Remembered this from a few years ago. Might as well start here...
Happy 40th Mitch Hedberg
"I used to do drugs. I still do drugs. But I used to, too."
Yesterday, Sunday, February 24th was comedian Mitch Hedberg’s 40th birthday, and he - in typical Mitch fashion - flaked on us again. What’s atypical this time is he had a somewhat legit excuse… He only made it to 37, dying March 29, 2005 in a New Jersey hotel room. Drugs of course, you know the story – same one attached to many of the great comedy minds that flame out early. Every once in a great while, some artist or performer does something that absolutely blows me away - Mitch did that for me. I thought I knew funny – thought I knew how people think and view things – apparently, I overestimated myself. Lucked out and had the pleasure of bumping into Mitch a couple of times, and here’s what I saw…
"Is a hippopotamus a hippopotamus, or just a really cool Opotamus?"
The first time I "met" Mitch personally was 2001-ish – in between sets at a comedy club in the Midwest where I used the ID of an older friend to get in – my worst crime to date, but worth it. There were probably 7 of us chatting with him at a table for 10 minutes. May sound odd, but I found him shockingly shy, self-deprecating, and unaware of how special everybody thought he was – like he wasn’t buying into all the hype people were throwing his way. Distinctly remember seeing him physically wince when people complimented and praised him – that really stuck with me - just how uncomfortable he seemed around strangers. I sat quietly in the background - taking him in and listening, but when the topic of comedy favorites came up, I chimed in with "No brainer, Bill Hicks". He looked over the top of his tinted glasses and said, "Damn girl, do you smoke unfiltered Camels and cut yourself as well? Bill was the man." He signed my napkin in all caps: YOU GOT TASTE - WHY YOU HERE? LOVE, MITCHELL.
Absolutely killed that night… never have seen someone onstage so in control of a crowd – his timing and pace were perfect, yet he rarely made eye contact with the audience. It was like he was channeling one-liners of comedy genius – even making himself laugh regularly. Always admire when someone does something incredibly well and makes it look easy and effortless, but in his case, I honestly wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose. Remember covering my ears during his show – trying to get a few seconds of silence so I could simply catch my breath lest I be the first comedy fatality ever recorded – death by laughter. Audience members – total strangers - stood in the parking lot for an hour after the show talking about Mitch, laughing about the show and reciting their favorite lines of the night – now that’s a rock star of comedy… Still is one of the best stand-up performances I’ve ever seen in person.
"I don’t have a girlfriend. I just know a girl who would get really mad if she heard me say that."
Second time was a few years later when I was still in school out here. Saw he was at one of the comedy clubs in San Francisco, so on a whim (and knowing it was already sold out), I went to the city hoping to scalp a ticket. Half-hour until showtime - it was apparent I was not going to be able to get in, so I begged and flirted with the ticket-taker guy to let me just stand in back or hang around the fire exit where I could hear. "Absolutely not", and he added he’d been watching me trying to get a ticket out front, so I needed to leave "this GODDAMN second." Of course I didn’t... I hung around the entrance and kept trying. Not my night, because not ONE person had an extra or was willing to take double what they paid. Couple minutes until show starts and that same bouncer walks out front, sees me, turns around, and with phone in hand yells, "I told you to leave, now I’m calling the police!"
Asked back with a disbelieving smile, "Can you make any bigger mountain out of this molehill you mall-cop fucktard?" He points at the phone and slithers back inside. Actually kinda scared at this point and ready to bolt to where I parked. Near showtime, what the fuck is this? Mitch loping up lazily. Has to go by me to get in, so I stuck my hands out to stop him - blurting in one quick sentence "Mitch, Mitch, Mitch – Oh please, please I need your help. I drove all the way from Palo Alto, but it’s sold out and nobody has an extra ticket and that guy over there is calling the police on me because I won’t leave. Can’t you tell him I’m a friend or just to let me in? I’ll stand in back – you won’t even know I’m there and won’t say a word, I promise, I promise, I swear to God – I just REALLY get what you do." All in one breath...
He laughed half overwhelmed / half sympathetically and said, "Awww, that’s so cool, but I can’t do a damn thing with them people – it’s their place, but I tell you what. You stand right here and as soon as I’m done in there, I’ll come right to this spot and do it all over again just for you. And we will call the cops on that dude if he watches."
