Elizabeth Montgomery

I’ll never forget the day I first heard Elizabeth Montgomery’s voice on my answering machine, trailing off and on tape, in bits and pieces, with a chipper, near stuttering rhythm. I had been attempting to contact the iconic Bewitched star for months. William Asher, her former husband and the show’s core producer/director, had been playing matchmaker for us, recommending that she speak with me.

“You really should talk to Herbie,” he told her on more than one occasion. “He is sincerely concerned with this entity known as Bewitched.”

“He never tells me that I should talk to anyone,” Elizabeth would later share with me upon our first meeting.

Indeed. She did talk with me. Elizabeth welcomed me into her hushed world.

I was enamored with the rise, demise, and rebirth of Bewitched, and she was intrigued. She marveled in my appreciation of not only her most famous show, but her varied accomplishments, talents, and charitable ways. Initially reticent then unrestrained she, for the first time in twenty years, offered in-depth conversations about her life and career. She explained during the first of what would become four interviews in the spring and summer of 1989:

“It’s a strange thing...I loathe to chat away about me. I’ve never liked it. I always hate interviews. I just want to act, and do the best job I can. Hopefully, people will appreciate it. That’s what my job is. It isn’t sitting down and talking about me. If I were a gardener [which she fancied herself as around her home in Beverly Hills], I would be out there trying to make gardens as pretty as I could, and not expect people to come up to me and ask a lot of questions. What it boils down to is this: It’s always easier for me to talk about other things than it is to talk about me.”

She described our conversations as “cathartic.” She spoke of performing her legendary role as the nose-wriggling Samantha Stephens, the witch-with-a-twitch; her famous father, film and TV idol Robert Montgomery; her childhood; years of education; early motion pictures, stage, and television appearances. She addressed what it meant to be an actress; her friendships with President John F. Kennedy (assassinated on November 22, 1963 — the day rehearsals began for Bewitched), Carol Burnett, and her Bewitched co-stars, including Dick York and Dick Sargent (who shared the role of Darrin Stephens, Samantha’s mortal husband, Agnes Moorehead (Samantha’s feisty supernatural mother); her TV-movies and feature films and, of course, Bewitched itself. She discussed all she did and didn’t understand about herself and her massive following; all she gave, all she became, all she hoped to be, all she was: a wife, a mother, a friend, a TV legend, a pop-culture icon, a courageously bold endorser of human rights.

I went on to write the original Bewitched Book, which was published by Dell in 1992, revised by Summit Publishing in 1996 as Bewitched Forever, and revised yet again in 2004 by Tapestry Press. In 2012, Taylor Trade released Twitch Upon A Star, my biography of Elizabeth, and then one year later, The Essential Elizabeth Montgomery, my encyclopedia of her life and career.

It was also because of the first Bewitched Book, that I began writing additional books about other TV shows. The Kung Fu Book of Caine was published in 1993, followed by The Kung Fu Book of Wisdom in 1995, The Bionic Book and Life Story - The Book of Life Goes On in 2007, NBC & ME: My Life As A Page In A Book in 2005, Glamour, Gidgets and the Girl Next Door: Television's Iconic Women of the '50s, '60s, and '70s in 2014, Dashing, Daring and Debonair: TV's Top Male Icons from the '50s, '60s, and '70s, and Mary: The Mary Tyler Moore Story in 2019.

In between all of that, I appeared on, or served as a producer or consultant on several TV documentaries, beginning with Bewitched: The E! True Hollywood Story (which remains the 7th highest-rated True Hollywood Story in E!'s history), A&E's Biography of Elizabeth Montgomery, Bravo's hit five-part series, The 100 Greatest TV Characters, TLC's Behind the Fame specials on The Mary Tyler Moore Show and The Bob Newhart Show.

I also went on to work on a number of DVD package releases for TV shows like Kung Fu, The Six Million Dollar Man, CHiPs, and Bewitched.

Into this mix, I formed Television, Ink, my own TV production company, and The Classic TV Preservation Society, a formal 501(c) nonprofit organization dedicated to the positive social influence of classic TV shows.

