Get it Right, Then Have Fun.

I’m thinking this morning about Tim Conway.

If you’re under 40, let Grandpa catch you up: Tim Conway was a comedic genius who hit his stride in the 60s and 70s. He is perhaps best remembered as a regular on The Carol Burnett Show, where his pairing with Harvey Korman went down as one of the greatest comedy duos in television history.

I have a childhood core memory (late 70s, mind you), of watching The Carol Burnett Show with my dad, and witnessing my normally-reserved father come absolutely unglued at Conway and Korman as they consistently sought to cause the other to break character.

Conway’s autobiography What’s So Funny? is a must-read for – ahem – people of my era, but Carol Burnett’s This Time Together actually does a better job at capturing both his comedic genius and his professionalism. Here’s how she describes her beloved costar:

We always taped two shows on Fridays with two different audiences. The early show was a dress rehearsal that we taped as a backup. Tim would do the first show as written, “to the ink.” Then, as we were getting ready for the next show, he would check in with our director, Dave Powers: “You get all the shots?”

Dave would respond, “Yes.” (He always got all the shots.)

Tim would then ask Dave to change some things for the second show. For instance: “Instead of shooting a close-up of me when I go to the window, could you make it a head-to-toe shot?”

This meant that Tim had come up with some outrageous bit of business that we hadn’t seen or planned for. Now the fun would begin. Whatever Tim had been secretly cooking up all week blossomed into sheer hysterics in the second show, with Dave and the camera crew winging it right alongside him. Ninety-nine percent of the time we aired the second taping with all of Tim’s ad-libs and improvisations because they were so much funnier than the “ink” that we’d planned.

Tim’s dentist sketch with Harvey has to go down in television history as one of the funniest bits ever. Tim played the dentist, fresh out of school, and Harvey was his very first patient. The meat of the sketch was that Tim kept accidentally shooting himself with novocaine, first in his hand, then in his leg, and finally winding up with the needle between his eyebrows. As usual, he came up with most of these bits himself, and we all saw them for the first time in the second show.

I was screaming with laughter watching the monitor in my dressing room, so I ran out to the backstage area and watched from the wings. The entire audience was exploding. Our cameramen couldn’t contain themselves, either. There wasn’t a dry eye (or seat) in the house. And then I looked at Harvey. He couldn’t move from his chair. Utterly helpless with laughter. He tried his best to keep it together, but it was no use. Tears were spurting out of his eyes. Tim was relentless.

Here’s what I love about this story: it illustrates the intertwining of professionalism and playfulness. Conway was committed to getting the basics right: he followed the script “to the ink,” he made sure the director got the shots, he dared not ruin that week’s show by going rogue too early.

But once he nailed the basics and adhered to the baseline, he was willing to take a chance. If that second shoot didn’t result in what the director or the other stars wanted, no problem: there was always the first shoot. But “ninety-nine percent of the time” the second taping was used, because his so-called spontaneous playfulness was so much better than the professional script.

In our jobs, in our ministries, in our relationships with family, friends, and those whom we lead, I have two questions:

Are we getting it right? Are we paying attention to the little details, making sure we’ve mastered the basics, making sure we’ve followed the rules, and ensuring a good experience for everyone involved?

Are we having fun? Are we becoming artists rather than just scientists? Are we adding whimsy to our standard operating procedures? Are we looking for harmless ways to add suprise and delight, for us and for those we serve?

By the way, if you’re a lifelong Tim Conway fan or a young whipper-snapper who’s just hearing of him for the first time, you can’t spend your next few minutes any better than watching the final half of the infamous dentist sketch…the second take.