Still Crazy

Richard Lewis uses his ‘bottomless pit of dysfunction’ to get laughs. The comic performs at the Stress Factory in New Brunswick March 7-8.

By: Jim Boyle

"Comedian
"I went on stage for psychological reasons," says Richard Lewis. "I wanted to untwist myself and at least be validated that I wasn’t alone."


   In the throes of middle age, Richard Lewis is downright confused. Everything his doctors have told him has changed, all the wisdom he has acquired is null and void. Add this to a psyche that has become the poster-child for neurosis, and you’ve got one mixed-up comic who could use a little sleep.
   "I haven’t slept in 34 years," says the 55-year-old from his home in California. "I just take little catnaps on the toilet. I just use it to rest. That’s what happens when you become middle-aged. The bed isn’t for sex, the toilet isn’t for your bowels. Everything changes after 50. It’s like when my doctor used to tell me to eat a lot of fruits and vegetables. Now, I hear don’t eat fruits and vegetables. Everything has gone haywire."
   Desperate for good advice, Mr. Lewis has gone to just about anybody to find out what exactly he can put into his body. One tidbit he wasn’t prepared for came from a rock ‘n’ roll icon.
   "I was doing two sold-out shows at a nightclub in Denver," says Mr. Lewis. "The Rolling Stones were in town doing their tour, and I’ve been friends with Ronnie Wood for 12 to 13 years. So I went backstage to the dressing rooms and started talking with Keith (Richards) about alcoholism and drugs. He told me, in front of a large group of people, not to eat dairy products because it was bad for my system, and I lost it. This is a legendary heroin addict telling me to stay away from Swiss cheese. I fell on my knees and said, ‘I am going to mock you at my concert tonight.’ And I did. I must have talked about it for 20 minutes."
   As he has proven for more than 30 years, anything and everything is susceptible to a 20-minute onstage diatribe from Mr. Lewis. Audience members attending his March 7-8 appearances at the Stress Factory in New Brunswick can expect the same rapid-fire, free-form monologues that made Mr. Lewis one of the country’s most successful comedians.
   "Most people at this point know me, they’ve seen me on Conan and Letterman," says Mr. Lewis. "It’s R-rated comedy, but in an intelligent way, hopefully. It’s not all provocative, I’d say it’s 50-50. When I talk about sexual issues, I don’t hold back at all. I have hundreds of hours of material I’ve never tried yet which I try to use, and I ad-lib half the show as well."
   With an overflowing schedule of television appearances, Mr. Lewis still enjoys getting out and performing live. Born in Brooklyn, N.Y., but raised in Englewood, he made a point to include a New Jersey gig on his East Coast tour.
   "I stick up for Jersey, I’m a Jersey guy," he says. "It’s not just Joe Piscopo and Bruce Springsteen. I don’t know why it’s the Garden State. I only saw one and it was a World War II memorial garden."
   Of course, it wouldn’t be Richard Lewis if he didn’t have some initial reservations about the booked appearance. He was taken a little aback when he was informed of the club’s name.
   "The Stress Factory, I mean, I had to hang up the phone and dry heave," jokes Mr. Lewis. "For me to play the Stress Factory, I thought it was a practical joke by my agent. It’s like, ‘You’re playing a club called the Mental Institution.’ God bless them. The fact they have that name and survived 10 years, they’re geniuses."
   At a place career-wise where he can jokingly rib club owners, Mr. Lewis has come a long way from starting out in the New York comedy circuit during the late ’60s. Before finding his way to the microphone, Mr. Lewis tested the waters by writing for other comics but found they liked his traditional premise-punchline jokes more than the material from his own point of view. Mr. Lewis decided to try his own luck in 1971 and began to build an act that would have him labeled, among other things, a mental nightmare.
   "I went on stage for psychological reasons," he says. "I wanted to untwist myself and at least be validated that I wasn’t alone. I went on to say, ‘I just had the worst day of my life, here’s why.’ If it wasn’t entertaining or if people didn’t share the same hang-ups, I wouldn’t be talking to you 33 years later. Tragically, the majority of my audiences have as many problems as I do. I go on to make people forget who they are.
   "It’s a no-lose situation coming to the Stress Factory, even if you’re dragged there by a significant other who adores me or is a huge fan. Once you get to the Stress Factory and realize you’re not Richard Lewis, it’s one of the best nights of your life. I mean that. I’m the Gandhi of comedians. I have died on the couch for everyone’s sake."
   During his early performing days, he struck up a friendship with another up-and-coming talent by the name of Larry David. The co-creator and producer of Seinfeld is now the creator and star of HBO’s award-winning Curb Your Enthusiasm, entering its fourth season. With Mr. Lewis frequently guest-starring as himself, their decades-long friendship plays out hilariously on screen. The show is a skewed look at Mr. David’s real life, dealing mostly with the insane politics of Hollywood.
