“He wasn’t a big hugger, but I always hugged him, never wanting him to die.”
QUESTIONNAIRE
1. Which pal would you choose to have lunch with?
Lenny Bruce is right up there, but in real life, Jonathan Winters was the man. He was like hanging with Picasso.
2. In a sentence or two, describe your past relationship with this pal.
I worshipped him since I was twelve. Neither of us got much support growing up or entering comedy, and when each of us did, we were both crazy alcoholics. I’m close to twenty-three years sober now, and Jonathan was fifty-three years sober when he passed.
3. Did he have a profession?
I don’t know. Is being God a job? The man was a genius. Not just a brilliant fine artist, but the king of improvisation.
4. When/at what age did he die?
Eighty-seven years crazy and young, in 2013.
5. Where would you usually meet for lunch? At home? At a restaurant?
He lived near Santa Barbara in a gorgeous home with his painting studio about ninety miles from my home in Hollywood. I would meet him whenever he was free and felt up to it and I was available. I usually picked him up, often with my wife, Joyce, and occasionally pals I introduced him to, and took him to the Biltmore Four Seasons, about five miles away. He loved to eat!!!!!! I must have treated him to about nine hundred thousand meals. Meeting him now, I’d try for Sunday brunch at the Biltmore Four Seasons in Santa Barbara. He was like a hysterical kid in a chocolate factory, but food wasn’t important to me around Jonathan. I wanted as few distractions as possible while listening to his free-associating.
6. Would you show up alone?
Rarely, as I loved sharing his genius. Proud of his clean comedy after he retired from the stage, he was so R-rated afterward (when he wanted to be). Trust me, Pryor and Lenny would have sat at his feet like a guru, endlessly. He was that astounding.
7. What emotions do you imagine would be felt on both sides at first seeing each other?
Well, it’d be very emotional. I can only hope that I wouldn’t collapse, weeping and wailing. See, he became a father figure immediately to me. My father died young and never saw me perform. Winters and I connected on a surreal spot in the universe. We both destroyed each other when we talked about real truths.
8. Would you embrace?
He wasn’t a big hugger, but I always hugged him, never wanting him to die.
9. What would you both order?
I have crazy eating habits. Winters could eat an entire elk and octopus in three minutes. He loved to eat. I vowed to him that he’d never pay for a meal with me and no matter how much he ate, he never did.
10. What would the general mood at the table be?
Total insanity. Plus, if the restaurant was jammed, oftentimes people loved seeing him and us together. But the killer was that he played the room like a nightclub. He would entertain fans for hours on end. And he loved women. His great wife was ill well before I met her, and he loved to flirt with chicks, and they loved it.
11. Would you raise questions/issues you’d never expressed while he was alive?
Are you nuts? For me, it was like talking to God! Two crazy, insecure drunks, now both sober, successful, and with thousands of stories and mutual friends. It was a dream come true. I’d often call him on a three- or four-way call and put on pals like Albert Brooks, who I swear didn’t talk for sixty minutes, and when Winters hung up, Albert was blown away and wanted to make a documentary. But I felt the need to protect my buddy as he took pride in being remembered as a “clean” icon.
12. Would there be laughing? Crying?
We would scream with laughter. I would cry. He had a peculiar way of laughing at my jokes, which to me, was like hitting a home run out of Yankee Stadium. Imagine making an idol laugh.
13. Bringing Winters up-to-date on your life in the interim, how would he respond?
He loved me like a son. He helped me stay sober. Occasionally when he wasn’t looking for laughs, he was deadly serious with advice. I called him from the road. He left me thousands of messages in different dialects. I cannot overstate how much of a genius he was!
14. What would your overriding emotion during lunch be?
Insanity. Every meal was like Duck Soup. I often brought along a few thousand dollars in singles and fives and poured it over his head. He laughed crazily. Although he had money, many from his generation treated money like a way to prove their success with jealous family members.
15. Would recriminations be expressed?
Absolutely none.
16. Would you order dessert? If so, what would it be?
He ate a bit of everything on the menu. Everything. He needed to leave the Biltmore oftentimes on a gurney. (Slight joke.)
17. How long would lunch last?
HOURS!!! Then afterward, sometimes, we’d go back and hang at his home. Occasionally, when he needed to come to Hollywood, he’d plan lunch at Musso and Frank’s and invite some of our friends. It was complete bedlam.
18. How would you say goodbye? Tearfully, with relief, with exhaustion?
With terrible, overwhelming sadness that I’d never see this man again. I loved him so much, he was so precious to me, I can’t even really describe it. But I’d also be thrilled that he was still a treasured best friend who respected me.
19. Who would pay?
Always me.
20. Would the lunch reverberate in your mind for very long?
Always. After hundreds of hours sharing tales both dark and hilarious but always the truth, looking back at having done this with a childhood idol felt like a surreal trip of pure joy.
21. Would there be things you wish you had said?
I always told him that I loved him profoundly and considered him the greatest, and this lunch would be no different. What more could I have said? Of course, I’d probably also attack my own self-esteem, secure in the knowledge that his respect for me was a true gift and an honor, and that he even considered me a part of comedy history. He had, really, a father’s love for me, and also incredible pride.
22. In summing up, how was the lunch?
Worth every bit of the seven thousand dollars I spent. And much, much more.
Regarded by his peers as a “comic’s comic,” the New York Times said, “This renowned comedian, often considered to be the heir to Lenny Bruce, is a master of long-form storytelling who turns his endless neurotic energy into brilliant comedy.” Comedy Central has recognized Mr. Lewis as one of the top fifty stand-up comedians of all time. In addition to his outstanding career as a stand-up comic, this Renaissance neurotic has written books, appeared in major films, and starred in two home-run television series. His latest, Curb Your Enthusiasm, is set to begin its tenth season. The secret to his success? In his own words, “I go on a long tour and make people happy that they’re not me.” After a rocky beginning, Richard is especially grateful for being sober now for more than twenty-four years. Also, a great source of pride for him was when, in 2017, the historic New York City Friars Club named the men’s room after him. He lives in LA with his wife, Joyce, and their dog, Luna.