The Courier & Advertiser (Fife Edition)
Star staying power
As M*A*S*H star Alan Alda heads to Dundee to receive an honorary degree for his work promoting science, Caroline Lindsay hears about his life in and out of the spotlight
He made his name as Hawkeye in M*A*S*H but it’s science that keeps Alan Alda in the spotlight today.
To audiences of a certain age, M*A*S*H was a television phenomenon and essential viewing for all of its 11 seasons. The black comedy about a medical team stationed at a fictional US mobile army surgical hospital during the Korean War, featured memorable characters like wisecracking Captain Hawkeye Pierce, Radar O’Reilly, Hot Lips Houlihan and cross-dressing Sergeant Klinger and made viewers laugh and cry in equal measure.
The series finale in 1983 was watched by a record-breaking 125 million people, making it the highest-rated single episode in US television history at the time, and the show scooped a raft of awards throughout its run.
So when it was announced that 81-year-old Alan Alda, who played Hawkeye, was coming to Scotland to receive an honorary degree from Dundee University on June 21, many assumed it was in honour of his illustrious acting, writing and directing career. After all, in the intervening decades, the seven-time Emmy Award winner has taken leading roles in ER and The West Wing; starred in, written and directed numerous films including Steven Spielberg’s Bridge of Spies, The Longest Ride and Tower Heist; and been nominated for an Academy Award for his part in Scorsese’s The Aviator, about Howard Hughes’ early years.
However, Wednesday’s ceremony is actually an acknowledgement of his work as a passionate ambassador for the communication of science in everyday life – a role he’s devoted himself to for the last 20 years.
Always curious as a child, he started reading everything he could about science in his early 20s. He has since hosted the TV series Scientific American Frontiers (similar to Tomorrow’s World), sits on the board of the Future of Life Institute and helped found The Alda Center for Communicating Science, where experts learn skills to help them pass on their knowledge without all the jargon.
Science is a “beautiful, fascinating detective story”, he says, and no one should be denied it because it’s told in a language they don’t understand.
“My goal is to see communication taught to all students of science and medicine as part of their normal education,” says Alan.
“At the Alda Center we’ve developed an effective way to help people be better communicators and I want to see it spread around the world.”
His latest book, If I Understood You, Would I Have This Look on My Face? describes his own quest to learn how to communicate better and he’ll be sharing his zeal with an audience at the Dalhousie Building in Dundee’s Old Hawkhill in An Evening with Alan Alda on Wednesday.
As I grew up, comics, chorus girls and strippers were my best friends, not other children
However, as far as he’s come in the 34 years since M*A*S*H ended, he admits none of this might have happened if it hadn’t been for that lucky break.
“I know that all of the experiences I’ve had since then that I treasure – like acting in beautifully written pieces by great writers with great directors, writing books that have become best sellers and helping people around the world become better communicators
– probably would not have happened without the success of that show,” he says.
“I probably wouldn’t be coming to the University of Dundee to kick off a workshop in communication – and that’s thrilling.”
He has won numerous plaudits over the years, including the Scientific American Lifetime Achievement Award, but that doesn’t take the shine off the honorary degree he’s receiving from Dundee University.
“I feel touched and honoured,” he insists. “Who knew my life would bring me here for this very kind recognition for what I’ve tried to do?”
He’ll be joined on the visit by his wife Arlene, two of his three daughters (Eve, Elizabeth and Beatrice) and a niece.
Alan and Arlene recently celebrated their 60th anniversary – they first bonded at a mutual friend’s dinner party in the 1950s when a rum cake accidentally fell on to the kitchen floor and they were the only two guests who didn’t hesitate to eat it – and he jokes: “My wife says the secret to a long marriage is a short memory.”
That sharp sense of humour and comic timing have been a part of his life since his birth in 1936.
“When I was born, my father was a singer and straight man in burlesque,” he explains. “I travelled with the company for the first few years of my life, watching the shows from the wings.
“When I was six months old, they carried me onstage in a schoolroom sketch and when I was three, they hid me in a prop safe as a joke on the comic who did a sketch involving breaking into the safe.
“I watched him through a crack in the door, waiting for my cue to jump out and surprise him – my first introduction to comic timing,” he chortles.
“As I grew up, comics, chorus girls and strippers were my best friends, not other children. That seemed like the real world to me. The stage would be my life.”
Recalling the M*A*S*H role that made him a household name, he says: “I’m almost always attracted first to the quality of writing in a piece, not to the character. And M*A*S*H was high quality writing. “I actually wondered how I was going to play Hawkeye. He seemed very different from me. But on the first day, I just jumped in and everything worked out fine.”
Even now, he can’t quite fathom why the programme was such a massive success.
“No one knows for sure,” he ponders. “Good writing, acting and directing were important factors but I think there was also an underlying awareness by those of us working on the show, and members of the audience, that this was a story about real people who had lived through the horrific experience of war. It was serious at heart.
“We try to have dinner together at least once a year, where we sit around the table and make fun of one another,” Alan grins.
Definitely young at heart today, he carries his 81 years lightly. “I look younger?” he wisecracks. “Like about 80? Thank you. I just stay interested. Maybe that helps.”
Heavily involved in charity work, he has donated to Marlo Thomas’s fund for St Jude’s, a leading US research hospital for children, and originated the Flame Challenge, an international competition for scientists who compete to explain complex scientific concepts to 11-year-olds.
With so many diverse achievements under his belt, he’d be more than entitled to be a little bit big-headed.
But asked how he would like to be remembered, he replies: “I really don’t worry about that. As far as I can tell, when you’re gone, you’re gone. Kerplunk.
“After enough time, pretty much nobody is remembered. So we all have two things to look forward to: death and being forgotten.
“The only thing we can hope for is that some contribution we’ve made continues to be helpful to those who come after us, no matter if it has our name on it or not. That’s my hope for what I‘ve tried to contribute to communication.”
Perhaps a more fitting tribute is the short video on his Twitter feed of him making a pretty decent attempt at a cartwheel last year, aged 80.
“Pathetic,” he declares. “I’ll try again when I’m 85.”
And I get the feeling that he probably will.