ceiling. Then he had me go in and ask Michael if he could get me down a pack of toilet paper because I couldn’t reach it. That was the punch line.
* * *
Fun. It’s the reason Andy chose me to be his writer. In fact, I was really more “Andy’s actor” than “Andy’s writer.” We played and pranked constantly. Andy met his match with me. No matter when, no matter where, I “acted with Andy.” It was always fun. That’s why Andy became disheartened when his fun turned to work on Taxi. WORK IS NOT FUN! As the brilliant clinical psychologist Dr. Stan Martindale said, “Once they pay you for something you love doing, they kill it for you.”
Andy realized early in life that kids got away with murder. Watch them in stores or supermarkets. They yell and cry, throw temper tantrums, and God forbid their mother physically reprimand them. Nowadays, a mom can run the risk of being thrown into jail. I am often asked, “Was that childlike nature Andy displayed a put-on?” The answer is “Yes … and no.” You see, he too wanted to get away with murder, so he would turn it off and on whenever he chose, depending on the situation. At the high end of innocence you have Foreign Man; i.e., the lovable Latka character from Taxi. In Foreign Man’s case, the innocence is amplified by the use of a foreign accent, making the character that much more vulnerable, as he tries to maneuver in a society that speaks a different language.
On Andy’s first Tonight Show appearance with Johnny Carson, when he’s invited to sit on the couch, Johnny is talking to him much like an adult to a six-year-old. In this case, he’s dropped the foreign accent all together, but the Bambi eye movement, innocence, and shyness are all part of the act. Johnny doesn’t know it at the time and believes it to be real. Besides, comedically it works for both pros. Later, on other Carson appearances, Andy turns it down quite a bit and starts acting more his age. This new dynamic throws Johnny, he doesn’t know how to play Andy, and the laughter becomes less and less each time. Soon, Johnny realizes it’s not working any more between him and Kaufman and doesn’t invite him back, at least not when he’s hosting. In retrospect, if Andy had maintained that childlike quality each time, he most likely would have been asked back countless times, and Johnny could have done his famous deadpan takes to the audience, much as he did with other childlike wackos like Charo and Tiny Tim.
But Kaufman didn’t want to maintain that innocent character all the time. After all, there was a trunk load of alter egos just waiting in the wings, some of them bad guys who wanted to wrestle or the obnoxious lounge singer Tony Clifton who needed to come out. But innocence was in his arsenal of characters and could be summoned up whenever it was called for, even in everyday life, especially to pick up girls. That wide-eyed childishness just sucked them in. It was like a lost puppy they were gonna save. Once that puppy had got them in the sack, however, he would turn into a full-grown wolf—“Wanna wrastle?”
This man/child gimmick proved quite effective in business dealings also. Let the managers and agents bust their balls figuring out the best direction to take his career in. After all, they were getting a piece of the action. He’d just sit wrapped up in his innocent cocoon, spooning chocolate ice cream into his mouth like a child. He played the innocent to his manager, George Shapiro, through his entire career, and George would reciprocate by talking back to him in baby talk—much like his real dad did. Howard West, George’s partner in Shapiro/West, knew it was an act and didn’t buy into it, so Andy steered clear of Howard, choosing to deal with George instead.
With Lynne and me, he dropped the façade altogether. We wouldn’t put up with it, nor would he want us to. Recently I was talking to Scott Thorson, who was Liberace’s lover, played by Matt Damon in HBO’s highly successful Behind the Candelabra. After watching Michael Douglas’s portrayal of Liberace, I asked Scott if Liberace really talked like that. He said, “Hell, no. Only onstage. At home, he used his real voice.” Same with Kaufman. At home, he used his real voice, at least around Lynne and me. Still, he’d cleverly work us sometimes with his hurt innocence when he really wanted something.
Like an artist with a palette of colors, Kaufman could mix and choose whatever character it would take to get what he wanted. I’m sure in the faking of his death, he had a whole other persona waiting in the wings, so he could live unrecognized. And I doubt very strongly that he would have flown off to live on some remote little island in the Caspian Sea. I think rather like Osama bin Laden, he would be hiding in plain sight, every day gloating in the satisfaction of his legendary disappearing act. Look around next time you go out. You just might spot him. Someone, someplace is probably standing next to him this very minute. By now he might be bald or have a beard and probably a good size gut to go along with it. Once he even told me he might have one of his legs amputated. This way no one would suspect him of being Andy Kaufman, who had two good legs.
This obsession with faking his death became just that—an obsession. No matter what time of day or night, if he had an idea or question about it and needed a sounding board, I was there, much to the chagrin of many a live-in girlfriend. Even though he never discussed how to fake his death with Lynne (after all, he was planning on fooling her also … and did), the around-the-clock phone calls about anything and everything just kept coming incessantly.
* * *
Lynne
Oh, man, the phone thing. I hate talking on the phone and it’s a testament to my love for Andy that I tolerated talking to him for hours at night when he or I were away from one another. He would talk endlessly because he knew it drove me crazy! I’d try to disengage and say I had to go to sleep and he’d say, “OK, good night …” But then, just try to hang up! He’d say goodnight but not hang up, then you’d say “Are you still there?” “Yes, alright, good night” … silence, silence, silence … “Hello?” “OK, you hang up first.” “No, you hang up first.” “No, you hang up” … for hours. Hours! But at the same time it was so much fun. Andy was like a little kid.
* * *
Ring …
B: Hi, Andy!
A: How did you know it’s me?
B: It’s three a.m. Who else would it be?
A: Sorry!
B: It’s OK. What’s up?
A: What’s the name of that stuff that Juliet swallowed to make her appear dead?
B: I don’t know. I think Shakespeare made up the whole story.
A: No, it was real! He just took it from some newspaper article he read.
B: Wait a second. Are you telling me Romeo and Juliet really happened?
A: Yes! We learned it in school. William Shakespeare wrote his play based on a real incident that actually occurred in Verona, Italy. You can actually visit Juliet’s tomb. It’s a big tourist attraction.
B: Is she in it?
A: I don’t know. I never went. I guess she is.
B: Well, I’m sure if you researched it some, you could find out what it is. How long does it knock you out for?
A: I don’t know. I remember once in science class, the teacher injected a live frog with the stuff or something like it.
B: What happened?
A: It died—or at least it looked dead. The next day it was hopping back around in its tank.
B: No shit!
A: Yeah, I saw it with my own eyes. If I can get ahold of some of that stuff, I’ll swallow it, appear dead, and then come back when no one’s looking.
B: How do you know when that’s going to be? And how can you be sure no one’s around?
A: Well, I would imagine after you die, like in a hospital bed, they take you down to the morgue. I can wake up there in the middle of the night. And if I already have the substitute body in the same morgue, I’ll just switch toe tags. Then I’ll put on a fake beard and clothes and simply walk out. Presto change-o! Look, I know it’s not going to be that simple, Bob. Maybe I’ll