Years ago, McLean reached out to the MGM Grand after they removed the animatronic Foster Brooks from their casino floor and following the real Brooks’ death, hoping to purchase the robot. “They told me they had already dismantled him and used the parts elsewhere,” she reported. Thus, the Foster Brooks robot is now scattered across the MGM Grand, integrated into other forms.
Back in December 1993, Dorothy, Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion, and Tin Man were figures guests expected to encounter as they traced the yellow brick road through the newly relocated MGM Grand. Flaunting its ownership of all MGM movie rights, the resort recreated the Emerald Forest right in the heart of its casino. Unexpectedly, travelers on that road were greeted by an animatronic Foster Brooks, who sprang to life every half hour in the Betty Boop Lounge, lip-syncing to a 20-minute comedy set recorded decades earlier by the real Brooks.
“Nobody anticipated an animatronic comedian amid the magic talking trees,” a visitor recalled. The robot would mimic to the recording, “I said, ‘I’m gonna buy a condominium,’” teasingly followed by, “She said, ‘I don’t care, I’m going to take a pill anyway.’” A unique choice amongst entertainers, the MGM Grand immortalized Brooks in 1993 with this quirky attraction rather than selecting legendary figures like Dean Martin or anyone from “Cheers.”
A rare photo of the Foster Brooks robot surfaced in Jack Pendarvis’ 2008 blog, sparking curiosity and nostalgia among those who remembered the oddity. Pendarvis lamented the neglect of the robot in cultural memory, much like the obscure but intriguing Nedra “Kewpie” Harrison.
Foster Brooks, a comedian who built his career on the act of pretending to be an inebriate, became affectionately known as “The Loveable Lush.” His comedic persona captivated audiences on nightclub stages, talk shows, and the beloved Dean Martin Roasts, always performed under a faux haze of drunkenness. One of his signature jokes even alluded to an organization he humorously termed “Alcoholics Unanimous.”
Brooks’ career took off with an appearance on Steve Allen’s syndicated talk show in the 1960s, followed by an invitation from Perry Como to open at the International Hotel in 1969. Despite initial skepticism from hotel owners due to Brooks’ age and lack of fame, Como’s endorsement catapulted him to success. This led to Brooks becoming the highest-paid opening act on the Las Vegas Strip, earning $40,000 per week in the ’70s.
By the early ’90s, Brooks’ career had quieted. In 1993, the MGM Grand offered him $10,000 annually for a decade to license his likeness for the robot attraction, an offer too good to refuse. The animatronic Foster Brooks was created by Sally Dark Rides, a Jacksonville-based theme park company. The commission came from Fred Benninger, the chair of MGM Grand Inc., who was a fan of Brooks’ comedy.
The construction of the robot cost $150,000 and required 825 man-hours. It featured 30 lifelike movements powered by compressed air, simulating a remarkably realistic presence in the lounge. One inebriated patron, mistaking the robot for a real person, even left a tip at its feet.
In a memorable encounter orchestrated by Vegas entertainment journalist Mike Weatherford in 1994, Foster Brooks visited his animatronic likeness for the first time. Despite gout requiring him to use a cane, Brooks walked slowly through the resort to see the robot. Gazing into the robot’s glass eyes, he mused, “I look like an old man, which is what I am. It’s better than I’ll look when I’m dead, I guess.”
The robot, along with other non-animated figures from “The Wizard of Oz,” was removed during a 1996-97 renovation. Though some internet accounts suggest the figures were in severe disrepair and discarded, an alternative and more colorful myth emerged. It was rumored that boxer Mike Tyson, offended by the mute machine, had dismantled it before one of his bouts, though this was never confirmed.
While efforts to reclaim the robot by John Wood of Sally Dark Rides and Brooks himself were unsuccessful, some believe it still exists somewhere, perhaps tucked away in an MGM warehouse or a private storage unit. Weatherford, among others, holds out hope for its rediscovery, musing, “Somebody has it. Anything with some curiosity value like that? I’m sure.”
