Eighteen years ago this month, I had my initial conversation with Richard Lewis. Listening to Lewis launch into one riff after another over the phone in February 2006, he provided me with a plethora of quotable material that surpassed what my editors at the Boston Herald would eventually publish.
Reflecting on that conversation now, upon learning of Lewis’s passing at the age of 76 due to a heart attack, one particular remark he made in passing about his legacy stands out remarkably.
Lewis expressed humility, saying, “What humbled me more than anything was when Walter Matthau died. Everybody loved him, but it was only a brief mention in the news amidst a traffic report… I realized they wouldn’t focus solely on Matthau and set aside the traffic or weather for the night. That’s when I understood not to take myself too seriously.”
Such a sentiment might surprise those familiar with Lewis’s on-stage and on-screen persona over the years, from his emergence in the 1970s (chronicled in the book I’m Dying Up Here: Heartbreak and High Times in Stand-up Comedy’s Golden Era) to his recent appearances this year, sharing laughs and debates with his real-life best friend in the reported final season of HBO’s.
Lewis candidly admitted, “From the age of 23, I craved absolute validation about myself.”
At 23, he appeared in HBO’s annual “” special in 1981, alongside an equally unknown Jerry Seinfeld. Lewis, filled with self-doubt, humorously reflected on his career choice, saying, “This is a terrifying profession. I was clueless. I could’ve been a caterer, looking back now.” He even touched on therapy, a subject comedians nowadays openly discuss but was rare back then.
Known for his neurotic persona, Lewis often joked about his paranoia and neuroses. In one of his performances in the late 1980s, he lamented feeling adrift after his therapist’s retirement, quipping, “She was only 24. I must have worn her out quickly.”
Despite his anxious demeanor and trademark hand-through-hair gestures, Lewis landed a leading role in the ABC romcom series Anything But Love opposite Jamie Lee Curtis, airing from 1989 to 1992.
In a 1993 interview, Lewis shared, “I took to the stage to talk about myself. It wasn’t for the money — it was about finding a listening audience. I felt unheard by significant role models growing up. Having a microphone and an audience allowed me to express myself. I realized I had a knack for articulating my feelings through words.”
Recounting a moment on Sunset Boulevard when passersby quoted lines from his 1985 Showtime special, Lewis found solace in the recognition. His journey to sobriety, openly discussed throughout his career, marked a turning point in his comedic style.
Lewis emphasized, “I was determined to be honest as a comedian from the start. Admitting my struggles with alcohol and addiction truly elevated my comedy. It allowed me to be authentically myself on stage.”
Despite his success, Lewis grappled with lingering unhappiness, attributing it to his childhood. Comedy became his outlet for the love and approval he craved but didn’t receive at home.
In his final years, Lewis found solace in his enduring friendship with Larry David, which shone through in their dynamic on Curb Your Enthusiasm. Their on-screen chemistry, rooted in genuine camaraderie and occasional friction, resonated with audiences.
Lewis’s legacy extends beyond his comedic prowess; it lies in his desire to be heard, understood, and loved. As tributes pour in following his passing, it’s evident that Lewis touched the hearts of many, leaving an indelible mark on the comedy world.