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One might expect Duck Soup to be served at Pesach in Groucho Marx's home. Much to Rabbi Doug Kahn's dismay, it wasn't.

However, the seder Kahn led at the mustached, bespectacled, cigar-smoking comedian's home 21 years ago was nothing short of a Night at the Opera.

"I was pinching myself all night. On that occasion I was oblivious to the food," said Kahn, executive director of the S.F.-based Jewish Community Relations Council.

Instead, he recalled, "The house was decorated with endless memorabilia from television shows and movies. Ducks were everywhere. Hanging ducks. Fluffy Groucho pillows. You knew immediately whose house you were in."

In 1976, as a rabbinical student at Hebrew Union College in Los Angeles and intern at Temple Emanu-El in Beverly Hills, Kahn received a call from Marx's companion Erin Flemming, requesting that he lead the annual seder.

"I tried to be real cool. I said, `Let me check my book,'" Kahn said.

Obviously, that was a lot of Horsefeathers. And Kahn, of course, accepted.

Having chosen the perfect Haggadah, "one with lots of beautiful pictures and traditional text," Kahn arrived at Marx's Bel Air home with wife Ellen and Camp Swig songleader Jason Gwasdoff at his side.

Kahn was early. Sally Kellerman was too.

The "M*A*S*H*" star "told me she had had so many Jewish lovers that she was interested in finding out what a seder was all about," Kahn said.

Among the other famous guests dining on gefilte fish and matzah ball soup were vaudeville comic Georgie Jessel, actor Ed Begley Jr. and movie producer Irwin Allen. Nearly 60 guests attended, including Marx's grandchildren.

While laughs were running neck-and-neck with guffaws throughout the evening, it was no Day at the Races. Kahn was able to lead a full seder with everyone participating.

Following dinner, Jessel, Marx and Flemming entertained for an hour. Children searched the house for the afikomen.

"It was the history of comedy being turned upside-down. They were in Groucho's bedroom and everywhere else. It was an amazing thing to watch," Kahn said.

The ransom for the afikomen was a Groucho Marx art book.

"I would have liked to find [the hidden matzah] myself, but I hid it," Kahn said.

Afikomen in hand, Kahn continued the seder. Just before 11 p.m., with about 10 minutes left to go, Marx quietly excused himself from the table. Kahn finished the seder without him.

Before pulling on his coat to leave, Kahn tiptoed into Marx's bedroom to say goodnight. Propped up in bed, Marx was wearing his trademark stocking cap and watching "The Best of Groucho."

"He explained to me that religiously, every night, from the moment it started, he would watch the reruns," Kahn said.

Although not religious, Marx "seemed to enjoy the seder a lot. I certainly did," Kahn said. "He was getting up there in years. That was clear. But he still had that spark of humor.

"He thanked me for coming and made a comment about me being pretty good — for a rabbi."

Marx signed Kahn's Haggadah. So did Jessel and Kellerman. A few days later, a note written on Marx's personal stationery arrived at Kahn's home.

Addressed to Rabbi Doug "Kohn," rather than Kahn, it read:

"Dear Rabbi and Mr. Rabbi [sic]:

"I want to thank you for making my Annual Seder such a smashing success. Everyone had a wonderful time this year, and I hope you will be available to conduct my next Seder as well as you did this one. Give my regards to your pretty wife.

"All good wishes, Groucho Marx."

Kahn left Los Angeles that year. His only regret was "knowing I couldn't come back to do the seder.

"I remember telling the next intern that it was truly one of the perks of the position," Kahn said.

Marx's letter is framed and hanging in Kahn's home.

Was it his best Passover ever? You Bet Your Life.