   "There is no writing," says Mr. Lewis. "Just a short outline and the writing is my ad-libbing. I have a bit of a double pleasure because I know him and I play me, so I can literally be prepared at all times.
   "When you play a character, it’s always helpful to know stuff that’s not in the script. Gee, is he Republican or Democrat, a good lover or bad lover? It makes your lies ring true even if you don’t come close to those subjects. It might sound silly to someone out of the profession, but it helps you feel more like a person when they say ‘action.’ In ‘Curb,’ I don’t have any homework. Action. I hate you, I’m angry at you. I can cite examples. Blah, blah, blah."
   The pair actually met each other for the first time when they attended the same upstate New York summer camp at age 12. Run by legendary sports journalist Claire Bee, Mr. Lewis attended the program to improve his basketball skills. With people like Notre Dame coach Richard "Digger" Phelps as counselors, Mr. Lewis’s game elevated dramatically enough to make the freshman team at Dwight Morrow High School in Englewood. But his constant run-ins with a young Larry David didn’t make the summer totally enjoyable.
   "He was a jerk, and I might have been a jerk too," he says. "We really had fights, physical altercations. I used to bean him when we occasionally played baseball. We had fistfights on the basketball court."
   Improbably, they crossed paths 12 years later in New York, unaware of their previous history. They quickly became friends, but suspicions began to form.
   "One night after a club was closing, we were hanging around," says Mr. Lewis. "I looked at him and he looked vaguely familiar, but in an eerie way. I confronted him on it and said, ‘I think I hate you.’ We sat down and retraced our steps. When we came up to this camp we went, ‘Wait a minute, you’re that Larry David?’ ‘You’re that Richard Lewis?’ We almost came to blows again. We laughed about it. I mean, what are the odds?"
   The critical and commercial success is a complete 180 degrees from Mr. Lewis’ first foray into episodic television. After performing in a number of cable concerts, he finally got the opportunity to try out his sitcom chops in 1989 with a starring role in ABC’s Anything But Love. Playing opposite Jamie Lee Curtis, the show followed a will-they-or-won’t-they premise about two magazine writers. With Roseanne as its lead in, the show encountered initial success. As the seasons wore on, producers were less enthused about the ratings, and in 1992 the show was canceled.
   "They made an economic move, but they did it in a pretty gruesome way," says Mr. Lewis. "We had five more episodes to go and our own studio dumped us. Usually, the network cancels you, not your own studio. Truthfully, Jamie and I were driving up to the stage for rehearsal, and they were deconstructing the stage and we weren’t even told. That was pretty rotten."
   The experience was a mere blip in what has been an otherwise consistently prosperous career. Mr. Lewis has appeared in films such as Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Leaving Las Vegas and Hugo Pool, performed in popular concerts such as I’m Exhausted, I’m in Pain and I’m Doomed, and has a recurring role in the WB’s 7th Heaven. His most rewarding accomplishment, however, is his ongoing personal battle with alcoholism. He is entering his ninth year of sobriety.
   "I was in Denver last weekend and did about 10 or 11 taped radio and TV shows," he says. "I had dinner with my niece and her children and husband. Nine years ago, had I been an active drinker, I might not have even remembered my niece lived in Denver, for starters. So many doors have opened, just normal doors. When you are so centered around this disease, it affects so many people."
   It has been a long and difficult journey on his way back from the darkness. While Mr. Lewis gained a considerable amount of personal and mental freedom, he never worried about losing any kind of creative edge that may have come with the drinking.
   "I know a lot of rock ‘n’ roll guys, I just love rock ‘n’ roll," says Mr. Lewis. "And I know a lot of guys who were addicts, who are in recovery, and basically it comes down to this: They’ve never played better, they still hit the notes, and they still can hit the riffs they didn’t hit when they were high. One lead guitarist told me, ‘I used to think I hit notes that were great because I was so high I heard it that way.’
   "Creatively, I have a bottomless pit of dysfunction. I’m the same guy, I just don’t drink anymore. I still have phobias and problems. But I deal with it. I jested on stage that I have so much clarity now that I despise myself even more. Because of that luxury for the audiences, I think I’ve never been better on stage because I have a clearer understanding of what a mess I am."
Richard Lewis performs at the Stress Factory, 90 Church St., New Brunswick, March 7-8. Performances: 8 and 10:30 p.m. Tickets cost $21.50. For information, call (732) 545-4242. On the Web: www.stressfactory.com. Richard Lewis on the Web: www.richardlewisonline.com