I also started hosting live events at bookstores, schools, colleges, community and senior centers, and business facilities.

Each of these accomplishments, one by one, over a twenty-year span, led me to the hosting and executive producing of Then Again with Herbie J Pilato, my classic TV talk show that began streaming July 1st, 2019 on Amazon Prme. The show has not only been renewed for a second season, but a spin-off series is also now in the works.

And of it is because of Elizabeth Montgomery.

It was because of connecting with her, and being inspired by her life and work (she lent her public persona and celebrity to many charitable causes), that I went on to become a published author, a TV producer, a TV talk show host, and more.

Here's How It Started

It all began on April 18, 1989, three days after Elizabeth’s 56th birthday, and following months of leaving messages with her answering service. One day, I arrived home to my tiny studio apartment in Santa Monica, noticed the flashing light on my answering machine, and pressed play:

“Hi. It’s Lizzie Montgomery. We’ve been missing each other. Well — you’ve been missing me. I’m finally back for a while. I will give you a call again. You call me. I’ll call you. Hopefully, we’ll be in touch. [Pause] This is crazy. [Pause, with a smile in her voice, then adding] Okay. Bye-bye.

Firstly, it was cool that she referred to herself as Lizzie, and was being so casual with me by saying that. But the crazy reference was a nod to the mere fact that I wanted to write about Bewitched and, that upon phoning me, she heard on my machine the Bewitched theme, punctuated by the nose-twitch xylophone sound from the show’s opening credits, pristinely timed with the phone beeper signal instruction to leave a message. I can’t begin to explain challenging it was to coordinate all of that on my machine (in the days long before the high-tech communication of today), but I did it. And when Elizabeth heard it, she was impressed.

When I finally did meet Elizabeth, however, it was I, of course, who was impressed. I remember driving up to her gated mansion in Beverly Hills, reaching over to the guest-announcement speaker, ringing the bell, and hearing a pleasant “Hello.”

“Hi,” I said. “It’s Herbie J Pilato.”

“Oh, yes. Come on,” was her response (which later became, “Oh, goody,” whenever she heard it was I in the driveway).

I then traveled up the long private road to her front door with four new tires on my 1981 Buick Regal, because I wanted the car to look nice. I passed a large tennis court, and a well-manicured garden, and closed in on a somewhat disheveled garage that housed a new Rolls Royce with a license plate that read, Bent Liz (as in Bentley). “How funny,” I thought. That was so in-tune with the amiable personality that I had come to know by then, if only through watching Bewitched and talking with just a few of Elizabeth’s former Bewitched co-stars (some of whom refused to talk with me until she said, but we’ll get to that later).

I soon approached her front door, rang the bell, and there she was: Elizabeth Montgomery, the love of my TV life — and of my magical dreams.

I was simply stunned upon seeing this simply stunning woman.

“Hi,” she said forthrightly, and placing her hand out in kind, added, “…pleased to meet you.”

She welcomed me inside, and I followed her into the living room, and then it happened.

I can’t believe it happened.

But it happened.

I did something really silly.

I tripped over her coffee table.

Fortunately, I didn’t break anything — the table or my legs. But I at least broke the ice. She giggled like a little girl at my gaffe, and we eventually sat down and the first question she asked me was, “Why are you doing this?”

I went on to explain my affection for Bewitched. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure it went something like this:

“Well — the show is really much more than just a sitcom about a witch. She’s first and foremost a woman, who happens to be a witch. And she loves this regular guy for who he is, and not for what he could for her. And together they prove that any marriage can work, despite their differences, or whatever diverse challenges come their way. That’s really what the show is about…prejudice…looking past differences, and concentrating on what makes people the same.”

It was Elizabeth who now appeared stunned. She sat back and replied simply with an, “Oh…okay,” and we became friends. My words were earnest, and she knew it. And we went on to have a wonderful two-hour conversation about Bewitched and her early life and career, with three more two-hour sessions to follow.

