Richard Lewis believed he was about to die soon after he was born, thanks to his longtime friend Larry David.
“Our problems started at birth,” Lewis said in a typically lengthy interview. “We were born three days apart and both in the same hospital in Brooklyn. I’m convinced that Larry tried to strangle me with her mother’s umbilical cord.”
Lewis, one of the most underrated cartoonists of all time, died of a heart attack on February 27 at his home in Los Angeles. A week before his death, I spoke with his publicist, Jeff Abraham, about setting up an interview with one of my all-time favorite subjects. Abraham noted that Lewis was in a lot of pain due to Parkinson’s disease and back and shoulder problems, which meant he couldn’t stay awake much.
Knowing Lewis’ health issues, I thought that might prevent us from reconnecting. Six months ago, I had a dream in which Luis died, which prompted me to contact Abraham. Abraham told me they would meet again when the final season of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” premieres.
Abraham said that because of our relationship, Lewis would tell me about his career and about his late friend David Brenner, a genius cartoonist.
Lewis said that along with Sandra Bernhardt, I reminded him of fellow journalist Bill Seeme, who often invited him to “break bread.” He asked me to play stickball in Pacific Palisades as if I lived in Malibu or some other enviable Los Angeles zip code. But Lewis was often elusive. We rarely met in person. The last time we were together was in 2017 at Club Helium, where he performed in Philadelphia.
My daughter Jillian and I also attended. Lewis said he would jump in between sets. As we slipped into the opening slot, Lewis emerged from the shadows, dressed in black, like a vampire. We joked for 15 minutes and he still kept talking to us after we were introduced to the host. “And now Richard Lewis…”
“So why did your son hit a home run?” Lewis said. “I’ve never hit a home run. I can’t imagine what it feels like.”
The crowd roared with anticipation.
“Maybe I should go,” I said.
Lewis went for the kill. Before we could return to our seats, the opener stopped us.
“Who are you?” the opener asked. “I’ve been traveling with Richard for over 20 years and this is the third time he’s met someone during a show. Richard just walks in and out and doesn’t talk to anyone. You Who is that?”
I didn’t realize until then how important it was to hold court with Lewis at the Comedy Club. I’ll never forget that conversation, which was our last. So a few days ago I was looking forward to an interview that would never happen because I was listening to a past chat that was unlike any interview I’ve ever done.
Even after more than 30 years of career, no one was as passionate about conversation as Lewis. Our interviews often lasted over two hours. It was a great pleasure to joust with Lewis’s brilliant mind.
Lewis was my hero. It’s been since he was in college when he was spotted delivering stand-up on “Late Night with David Letterman.” Lewis’ humor was deep, quirky, hilarious, and as unique as our conversations.
Who else will be in the middle of the conversation when you answer the call for an interview? “I can’t believe how much this conversation is costing me,” Lewis said. “My grandpa clock is broken, so I’m eight minutes late.”
No, hello. It was just a stream of consciousness rant.
Lewis was the king of interpersonal humor, but one two-and-a-half hour conversation took a dark turn. A generation ago, I was in a tumultuous relationship. I went back and forth to my girlfriend but nothing worked out. Who else can empathize with it but Lewis?
“It’s like keeping your hand on a hot stove,” Lewis says. “I know. I’ve been there. I’ve been there and back when everything went bad.”
But my unlucky relationship was so bad that I got a surprise from Luis.
“I’m so sorry for what you’re going through,” Lewis said. “This is worse than anything I’ve ever experienced.”
I was horrified by this response from the author of the extraordinary autobiography, The Other Great Depression. In the 1990s, I asked iconic figures like James Brown, Bob Newhart, and Michael McKean, who played Spinal Tap’s David St. Hubbins, to leave voicemails for me to send. And I still have it. Lewis delivered the most beautiful message on the spot. “Hello, this is Richard Lewis. My friend Ed, Gandhi, is not available on the phone at the moment. I don’t know where he is. I think he and his wife are in Rome. I’m here to take care of the kids. If you can, please leave a message saying, ‘Okay, kids, I’ll be right out.’ I’ll be sure to let Ed know when he gets back.”
No wonder Lewis was so good at improvising “Curb Your Enthusiasm.”
Lewis was at his best when he opened up. He asked the former star of the funny sitcom “Anything But Love” about his catchphrase, “I was raised by wolves.” How terrible was his childhood?
“It was pretty bad,” Lewis said. “I didn’t see my dad much. My dad was very successful in catering, so he was booked for my bar mitzvah and I had a party on Tuesday. Talk about low self-esteem. My father died when I was young, and by the time I was in middle school, my sister and brother had left home. So it was me and my mother, and we didn’t get along very well. They didn’t understand.”
What couldn’t she understand about Lewis?
“Everything,” Lewis said. “Before I performed at Carnegie Hall in 1989, I performed at the Plaza Theater in Inglewood. We did a two-hour show. Her mother appeared in the lobby early and told her fans, ‘I’m Richard’s. I’m a mother,” she said. During filming, I joked that my father had 12 heads. Her mother stood up and said, “That’s terrible.” “
When he made his Carnegie Hall debut, his mother was banned from the famous venue.
“I had to make a difficult decision,” Lewis said. “I told her she gets in the way of my thoughts because I imagine her there. I told her she couldn’t come, but she didn’t. has returned to Jersey.”
It wasn’t just his mother who irritated Lewis. The “Curb Your Enthusiasm” star and creator eavesdropped on Lewis.
“We were our biggest rivals at summer sports camps when we were teenagers,” Lewis said. “I was a good athlete. Larry was a gangster, obnoxious asshole. I hated him.
“Years later, as young comics in New York, we became good friends, and one night I realized something: “There’s something I don’t like about you,” I told him. “Wait, you’re Larry David from summer camp.” And he said, “You’re that Richard Lewis.” We almost collided. ”
Manga has become a close friend. Lewis became close with his childhood idol Mickey Mantle, whom he met on the street as a child.
“A lot of Yankees rented houses on our block, Van Nostrand Avenue,” Lewis recalled. “The most surreal moment was when Mickey Mantle drove up and I was wearing a Brooklyn Dodgers shirt and he said, ‘Hey, why are you wearing that shirt? ’ I walked away embarrassed, but when I grew up, Mickey and I became good friends.
“Look who I’ve made friends with, it’s so amazing. I never imagined it would turn out like this. When I was a kid, I would stand on the roof of my house and look out at Manhattan and wonder what was going on there. I wondered what was going on. I went down the street and saw kids selling lemonade and it occurred to me that there must be more to life than this. I was right.”