28 THENEWYORKER,DECEMBER6, 2021
SHOUTS & MURMURS
T
here are many things about me that
I’m sure might be of interest to read-
ers. Things I’ve never really told anyone.
I’ve always been a private person, but I
wanted to make sure I got a few things
down in writing, just in case anything
happens to me—or before I forget!
Like, here’s something: People might
be surprised to learn that I’m a speed
reader. I took a course when I was a kid,
and one would be hard pressed to name
a book I haven’t read. Books are my
constant companions. Like, last year, I
went to Turks and Caicos over Christ-
mas and read “The Count of Monte
Cristo” on the way there and “Anna
Karenina” on the way back. I’m glad I
read them in that order. It might have
ruined my vacation otherwise! So, you
know, stuff like that.
Not sure how much time should be
given to my standup years, but I’ve
thought of a few stories that might be
worth mentioning. There was one night
at the Improv when I made a woman
sitting in the front row laugh so hard
that she went into convulsions and
eventually lost consciousness. An am-
bulance had to be called, and she was
taken to Roosevelt Hospital. It was
touch and go there for a while, but
thankfully she pulled through. I visited
her the next day with the best bouquet
of flowers that New York had to offer
and humbly stood by while she told
the nurse how “damn funny” I was.
Pretty embarrassing, but what choice
did I have?
From that point on, everyone started
calling me Killer. People came to theclub in droves, asking if Killer was going
on. It wasn’t bad for my social life, ei-
ther. No sooner would I finish a set than
there would be half a dozen women at
the bar, trying to talk to me. “Kill me!
Kill me!” they would pant. I would
choose two and off we’d go. One par-
ticular night, the husbands showed up.
(I had no idea they were married—
swear to God!) Fortunately, my father
taught me how to box when I was a
kid, and there’s no doubt I could’ve
turned professional if comedy hadn’t
called me. In any case, I was not to be
trifled with. I calmly explained this to
both husbands, but they were not im-
pressed. Two minutes later, they were
lying flat out on the sidewalk, where-
upon their wives and I hopped into a
cab and I did another set across town.
When it was over, I bought a round of
drinks for everyone, even though I didn’t
have a penny to my name. (Interesting
stuff, right? Hope it’s useful. Either way,
I’m good—your call.)
There wasn’t much money to be
made in standup back then, so I sup-
ported my fledgling comedy career by
working as a tour guide at the Central
Park Zoo during the day. I’ve always
had a deep connection with animals
and I thought that would be the per-
fect job for me.
And it was, until some kid was ad-
miring the polar bear and decided to
jump the railing to get a closer look. I
was in the middle of giving a tour when
I heard screams coming from the kid’s
parents and raced over there. The boy
was on the ground in a state of shock,
as the polar bear hovered over him, about
to attack. As luck would have it, a few
months prior I’d attended a lecture at
the New School by one of the world’s
foremost Ursus authorities, Dr. Meyer
Dusenberry, who explained that if we
were ever face to face with a bear we
should create a cacophony. Without a
second to lose, I grabbed the lid of a
hot-dog pot from a nearby Sabrett’s
cart, leaped over the fence, and franti-
cally rattled the lid against the bars until
the bear retreated. Then I slung the kid
over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry
(learned from my years as a volunteer
with the F.D.N.Y.) and returned the
youngster to his grateful parents. They
offered me a huge reward, but I de-
clined, saying that my reward was see-