To ensure that our first encounter was memorable, I had prepared a few gifts for Elizabeth, planning to offer them after our initial discussion had ended. I did not want her to feel overwhelmed. I had heard of her sensitivity to and fear of the press, due to being raised in the public eye as the daughter of famed movie and film star Robert Montgomery. And as it turned out, I became the first journalist to whom Elizabeth granted an in-depth interview in over twenty years.

So, it was only upon completion of our monumental conference that I turned to Elizabeth and said, simply, “I have something for you.”

I then proceeded to take out from the black duffel bag I brought along a gold-framed inscription of a letter I wrote to her, and which I had commissioned a calligrapher to prepare, along with a fine-crystal unicorn (poor William Asher just got brownies) that I had purchased. I knew that Samantha was fond of unicorns. But it wasn’t until speaking with Bewitched writer Richard Baer who informed me that Elizabeth, too, in real life, was also fond of the mythical creatures. She had collected marble, plastic, glass, and wood unicorns of every shape and size for years.

Consequently, upon seeing the sparkling new crystal unicorn before her, Elizabeth gasped and said, “Oh, my…You know, don’t you! You know!” But before she could continue, I reached into my bag and pulled out the plaque with the special lettering. The words explained how I felt. I immortalized in permanent sentiment everything I had always wanted to say to her, closing with:

“Miss Elizabeth Montgomery…I state in truth and with much conviction, that the world remains blissfully, lovingly and enchantingly Bewitched forever, simply due to the fact that YOU are magic.”

Upon reading the former phrase (which unbeknownst to me at the time, would become the title of my second Bewitched tome), Elizabeth turned to me, as if in slow motion, and wrapped her arms around me with a sweet and gentle embrace.

When this transpired, I was under her spell, in person, this time, nearly floating out the front door, upon making my exit. But as I began to walk towards my Buick with the new tires, I turned slightly back to Elizabeth and observed her standing in the doorway, holding that unicorn and plaque.

At that moment, I could have that sworn some form of white mist began to form around her figure, as she stood waving good-bye. It was a tremendous sight.

I then got in my car and, in a daze, began to slowly journey back down her long driveway, kept repeating, “I just met Elizabeth Montgomery. I just met Elizabeth Montgomery.”

In what seemed like only seconds, I was back in my little apartment in Santa Monica, which was at least twenty minutes away from Elizabeth’s sprawling home in Beverly Hills.

But just as I opened my door, the phone rang.

“Hello,” I answered, still somewhat in a daze.

“Hi, Herbie. It’s Lizzie.”

I freaked out, silently. “Oh...hiiiii,” I stuttered, clueless as to why she would be phoning me not even half-hour after our first meeting.

“Just calling to confirm our appointment for next week.”

“Uh, uh, uh…okay,” I continued to stumble. “How about the same time? Four o’clock. That okay with you?”

“Perfect. Oh, how fun. See you then.”

I hung up the phone.

Was I dreaming? Was I drunk?! Was I alive?!!

I didn’t have time for the answers. The phone rang a second time.

“Hi, Herbie. It’s Lizzie again.”

“Uh…hiii.”

“Yeah, I was just wondering,” she began to say, “…what are the lyrics to that song I sang as Serena in the episode where I wore the blond wig?” [“Hip, Hippie Hooray” was the episode’s title.]

“Uh…uhm…uhm…I have to check my notes.”

“Oh, okay.”

But just before we hung up, I said, “You know something? I’m really glad you called back.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Remember when I said that I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed with the gifts, and everything?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I was wrong. I think you should be overwhelmed. But in a good way.”

“Oh, I am. I am! After you left, I thought to myself, You know…it really must have been difficult for him to meet me?”

And it was. And she knew it but again, she respected my appreciation because I respected her talent. “I’ll see you next week,” she said with that giggle of hers and hung up.

