage, in Flint, Mich., on Sept. 2, 1915. The Daily Journal lauded the crooning of 14-year-old Herbert, “who gives promise to become as much of a favorite as the rest of the family.”

Two years later, as the United States entered World War I, Gummo joined the Army. Though the first brother to ever take the stage (with a ventriloquist uncle), he never felt entirely comfortable with show business. At his enlistment, he supposedly said, “Anything is better than being an actor!”

The hole in the act was filled by Herbert, who became Zeppo as part of the “o” schtick. Why that name? In “Lady Blue Eyes: My Life with Frank,” Barbara Marx Sinatra — who divorced Zeppo to become Frank Sinatra’s fourth and final wife — pointed to the first zeppelin flight, in 1900, which preceded Herbert’s birthday by a few months. In “Harpo Speaks,” Harpo recalled a popular vaudeville chimp named Mr. Zippo, who (like Herbert) did acrobatics. And in the documentary “The Unknown Marx Brothers,” Harpo’s son Bill Marx talked about a circus freak called Zippo who bore a vague resemblance to Herbert — and for which his brother taunted him.

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Through the waning days of vaudeville, the brothers often were billed with the Galesburg nicknames. But for their first Broadway show, 1924’s “I’ll Say She Is,” they reverted to birth names. However, during the run, influential theater critic Alexander Woollcott overheard the brothers refer to each other with the silly sobriquets. When asked why they didn’t use the catchy nicknames on the playbill, they replied, “That wouldn’t be dignified.” Woollcott, apparently tickled by the zany brothers’ concern over decorum, replied with a hearty belly laugh — prompting the act to rethink their billing.

From 1929 to 1941, the Marx Brothers enjoyed a thriving film career, with Groucho later adapting to TV on “You Bet Your Life.” Zeppo, said to be the funniest brother off-screen, left the act in 1933 and founded an engineering company that made a fortune. He also founded a theatrical agency with Gummo, whose clients included Groucho.

The brothers died decades ago: Chico in 1961, Harpo in 1964, Groucho and Gummo in 1977 and Zeppo in 1979. Yet their films and legacy live on worldwide — as do their names, sparked in a moment of whacky inspiration during a backroom poker game in Galesburg, Ill.

Sources for this story include Time magazine, the Galesburg Register Mail, marx-brothers.org, todayIfoundout.com “Harpo Speaks,” “The Marx Bros. Scrapbook,” biography.com, wikipedia.com, “The Unknown Marx Brothers,” “Monkey Business: The Lives and Legends of the Marx Brothers,” the Flint Daily Journal, “Lady Blue Eyes: My Life with Frank.”

PHIL LUCIANO is a Journal Star columnist. He can be reached at pluciano@pjstar.com, facebook.com/philluciano or (309) 686-3155. Follow him on Twitter @LucianoPhil.