Host: You’ve talked before about how tight-knit the MASH cast was, but there is a legendary rumor about Harry Morgan. Everyone says he was the ultimate professional, yet he had this secret weapon of absolute chaos when he lost his composure. Is it true he could completely halt production just by laughing?

Alan: Oh, absolutely. It is completely true.

You have to understand that Harry was our rock. He came in after McLean Stevenson left, and he brought this incredible, old-school Hollywood discipline to the set.

He knew his lines backwards and forwards. He never missed a cue. He was the consummate professional.

Except for when the giggles hit him.

Host: The giggles? Colonel Potter got the giggles?

Alan: Not just the giggles. A terminal, deeply contagious case of the giggles.

It did not happen often, but when it did, you might as well send the crew to lunch or dinner because nothing was getting filmed for the next hour.

There was one specific night during a late-season shoot that I will never forget. We were shooting a tense scene inside the operating room, which was always a tough location for us.

The OR scenes were brutal because the set was enclosed, the lights were incredibly hot, and we were wearing those heavy surgical scrubs, masks, and sweaty gloves.

It was well past midnight. We had been filming for fourteen hours straight. Everyone was exhausted, irritable, and desperate to go home.

Harry had to walk up to the operating table, look directly into my eyes, and deliver a very stern, authoritative lecture about a critical medical supply shortage.

It was supposed to be a completely serious, dramatic moment. The director called for action.

Harry marched into the room, stood right across from me, opened his mouth to speak, and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

And that is when it happened.

Alan: Instead of delivering this big, dramatic speech, Harry just froze.

He looked at me over his surgical mask, and I noticed his eyes suddenly went wide. Then, his eyebrows started twitching.

For a second, I thought he forgot his line, which was rare enough. I tried to give him a little nod of encouragement, keeping my straight face because the camera was on him.

But then I heard it. This tiny, high-pitched muffled sound came out from behind his mask. It sounded like a deflating balloon.

Host: He snorted?

Alan: He snorted. And then his shoulders started to vibrate.

He tried so hard to swallow the laugh, which only made it worse. His face turned bright red above the mask.

He completely broke character, lowered his head onto the edge of the operating table, and just started shaking.

The director yelled cut, laughing a bit himself, and said, Okay Harry, let us shake it off and take it from the top.

We all figured it was just a quick release of tension because we were all so tired.

Host: But it was not a quick release.

Alan: Not even close. We set up for take two.

Harry walked outside the doors, took a deep breath, and waited for his cue. The director called action.

Harry marched back into the OR with total authority. He looked at me, opened his mouth, and before a single syllable could form, he looked at my eyes and just lost it again.

This time, it was a full-blown belly laugh, completely muffled by the fabric of his mask.

Host: What did you do?

Alan: Well, that is the thing about Harry. His laugh was completely infectious.

When you see a grown man who is usually the epitome of dignity completely falling apart, you cannot help yourself.

Mike Farrell was standing right next to me, and I felt Mike’s shoulder hit mine because he was starting to shake too.

I looked at Mike, Mike looked at me, and suddenly we were both laughing.

We had our masks on, so the camera could only see our eyes, but our whole bodies were trembling.

Host: Did the director start getting worried about the clock?

Alan: Oh, he was losing his mind, but in the best way possible.

By take seven or eight, the director was sitting in his chair with his hands over his face, just giggling uncontrollably.

The camera crew could not keep the shot steady. You could literally see the camera frame bobbing up and down because the cameraman was laughing so hard his shoulders were shaking.

Every time the crew tried to tighten the focus, Harry would look up, make eye contact with someone behind the camera, and the whole room would erupt all over again.

Host: How many takes did it actually take to get through that single line?

Alan: I think we stopped counting after twelve or thirteen. It got to the point where Harry literally could not look at me.

We tried everything to fix it. I told him to look at my forehead instead of my eyes. He tried looking at the prop clipboard.

But every time he glanced anywhere near my direction, he would see the crinkles around my eyes from my own suppressed laughter, and he would completely break down.

We spent a solid forty-five minutes on a transition shot that should have taken two minutes tops. It was absolute, beautiful chaos.

Host: How did you finally manage to finish the scene?

Alan: We had to resort to a complete cheat.

The director finally realized Harry could not look at any of the actors without laughing.

So, for Harry’s close-up, they actually had me step entirely out of the room.

They pasted a small piece of blue tape onto the side of the camera lens and told Harry to deliver his stern command directly to the piece of tape.

Even then, Harry stared at the tape for a long moment, his shoulders gave one final little twitch, and he managed to squeeze the line out before breaking into a wide grin.

Host: That is incredible. It shows how much joy there was behind the scenes, even when you were exhausted.

Alan: It really does. We worked incredibly hard on that show, and the subject matter was often so heavy and tragic.

Those moments of pure, unadulterated silliness were what kept us sane during those long production cycles.

Harry was a beautiful man, and I would give anything to hear that muffled laugh coming from behind a surgical mask just one more time.

It is a memory that always reminds me why we loved going to work every single day.

Do you think modern television sets still have that same kind of spontaneous, family-like joy when the cameras stop rolling?