Before Elizabeth and I met a second time, I had placed calls to Dick Sargent and David White, who had played Larry Tate, Darrin’s self-absorbed boss on Bewitched. I needed to contact them to properly complete The Bewitched Book, but they refused interviews with me unless I could confirm Elizabeth's involvement. So I called her one day and asked if she would speak with them.

“Yes, absolutely,” she said, and then to my surprise, asked, “Do you have their numbers?”

I gave them to her, we said goodbye, and about one half-hour later, the phone rang. It was Dick Sargent.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m looking to speak with a…Herbie…is it…Pee-lah-toe?”

“That’s right. This is he.”

“Yeah. Hi, Herbie. This is Dick Sargent. I just got the strangest phone call from Elizabeth Montgomery, who I haven’t heard from in years. She said you’re doing some kind of book about Bewitched?”

Before I could respond, call-waiting interrupted.

“Hold on, Mr. Sargent. I’ve got to catch the other line….Hello?”

“Herbie. it’s Lizzie. Did Dick call you?”

“Yes…I’m on the line with him right now.”

“Oh, goody,” she said, just like a little kid.

I returned to speak with Dick Sargent. We set up an appointment, hung up, and then it hit me:

I was just on the phone with Samantha and Darrin — and at the same time!

That fascinated me because so much of Bewitched had to do with Darrin calling Samantha at home to see if everything was alright; if whatever magical mayhem that had been caused by Endora or the like had subsided. And now, in some surreal way, it seemed I was living inside an actual episode of Bewitched.

But more of the blur between fantasy and reality was yet to come.

“Look at his face! Look at his face!!”

When I went to interview Elizabeth in person for the second time, she informed me that she was expecting a messenger at 4:30 PM, which was shortly after we had planned to meet.

Sure enough, at 4:30 PM, the doorbell rang. She excused herself and went to answer. About one minute later, she returned and, following behind her, was none other than David White.

My jaw dropped, and Elizabeth relished in that fact. “Oh, look at his face, David! Look at his face!” She could not stop giggling that giggle of hers and was so delighted that she had surprised me with David’s visit.

But more amazement was waiting in the wings. As David and I began to chat, Elizabeth excused herself, this time to fetch us some drinks (an assortment of fruit juices). In a moment of silence in her wake, David looked around the patio, and intoned, “Beautiful house, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I replied, still a bit in awe of the fact that I was sitting with Larry Tate in Samantha’s backyard. “Yes, it is.”

David then added, “Haven’t been here in fifteen years.”

Shortly after he spoke those words to my utter shock, Elizabeth returned, sipping orange juice, with grapefruit juice for me, and handing David the same.

The three of us went on to share a wonderful afternoon. I couldn’t help but believe that I had done a good thing; that I was responsible for reuniting two old friends.

But before I could continue patting myself on the back, David was ready to leave. And Elizabeth and I began to walk him to his car, which was a Toyota Supra. I joked with him, suggesting that such a vehicle was too youthful a model for someone his age (then seventy-something) to drive. Upon hearing that remark, he just glanced over at Elizabeth, and with the spot-on comic-timing that he used on Bewitched (a delivery that William Asher had described as quicksilver), David just smirked, and drove away, leaving both Elizabeth and me with additional smiles.

As Elizabeth and I watched David White trail down that long driveway, the same path that introduced me to the real world of Elizabeth Montgomery, she turned to me and asked, out of the blue, “Do you like zucchini?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you like zucchini?”

“Yeah…I guess so.”

“Oh, goody.”

At that point, Elizabeth lunged a few feet ahead into her garden, which was the center of the circular driveway in front of her home. She reached down into the patch, pulled out a significant-sized zucchini from its roots, handed it to me and said, “Here…this is for you.”

Before I could respond, she leaped back into the patch and selected a second zucchini, this one even larger than the first. “Here,” she repeated, handing me yet another fresh plant of the earth, “…take another one.”

And this time it was who was overwhelmed. I was standing with a Hollywood legend, picking vegetables from her secret garden.

It remains a magical moment in time that I will never forget.

And just one of many magical moments in my life and career that transpired because I was inspired by Elizabeth Montgomery.