Busted me up, then I reluctantly and sadly said, "OK Mitch, you got it. Can I give you a hug?" No idea why I said that, as I’m the least touchy-feely type person with strangers you’ll ever meet. "Little lady, you have my full permission to do whatever you want to me." He made himself laugh as I hugged saying, "I’ll catch you next time through. You’re wonderful at what you do Mitch."
Backed up, hand-ironed the front of his crumpled jacket, and looked through his light-blue sunglasses at eyes masking a mind somewhere else. Primary colors don’t lie: Red and blue do make purple, as his scarlet eyes through the blue lens looked as baked as Tommy Chong at a Cypress Hill concert in Amsterdam. He smiled crooked at me, half-jogged towards the door, then yelled back laughing "Right there, do not move!" I could hear and feel the excited buzz of the crowd even before I got to the street…
"I saw a wino. He was eating grapes. I said, 'Dude, you have to wait!'"
Last time I saw him was with musician/comic Stephen Lynch at the Warfield in San Francisco on September 25th, 2004. I was right by the stage, so I got a very good look at what was happening. Mitch opened and was an absolute mess in every respect. Disoriented, limping and incredibly out of it, he kept going back to pages of notes he had written down and spent a disproportionate amount of time apologizing to the audience. He lacked confidence in his new material he could remember, was mumbling, and his timing was nonexistent – actually stopped several times and just looked around drowning in painful silence. He slurred out his "greatest hits" and left most of the crowd open-mouthed and wincing. Was so difficult to watch – way worse than the Rosie O’Donnell sex scene on "Nip / Tuck", and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Talking with some people with Lynch after the show, they said Mitch was "sketchy" at this point and had real concerns about him. Everyone had a helpless "what can we do about it?" attitude, and nobody would talk openly about was apparent. I didn’t even venture near his room backstage, but they warned me he most likely had already pulled his disappearing act again. Probably better - didn’t want confirmation, and who the hell is going to listen to a well-intentioned stranger?
"I like the Fed-Ex driver, 'cause he's a drug dealer and he doesn't even know it."
Walking, listening to the Howard Stern Show on campus when he announced Mitch died, and I froze in my tracks numb. They followed it up with an interview of him or some of his bits, and the second I heard his spacey delivery and half-stoned laugh, I lost it… My chest hollowed, and I cried my eyes out - not really sure why even today. I didn’t know him personally, so maybe I really was heartbroken over his unfulfilled potential. At the time of his death, Fox had already offered him a deal to develop a sitcom and thrown a lot of money his way; Time Magazine called him the "next Seinfeld". He’d been on Letterman 10 times, considered a rising star of comedy scene for years, and had been supposedly making as much as 25K per night.
Also on his resume by this time were a few things not known to many. He was arrested at the Austin airport in 2003 for felony heroin possession and had prescription drugs he claims were given to him. During his few nights in custody, a jail physical caught an ongoing leg infection he’d been ignoring. His leg was just saved by a 13-hour operation. His flaky behavior and stories from concerned people had made it back to his parents. Story goes people tried an intervention with Mitch and his wife, only to be convinced by the two the stories they’d heard were simply not true. Addicts even trump politicians for the title of greatest liars…
"I hate dreaming because when you want to sleep, you want to sleep. Dreaming is work. Next thing you know, I have to build a go-cart with my ex-landlord."
SF Sketchfest held a Mitch Hedberg tribute at Cobb’s in January of 2007. We watched a corny movie he wrote and directed called "Los Enchiladas", saw some hilarious home movies and heard brilliant Mitch anecdotes from friends and family. Confirmed my suspicion of his shyness, but learned it was almost a paralyzing stage fright for him – even performing shows with his eyes closed. Heard many stories of his great generosity and kind acts too few people will know. Was more of a comedy wake than a tribute, and I had the most wonderful feeling of déjà vu from seeing him earlier. Because even in death, people – total strangers – were getting together talking about Mitch, laughing about the shows and still reciting their favorite lines… Again, that’s a rock star of comedy… Quite a gift.
Karyn
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