After the war, O'Gatty earned a
meager income as a screen extra, based exclusively on his resemblance to
Groucho Marx. His last acting job was in a commercial with several other
bald men who wore mustaches like bottle 
brushes and who could house a family of
field mice in their noses. The director of the commercial threw a bash at
his home in hopes of launching a career in feature films. Several
Hollywood big shots were invited, including Groucho--the real Groucho. The
lookalikes appeared on cue in the back yard around the swimming pool. They
slapped each other on the back and O'Gatty fell in love. He had asked to
be placed at the shallow end, but they lined up in reverse. The director's
wife swam with Esther Williams, and when she pulled the drowning O'Gatty
from the water he thought he had died and gone to heaven. It was the
showgirl from Berlin. They were caught sexing in the laundry room while
Muriel was supposed to be supervising the salmon mousse, and that was the
end of O'Gatty's doubling in Muriel's marriages.Together they
bought the Blue Motel, but it wasn't happy capitalism. Between the
jitterbug they danced on Hitler's grave and the re-routing of the Los
Angeles freeway shortly after they bought the motel forever tipped the
scales against them. Do you know something of the nature of our guests,
O'Gatty asks. I grew up with crazy people but say, No, I haven't worked in
an establishment of this nature before. That would require dying, going to
hell, and returning to answer. Just look around: Hazel is conversing with
a cueball who says it hurts. He asks for a potato. Clipped words and
eyelids flutter. He makes a stern face, proud of the power. Why do you
need the potato, Hazel asks. Eight, he answers. Eight what? There's an 8
in potato, he calls, as if Hazel has gone far from the desk where she
always sits.