Of all the Marx Brothers, it's Groucho who stands out most in our memory, the one so often imitated, emulated, and instantly recognizable to even those few who may have never seen him on film or TV. Harpo comes a close second, with his moppet wig, oversized grin, honking horn and lecherous chases after pretty girls. But unlike his silent brother, Groucho left behind volumes of notable quips and insults, an unmistakable voice, and a solo career far more successful than any of the other Marxes.

He was born Julius Henry Marx in New York City, October 1890, the middle of five sons of Sam and Minnie Marx. The boys' talented, ambitious mother ushered them into show business at a young age, and their early careers were given a boost by Minnie's brother, Al Shean, half of one of the most successful of all vaudeville acts, Gallagher and Shean. (Groucho was particularly close to his uncle.) Their first comedy routine was patterned on what were known as "school acts" popular in the early 1900s, with Groucho playing a German school teacher and Chico and Harpo his prize students (brothers Zeppo and Gummo were then also in the act). "Fun in Skule" became known as the wildest show in vaudeville. Their antics in the college-set film Horse Feathers (1932) provides a little taste of what that show may have been like.

Shean started writing for and directing them, and their next show, Home Again, became a huge hit. But even Uncle Al couldn't control their wild spirit and zany antics. Soon the boys developed the personas that would stay with them the rest of their lives. Groucho adopted a greasepaint mustache and replaced the German accent with his trademark vocal sneer. (Harpo dropped his Irish accent and stopped speaking altogether.) Their success took them to Broadway with the show I'll Say She Is, earning them more widespread attention. Soon they were attracting the best talent; Sam Harris became their producer and new shows were written for them by George S. Kaufman and Morrie Ryskind. The first of these, The Cocoanuts, was a long-running hit (1925-28). By this time, Gummo had left the act and Groucho had emerged as the leader, establishing his comic persona as the wisecracking, cigar-smoking con artist with the loping walk, an insult for everyone, and one-liners packed with good-natured sexual innuendo. His verbal dexterity impressed everyone who saw him. Ryskind's sister said after opening night of The Cocoanuts that if she hadn't read the script first, she would have sworn Groucho was making up every word as he went along; that was how spontaneous he could be. That skill often caused his writers to be overlooked while every famous joke and quote was attributed directly to Groucho, as if he had improvised them.

During the run of the show, the Marx Brothers made their first movie, the privately financed Humor Risk (1926). The film was never released, however, and to date remains lost. But with the success of their next Broadway venture, Animal Crackers, Hollywood came calling, and the team was signed to a five-picture deal with Paramount. Their first two pictures were essentially filmed versions of the stage hits, The Cocoanuts (1929) and Animal Crackers (1930). Although the restrictions of early sound technology hamstrung their theater antics a little, Groucho's verbal witticisms came across intact and were an instant hit (despite his habit of double-takes and pauses to allow the cinema audience time to laugh). The pictures, filmed on Paramount's Astoria (New York) sound stage, were great critical and commercial successes.

Audiences particularly loved the interplay between Groucho and perhaps the greatest comic foil of all time, the stately Margaret Dumont. Groucho once credited their chemistry largely to Dumont's total incomprehension about what he was saying and what was funny about his jokes. On stage with the team and in seven of their films between 1929 and 1941, Dumont played a version of herself (the actress was also the society matron wife of a wealthy industrialist), becoming forever linked to Groucho. Although the two hadn't worked together in years, she made her last appearance with him in the familiar straight woman role on the TV variety show The Hollywood Palace in 1964, just a few days before her death.

The box office success of the first two pictures led the studio to bring in bigger names to work on their next films: writers S.J. Perelman and Nat Perrin; songwriters Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby; directors Norman Z. McLeod and Leo McCarey. New situations and settings were devised into which Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo were unleashed: a gangster film spoof on board an ocean liner in Monkey Business (1931), a college in Horse Feathers, and a fictional European country on the verge of war in what many consider their best work, Duck Soup (1933). The three films were less and less popular, however, and when Duck Soup did poorly at the box office, financially troubled Paramount let the team go.

