Waiting in a never-ending line that was the entire DMV, it was finally my turn to take a photo for my new California license. The emotional moment quickly faded once I was told I had to take a written driving test, which I failed 20 minutes later.
While I was in another line, waiting again, I made friends and got into more trouble for joking about the test (“it’s a serious matter” an employee told me). Then I received a phone alert that Penny Marshall had died.
Not even 10:30 in the morning and I was crying, in public, at the DMV. I was barely hanging on, saddened over the news that one of my favorite female icons had passed away at 75.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” my new friend in line asked.
“Penny Marshall died.”
“Who?”
Through the tears and the anger, I laughed it off. The whole experience felt like something out of an episode of “Laverne and Shirley” so I let it go.
How could you not know who Penny Marshall was? Her laugh was contagious and her jokes were even funnier. Her work still holds up to this day.
I remember watching reruns of “Laverne and Shirley” every night after school and even tried making a cursive E on my shirts with magic marker in elementary school. Later on, I learned it needed to be sewn on otherwise it would erase in the wash. My first car was a white Chrysler Sebring and its name was Laverne. The theme song would play weekly, my friends can attest.
Carole Penny Marshall first made it big in an appearance on “Happy Days” thanks to her late producer-brother Garry Marshall. She played Laverne DeFazio, an outspoken, clumsy gal from Milwaukee. Marshall and co-star Cindy Williams were so well received they got their own spinoff “Laverne and Shirley” in 1976.
When I moved to my Los Angeles apartment, I noticed that I had “Laverne and Shirley doors”— regular doors that when opened at the same time smashed into one another. Some would find this bad infrastructure, but to me it was fate.
Only Marshall’s comedic timing and facial acting would make smashing doors and waxing eyebrows funny but it set her apart from the rest. After eight seasons (with no Emmy or Golden Globe wins, ridiculous) Marshall, who had directed four episodes tried her hand at filmmaking.
People don’t just go from acting in sitcoms to directing movies (well, with the exception of “Happy Days” alums Ron Howard and Robin Williams, maybe it’s in the water?)— but Marshall did.
Her directorial debut was in 1986 with “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” starring Whoopi Goldberg. The movie brought in $25 million. Two years later she directed Tom Hanks in “Big” and became one the first female directors to bring in a box office hit and make more than $100 million. Two years after that she wanted to direct a drama, and made “Awakenings” starring two of the biggest names in Hollywood at the time: Robert De Niro and Robin Williams. “Awakenings” didn’t make $100 million, but it became one of the few Best Picture Oscar-nominated movies that didn’t receive a directing nomination.
She had mastered whimsical comedy and emotional drama in the span of four years. In 1992 Tom Hanks partnered up with Marshall again to make baseball feminist classic “A League of Their Own.” Only Marshall would be smart enough to cast Geena Davis, Rosie O’Donnell, Tom Hanks and Madonna in the same movie.
Marshall set the bar for future female directors, actors and producers. She showed that a woman director can bring in the money and the audience— and those female-made movies can remain evergreen. She proved that women could find love, roommates can be best friends, sports aren’t only for boys, female friendships can last forever and, of course, there’s no crying in baseball.
As I left the DMV with a new license receipt in hand, I took the sidewalk back to my car counting up to four and saying, “hasenpfeffer incorporated.” Thank you, Penny Marshall, for the laughs, your movies, your legacy and for inspiring little-outspoken girls like me to keep on keeping on.