They landed next at MGM, where their almost Dada-esque anarchy was toned down and put into the service of romantic subplots involving the likes of Allan Jones, Kitty Carlisle and Maureen O'Sullivan. But Margaret Dumont was still on hand (although Zeppo was now gone), and George S. Kaufman was back writing for them in their first Metro picture, A Night at the Opera (1935), in which they demolished a production of Il Trovatore and re-established themselves as box office forces.

Many now lament the transition from Paramount to MGM. It is true that with bigger, more mainstream production numbers going to the young musical leads, Groucho had less opportunity to introduce the kind of irreverent songs he sang in the Paramount films, and his character was a bit kinder and gentler, guided as he was by the plot's need to get the romantic characters together. But he still got to toss off some of his more famous quips ("If I hold you any closer, I'll be in back of you.") and there are many of the typical Marx Brothers antics in A Day at the Races (1937), At the Circus (1939), and Go West (1940). But the Metro formula wore thinner with each picture, and their popularity steadily waned.

Their one picture outside the studio during this time didn't help matters much. Made at RKO, Room Service (1938) was the only film the Marx Brothers made that was not originally created for them. It was taken from a popular Broadway farce adapted for the screen by frequent Marx writer Morrie Ryskind, under orders by the studio not to change much of the smash hit source material. So although some Marx Brothers zaniness broke through, the story was not specifically geared to their talents, and although it featured an early comic performance by Lucille Ball, Margaret Dumont was nowhere to be found. It was not a success.

After The Big Store (1941), the brothers ended their MGM contract. None of them were seen on screen again for five years. A Night in Casablanca (1946) and Love Happy (1949) were two attempts to recapture the magic. But even though the latter offered Groucho a memorable scene with the young Marilyn Monroe, the two pictures ended the Marx Brothers' career as a team. However, unlike his brothers, whose styles were more suited to the ensemble act, Groucho's appeal was such that he could continue working in films. He made his first solo appearance in Copacabana (1947) opposite Carmen Miranda. He later turned up as a sidekick to Frank Sinatra in Double Dynamite (1951) and teamed with William Bendix in A Girl in Every Port (1952). But these films are largely forgotten today. It was really the small screen that kept Groucho in the public eye.

Throughout the 1930s and 1940s, he also worked as a radio comedian and show host. In the late 40s, he hosted the humorous radio game show You Bet Your Life. Its popularity soon extended to television in 1950, where it would run for 11 years, giving Groucho (now in a genuine bushy mustache to match his old greasepaint version) the opportunity to make his trademark wisecracks to contestants and to insult and embarrass his announcer George Fenneman every week. A few more films followed: Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957); The Story of Mankind (1957), reunited with Chico and Harpo in the only movie each of them made after the act's break-up, although the three didn't actually appear together on screen; and as no less than God in Skidoo (1968), which offered the spectacle of Jackie Gleason having an LSD freak-out. But on TV, Groucho became an icon for a whole new generation, through his series and frequent variety/talk-show appearances where he occasionally performed the irreverent songs of the Paramount years ("Everyone Says I Love You," "Whatever It Is, I'm Against It," "Hooray for Captain Spaulding," "Hello, I Must Be Going"). He also enjoyed an acclaimed run in an adaptation of Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado (1960). He also served as a consultant on the stage show Minnie's Boys in 1970, about the Marx Brothers' indomitable mother and her influence on their career.

In real life, Groucho Marx was very intelligent and rather bookish (in part to make up for his lack of formal education). He was also by his own admission plagued by insomnia and not the easiest person to live with. He was married and divorced three times, and his son Arthur remarked that because his father was always "on" it was difficult to have a real conversation with him.

There have been those who claimed that the Groucho persona, his trademark wit, was really the work of many writers and directors and barely attributable to him alone. Others have countered with examples of his wacky humor in real life (such as the time he took over the New York Stock Exchange for fifteen minutes of song and patter, then jokingly accused a worker on the floor of dallying when he could be ruining someone financially, as Groucho himself had been in 1929). It may be an interesting debate, but one that seems beside the point when considering Groucho's impact and his screen legacy. It's akin to carping that Judy Garland didn't write her own songs or that Marilyn Monroe wasn't the designer of her wardrobe. One has only to look at how many times he has been imitated, quoted, referenced and analyzed to know the extent of Groucho Marx's stardom and artistry.

by Rob Nixon